Page 29 of Touch of Oblivion (Woven in Time #1)

Wren

W e stand at the edge of the portal, sunlight slanting through the trees and catching on the tips of Sylvin’s white-blond hair. The grove around us is quiet, still held in that lingering peace, but my thoughts have already begun to shift. Not toward what’s next, but to what I’m leaving behind.

Natasha is probably still searching for trousers I’ll never have a chance to wear now.

I think of the way she patiently sifted through the glamorous wardrobe this morning. She didn’t fuss or act like I was a headache to help. She was simply steady and kind, with no ounce of judgment in her kind soul.

I wish I could have said goodbye.

The guilt curls unexpectedly in my chest, a low, insistent ache.

I didn’t think my time here would be so short, but the offensive attack against the humans is coming soon, and I can’t afford to spend more time in a land that’s already given me the answers it could.

If I want true clarity to understand where I stand in this war, I have to see all the factions before the battle begins.

The ground trembles in agreement and I sigh in relief.

Still...Natasha deserves more than me disappearing without a word and my absence sending her back to work for someone unkind.

I glance at Sylvin. “Will Natasha be okay? Will she go back to whoever she was assigned to before me?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just watches me with that unreadable look of his–too many thoughts flickering behind bright blue eyes.

“No,” he says softly. “She won’t be returning to that household. They didn’t treat her kindly, and I won’t send her back into that.”

Relief eases some of the tension lining my shoulders.

“I’ll tell her she’s to remain on my payroll,” he continues. “Your room at the castle will be kept exactly as you left it. Freshened daily. As if you might walk back through the door at any moment.”

My breath catches.

That...shouldn’t mean as much as it does .

I don’t say anything right away. I study him for a moment, the slope of his shoulders, the curve of his smirk, and the genuine kindness radiating from his words.

“Thank you,” I say finally, voice low. “For that. For her.”

His eyes meet mine and I get a glimpse into the rare, unguarded glimmer of a man who wants to be seen and accepted.

“I’ll come back one day,” I add, almost surprised by the truth in the words. “I don’t know how soon, but I will.”

His smirk shifts into a tender smile as he bumps my shoulder with his.

“I’ll hold you to that, little echo.”

A quiet breath escapes me at the nickname. I hadn’t realized I’d missed him using it in favor of my chosen name.

He releases my hand and clambers to his feet, wiping his pants of dirt as I push to stand beside him.

Sylvin lifts his hand, spinning a slow circle with his fingers and a swirl of frost-kissed mist spills across the forest floor, curling at our feet. He lets out a dramatic breath and steps just to the edge of the portal before glancing over his shoulder.

“Try not to look too intimidated, little echo,” he says, eyes glinting with amusement. “They’re far more civilized than they look. Except when they’re hungry. ”

I roll my eyes, but my pulse kicks up anyway as I walk to his side. Then we step through together.

On the other side, the world is dusky and drenched in shadow.

Wrought-iron balconies twist like black vines along timeworn buildings, their edges slick with recent rain.

Gas lanterns flicker in the distance, casting long shadows over cobbled streets.

Jazz drifts faintly through the air–low, slow, and mournful, like the city itself is singing.

The moment our feet hit the damp stone on the other side, the temperature drops and light humidity presses in.

The buildings are tall and made of carved stone, and the entire scene before me is trimmed in delicate dark metal that curls in ornate patterns.

Thick drapes hang behind arched windows.

Tall lanterns lining the cobblestone street cast pools of golden light along the balconies, flickering gently in the mist.

Figures move in the shadows. They don’t approach, but I can feel their eyes on us, sending a chill down the back of my neck.

The stillness presses in and suddenly I’m holding my breath alongside the city.

Sylvin spreads his arms like he’s greeting old friends at a dinner party, shattering the rising tension.

“Darlings,” he calls out, voice smooth and far too loud, “did you miss me?”

Sylvin inhales deeply beside me before turning and winking .

“Oh, how I haven’t missed this dreary place,” he murmurs, voice smooth and a touch too loud. “Still so…dreadfully monochrome.”

His antics relieve the coiling fear building within my stomach, but the reprieve doesn’t last long.

There’s a hiss of movement from above and my body stiffens instinctively.

Shadows peel from a nearby balcony and they begin to emerge.

Tall, graceful figures dressed in dark silks and structured coats, their collars high and buttons gleaming. Some wear gloves and others hold wine glasses filled with a dark scarlet liquid.

Each of their steps is precise and controlled, very much like what I’ve seen from Riven.

There’s no doubt as their glowing red eyes flicker to life: this is a vampire nest.

Sylvin smiles brighter, like he’s thrilled with himself, and I resist the surging desire to kick him in the shin.

How does he find this fun?

Their eyes track each breath I take like it’s delicate and rare. I see the hunger simmering beneath their civility, too well-mannered to pounce, but only just.

Sylvin claps his hands once.

“Come now, friends, don’t be shy,” he calls, pacing forward with slow, deliberate elegance. “At least one of you must remember how to say hello . ”

His voice bounces off the stones, too bright in the heavy air and I hiss between my teeth at him.

“I really think you’ve stirred them up enough, Sylvin.”

My heart pounds, the steady rhythm ringing in my ears as I scan the area, expecting one of them to jump out at any moment.

“Little echo,” he breathes out, pulling a hand to his chest like I’ve wounded him. “You know of my powers and yet you think a few vampires can hurt you while I’m here?”

I lift my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath.

Just as I open my mouth to answer him, I hear the clanging of footsteps echoing.

My head snaps to the left side of the street where a handful of vampires descend the steps of a nearby terrace.

Their long dresses brush the damp ground as they approach with delicate grace.

One of them–a woman in a corseted crimson gown–tilts her head as she steps into the light, her gaze trained on Sylvin.

Her voice is smooth as velvet, and laced with hunger. “Looking to be tasted, Fae King?”

Sylvin gasps–full-body, hands-to-his-heart dramatic. “Darling, please. I’m already claimed. Don’t think so lowly of me.”

Before I can react, he spins on his heel and gestures to me with both hands .

“The owner of my body is standing right here. Don’t disrespect her like that, ladies.”

I choke on a laugh, startled once again at his uncanny ability to cut through my fear. “Sylvin–”

He grins at me, far too pleased with himself. Suddenly their gazes move over me with singular focus, and the weight of their stares is like a stone tossed into my stomach.

“Yes, just what I wanted…their undivided attention,” I breathe out, patting Sylvin’s arm. “Amazing job, oh great one.”

Then everything shifts. The air drifting along my exposed arms causes the skin to pebble as the fog thickens near the far end of the street, curling around the edges of a figure that emerges from the shadows without a sound.

Riven.

He steps into the open, showing off his black pants and deep-red buttoned shirt. His hair is a little damp, the dark waves slightly tousled, and his eyes lock onto Sylvin with immediate irritation.

A gust of wind hits me, and in the time it takes me to blink, he’s before us.

“Oh good,” he drawls, voice dry as bone. “You’ve riled the nest.”

Sylvin shrugs. “I was told I’m quite good at livening up a room. ”

Riven doesn’t take the bait. His gaze shifts to me and softens instantly.

Nerves erupt within me and I twine my fingers in front of my body, suddenly unsure what to do with them.

“You came faster than expected,” he murmurs before glancing back at Sylvin and arching a brow. “What happened to all that talk of her being fae? Of the courts being her only true fit? I feel like she would still be there if that were the case.”

For a breath, Sylvin doesn’t answer, but I see a flicker behind the dramatic mask.

Not wounded pride. Not irritation.

Sadness.

I want to reach for him, to offer comfort, but he quickly smooths a hand down his front and clears his throat.

“Just because she isn’t ours,” he murmurs quietly, “doesn’t mean she’s yours.”

The silence that follows is heavy, but it doesn’t last long.

Sylvin turns to me, gaze softening with that familiar glint of affection beneath it. He lifts his hand and brushes his knuckles gently along my jaw before leaning down to press a kiss to my cheek.

I can’t help the smile that instantly curls across my lips .

“You were always more than a guest in my court,” he whispers in my ear before standing back up.

I swallow hard at that admission and nod at him in understanding. As he steps back, my body moves without permission, rushing forward to wrap my arms around his torso. My head rests against his chest, listening to the quickening beat of his heart as his arms envelop me.

“Finally I get a hug,” he murmurs cheekily, rubbing a hand on my upper back. “I can rest my head on my pillow and sleep well tonight, now.”

My body shakes with laughter as I let him go and he steps backward into a ribbon of silver-blue light, the portal already curling open behind him.

And just like that, he’s gone.

The portal seals shut with a whisper of light, leaving behind only the lingering scent of winter frost and the memory of his hand at my jaw.