The Mirror of the Moon (Revenant Wyrd Book 2) Read Free Page A

looked out of place with his dusting of chest and stomach hair in a sea of smooth skin.
    Jovian had not been moved from his spot, and so neither did Maeven and Angelica, only when bathing and dressing required it. Even eating and sleeping were carried out at Jovian’s bedside, and those were the only times either of them let go of his hands. They feared the longer they left contact with him the further he would slip away, as if their hands in his would keep him from death’s pallor.
    During this time Joya and Grace took advantage of the wooded walks and admired the scenery. Joya, it seemed, had been reading the herbal book she had been gifted, and she was taking a keen interest in herbal lore and remedies. Grace was happy to show her the walks on the Mountains of Nependier that held some of the rarest herbs in all the Great Realms.
    Grace and Joya basked in the warm sun as they picked their way through the herbal fields not far from Whitewood haven. There was no trace of a breeze, and Joya could hear birds chattering overhead amid clouds close enough she could almost touch.
    Rich scents of lavender, rose, and patchouli accosted Joya’s nose. Buzzing bees gathered the nectar from the herbs, and the noise reminded Joya of summertime at home. No matter what had happened the last few days, Joya felt all of her cares and worries melt away.
    Grace had just finished lecturing her about the many uses of mugwort and now they meandered lazily through the fields. Finally Joya sighed heavily, and the old lady slowed to a stop and looked over at her.
    “What is it, child?” Grace asked, concerned.
    “Well, after what happened I have many questions, many concerns.”
    Grace’s eyebrows knitted together. The old Joya would have been upset at having so many things kept from her. It could have been the wyrd of the mountains, or it could have been a mark of her recent forced maturity which held the temper at bay.
    Grace lowered herself on a boulder. “I imagine you do. I cannot, however, tell you the tale and the secrets now. That will be a much longer conversation that we will have as soon as your brother regains his health. The dwarves of Dellenbore know I am here, and I am sure I will not be able to escape a meeting with them. I have planned to tell you the tale there.” She looked up at the raven-haired girl with worried eyes. “Joya, you must know that I had no intention of keeping things from you for so long, but it just seemed I had no choice.” She sighed again.
    Joya nodded, not knowing what to say. She neither knew what the old woman had been keeping from them, or how intense the secrets were. There was one thing she did know, if Grace was not ready to tell her then Grace was most certainly not going to tell her.
    It was while the two of them were out voyaging through the fields that Jovian came to himself with a stir, a yawn, and then a long languid stretch as if he had gone through nothing more than the most peaceful night’s sleep he had ever had. Angelica guessed that dying and being resurrected would truly rest one’s soul like nothing else could.
    So it was that Jovian was fully roused by several voices and sets of hands upon him. Angelica immediately wrapped him in her weeping embrace, planting several kisses all over his face, a process which took several minutes. Jovian collected himself at the sound of Angelica’s pleas and gentle threats, saying, “If you ever do that again I will bring you back just so I can kill you myself,” and “I was so afraid you were gone forever.”
    After Angelica pried herself away, Maeven planted a firm kiss on his lips and took Jovian into his warm, strong embrace. It felt good to be enclosed in the other man’s warmth once more, and Jovian sighed, and then inhaled his musky, woodsy scent. When Maeven moved, it left Jovian stunned at the sight of so many elves (creatures he had never before seen) stepping hesitantly toward him. Their glimmering gold skin, multi-hued brown