What am I, you ask. The better question is who am I. I’m a student of alchemy. The son of every scholar ever born, and the father of every scholar yet to be born.
The Asfih Masjiid
Chapter 1
The Knocking of the Arrow
Rand’s Point of View
Rand’s dislocation uprooted a tree. Loudly.
“Shite.” He’d intended to arrive quietly. A loud crack pounded in his ears. Like a thunderstorm. He was in the middle of a storm he caused? So much for his quiet arrival.
Leftover exploding power toppled a second massive tree, while winds from his appearance blustered around him. His magic was more powerful here. What the fuck caused that?
The throb beating in his chest originated here. He heard her heartbeat. Finally.
A human heartbeat. How odd.
This hut was a hovel. Barely standing. How could a human survive here? He smelled her now, her mate bond fragrance curled inside the wind spinning around him. He felt her. On the opposite side of the door. The bond came alive for him.
Surprising.
He’d felt her pulse for months. He thought when it began it was his magic recharging. Over time, it grew stronger. He’d searched the faces of the fae and elf females in his court. Looking for that smile. Listening for that laugh. Waiting for the bond response that would sear his soul.
Confound him, the gods pushed him too far today. Forcing a human bond mate on him. His leathers chafed him. His hair swirled around his face as the chilly breeze ruffled the air around him. Softer though than the gusts his dislocation had caused.
He threw a gentle bolt of magic at the hovel door. Rand seldom knocked.
The feeble door blew apart. Much of it to smithereens. It now hung half off its frame. Fuck. He’d thrown a gentle bolt. None of this made sense.
He stood in the doorway and stopped in his tracks. Bond magic coiled inside him. With his first step toward her it quelled. The closer he came to her, it sang in his blood. She sat on some kind of chair made of sticks. Her pale gown clung to her like smoke, all billows and curls. Her brown hair fell around her face, and for a human, she was quite lovely. She held some kind of cloth bunched in her fingers. Her eyes in particular held him in place for a moment too long. Clear, liquid green. An unusual color.
He didn’t know her face. He didn’t know her name. But he knew magic when he sensed it.
And danger.
From where? They were the only two here.
Magic snarled at him as he approached her. Growled its warning. Stung him. Gashed his leathers.
What the fuck?
He took three steps into the light so she could see his eyes. To calm her. To calm the angry magic.
“Are you going to kill me?” she rasped.
He scoffed. “No.”
He moved closer.
“Rob me? I’ve nothing of value.”
He scoffed again. “I smell you.”
She seemed unable to move, frozen in her chair. In two strides he stood before her.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“Why are you here?”
“You.”
“Who are you?”
“Yours.”
He pulled her to him. He felt a burn. A tear in the magic. A spear of dread hit him. This was right.
But so, so wrong.