Prologue
The deep of night came forth from the dreamless void like a wet fog rolling off the jagged peaks of the Western Spine. Great unyielding misted swaths of dappled navy that bent back and away until the familiar space of her room lay before her.
Kohryn sat up with a wave of disgust, peeling wet clothing from between the swell of her breasts and swinging her legs from the bed.
It was the eighth night in a row she’d awoken in such a state, drenched in sweat, breathless, and feeling so… full.Swollen. Filled with a clinging static that pushed at her skin in wet zapping licks. It rode its way from the spillage overflowing from her chest and up her throat where it begged her to scream…or laugh, or rave like a lunatic. She wasn’t sure.
She stripped herself of the soiled nightwear and shrugged on a robe. Its worn linen fibers clung to still damp skin as she soundlessly slipped into the hallway.
At this point it was becoming routine. Strip herself, tip-toe downstairs and slink and through the house. Tonight her father snored loudly, fallen asleep at the table on top a plethora of cogs and bolts. It wasn’t untypical, so she left him there and passed into built before she was born, a washroom.
Blue light arced off a crystal seated in a wroth iron lamp that hung from a chain. It lit the rudimentary space in cool hues, pale grey slate turned blue and aquatic. Copper pipes lined walls and a trough overhead sent down a steady fall of water. Father said there were similar bathing rooms in larger cities, ones of high quality made of colorful and fancy tile, with pipes concealed in walls. It was novel in their small village, certainly, but she had never quite had any real appreciation for the shower until now.
Her robe came off in a mindless sweep, unceremoniously bunched up and tossed on the bench as she stumbled into the water. The heat offered some distraction, soothing her itching skin, quieting the strange swelling push. Maybe she was getting sick. She’d never been sick before but there was a first time for everything…
Or maybe it washim. The intrusive thought came with a slap. He’d also shown up eight days ago. The foreigner from across the sea’s with the white gold hair. She let out an amused huff at such a paranoid theory. In the morning she’d ask her father to summon Ulias for a health check.
Yet, as the water drowned out the electric buzz, her suspicion only grew. Perhaps the man wasn’t the cause, but she couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling he was somehow involved. His presence was too strange. He was blue-blooded and highborn. How high remained a mystery, but definitely too shiny for the small village. She’d heard plenty of his charm and seen him on a few occasions.Watching her.
That’s what she didn’t like, what put her on edge, the way he looked at her. Like he was studying her. She was used to how others glanced and snuck peeks. Strangers more often than not avoided looking at her entirely. Only her father and the rare few- familiar, intoxicated, or downright courageous- ever beheld her so boldly.
This man was one of the courageous ones. He’d been watching her with those vivid green eyes and she swore he was even making attempts to get closer. At first lingering on the edge of the mountain, randomly appearing to walk on the same isolate paths, coming into the bakery where she worked, offering her a greeting when he finally caught sight of her on his second stop. Day after day. Certainly he had enough bread by now. Then earlier that evening as she was finishing up her duties, the baker informed her that the foreigner would be working seasonally with them, at this until mid autumn. She twisted her fingers uneasily, letting water softly patter the back of her head while she stared at her feet, lost in thought and too awake now to return to bed.
