Spark of Chaos (Spark of Chaos #1)

Prologue (Part 3)

The nymphling liked to play Raven and the Prey. She hid from everyone—save for a select few. But he knew every one of her hiding places.

Her favorite perch in an oak tree was empty. And her climbing rock wasn't sheltered enough, so he went straight to a fallen, hollowed out tree.

Oenghus crouched in front of the opening. "Isiilde?" he called.

No answer.

He found a small pebble in the mud and wove a rune of light around it. When the runes settled, he blew into the palm of his hand. A soft glow blossomed, and he tossed it into the hollow. A tiny form huddled in the center, sitting chest deep in a pool of muck and water.

She had stopped shivering.

He forced words past his lips. "Sprite," he called, reaching in, but he was too large, and she was too far away. "It's Oen, come out of there."

The nymphling did not move.

"Isiilde!"

When she did not stir, a rare panic clutched him. He squeezed himself farther inside, stretching his fingertips towards her. He brushed Isiilde's arm, and a little hand touched his own. Oenghus seized her hand and dragged her out.

"You'll have to find a better hiding place than that." He tried to keep his voice light as he gathered her up in his arms.

"I'm in trouble, Oen," Isiilde whispered.

"You're always in trouble. It's nothing to worry about now. We'll get you nice and warm first, all right?"

Isiilde did not answer. Her silence worried him—more than the chill of her skin. He quickly stripped off her soaking nightgown, tossed it aside, and tucked her beneath his shirt, against the heat of his skin and the rhythm of his heart. He wrapped his cloak tightly around them both, and hurried back to the palace, hoping no one would notice the tiny bundle.

The urge to walk out of the palace into Whitemount and head north until he reached Nuthaan was nearly overwhelming. But Morigan was right. He could not single-handedly protect a nymph from men and gods alike. Isiilde's best chance was in Kambe as the daughter of an emperor. But she'd burnt the emperor's last straw.

Halfway to his rooms, the nymphling started shivering, which eased a knot of worry between his shoulders. But as Oenghus rounded the last corner, that knot returned. The Guard Captain and a pair of guards lingered outside his rooms.

At his approach, the guards barred the door with a pair of crossed spears. But it was more symbol than threat. They all knew trying to stop a berserker was as useless as damming a river with two twigs. Oenghus scowled at the guards. They tried to take a step back, but were stopped by the stone wall at their backs.

Their captain stood his ground. He was built more like a keg than a Kamberian—short and muscular, with the temperament of a bear. "I have orders to find the nymphling and bring her to His Majesty at once," Darius said. "I know she's under your shirt."

"And do you know what his next order will be? To throw a child into a bloody dungeon. Are you willing to do that, Darius?"

"His Majesty's word is law," Darius stated.

Oenghus turned slightly, eyeing the captain. The guards tensed for a fight. But Morigan's words came to mind, and he summoned every bit of control he possessed. "All I ask is that you let me heal her. You can go get His bloody Majesty, but I will not hand this child over before she's healed. And we both know you'll need an army of reinforcements to stop me."

He wasn't called Grimstorm without reason.

"Fine," Darius relented. "But she can't leave my sight." He issued orders to his guards that sent one running down the corridor with a message for the Emperor.