Free The Language of Souls by Lena Goldfinch Page A

twined with his. As if they’d been fashioned to do just that.
    Rundan heard her gasp as they entered the small open glade. Pale streams of moonlight shone through gaps in the leaves above, casting a light just bright enough to see a hand in front of your face. There were no distinct colors, only the purpled shades of midnight. Grass grew thick and dense in the clearing, covering the ground beneath his boots in a hushed, spongy softness. And all around them was wild tymia, filling the air with its crisp fragrance. Each leafy stalk was crowned with only a single small flower, but together they formed clusters of tiny purple bells. Just the thought of bells reminded Rundan, rather uncomfortably, of the bells of Oden’s palace.... He could hear almost those jarring, discordant tones in the distance, ringing as they always did just before an execution. It was only his imagination, of course—nothing more than a trick of the mind in the dark—but the image left him faintly unsettled.
    Solena halted abruptly beside him and her eyes grew wide, like a child discovering a den of timber fox’s kits for the first time. Her hand slipped from his, leaving it all too empty and suddenly cold. He heard her pack fall to the ground with a soft thud, as she walked into the glade with outstretched arms.
    “Rundan,” she whispered, and he liked the way his name sounded coming from her lips. “You found them.” She pressed her fingertips to her mouth and held them there. Then she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the darkened sky above.
    Sensing she was in prayer, Rundan dropped to one knee and closed his eyes as well. As he tipped his head back, the lightest mist, a midnight dew, fell against his eyelids and cooled his face. Solena’s soft voice tickled at his ears. She was whispering in her native Torrani, her words rising like a song he’d once known but could no longer understand. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
    When she finished, she began to pluck the stalks one by one, leaving three for every two she took, as if she too knew the custom of his people, leaving enough for future growth. Rundan rose to his feet and began to gather with her, bundling stalks under his arm as he went.
    “I can’t believe there are so many.” She smiled at him, relief and joy lighting her face, as she cradled her bundle close to her chest.
    “I’m glad. Will this be enough?” he asked, showing her the stalks he’d gathered as well, feeling stupidly like he was offering her flowers to display in some great hall where a wedding feast was being laid.
    “Enough for Grandpeer’s life and many others—if I return in time.” Her smile wavered. In the muted light, her eyes shone a little too brightly, as if she were holding back tears.
    “We’ll leave soon.” Rundan heard the words of his promise and wished he could take her home to Torrani right then. That he could make everything right for her. Always.
    It was a dangerous thing to wish, he told himself as he turned away.
     
     
    When the morning of their journey dawned, Rundan found his thoughts consumed with the day he’d eventually return Solena home.
    Solena.
    He’d loved her name from the moment he first heard it, that day they’d bent over his parchment together. He loved the soft sound of her breathing as she slept curled up next to him. With every hour that passed in her company, he’d come to love everything about her. He loved her shy smile of greeting in the morning. Now that they shared the ancient language, he’d learned of her dreams of being a healer, saw how anxious she was to serve her people well. He knew about her great concern for her grandfather, who was very sick. And, of course, he knew of her bravery in crossing the cliffs. She was so giving too, and had such an amazing, generous heart, unmatched in spirit by anyone he’d ever known.
    He loved it all.
    He loved her .
    The thought of leaving her in Torrani filled him with a persistent ache of