Mists of Velvet

hand down his back. “The resemblance is uncanny,” she murmured. “I can feel his power in you.”
    “Were you lovers?” he asked as he watched her circle him.
    “No. I would have gladly given myself to him. And Annwyn would have been better for it if he had taken me. But he wanted the mortal.”
    “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” he snapped.
    She tipped her head and studied him. “My curse was not born of scorn, but of necessity.”
    Rhys held his snort of indignation. He didn’t want to do anything that might interfere with her loose tongue. He wanted to know more; to understand who he was and what he came from. He needed to learn about Annwyn, and what his role would be while he was here.
    “You have no magick,” she continued, “but there is something most powerful about you. Your destiny is in Annwyn.”
    “I guess my destiny trumps your curse.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “You would do well to hold your tongue, mortal.”
    Biting back a reply, Rhys struggled to tether his temper. Instead of lashing out at her, he watched as a slender, pale hand emerged from the sleeve of her cloak, only to trail along the cold stone battlements.
    “Your presence here is a sign. It is part of the prophecy.” She whirled on him. “Do you believe that the prophecy is changeable? That perhaps not even your God knows how it will all turn out or how it will evolve?”
    “God is omniscient. All seeing. He knows what is going to happen.”
    “You forget there is another side in this war. There is magick in Annwyn. Your mortal rules do not apply here. And there is a Dark Soul—the Destroyer—to be fought over. There are many variables, and not even He can foresee what this Dark Mage will do. Just as I cannot see what will happen in your world. This is the beginning of a great battle. There is much at stake,” she murmured, “and not enough time to prepare. The birth of the Destroyer is upon us. Bronwnn has sensed it.”
    Rhys stiffened. “It’s treacherous to use her to find the Dark Mage. You put her very life in danger.”
    “We all have a role to play in this prophecy. It has been slowly evolving for the past thousand years. We must accept our part.”
    “And the Destroyer, does Bronwnn know who it will be?”
    “No. But I believe the mage already knows the identity of this Dark Soul, even though we do not.”
    “This soul, it is already born, then? It’s already turning?”
    “Yes. But it does not yet belong to the Dark Arts. We can still prevent it.”
    “And why are you telling me this? I’m cursed, aren’t I? What good am I to you?”
    “Destinies change, mortal. And yours has.”
    The smallest flare of hope flickered inside him. “Bronwnn?”
    “Has offered an adbertos . In exchange for your life, she will wed the Shadow Wraith.”
    “No,” he growled. Heedless of the consequences, he reached for Cailleach and wrapped his hands around her elbows. She gave a little cry as he began to shake her. “Damn you, she’s mine!”
    “The sacrifice has been offered and accepted. You will live. You will aid Bran and his warriors in the hunt for Carden, and you will defeat the mage.”
    “No. I’ll offer another adbertos . My life. I’ll forfeit it before I do anything for you or Annwyn.”
    “You have Daegan’s temper, his drive. Put it to better use than hating me.”
    Releasing her, he bit back an oath. He didn’t want to be in Annwyn without Bronwnn, and he didn’t want to do fuck-all to help Cailleach.
    “Bronwnn has seen you,” Cailleach murmured. “You are one of the nine. She sees the future, and your future is here, among us.”
    “But separate,” he finished. “A mortal to be tolerated until the prophecy is fulfilled. And then what?”
    “I am not a seer. I cannot tell you what your future holds.”
    He could—an empty life spent watching the woman he loved mated with the wraith born to protect him.
    Fuck that, he thought as he moved away from Cailleach. He would make his own destiny.
    “Your anger is a useful weapon,” Cailleach called out to him. “Pit it against our enemies; not against things that cannot be undone.”
    “Go to hell,” he murmured. There was no way he was living without his mate.

    Clouds shadowed the room, darkening it. Beyond the window, the gray sky swirled, echoing what she felt in her soul—a tempest of swirling anger.
    Bronwnn watched as the wraith stepped closer to the bed. Dressed all in black and with his black hair, he was nearly