Sinner by Sara Douglass Read Free Book Online Page B

wings and hair.
    Taking a huge breath, Zenith tried to calm her nerves, wrapping herself so deep with magic it literally blurred the outlines of her figure.
    An image formed before her: her grandfather, StarDrifter. It was a memory only, not the actual person; StarDrifter lived far south on the Island of Mist and Memory, devoted to his duties among the priestesses of Temple Mount.
    This was a memory that Zenith had carried with her for some thirty years, a memory of a day when she’d been staying with her grandfather on the island, and had found herself wandering the southern cliff faces of Temple Mount with no idea how she’d got there.
    She’d been young then, and she’d been growing her wings only a year. They’d still felt strange to her, and she still fumbled on her infrequent flights, so that suddenly coming to awareness at the crumbling edge of a thousand-pace drop had been terrifying.
    She’d screamed, sure she was going to die, and then StarDrifter was there, wrapping her in his arms and wings, pulling her back, holding her and singing to her and telling her she was safe, safe, safe.
    From that moment on Zenith had adored StarDrifter, treasured him beyond the usual love of a granddaughter for her grandfather.
    Now she recalled the image of StarDrifter, his beautiful face full of love, a gentle hand cupping her chin so he could look in her eyes.
    “I’ll always be there to catch you,” he’d said. “I’ll always be there for you.”
    “Always…” Zenith whispered, and the image faltered and then faded.
    “Very pretty.”
    She whirled about, furious that anyone should have seen the vision.
    Drago was leaning nonchalantly against the doorway that led into her private washroom. His thin face was unreadable, his eyes narrowed, his arms carefully folded across his chest.
    A towel was tucked over one arm, and Zenith noticed that Drago’s coppery hair was damp and newly combed back into its tail in the nape of his neck.
    “Why not use your own chambers to wash?” she snapped.
    “I’d been down in the stables,” he said, standing up straight and throwing the towel back inside the wash room, “helping Stephain with the grey mare. She foaled tonight. Difficult birth.”
    “But that doesn’t excuse why –”
    “I would have used my own chambers, save that Caelum is stamping and striding about the upper-floor corridors, and frankly the last thing I needed tonight was to run into him. So I thought I’d ask you if I could use your washroom. You weren’t here, so…”
    He shrugged, walking over to stand before Zenith. “I heard you come in just as I was finishing up. If you’re concerned, I didn’t stand and watch you change. I may be many things, sister mine, but I am not a voyeur.”
    “Yet you saw my memory of StarDrifter.”
    “I thought I heard his voice – it made me come to the door. Zenith, I like him too…remember?”
    Zenith was rapidly losing her temper which, truth be told, was mainly a product of her shock. And Drago did like StarDrifter. She was unsure about so many things regarding Drago, but his genuine feeling for StarDrifter was not one of them. As a child, Drago had enjoyed his months with StarDrifter almost as much as she had. For some reason StarDrifter had been able to reach the uncommunicative youth in a way Axis and Azhure could not – or could not be bothered to.
    She looked at her brother, and for an instant emotion threatened to choke her. What could he have grown into if he had been given love instead of rejection? Their parents had, if not ignored him, then favoured all their other children before him. His punishment for plotting against Caelum had left him with little of his rich Icarii heritage: his coppery hair, still thick but kept pulled back into its tight tail, and his violet eyes, although they had faded with age. Against his vivid and powerful siblings he was just a thin, rather plain man, age and frustrated life marking his face with deep lines.
    Drago had