Two years were all we had, love," she whispered, "and we squandered them.

A psycho, they called me. They were right. They were wrong. They couldn't come close to my fire. They couldn't touch my heart.

Aeriel felt her heart grow troubled. "I know," she said. "I know that he is evil, but his beauty unmakes me. Every time he looks at me, I die.

I shall never love any as I love thee, Moonbrow!” she cried. He nuzzled her, very gently. “Nor I you, Ryhenna,” he said. “Tek is my mate. I love her. You are my shoulder-friend, and I love you. I love you both, but differently. And when in a year or two years’ time, you dance court within this glade, it will be with one whom you love in a way entirely other than the way that you love me. I am your companion, your friend, Ryhenna, just as you are always and ever mine. Stand fast with me,” he said, “and no foe shall ever part us.

Two years were all we had, love," she whispered, "and we squandered them.

I thought you had forgotten me.” “I have spent my life remembering you.

They were jet, those wings, as deep as the sky, as black as Eoduin's hair—no, blacker, for they were dull, unoiled. They gave off no sheen in the light, no gleam to the eye. They drank up the light and diminished it: they were wings of pure shadow.