Free Lord of the Dark by Dawn Thompson

hills were open ground, offering no shelter between the remains of the keep and the cave. There was nothing for it. She had to go back. Deciding not to run like a fugitive, she ambled toward the cave at a leisurely pace, trying not to look at the winged creature soaring overhead, half expecting the dark lord to swoop down and chastise her for disobeying one of his “conditions.” But he did not. She wasn’t certain how long it was before the winged one soared off, but the next time she braved a glance aloft, the beautiful azure blue sky was vacant.
    Rhiannon scarcely breathed until she’d reached the cave and gotten safely inside. Half expecting Gideon to fly at her the minute she entered, she made her way along the corridor to her appointed chamber. It was just as she’d left it, with the indentation of her body in the feather bed. One by one, she checked the other chambers, beginning with Gideon’s, but they were vacant too. She must have been right. She had probably glimpsed him just as he was leaving to check the other isles. Whether he had seen her or not she would learn soon enough the moment he returned.
    She went to the pool chamber last. It, too, was vacant. The sultry steam rising from the surface of the water beckoned. Her exposed skin was smudged with dirt from her ramble in the ruins. He would surely know she’d been out of the cave were he to set eyes upon her now, if he didn’t know already.
    Stripping off the kirtle, she shook it out, then folded it neatly and set it aside. Plunging into the water, she let it take her under, hair and all, for the soft plait had collected bits of dead scrub and black heather, and she swam beneath the cascade to remove all traces of her outing while she awaited Gideon’s return.
     
    After searching the Dark Isle first for any other survivors who might have washed up on shore in the night, Gideon flew to the Forest Isle for an audience with Marius. The man he had helped the Lord of the Forest carry up from the beach bore a striking resemblance to the description Rhiannon had given him of the crewman Rolf. He touched down in the forenoon and was met with row upon row of genuflecting tree spirits as he made his way to Marius’s rambling lodge at the edge of a little clearing skirted by pines. It was customary to leave a tribute to the Ancient Ones when passing. Little statues with outstretched hands holding basins to receive herbs, flowers, seeds, and the like peppered the wood for just that purpose, and Gideon never shirked his duty to them. It wasn’t just an idle gesture. The rain would eventually wash the tribute into the ground, where the trees’ roots could drink in the benefits of the offering.
    Gideon always carried such tributes when visiting the Forest Isle, for unlike the gods, the Ancient Ones had not rejected him. He had knelt to say a blessing and sprinkle dried herbs into one of the statue’s dishes, when something lightly touched his wings, and he spiraled up swirling the dried leaves at his feet into a whirlwind to face one of the forest’s wood nymphs.
    Gideon scowled. He knew the exquisite creature well. Many a time he’d dodged the watcher’s lightning bolts attempting to submerge himself in her willing flesh. Her flowing gown of spun spider silk with jewels of dew was fashioned with a sprinkling of tiny leaves that hid none of her charms. Her long chestnut hair was likewise decorated. Her skin, as white as marble with a greenish tinge, showed through the spider’s creation, as did her tawny upturned nipples, inviting his touch. Instead, he balled his hands into white-knuckled fists, his hooded eyes spitting fire.
    “You know better than to touch my wings, Vina,” he said.
    “Ahhh, but I love to watch that magnificence rise,” she crooned, sidling closer, meanwhile giving his bulging cock a cursory nod.
    “Do not waste your pains,” Gideon returned. “You above all should know the futility of that. Don’t you remember what happened the