The Moon's Heir - Book 1

Chapter 4

3:30 PM – Cameo

Miles away, Zertorio gazed down over the ledge, perched at the very fringe of a cliff. Overlooking a forest several hundred meters below, the thick foliage of trees was cut sharply through by a rapid-flowing, winding river.

The late morning sun blazed over his even complexion from a bright, cloudless, blue sky. But even in such a light, his striking eyes were a dark, smoky gray. The deep blue robe he wore fitted to his firm build, and a long sword in a dark brown scabbard hung at his side. The fabric over his arms and legs flowed soft and loose and then tightened at his wrists and ankles. A constant, light breeze tousled his wavy, black hair as he stared out at the view.

'She would be twelve years now . . .' he thought broodingly. 'Three years . . . What would they want with a little girl for three years?. . .'

Not for the first time, snippets of memories from that night flashed through his mind.

'... A smoke pellet exploded inches from her and completely consumed her. She didn't know what it was, only shielded her face in reflex. When the smoke cleared seconds later, she was unconscious.

Too caught up in fending off a series of long-distance attacks from a dozen knights, he'd only had time to glance in her direction again as he watched one of the Red Knights carrying her unconscious body into the ship. Then one of the concealed attackers caught them all off-guard and threw a flame-pellet, which exploded in front of them and barred his way. And once she was inside the ship, the rest of the Knights fell back, evaporating into the shadows of the night as they left them within a dying fence of smoke and flame . . .'

He opened his eyes and tensed for an instant as he sensed someone behind him, but then relaxed as he realized it was only his elder sister.

"Zertorio."

He turned and smiled at her good-naturedly.

"You're thinking of Rozaria again?" she asked quietly.

"Am I that obvious?"

"...I was thinking of her too," said Azura.

She walked up beside him with perfect, silent grace, the sunlight casting a glow over her almost snowy complexion. Her light gray eyes were crystal clear like a still lake, and silky, gossamer wisps of night-black hair framed her face as the rest draped over her left shoulder in a long plait that fell to her waist. A cloak of dark forest green draped over her shoulders, reaching below her ankles; and the robe she wore beneath it was a light, cool shade of sea green.

When Azura had unexpectedly joined him to look for Rozaria all those years ago, rather than stay with Zeraverto, Zertorio had been stunned. He'd been too high on emotion to think about refusing her or doing anything but storming off and letting her join him if she wanted. But once the adrenaline wore off, he had, at first, been pretty wary of her.

Not that she'd ever treated him like Zeraverto had (or had interacted much with him at all, to be honest). But, her demeanor and grace was so much like Zeraverto's that Zerotorio had found himself on edge around her — expecting, if not an actual direct attack, then at least harsh insults and criticisms. 

Especially when time ticked by and they still hadn't found Rozaria.

Now, though, he couldn't remember what it had been like without her at his side. And he was comfortable enough to even get lost in thought in her presence.

"You think the Crimson Moon will be here?" Azura asked her younger brother quietly.

"If not, I'm gonna kill the guy who told me it would be," he said brusquely.