Page 5 of Kingdoms of Tides and Twilight (A World of Sun and Shadow #2)
G rayden's muscles screamed with every movement, a testament to the grueling hours spent in the saddle. The last time he'd ridden this long was during his military training at fifteen, but youth had been kinder to his body then. Now, every joint ached, every muscle burned. Yet, as he urged Damion forward, a spark of hope ignited in his chest, overshadowing the physical discomfort. The connection to Renya pulsed stronger now, guiding him like a beacon through the snow-covered landscape.
The icy wind whipped against his face as Damion's hooves thundered across the ground, kicking up plumes of snow. Grayden leaned forward, his body moving in sync with the stallion's powerful strides. The world blurred around them, trees and snow melding into a dizzying white canvas. It felt as if they were flying, the ground barely solid beneath them.
As he rode, unbidden images of Renya flooded his mind. Her golden hair catching the sunlight, her warm smile that made his heart skip a beat, the feel of her in his arms - soft yet strong. A giddy laugh bubbled up in his throat, surprising him. The realization of their fate-bond still felt surreal, a miracle he'd never dared hope for.
His mind raced with the implications. Political marriages, once a looming possibility, now seemed laughably distant. He imagined the faces of those who had pushed for his union with Cressida, how they would react to this twist of fate. The sacred nature of the fate-bond would protect them from any who might try to separate them. For the first time in years, Grayden felt truly free.
As he rode, his thoughts drifted to Renya's Aunt Agatha. The memory of fear in Cressida's eyes when confronted by the older woman in the Sunset Land was vivid. There was history there, he was certain. A curious mystery he'd dismissed in the anguish of parting from Renya. He made a mental note to unravel that mystery once they were reunited.
The landscape gradually shifted as Grayden pressed on. Snow gave way to patches of grass, then to more lush vegetation. He was nearing the borders of the Tidal Kingdom. Memories of his childhood visit surfaced—a diplomatic mission with his father, a young princess named Esmeralda. He remembered his father's not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, a plan that never came to fruition. Had his father somehow sensed the possibility of this fate-bond?
Grayden's senses heightened as he entered unfamiliar territory, alert for any sign of Renya or potential danger. The humid air clung to his skin, a stark contrast to the frigid climate he'd left behind. Exotic scents filled his nostrils—unfamiliar flowers, damp earth, and the distant tang of salt air.
When the jungle became too dense to ride through, Grayden dismounted. His legs wobbled, unused to solid ground after so long in the saddle. He patted Damion's flank reassuringly before tethering him to a sturdy palm.
“I'll be back, old friend,” he murmured, steeling himself for what lay ahead.
As Grayden pressed deeper into the jungle, the foliage grew denser, the air heavier with moisture. An eerie silence fell, broken only by the occasional drip of condensation from broad leaves. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword as he pushed forward. A sweet scent filled the air, almost dizzying in its intensity. Grayden's eyes widened as he took in his surroundings. Massive flowers, easily the size of dinner plates, dotted the landscape. Their petals were a riot of colors—deep purples, vibrant reds, and sickly yellows—all glistening with an odd, viscous fluid. As he watched, a large insect, drawn by the scent, landed on one of the flowers. In a flash, the petals snapped shut, engulfing the hapless creature. A chill ran down Grayden's spine as he realized the nature of these plants.
Carefully, he began to pick his way through the field of carnivorous flora. Each step had to be measured, deliberate. A misstep could mean disaster. Vines hung from the canopy above, swaying gently despite the lack of breeze. Grayden ducked under one, only to jerk back as it suddenly lashed out, barely missing his face.
“Fates,” he breathed, heart pounding. These weren't mere plants—they were hunters. He pressed on, hyper-aware of every movement around him. The ground beneath his feet squelched, oddly soft and giving. Looking down, he realized with a start that the earth itself seemed to be slowly shifting, as if trying to pull him in. A loud snap to his left made him whirl around. One of the giant flowers had just missed clamping onto his arm. Sweat beaded on his brow as he quickened his pace, careful not to show fear.
These plants, he realized, could sense it somehow. Halfway through the thicket, a tangle of vines suddenly dropped from above, wrapping around his legs. Grayden's sword was in his hand in an instant, slashing through the writhing tendrils. Green fluid sprayed as the vines recoiled, a high-pitched keening filling the air. The entire thicket seemed to come alive at once. Flowers snapped, vines whipped through the air, and the ground itself began to quake.
Grayden broke into a run, dodging and weaving through the botanical onslaught. His breath came in sharp gasps, muscles burning with exertion. A gap in the foliage appeared ahead—the edge of the thicket. With a final burst of speed, Grayden lunged forward, rolling as he hit the ground beyond the reach of the murderous plants. He lay there for a moment, chest heaving, before pushing himself to his feet. With renewed determination, Grayden turned back to the path ahead. Setting his jaw, he pressed onward, leaving the carnivorous jungle behind.
The beach came into view, a strip of golden sand stretching as far as the eye could see. Grayden's steps faltered as a wave of sensation washed over him. He spun around, drawn back to the jungle's edge by an invisible thread.
There, half-hidden by fallen leaves, lay Renya's cloak. Grayden's hands trembled as he lifted it, bringing the fabric to his face. Her scent overwhelmed him, so vivid he could almost believe she was there. His heart raced as he scanned the ground, years of tracking experience kicking in.
Boot prints materialized in the soft earth—small, delicate indentations that could only belong to Renya. Alongside them, larger prints and the unmistakable mark of high heels. Grayden's jaw clenched, recognizing the implications. Cressida had been here, along with at least one other person—Brandle, most likely.
He followed the trail deeper into the jungle, every sense on high alert. The path led to a clearing where a collapsed megalith blocked the entrance to a cave. Grayden's fingers traced the rough stone, mind racing to piece together what had transpired. He noticed a small passage carved out, stones stacked neatly beside discarded fruit peels. Someone had escaped the cave—but who?
A large stone cauldron caught his eye, its presence ominous in the clearing. He approached cautiously, peering inside. Golden residue clung to the bottom, shimmering faintly in the dappled sunlight. The air felt charged, remnants of powerful magic lingering like static electricity. Grayden's skin prickled, recognizing the telltale signs of a ritual site. Ancient fae dwellings were known to amplify magic—it was no coincidence Cressida had brought Renya here.
Crouching low, Grayden studied the ground around the cauldron. Scuff marks told a story of struggle, of bodies in motion. His heart clenched as he identified Renya's prints, imagining her fear, her determination. He pictured her standing here, facing off against Cressida, and felt a surge of pride mixed with worry.
Relief flooded through him as he traced her path away from the cave, back towards the beach. She had escaped, had left here alone. The realization propelled him into motion.
Back on the beach, Grayden's keen eyes picked out Renya's trail heading east. The Tidal Gate lay in that direction—had someone guided her, or was it mere chance? He remembered the reclusive nature of the Tidal Fae, their preference for cave dwellings carved by centuries of tides. Once, they had lived in underwater palaces, but the fading of magic had forced them to higher ground.
It didn't matter how Renya knew where to go. She was ahead, and he would find her. With a sharp whistle, he called Damion to his side. In one fluid motion, he swung himself onto the horse's back, ignoring the protest of his sore muscles.
They took off down the beach, hooves pounding against the wet sand. Each stride brought Grayden closer to his mate, to the future he now dared to imagine.