Sunspire Mountains he threw me on the needle bed, across my dress he laid

Orlaith’s assessment of Riley didn’t much help his confidence. Uncertainty was just a way of life for the yearling — he had left home woefully young, was still very inexperienced, and no road he had ever taken had been smooth or kind to him.

He shrugged off the comment, unable to respond to it. Thinking of himself as how others defined him, Riley wondered what images truly came to mind. When he looked at Orlaith, it was not just warrior he saw — it was bathsheba, it was Amazonian, it was battle-axe, firestrife. A whole litany of words which showed strongly as mental images in his mind. Not just warrior. Certainly not fairy.

Blinking back the slow realization she had called him a stalker, Riley’s brow furrowed. A dark line appeared on his brow as he worked through his response. I didn’t stalk you. Indignation colored his words, and he cast Orlaith a surly look. Had he stalked Esme? Is that really, truly what he was? I don’t care for that response. Riley huffed, gaze hardening as he looked to the steely skies and their endless rain.