“So, it’s only this area, then?”

“Yes,” Wylf said. “But the Shadowlands world is not very populated, at least last I was here. The entire population has journeyed over the generations to come live in Sceadulyr’s sunlight. No one lives in the shadows anymore.” He smirked. “To the Sionnachans, I am a lord. To the Shadowlands people, Sceadulyr is a holy monarch. They worship him, bring him gifts, and beg him for blessings.”

“I mean, I can’t really blame them if he literally creates the warmth and sunlight that allows them to grow food and prosper,” I said. “He doesn’t sound like such a bad guy if he at least takes care of the people here.”

Wylf made a disgruntled sound in his throat.

“He is not to be trusted,” he said sharply. “Do not leave my side. Don’t even stop touching me. Hold tightly to my arm.”

I looped my arms around his and nodded.

Before I could get more information on Sceadulyr or his world, a familiar figure approached from the direction of the palace.

“Maerwynne,” Wylf grunted in greeting as he came to a stop before us.

Maerwynne’s double-crescent eyes took us in.

“You brought her,” he said, shock colouring his voice. “The gathering only allows...”

“Gods and their mates,” Wylf finished for him. “I know.”

Maerwynne’s long black tail flicked across the warm stone. He was dressed the same way as last time, in all white, loose clothing, only this time he wasn’t all bedraggled and wet from the snowstorm. While my last run-in with him hadn’t exactly made me like him, I had to acknowledge that he really was stunningly gorgeous in his own way. His long hair was sleek and perfectly straight, deep red turned to sparkling ruby under the sunlight, his wings and star map matching the warm colour and contrasting with the ultra-smooth black of his skin. And it wasn’t just his appearance that made me think he was beautiful. It was the entire way he held himself. There was a simple grace to his stance, to every move he made. A whisper-soft control that hinted at immense strength under stillness.

“I am surprised, but in some other ways, not surprised,” Maerwynne finally said. “You couldn’t wait to get rid of me when I came to see her. Even before you starburned, some instinct inside you knew she was yours.”

I frowned, wondering if this conversation was going to go the same way it had last time, as if I weren’t even there. But then Maerwynne turned his gaze to me. His attention was like a touch. Singular and probing. It wasn’t malevolent or demanding, or hungry the way Wylfrael’s so often was. But there was a deep and quiet intelligence there. He was studying me closely.

Time to put on my happy bride face.

I leaned into Wylf’s arm and smiled.

After a moment, a soft smile mirrored mine. It shocked me because it actually seemed quite genuine.

“Hello, Torrance. I am glad to see you here with Wylfrael. As we say on my homeworld of Vizhir when a couple completes their bonding ceremony, ‘may blood forever flow between you.’”

“Thank you,” I said, trying not to let my smile slip at how bizarrely violent the phrase sounded. I reminded myself that I couldn’t judge alien culture by my human rules, and maybe the flowing blood thing was metaphorical, anyway. Now that I wasn’t a terrified prisoner worried that I was going to get handed over to Maerwynne like nothing more than a sack of potatoes, I was starting to tentatively trust him. Wylfrael hadn’t warned me about him the way he had about Sceadulyr, and my husband obviously knew and respected Maerwynne well enough, otherwise Wylf never would have let him into the castle.

“You’ve obviously come alone,” Wylf said. There was a question lingering behind the statement.

“Yes. I am alone,” Maerwynne said, smile vanishing. He held up his hand. Where his star map should have been glowing, it was dark, the pinpricks looking like greyish scars. “Unfortunately, it has spread a little since we last spoke.”

“Whatever support you require, I freely offer it,” Wylf said firmly. It was a remarkable change from their last encounter when Wylf had seemed to only begrudgingly want to help Maerwynne. I guess he feels the same way I do. Now that he knows Maerwynne doesn’t want me, he’s more relaxed and happier to help.

Maerwynne’s words echoed in my head.

Even before you starburned, some instinct inside you knew she was yours.

“Everyone else is inside dancing,” Maerwynne said.

“Dancing?” I asked. I hadn’t known there would be dancing. I hadn’t really known what to expect, in all honesty. Maybe something like a board meeting.

“Come. I will show you,” Maerwynne replied.

The three of us crossed the sunlit courtyard towards the largest white dome at the centre of the curving building. This dome alone was massive – as big as a mansion. There was an arch at its base, the curving entrance completely overflowing with glorious flowers, similar in shape to something like roses from Earth, but larger, the petals huge and buttery soft. As we passed under the arch, a warm breeze rustled the blooms and petals floated down, as if to welcome us.

When we stepped fully into the dome, my jaw dropped.

The first thing I noticed was the space. The white stone of the domed wall was barely visible, every surface crawling with vines and more flowers. Trees circled the entire room, lush with fruit. The massive room reminded me more of a greenhouse than anything, especially because it was...

It was sunny in here.

Confused, I wrenched my head back to stare upwards. Yup, there was a solid white stone ceiling above. But though it should have been blocking the sunlight, somehow, it cast no shadow. The interior of this dome was as sun-drenched as the courtyard outside.

“How is this possible?” I murmured, awe-struck.

“I cannot control light or shadow. I know little of how Sceadulyr does what he does,” Wylfrael replied. I wondered if that was part of the reason Wylf didn’t trust him – because he didn’t fully understand this Shadowlands god’s power. As I stared upward at solid stone while my face was simultaneously warmed by sunshine, I became aware of music filtering through the air and noticed almost right beside us near the arch we’d come through was a group of aliens. I swallowed, trying not to openly gape.

“Shadowlands musicians,” Maerwynne informed me.

So, these weren’t stone sky gods, then, but the mortals of this planet. They were humanoid in shape with pale grey skin that had an almost aquatic look to it – like a shark’s hide. Their noses were flat and slitted like a shark’s, too, their eyes hidden behind a fringe of dark blue feathers that hung down over the top half of their faces and ran down the backs of their necks, disappearing into beige robes.

I was standing face to face with a brand-new alien species. That was incredible enough, but even more stunning was the musical instruments they played. There were three musicians, each standing behind a large instrument that looked like a harp. Their four-fingered hands plucked deftly over... not exactly strings. More like dark wobbly waves that didn’t look entirely solid. That’s what I couldn’t figure out – what the hell the harps were made of.

“It’s shadow magic,” Wylf said, as if sensing my confusion. “Sceadulyr made them.”

“Hold on. Are you telling me he made these instruments out of shadow?”

That made no sense. Shadow wasn’t a thing in and of itself, it was merely a lack of light. An absence.

But even though my human science brain rebelled against what Wylf had just told me, I couldn’t come up with any other explanation of why the strings weren’t strings but more like... well, shadows. And the music sounded like nothing I’d ever heard. Every note prismatic, as if comprised of a thousand different waves of sound.

“Come. We must meet the other gods,” Wylf said.