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Book: Destiny's Kingdom: Legend of the Chosen by Daniel Huber, Jennifer Selzer
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Authors: Daniel Huber, Jennifer Selzer
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right now." He smiled serenely at her disappointed frown, and held her stare for a moment as he turned, but he spoke with great purpose as he did. "There is someone else who I need to see."
Avalon always knew when it was the right time to walk among the people. He did it less frequently as the years had gone on and on, and now only stepped forth through the masses on rare occasions, reserving his time for a more important cause, the cause that had brought him out today in the first place.
For the moment, though, he strolled through the thinning edge of Sigh Marketplace, glancing casually over all those who turned their heads to him as he passed, the women's eyes wide with adoration, the men oddly fascinated with his presence. What they saw as a tall and handsomely built man would fade with the moments, however, fade and diminish to a dreamlike memory for some, and into nothingness for others. But there would be one today; one who would gain inspiration from gracing the presence of the Muse.
Avalon spotted her before she saw him. A middle aged, work-worn woman sitting alone on a tree stump, a blanket laid out before her with rows of handmade bracelets and jewelry, as she strummed a beaten and well used guitar. She was obviously struggling with what music she attempted to make. Once, she had been a rising performer, had played her guitar and sang songs beautiful and haunting each year at the Twilight Bloom. But of late, her music had left her, and the fire in her heart was dimming to mere embers along with her inspiration that song had once provided.
Avalon stood before her, looking over her selection of beaded necklaces, and watched her fumble on the strings of the instrument for almost a full minute before she even saw him standing there. She muttered bitterly to herself as the guitar betrayed her fingers, the strings having no tune and no harmony, and her voice something that she dare not sound over the volume of a whisper. Suddenly, something washed over her, and she looked up to see a tall man standing before her.
He was a spectacular creature to behold. The wind played lightly around the waves of his hair and his creamy skin was luminous, an eternally youthful glow radiating off his flawless flesh. His eyes were all at once intense and kind, large and almond shaped, the deep green color accentuated by long dark lashes which he blinked in a drowsy manner. As she stood, somehow attempting to take in the entirety of this ethereal man who had come to look on her goods, his full, wide lips spread into a warm expression.
"Good afternoon," he said to her. His voice was deep and disarmingly intimate. But he gazed at her with the innocence of one who has no sins and no secrets, and who would claim no ill toward any living thing. The woman accidentally dropped her guitar as she walked toward him, and he watched it hit the ground and raised his eyebrows in amusement.
"Careful or your guitar may cease to yield you music."
"Oh," the woman finally spoke, tearing her stare off of him for a moment and looking down to the fallen instrument. "I'm afraid that's happened long ago."
The touch of his hand on her cheek brought her eyes back to look at him, starting with his long, lean waist and slowly working up across his broad chest and gracefully muscled arms, over his strong jaw and long straight nose and finally to the emerald pools of his eyes.
"Music is your gift," he said gently, the deep, sensual tone in his voice weaving right through her, the shimmering tingle of his touch on her face hypnotic. "It will come to you again if you search your soul." He reached his other hand to smooth back her graying hair, and her face tilted up toward him reactively. "Search your soul," he repeated, his eyelids lowering, locking deeply with her rapt stare.
"Search…" she mumbled, caught up in the dream state moment of his inspiration, reaching out to lay a seeking hand on the thick leather belt that circled his waist. "The
Avalon always knew when it was the right time to walk among the people. He did it less frequently as the years had gone on and on, and now only stepped forth through the masses on rare occasions, reserving his time for a more important cause, the cause that had brought him out today in the first place.
For the moment, though, he strolled through the thinning edge of Sigh Marketplace, glancing casually over all those who turned their heads to him as he passed, the women's eyes wide with adoration, the men oddly fascinated with his presence. What they saw as a tall and handsomely built man would fade with the moments, however, fade and diminish to a dreamlike memory for some, and into nothingness for others. But there would be one today; one who would gain inspiration from gracing the presence of the Muse.
Avalon spotted her before she saw him. A middle aged, work-worn woman sitting alone on a tree stump, a blanket laid out before her with rows of handmade bracelets and jewelry, as she strummed a beaten and well used guitar. She was obviously struggling with what music she attempted to make. Once, she had been a rising performer, had played her guitar and sang songs beautiful and haunting each year at the Twilight Bloom. But of late, her music had left her, and the fire in her heart was dimming to mere embers along with her inspiration that song had once provided.
Avalon stood before her, looking over her selection of beaded necklaces, and watched her fumble on the strings of the instrument for almost a full minute before she even saw him standing there. She muttered bitterly to herself as the guitar betrayed her fingers, the strings having no tune and no harmony, and her voice something that she dare not sound over the volume of a whisper. Suddenly, something washed over her, and she looked up to see a tall man standing before her.
He was a spectacular creature to behold. The wind played lightly around the waves of his hair and his creamy skin was luminous, an eternally youthful glow radiating off his flawless flesh. His eyes were all at once intense and kind, large and almond shaped, the deep green color accentuated by long dark lashes which he blinked in a drowsy manner. As she stood, somehow attempting to take in the entirety of this ethereal man who had come to look on her goods, his full, wide lips spread into a warm expression.
"Good afternoon," he said to her. His voice was deep and disarmingly intimate. But he gazed at her with the innocence of one who has no sins and no secrets, and who would claim no ill toward any living thing. The woman accidentally dropped her guitar as she walked toward him, and he watched it hit the ground and raised his eyebrows in amusement.
"Careful or your guitar may cease to yield you music."
"Oh," the woman finally spoke, tearing her stare off of him for a moment and looking down to the fallen instrument. "I'm afraid that's happened long ago."
The touch of his hand on her cheek brought her eyes back to look at him, starting with his long, lean waist and slowly working up across his broad chest and gracefully muscled arms, over his strong jaw and long straight nose and finally to the emerald pools of his eyes.
"Music is your gift," he said gently, the deep, sensual tone in his voice weaving right through her, the shimmering tingle of his touch on her face hypnotic. "It will come to you again if you search your soul." He reached his other hand to smooth back her graying hair, and her face tilted up toward him reactively. "Search your soul," he repeated, his eyelids lowering, locking deeply with her rapt stare.
"Search…" she mumbled, caught up in the dream state moment of his inspiration, reaching out to lay a seeking hand on the thick leather belt that circled his waist. "The
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