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STOLEN BY THE PAST Chapter Three: Layana peered out of the kitchen window, pressing onto the balls of her feet, straining her eyes through the darkness. As yet, there was no sign of Silas and Fina. Lowering herself back down, she rather wished that she had not sent Had'Rian and Behan to the tavern. She was anxious about meeting Fina's father. She'd already heard all about him in Tajar's letters. The man was an immortal of an age that was even older than Had'Rian. Royne was his name and he was not at all keen on the mortal race. At his age, he could remember when the mortals had spread across the lands; he remembered the first war the Elders had raged. Thankfully, Royne did not forbid his daughter from socialising with mortals, although he was not entirely comfortable with it. Tajar's letters had been full of naughtiness that she knew he would never dare speak to Royne's face. Cheeky lines of mischief that always brought a smile to her lips. She missed Tajar the most. His letters were not nearly enough to feed her appetite. And it had been only Tajar that had tried to keep in touch with her. On her arrival in Elissarro she had found a letter stuffed into her luggage. It had been from Tajar, wishing her happiness again, begging her not to forget the company in her grief. She had replied and a correspondence had started between the pair. Often she wondered why Behan did not write - even Had'Rian had never put pen to paper. In the beginning both men had been angry with her, disappointed that she had abandoned them. Later, she supposed they got all of her news from Tajar and so didn't think there was any need to bother her. But it would not have been a bother. She missed her friends. Greatly. She missed her brother. |
How she hoped Behan would be happier here in Elissarro than he had been in Fehn. On her visits to the town she had seen the guilt in his eyes. Each step he made as if he believed he had no right to walk, to breathe, to live. He blamed himself for Abhner's death - Layana in turn blamed herself. But he had been happier on her last visit to Fehn. All of the friends had been. Well, nearly all. Whilst in the town, staying in the tavern on Tajar's insistence, she had been privy to a blazing row between he and Deilan. She had already known about the arguments the pair had been having, Tajar had told her so in his letters, but she had not seen how fierce they had become. Deilan had grabbed for Tajar's arm, shaken him like a doll. He had even raised his fist as if he meant to strike Tajar's beautiful face. Although she wished she could claim that the argument had been entirely Deilan's fault, she could not. Tajar was an easy man to love, but quite the opposite to share a relationship with. Tajar openly flaunted his attraction to other men and women and it upset Deilan greatly. But it was not that that sparked the final argument. It was the great love of Tajar's life that Deilan despised the most. Tajar tried to hide it, did as good a job as any man in love could, but Deilan saw. They all saw. It hurt no one else but Deilan. That night Layana had been struck by a vision. It was the first vision she had had in over two years. Her powers had all but dried up since Abhner's death. Hiding away in Elissarro, wanting to allow the proper time to pass to grieve for her dead husband. But those months had grouped quickly together to form years and she had only ever left the Elders' cottage to visit her friends in Fehn. But the more time she spent in the company of her friends the more often she felt the familiar ripples of power shuddering through her body.
When the vision hit she had been knocked off her feet. Sitting in a huddle on the living room floor, in front of a dying orange fire, she had felt a dark presence surrounding her friends. With her powers so weak she had been unable to see what it was or what it wanted.
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