see."
That night Jorlan rode his Klee over the hills and vales of the Reynard estate. Both man and beast were wild in the night.
Despite their reckless regard for safety, each of them was confident—for two very different reasons.
Sabir, in love with the freedom of the run, knew that the man anticipated each of his moves. He rode with him in flowing synergy, matching his rhythm. This man was as untamed as a Klee; he would never seek to master him.
And so Sabir was confident.
Jorlan, spirit flying, felt the same way. He would never be mastered.
He was confident Green would back down before the Ritual of Proof took place.
She would not risk the disgrace.
"It is for the best, you know."
Anya found her grandson later that evening sitting in the far corner of the solar. Since Marquelle Tamryn had left earlier in the day, he had been nowhere to be found.
She had expected that.
Since he had been a child, whenever he was troubled, he sought solitude. Only when he had worked through what was on his mind would he fully rejoin the life that was around him.
She had often wondered if the solitary life of a monkery was not more suited to him. It could never be, for two very important reasons: He was the last of the Reynard line, and his own nature would never survive it. Jorlan needed to experience all of the physical world.
There was something different about her grandson.
Something untapped.
"The best for whom?" he said quietly.
"For you and for us." She glided in front of him, her grav assists whirring lowly. The sound mingled with the shushing sway of the plants, the calming gurgle of the fountain. This had always been his favorite room. She knew why: It brought the outside in.
He stared directly at her. Not for the first time, she wondered where those aqua eyes had come from. No Reynard as far back as she knew had eyes that color. Nor had his father's side.
She remembered when he was born...
Loreena had said his birth was almost rhythmic. Her contractions did not follow the normal pattern. They followed the sound of the waves outside the
oceanside cottage where she had gone to give birth. He flowed into life like a gentle wave upon the shore. There had been very little labor.
Her daughter had remarked that he had the dark slate eye color so prevalent in the Reynards; indeed, her own eyes were such a color. But, over the following month, they had started to change in hue, mystifying everyone. By the time he was a year old—the time of Forus's revolution around Arkeus—his irises were the brilliant aqua color so reminiscent of the waters of the moon. They remained so to this day.
Naturally, the family had kept that bit of oddity to themselves.
Lately, she had begun to wonder if there was any significance to it. Jorlan seemed to have deepened in these last years. He had always been inordinately mature for his age; there was a natural wisdom in him that did not speak of a twenty-five-year-old come-out who had lived an almost totally sheltered life on her estate.
He was an enigma. He constantly warred with his emotions. Anya knew that there was an enormously caring heart inside of him; a heart he shielded as if he were preparing himself for a heroic storm.
She inhaled deeply. Green Tamryn was the one to unveil him—in every regard. She had placed her faith as well as the person she loved most in this world in Marquelle Tamryn's capable hands.
The girl would not disappoint her. There was something of valor within that small frame.
"You will fasten with the Tamryns, it will ensure our lineage," she reiterated with conviction.
"And what about my happiness, Duchene?" He spoke so low she had trouble hearing him. "Does that not mean anything?"
Anya gave him a superior look. "You do want her. I am not blind."
He shot her an angry glare.
"You cannot hide much from me, my boy. You never could."
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"It will be better than you think."
He clenched his teeth. "My freedom will be gone
That night Jorlan rode his Klee over the hills and vales of the Reynard estate. Both man and beast were wild in the night.
Despite their reckless regard for safety, each of them was confident—for two very different reasons.
Sabir, in love with the freedom of the run, knew that the man anticipated each of his moves. He rode with him in flowing synergy, matching his rhythm. This man was as untamed as a Klee; he would never seek to master him.
And so Sabir was confident.
Jorlan, spirit flying, felt the same way. He would never be mastered.
He was confident Green would back down before the Ritual of Proof took place.
She would not risk the disgrace.
"It is for the best, you know."
Anya found her grandson later that evening sitting in the far corner of the solar. Since Marquelle Tamryn had left earlier in the day, he had been nowhere to be found.
She had expected that.
Since he had been a child, whenever he was troubled, he sought solitude. Only when he had worked through what was on his mind would he fully rejoin the life that was around him.
She had often wondered if the solitary life of a monkery was not more suited to him. It could never be, for two very important reasons: He was the last of the Reynard line, and his own nature would never survive it. Jorlan needed to experience all of the physical world.
There was something different about her grandson.
Something untapped.
"The best for whom?" he said quietly.
"For you and for us." She glided in front of him, her grav assists whirring lowly. The sound mingled with the shushing sway of the plants, the calming gurgle of the fountain. This had always been his favorite room. She knew why: It brought the outside in.
He stared directly at her. Not for the first time, she wondered where those aqua eyes had come from. No Reynard as far back as she knew had eyes that color. Nor had his father's side.
She remembered when he was born...
Loreena had said his birth was almost rhythmic. Her contractions did not follow the normal pattern. They followed the sound of the waves outside the
oceanside cottage where she had gone to give birth. He flowed into life like a gentle wave upon the shore. There had been very little labor.
Her daughter had remarked that he had the dark slate eye color so prevalent in the Reynards; indeed, her own eyes were such a color. But, over the following month, they had started to change in hue, mystifying everyone. By the time he was a year old—the time of Forus's revolution around Arkeus—his irises were the brilliant aqua color so reminiscent of the waters of the moon. They remained so to this day.
Naturally, the family had kept that bit of oddity to themselves.
Lately, she had begun to wonder if there was any significance to it. Jorlan seemed to have deepened in these last years. He had always been inordinately mature for his age; there was a natural wisdom in him that did not speak of a twenty-five-year-old come-out who had lived an almost totally sheltered life on her estate.
He was an enigma. He constantly warred with his emotions. Anya knew that there was an enormously caring heart inside of him; a heart he shielded as if he were preparing himself for a heroic storm.
She inhaled deeply. Green Tamryn was the one to unveil him—in every regard. She had placed her faith as well as the person she loved most in this world in Marquelle Tamryn's capable hands.
The girl would not disappoint her. There was something of valor within that small frame.
"You will fasten with the Tamryns, it will ensure our lineage," she reiterated with conviction.
"And what about my happiness, Duchene?" He spoke so low she had trouble hearing him. "Does that not mean anything?"
Anya gave him a superior look. "You do want her. I am not blind."
He shot her an angry glare.
"You cannot hide much from me, my boy. You never could."
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"It will be better than you think."
He clenched his teeth. "My freedom will be gone
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