Sign of the Throne: Book One in the Solas Beir Trilogy by Melissa Eskue Ousley Read Free Book Online Page B

wanting to leave the toddlers unattended in the tub, she quickly looked across the hall into Ciaran’s room. He was already tucked under his blankets in bed, leafing through a picture book, and there was no sign of anyone in the hallway. Puzzled, Abby returned to her task.
    Around the same time, she began dreaming vividly almost every night. Many of the dreams centered around the same figure—a handsome young man wi th pale blue eyes and curly jet-black hair. The first time she dreamed of him, he was standing in a garden in the shade of a large tree. The place felt familiar, as if she had been there before. Their eyes made contact, but he said nothing; his face remained expressionless and impossible to read. She had a very clear sense of his spirit, his intelligence, and she found herself irresistibly drawn to him.
    Upon waking, she felt a terrible sense of loss. It was as if she had met her soul mate and lost him in an instant. The sense of grief was almost as deep as she would have felt in losing a member of her own family, but the emotion felt like it originated outside of her, as though she were caught in someone else’s nightmare. She tried desperately to fall asleep again, hoping to return to him, but the dream was gone.
    In another dream, she found herself at the entrance to a labyrinth of overgrown hedges. A pure white doe stood motionless before her. The doe stared straight into her eyes, unafraid, and then turned and entered the labyrinth. Abby followed her through the maze of towering, twisting emerald walls, trotting to keep the deer in sight. She caught a glimpse of the doe before the animal disappeared around a corner, but when Abby turned down the corridor, the doe was gone. Instead, she saw a beach and waves framed by an evergreen arch. Exiting the labyrinth, Abby saw the young man looking out to sea, his back to her. He turned, their eyes met, and she woke.
     
     
     
     
    Abby kept her dreams secret, sharing her thoughts only within the journal where she kept sketches, but she found herself thinking about the young man often. The dreams felt real, and they always left her with a sense of longing. She was so drawn to the young man that she began to call out to him in the dreams, but he remained out of reach, and she always woke just as he turned and met her gaze. She was powerless to change the outcome.
    Then, everything changed. Amid the tedium of folding pool towels, lost in a daydream, she became aware of a familiar presence. She looked up and saw him—he was walking along the patio at the opposite end of the pool. He moved with the fluid grace of a lion, with powerful but restrained steps, a thin veil disguising strength. He was beautiful.
    A lthough he was dressed casually in a black leather motorcycle jacket covering an understated white T-shirt and jeans, he emanated charisma. Abby was awestruck; a sensation of warm electricity tingled through her veins. Her heart raced and she felt the whole world move in a wash of dizziness. She steadied herself, taking in a long, deep breath. Irresistibly compelled, she left her post and followed the young man as if in a trance, through the garden toward the hotel lobby. She walked out the front entrance, but he was already gone. Disappointed, she returned to the pool where Jon was waiting for her, leaning against one of the carved wood columns supporting the guest services cabana.
    “Where’d you go?” he asked.
    “Did you see that guy?” she questioned.
    “What guy? I didn’t notice a guy,” Jon said absently, winking at a couple of bikini-clad teen girls walking by. “Hey, how’s it goin’?” he flirted. The girls giggled.
    Abby looked from the girls to Jon, annoyed that his attention was elsewhere. “What guy?!? Are you obtuse? Dark curly hair, black leather jacket, impossible not to notice?”
    Jon winced. He turned back to Abby. “Um, okay Abby, don’t go nuts. I was kidding. First of all, just for the record, I tend to notice women, not