Beneath the Sunless Sky

Chapter Thirty-Six

—Rynbelle, Namera—

She was trying to control the flow of her thoughts, trying to keep them from turning back to the memory that was causing her so much pain. Pain from her wounded heart and pain from the damned needle continually pricking her finger. Altara let out another hiss when the needle pierced the same spot again. She really needed to pay attention. Bleeding all over her cross-stitch would do nothing to help herself. It would just mean she'd have to start again. Checking to make sure the cloth was still pristine—it was a present for Adix's mother—Altara started again.

It wasn't long before her thoughts returned to those she wanted to forget: thoughts of Avalas looking at Aer'Avyn with devotion in his eyes, his hand hovering protectively over the small of her back, and the rumors circulating that they would be dining alone this evening.

Altara shook her head, trying to push the thoughts from her mind. It was a useless gesture. She couldn't forget the uncomfortable feeling of jealousy coiling tightly in her stomach at the sight of Aer'Avyn and the Commander together or the way her heart sank when she learned of their plans that evening. Silently, she chastised herself. Her jealousy wasn't justified. Neither had done anything to earn such a reaction from her. Both were extraordinarily good people and they deserved one another. If there was a pair made for one another, it was the two of them. But that did nothing to ease the pain in her heart. Since she was sixteen-years-old, she had been head-over-heels in love with the Commander. The fact that he would never notice her was no fault on his part.

The sound of his voice had her looking up. The Commander made his way to one of his captains, quietly discussing what looked to be an urgent matter. The captain saluted quickly and hurried off. The Commander turned and caught her eye, offering a nod of respect as he did so. Altara blushed and ducked her head. She was an unconventional girl from the poorest part of the city while he had been blessed by birth to belong to one of the richest families in Namera. There was nothing about her that would appeal to a man like that. Nothing that—Altara started as someone unexpectedly joined her on the bench.

"Mind if I join you?" Aer'Avyn smiled kindly.

Altara shifted to the side a bit, giving her a bit more room. Her large hands fumbled with the needle as she moved. Aer'Avyn leaned over to take a look at her cross-stitch.

"Oh, that's beautiful! Where'd you learn?"

"My mother. Father was furious when he found out I wanted to learn. So, she taught me in secret late at night."

"Why did your father not want you to learn?"

Altara hesitated, the words refusing to leave her throat. Did Aer'Avyn really not know? So many members of Yaira's nobility had been quick to comment the moment they saw her large hands, the slight curve of her Adam's apple, or her squarish jaw. Over the years, the comments had died down, but whenever she met anyone new, they inevitably spoke up. If Aer'Avyn didn't know—she would rather it stay that way. Less likely she would look at her as though she was some sort of monster. She wanted Aer'Avyn to accept her, just like she wanted—

"Our paths cross again," the achingly familiar voice of the man occupying her dreams every night had her looking up, startled. But Avalas wasn't looking in her direction. His gaze was fixed firmly on Aer'Avyn. Altara couldn't blame him. The Savior was a stunning woman. Young, dark hair, piercing blue eyes, flawless pale skin. She couldn't hope to hold a candle next to her.

"Indeed, they do," Aer'Avyn laughed.

"I only wanted to say hello once more. I'll leave you ladies to enjoy your afternoon. I shall see you tonight." The Commander offered them both a deep bow.