Princess had not struck him as the type to run off and sulk, but he considered for a moment that his taunting may have caused her to do so. He tilted his head slightly as he used all of his supernatural senses to seek her out, just to see where she was. It was little help; the caverns created strange echoes in his sensory network, reflecting ghosts and shadows of presences that were difficult for him to sort through. The only thing he could be sure of was that she was not in the immediate Library any longer.
Why he cared, he did not know. He moved to the Library entrance, still searching.
Syreena broke out of the unexpected exit she had found, stepping into the crunch of untouched snow and the biting chill of winter air.
But it was fresh and clean and bracing as she breathed deeply of it with pleasure. At the same time, she folded her arms tight and close around her middle to conserve the warmth of her body. She was wearing a sheath dress knit of cashmere that was held up only by her bare shoulders and barely reached her knees. She wore a simple slip-on shoe, inappropriate for trudging through snow.
She was part animal, however, and designed to withstand those sorts of hardships. It would not bother her as easily as it would a human or even some of the other Nightwalkers.
She was in forestland, half of the trees standing stark and bare on the dark landscape, the other half hulking shadows of pine and other trees that kept their hearty foliage year-round. She began to walk, the crunching of her steps the only sound around her. Beneath that, of course, were the natural life sounds of the forest. However, even that would become quiet soon. In spite of her affinity to animals, she was still an apex predator, something to be feared more than harmonized with. In shapechange, she was only an apparent threat to smaller animals.
She was tempted to discard her clothes and become the falcon. She so enjoyed free-flying in the clear night sky. But she was supposed to carry out certain responsibilities on this first evening of the opening of the Library. It was bad enough that she had wandered off. She would allow herself a short, refreshing walk in the snow and then she would return. The purpose was to gain a clear head, to readjust her perspective. Nature in and of itself was a meditative process, so she was hoping she would find a calmer center for herself. She could not afford the mood with which she had greeted the Vampire Prince. It was her duty, in fact, to be just the opposite, to be cordial and diplomatic to all other Nightwalkers who did not threaten her.
Because there was no way, in practice, to put politics aside in these matters. An insult to any person, whether of the type of power Damien weighted or just the simplest citizen in the Nightwalker world, could have far-reaching implications that had the potential to begin wars.
Syreena moved forward slowly through the dark night. There was no moon in the sky, at least not one that could be seen through the heavy veil of dark clouds that hung low near the treetops.
She honestly needed to figure out what was wrong with her. It was as if she had reverted to the confused, volatile child she had been just before she had been sent to The Pride. But she was not a child. She was one hundred eight years old, well trained, highly intellectual, and emotionally centered.
Usually.
She knew that the effects of peace outweighed the effects of war. She knew that contention and surliness bred itself, just as softness of the voice and approach bred respect in return.
Syreena stopped suddenly when she thought she heard a sound behind her. She abruptly turned, her keen eyes divining and identifying all the objects in the dark. There was nothing there to be seen. Not even an animal. They were all sitting still and hidden until her intrusion passed.
She dismissed it as a random echo or a trick of her mind. If it were anything else, she would have sensed it.
She shivered with serious
Why he cared, he did not know. He moved to the Library entrance, still searching.
Syreena broke out of the unexpected exit she had found, stepping into the crunch of untouched snow and the biting chill of winter air.
But it was fresh and clean and bracing as she breathed deeply of it with pleasure. At the same time, she folded her arms tight and close around her middle to conserve the warmth of her body. She was wearing a sheath dress knit of cashmere that was held up only by her bare shoulders and barely reached her knees. She wore a simple slip-on shoe, inappropriate for trudging through snow.
She was part animal, however, and designed to withstand those sorts of hardships. It would not bother her as easily as it would a human or even some of the other Nightwalkers.
She was in forestland, half of the trees standing stark and bare on the dark landscape, the other half hulking shadows of pine and other trees that kept their hearty foliage year-round. She began to walk, the crunching of her steps the only sound around her. Beneath that, of course, were the natural life sounds of the forest. However, even that would become quiet soon. In spite of her affinity to animals, she was still an apex predator, something to be feared more than harmonized with. In shapechange, she was only an apparent threat to smaller animals.
She was tempted to discard her clothes and become the falcon. She so enjoyed free-flying in the clear night sky. But she was supposed to carry out certain responsibilities on this first evening of the opening of the Library. It was bad enough that she had wandered off. She would allow herself a short, refreshing walk in the snow and then she would return. The purpose was to gain a clear head, to readjust her perspective. Nature in and of itself was a meditative process, so she was hoping she would find a calmer center for herself. She could not afford the mood with which she had greeted the Vampire Prince. It was her duty, in fact, to be just the opposite, to be cordial and diplomatic to all other Nightwalkers who did not threaten her.
Because there was no way, in practice, to put politics aside in these matters. An insult to any person, whether of the type of power Damien weighted or just the simplest citizen in the Nightwalker world, could have far-reaching implications that had the potential to begin wars.
Syreena moved forward slowly through the dark night. There was no moon in the sky, at least not one that could be seen through the heavy veil of dark clouds that hung low near the treetops.
She honestly needed to figure out what was wrong with her. It was as if she had reverted to the confused, volatile child she had been just before she had been sent to The Pride. But she was not a child. She was one hundred eight years old, well trained, highly intellectual, and emotionally centered.
Usually.
She knew that the effects of peace outweighed the effects of war. She knew that contention and surliness bred itself, just as softness of the voice and approach bred respect in return.
Syreena stopped suddenly when she thought she heard a sound behind her. She abruptly turned, her keen eyes divining and identifying all the objects in the dark. There was nothing there to be seen. Not even an animal. They were all sitting still and hidden until her intrusion passed.
She dismissed it as a random echo or a trick of her mind. If it were anything else, she would have sensed it.
She shivered with serious
Similar Books
