Alluria sat atop a low bench in the rear of the grand central chamber, her face serene as she sat in quiet meditation. A single shaft of sunlight enveloped her, reflecting off her long chestnut hair and translucent skin. Although closed, Caol’nir knew her eyes were a deep, stunning blue, so rich they made sapphires look like coals. As Alluria sat motionless in the morning light, she was more beautiful to him than any goddess.

He remembered well the day Alluria came to Teg’urnan, not long after the king decreed that all priestesses were to relocate to the Great Temple for their safety. This meant that all priestesses were under the protection of the con’dehr, the temple guard of which Caol’nir was a member. The con’dehr was led by his father, the Prelate. Initially Caol’nir had grumbled over having so many extra charges, for while a priestess is generally considered a kind and gentle being, he also knew them to be righteous and demanding. Neither he nor his brothers, also members of the con’dehr, understood why the king felt that the priestesses in the outlying temples were unsafe, no temple had seen a demon for well over a millennia. Caol’nir forgot his objections when Alluria passed beneath the palace gate, her lovely face turned up to regard the statues of the stag and doe. Her sparkling blue eyes met his, and he lost his heart in that moment.

            Not wanting to disturb her morning ritual, Caol’nir silently approached the priestess and sat before her, his thoughts racing as he watched her contemplate the gods. He was hopelessly infatuated with Alluria, this kind, witty, impossibly beautiful, and utterly unattainable woman. When a priestess took her vows, she became Olluhm’s mate in the hopes that he would visit her and beget a child. This meant that no priestess was to be touched by any man, for any reason, and the con’dehr protected the sisters’ chastity with their very lives. Caol’nir was achingly aware that he could never be with the one he loved, but he could not help his feelings for her. He tried to find contentment in being a part of her life. While he pondered Alluria’s everlasting virginity, she opened her eyes and settled her gaze upon her quiet companion.

            “My most attentive guard,” Alluria said in her musical voice. “What brings you to temple so early?” He rose and offered his hand, as custom dictated he should, which Alluria waved away, also per custom. Caol’nir knew she would not accept his help, but remained ever hopeful.

            “I have the herbs you requested, my lady.” Caol’nir held out a small bundle, bowing his head as he did so.
 

            “Such speed in your errands, warrior,” Alluria said with a smile. He returned it with a wide grin of his own, then quickly tried to regain his composure. Caol’nir knew he must look like a fool, always staring and grinning at her, but he was so smitten he could no longer help himself.
 

            As Alluria accepted the bundle, her fingers lightly brushed across his, sending a jolt through his body as if he’d been struck by lightning. She let her hand linger upon Caol’nir’s for the barest moment, the smile now gone from her face and replaced by…longing? He shook his head, for Alluria would not feel any sort of emotion toward him, surely not longing. If she wanted anything, it was a better supply of herbs, not to touch him in any way. Caol’nir realized that she was thanking him and again bowed his head.

            “I am here to serve,” he replied, then turned to exit the temple.

            “Warrior?” Alluria called after him.

            “Yes, my lady?” He turned back to the priestess, assuming that she must need something else for her work within the temple. Caol’nir was always happy to oblige her.

            “If you care to, you may kiss me farewell. My hand!” she hastily added, then straightened her back as she extended a graceful arm toward him. “You may kiss my hand farewell.”

            Caol’nir bowed low, his thick braid of sandy hair falling over his shoulder as he pressed Alluria’s fingers to his lips; he noticed that her skin smelled of wildflowers, as if she spent her time in a quiet meadow rather than cloistered behind these stone walls. “Farewell, my lady,” he murmured.