To Touch a Silent Fury (The Bride of Eavenfold, #1)

by R.A. Sandpiper

“Amune is a myth, Skirmtold doesn’t leave Skinreach, and no one has seen Vellintris in a span or more.”

“I might not have your gift of reading people,” he said, his voice husky. “But I am from the Sightlands, where we treasure beauty above all else. And you, strange Moontouched mouse, are hard to look away from.”

“When he called you perfect today,” Seth trailed off, before meeting my eyes with fervour. “If I had known the power in a simple compliment like that, I would have called you perfect every day.” My heart pounded. “Seth—” “No, I need you to know before it eats me alive,” he interrupted. “To me, you have always been perfect. Every single one of our Brothers saw it too, and that’s why they treated you so horribly. You terrified them, Tanidwen.”

“I know I am no fighter. I know I have no skill on horseback or with a blade.” He raised his tortured pale eyes to mine and gave me his saddest smile yet. “And yet I would have competed, if I were allowed to, for even the smallest chance of winning you as my bride.”

Even in her drab cloak, I had thought Tanidwen to be very pretty, and dangerous if her power were allowed to be met. Now, I realised how far from the mark I was. This woman could start wars.

I would not be cowed by a man when there were waves and mountains and lightning in this world.

If you show someone your strength and they choose to be threatened by it, the weakness is theirs alone.”

“I will be there,” he said, his chest rumbling against me. “When you bring this world to its knees.”

I smiled at him. “I think if I were Braxthorn, I would ask you this. Are you so uncertain of your own charms that you would kill a kingdom’s greatest weapon, instead of attempting to win its keeper?”

It was fucking laughable that she thought I would not recognise her. She had underestimated her own effect. Her hair had been darkened by some odd concoction, and her eyes shifted by her new bond. But if she thought that was all I had noticed about her, she was distinctly doing herself a disservice.

“How could I forget a face like yours?” he asked. “Your beauty has haunted me for years. Did you think I would not know you in a breath, in a moment, at a glance?”

“You must not allow me even the smallest hope for you. For like the moon, I will hang in the darkness for all eternity, isolated from any other touch, thinking only of you. Do me this one cruelty now, and I will stop talking of it forever.”