Page 35 of The Song of Sunrise (The Prentice Teller #1)

A Dance of Silver and Gold

Atlys

I attempt to listen to the ramblings of this human politician, but all I can think about is her .

Her soul sings to mine.

“The treaty really shouldn’t need too many modifications this time around,” the human Elder says, not bothering to pause for me to respond before continuing to drone on. I do not ask for their name; by the next Summit, they won’t be around anyway.

He’s so tall. I wonder if all Underlings are this tall , a thought from a nearby human rings in my head.

I ignore the constant murmur of voices as I do the others.

As if the ballroom isn’t already loud enough with actual talking, their thoughts have to fill my head too.

Hearing other people’s thoughts has never been a challenge to tune out before, but I’m… distracted.

I give the Elder a curt nod in response, pretending to listen. There are much bigger issues than the growing forces on the Southern Continent.

So handsome , a woman in a red dress thinks as she walks by, eyes lingering on my biceps.

On another night, I would consider approaching her, but for some fucking reason, there is only one human I need to get closer to.

Not because I’m attracted to her, no… it’s because I need to know why it stops when I’m around her.

The wandering voices in my head—the near constant onslaught of thoughts—are silenced when I’m near her .

Bored of this conversation, I stretch to my full height, towering over Elder Don’t Give a Fuck.

His wince of fear is quickly masked as he scrambles away.

Good, I’ve been wanting to move to another spot, farther from the commotion where I can view the room from afar. Hopefully get some peace and quiet.

Crowds part for me like water trailing through sand, creating a moat where I walk. Isn’t he the Soul Eater? and That’s the Terraguard Lord. I hear he can walk through solid stone ! ring through my mind as I pass.

As usual, I ignore the voices. Grateful for the shadows at the edge of the room, I lean against the stone wall.

It’s the cold against my back, the only thing familiar about this place.

I pretend to scan the floor full of people dancing, knowing full well where my eyes want to land.

Where she is. The silky skin of her delicate shoulder is permanently seared on my palm as much as it is in my memories.

It took more self control than I would like to admit to contain myself when I touched her.

So soft, so warm. My chest purrs at the unearthly things I want to do to her.

Never have I felt this way. Unraveled by a single touch. Undone until the world falls completely silent. Utter and complete silence.

By a human .

“Discreetly checking out your champion, I see,” the familiar smooth voice of the General of my Coredivers says. “She really is quite lovely.”

“Damaris,” I say in a warning. Deep down, a protective instinct growls at the thought of anyone else looking at my champion.

Damaris is unfazed. They understand my sense of humor, my tone, my tells.

It is why we work so well together. A war general needs to be able to communicate with their commander with or without words.

Damaris hands me a goblet of wine then leans against the wall next to me. “For a human, that is,” they add.

I growl another warning.

“Oh, do cheer up, Atlys. Even Cadex is enjoying the festivities.” Damaris gestures to my Third, a gargantuan war lord known for demolishing an entire Old World city, now drinking merrily with his champion, a brunette doppelganger of himself, Gryphon, who threw one of the loose boulders across the stadium.

The act was probably magically assisted, but his strength was impressive.

But impressive as it was, only one human captured my attention yesterday at the Presentation.

She is in the center of the room. The girl from the Source pool is dancing with her short haired friend, head tilted upward as if basking in sunlight.

Unaware that she is the sun itself.

Her golden dress shimmers across her body in mesmerizing waves, changing color slightly with each movement like a sunrise stretching across the sky.

As a creature of the Underworld, I am cold, dark. Whereas she is my inverse, radiant and warm and light and human . All of the things I despise and yet I’m drawn to her in some inexplicable way.

My hand aches for the contact of her skin once more. So soft, so… fragile. With one squeeze, I could have broken her clavicle, but I didn’t want to.

How odd.

I watch as the Elder Superior’s son—the same one that my Champion cannot seem to distance herself from—dances with her. I pry open my fist, forcing my hand to lay straight at my side.

I fight the pull of my magic within, itching to crumble this castle into pieces so small it would slip off the side of the mountain.

The male cadet moves closer to my champion and… I decide that I do not like anyone touching her. She represents my territory now. A champion for Terraguard.

In a few quick strides, I’m right behind them. The boy looks at me with an incredulous stare. Bold, I’ll give him that.

“If I may have this dance,” I half ask, half command. My voice sounds unnecessarily gruff.

She turns around, golden eyes widening at my extended hand. Her cherry red lips part and close before she finally answers, “Um, okay.”

She places her hand tentatively in mine. I waste no time and pull her away from the Elder’s son.

Her steps falter, and I quickly turn around, catching her by the waist. Her cheeks brighten.

“Sorry, I’m not used to these damn shoes,” she says in a voice that could rival a siren. “And it would be helpful if you didn’t walk so fast. It takes three steps of mine to match your one.”

“Apologies, champion.”

“Akemi. Just Akemi.”

I move closer and place my hand under her chin.

“Akemi,” I test her name on my lips, and I find I like the taste. “I shall walk slower in your company to accommodate your pace from now on.”

“Thank you,” she says, though she looks anything but thankful. Her arms are crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

“Does that rule apply to dancing as well?” Before she can answer, I grab her hand and glide her underneath my arm in a circle before returning her back to where she was standing before. Her cheeks flush beneath the freckles on her nose.

I frown at how easily flustered she is. We will need to work on that in order for her to win the Summit. I place my hand around her back, covering the exposed skin of her shoulder blade with my palm. Her skin pebbles at my touch. My inner beast purrs with delight at the reaction.

“Why me?” she asks, her voice breathless and low. I don’t need context to know that she is asking why I chose her as my champion. It is a simple question to answer, and yet I see the concern in her eyes, the tense pull of her shoulders and tilt of her head.

“Because I see you,” I admit. Her gaze widens at my comment. “I see the fire beneath your skin. The soul hidden underneath.”

“So it is true? You can see our souls?”

I startle at her forwardness but do not let my surprise show.

“Yes,” I say, offering her this small truth. I turn her once more and slide her along my arm until she is as far as I can muster, arms extended like magnets, fingertips brushing. I let go of the contact and orbit around her, unable to resist the pull of this magnificent star standing before me.

“What do you see when you look at me?” she asks quietly, watching me circle around and around until I’m towering right in front of her, only inches away.

I stand transfixed by her for a moment until I settle on my answer. Another truth then, I decide. “A soul unlike anyone I’ve ever encountered.”

She stills for a moment, considering my response. So I take the lead and twirl her once again. When her hand melds into mine once more, the tension she was harboring in her posture softens. If I were a human, I wouldn’t have noticed the miniscule shift in her pulse.

It is true that there were more gallant human champions I could have chosen. More brutish strength or violent displays. But I chose her, not for the golden sunrise that she is, but for her cunning, her fire, her ferocity that showed when the head landed at the Jord Lord’s feet.

She looks to the side, exposing the column of her neck.

She is not ready for the brutality of the Summit.

I half curse myself for picking her at all, lest she be able to watch safely from the sidelines.

But there was a need I could not quite understand.

In myself, and in her. There was a desperation and hunger in her eyes at the Presentation.

She needs this, for some reason. And I intend to figure out why. “We will begin lessons soon.”

“My lessons?”

“Yes. You are not ready for the Summit. I have seen many, sponsored the last three, and while your physical ability with the throwing stars was impressive, you are not ready.”

“Wait, so you are over seventy-five years old? At least? But you look like you’re twenty-five, thirty tops.” She makes a choking sound and covers her mouth, averting her gaze to the floor.

Against my better judgment, the corner of my mouth pulls upward.

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” she says bashfully, unable to look at me.

I reach for her delicate chin and turn it toward me.

“Atlys, just Atlys,” I echo her own words. Our eyes clash in a sea of gold and silver. “And never apologize for voicing your thoughts.”

“Sorr—” she starts. “I mean. Umm, thank you.”

“I will need to meet with you frequently. To ensure your proper training.” She is just a human. I have never cared for any Surface dwelling species before, and yet I cannot help but feel tethered to her. She pulls on me, sucking away bit by bit until my thoughts return to her.

I unclench my jaw.

“Yes, of course,” she whispers back. The room around us is silent. How long were we dancing without music?

“Dear royal delegates!” Commander Hogsmith announces, voice mantically amplified around the room. “I hope you were able to meet your champion, because the first task of the Summit begins tonight!”