The Time Weaver
The Drákon Series, Book 5
ISBN-10: 0553591231 ISBN-13: 978-0553591231
Palace of the King of Spain,
The night of Festes de la Mercé
She took him to an inner courtyard paved with
limestone but dotted with living trees, each one shaped
precisely, emerald oval leaves, a lingering hint of
nectar still discernable from the sap beneath the bark.
Orange trees, thriving out here in this arid,
perfect heat. He felt the fruit he still held in his
palm, the pulpy weight of it, and let his nails dig
in a little to release a spray of scent. It was better
than the human perfume that clouded around him. It was
second best, however, to the scent of Honor, standing
still and calm less than a foot away. She was close
enough that her skirts brushed his legs, and still he
She smelled like...he didn't know. Like herself,
like his dreams, like sweet breezes but more sultry.
Like jasmine and honey.
She wore no human cologne. The powder on her
hair was scented, and the satin of her gown was scented,
but he'd learned to dismiss chemical notes like those
a long while ago. Her lips were rouged, and might have
tasted of raspberries had he nerve enough to find out...perhaps
he was imagining that. Perhaps it was only a wish. He
enjoyed raspberries. And he enjoyed gazing at her lips,
their sweet reddened pucker.
She felt his attention. With a howling-loud firework
discharging into white above them, her eyes cut back
Brilliance; a hot clear light that lifted her
irises nearly to turquoise, that reflected off her skin
in a way it never would for a human female. She looked
back at him soberly, framed in curls and a dark fall
of netting. Above them a shower of luminous sparks began
their slow dying float back to the earth.
Alexandru felt strange. He felt almost intoxicated,
actually. It was disconcerting enough that he pressed
his nails harder into the orange, let the juice run
over his fingers. He looked away from her to break it
apart into segments, and then ate one without tasting
Honor watched the heavens. When he offered her
a wet piece of pulp from his palm, she accepted it without
glancing back at him again, without even removing her
gloves. She brought the piece to her lips and sucked
at it thoughtfully, and the strangeness enveloping him
rose to dizzying new heights.
The people around them were gasping and clapping
at the show, applauding every boom that shuddered
the air. Several of the youngest children had abandoned
their baskets of petals to simply squeal in delight.
The winds from the sea were sending ash-colored
smoke into streaks, blowing the white sparkling flowers
in the sky into pinwheels, into comets.
you come home with me?"
Her invitation was low and even. When he turned
to her she was still in profile, blinking at a dazzling
new blossom of fire.
He didn't know why he hesitated. There was no
reason to. He'd come for this, he knew that.
Sandu frowned down at the broken fruit in his
hands. He'd come just for her.
"I've a supper prepared," she said,
replacing her veil. With her features completely covered
once more, she faced him. He was graced with that enigmatic
smile. "Only that. If you like."
He made himself nod. He dropped the remains of
the orange to the limestone and presented his arm, and
together they began to wind their way out of the palace
of the Others.
Excerpted from THE TIME
WEAVER by Shana Abé. Copyright © 2010 by Shana
Abé. Excerpted by permission of Bantam Books, a division
of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of
this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without
permission in writing from the publisher.