by Darby, Brit
As the music built in tempo, so did Cailin’s dance. Around and around, she moved, never missing a step. The swords trailed over her neck and back again, each sliding into place with precision, her grip firm, accurate. They clanged together, moved apart, an ever-changing flurry as their metallic cries added an almost human whine to the musicians’ fervent melody.
The wailing overtook Kasimir’s mind, sent his heart into a frantic pace that matched their tune. Her movement never stalled, over and over, the swords singing, humming like living things as she manipulated them at every turn. Never had he seen the likes of it; her dance took him to a place he had never been. He was hypnotized by the raw power, the strange beauty of it. Dragons. Their existence was beyond explanation, but Kasimir could not deny what he witnessed.
Fear collided with fascination in the audience too as Cailin danced. She was magnificent; no doubt, no trepidation, nothing else existed for her. They understood the dance consumed her, body and soul.
In a final twist, Cailin came to a halt, the swords released in unison, spinning over and over through the air to their targets, slicing deep into two wooden posts to her right and left with a thud as the final beat of the music descended like a shadow upon the room.
All was quiet, no one muttered a sound. It remained as quiet as a tomb.
Cailin drew a long, raspy breath, struggling for air as her mind drifted back to earth, the sound harsh and loud in the awkward silence. No one moved or spoke.
Finally, Kasimir shook off his daze and moved to stand in front of her. She trembled from head to toe; her face flushed, her eyes glazed and unseeing. Carefully, he lifted her from the floor and without a word to those watching, carried her from the room.
KASIMIR HAD WITNESSED MANY amazing things in his lifetime, but this left him speechless. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he might have thought it not possible. There was something unearthly about the woman and the dance she’d just performed. It was by far the most intense thing he had ever observed. All he believed or disbelieved was now uncertain.
As he walked with his silent burden to where the women stayed, he mused, he pondered. Something unnatural possessed Cailin during the sword dance; it was plain for all to see. There was little he feared in the world, but this strange performance prickled the hairs on the back of his neck.
He ducked beneath the open flap and ordered his men to remain outside. He didn’t realize Nedaxe was there until she moved forward to make the bed ready.
Cailin said nothing, her eyes closed as she leaned her head against Kasimir’s shoulder. With great care, he laid her onto the bed and Nedaxe placed a pillow beneath her head. Next she hurried to retrieve a bowl of water, dipped a cloth into it and wrung it out. She gently cleansed the sweat from Cailin’s brow.
“Is the sweet lady all right?” he asked the girl.
She looked up at him with fear in her eyes. “I do not know.”
“She trembles still. Perhaps wine will help.” Kasimir fetched a small cup from the nearby table and handed it to the young woman. He carefully lifted Cailin’s head and Nedaxe pressed the rim to her mistress’s lips. Cailin drank and within seconds fell asleep.
Kasimir moved to the doorway. “I will leave her in your care. My men are right outside. Should you need anything, just ask.”
He paused and turned back to look at Cailin intently. “Goodnight, sweet lady.”
Chapter Twenty-six
DRAKE SUDDENLY PALED YET said nothing.
Leo’s closely observed his cousin, saw his face drawn. There was something going on with Drake that made him feel uneasy.
“What’s wrong?” Leo asked, quietly so as not to draw unwelcome attention to them from Gunnar’s men who guarded them nearby.
Slowly, Drake slid down the ship’s mast, looking shaky, something Leo rarely saw. He joined his cousin sitting on the deck and they sat in silence for a long while. Finally, Drake spoke, his voice so low Leo had to lean closer to hear him.
“I feel them, Leo.”
“Feel what?”
Drake turned an amazed look to him. “The Dragons … I feel the power of the Dragons. It feels as if my tattoos are alive, moving, crawling over my flesh.”
Leo didn’t know what to say. He was stunned.
“Cailin pulls me into her world. Somewhere, she dances for the Dragons; I can feel her energy, her strength. I burn from her fire.” Drake groaned and laid his head into his hands.
Leo panicked then, realizing his cousin’s agony was beyond his aid. “What can I do?”
Drake turned glazed eyes to him, shaking his head. “The heat is beyond pain or discomfort, Leo, but she consumes me as the Dragons consume her. I cannot escape her touch — I do not wish to.”
Again silence. Leo saw Drake was lost to Cailin and the call of the Dragons.
“LACHLAN!” FOR THE SECOND time Cailin awoke from her dream, her twin’s name on her lips. She turned over, startled to find the pirate Kasimir sitting in a chair beside the bed, watching her. But he did not say a word; he did not ask the questions she saw in his eyes. She would have no answer if he did; she wasn’t certain herself why her brother haunted her. Perhaps in time, all would be made clear.
Instead he asked, “How do you feel? I was beginning to worry, sweet lady.”
Cailin looked about her, confused. She felt nervous finding a stranger watch her so intently. “I don’t remember … what happened?”
Kasimir stood as the awkwardness descended upon them. “Do you not remember dancing?”
“Dancing?” Cailin looked at her hands, embarrassed by the memory that rushed in on her. “Yes, I remember now.”
“You were exhausted.”
“Yes,” she whispered. Kasimir said nothing more, leaving the silence to stand between them.
“If—” he started but stopped; his look was full of doubt. “Do you think you can trust me, Cailin?”
It was an unexpected question. “I don’t know you, Kasimir. You yourself have said you are a pirate, a thief, a murderer … and worse. I would be a fool to trust you.”
“You are certainly no fool,” Kasimir said, his face reflecting his serious mood. “What are you?”
Cailin shrugged. “I am a woman. I would think that was obvious, especially to a scoundrel like you.”
This prompted a small smile, but not like the cavalier ones she witnessed earlier. “I must admit, I was humbled by your dance. I cannot remember ever having experienced such a thing before. Please, I wish to know what it means.”
“Why do you need to know what it means? It is probably best you don’t.”
She hoped it might end his curiosity, she already sensed his fear. Somehow she suspected he was not a man who showed fear often, if ever.
“Nedaxe told me how Oleg found you adrift on the sea, your ship having burned and sunk.”
“She was not there; I would not take to heart whatever she heard as servant’s gossip.”
“No.” He shook his head firmly. “It was the eunuch who told her, and I do not think Yosef is one for idle gossip. He said you were found days after the ship sank, your clothes burned nearly to ash, but you had not a single mark from the fire. Even surviving frigid seas alone is remarkable. I have never heard of such a thing before.”
“Well, now you have, Kasimir.” Cailin looked away from him, the strange look on his face causing her heart to quicken. “I survived, as you can see with your own eyes.”
Cailin pulled her knees up and hugged them to her. She closed her own eyes when she recalled running through the flames. There was no fear or pain. The fire did not burn her. She had suspected it might be so, but did not know for certain until that night.
“When you danced—” Kasimir’s voice was strained, uncertainty strong in the notes, causing Cailin to open her eyes. It was clear in his expression, the difficulty as he struggled to understand his thoughts, his feelings, his fears. “These Dragons you spoke of, they danced with you. I thought— I believed I saw—”
&n
bsp; He did not have to finish. Cailin realized he had seen too much and she had said too much to deny anything now. “Yes, they are my strength; they guide my swords, as if we are one.”
Kasimir said nothing, looking thoughtful.
“Do you believe me? Or does fear blind you to what I truly am?”
“I would know what you are.” Kasimir drew in a deep breath. “I’ll not walk away from you, sweet lady. No matter what.”
“Why would you say such a thing?”
“I am a man who makes quick judgments. My instincts have never been wrong.”
Cailin was stunned at his sudden devotion to her. She didn’t know whether to believe Kasimir, but she felt no danger, no apprehension in his presence. Surely if he was being false, she would know. “Can you believe what I tell you, without doubt?”
“Without a doubt,” he confirmed.
“I possess the fire of the Dragons. I hear them as they whisper to me, or visit me in my dreams, telling me what is to come. It is their gift to me.”
“You are a seer?”
“Yes. And, with the power of the Dragons, much more.” Slowly, hesitantly, she told him her tale.
EVEN GUNNAR HAD THE sense to hold his tongue in the presence of Prince Oleg. It had taken several days for him to get an audience with the Prince of Kiev, his temper foul by the time it was granted. Yet, he managed to keep his inner turmoil from being reflected in his voice or manner.
Though it irritated him beyond measure, Gunnar bowed as humbly as he was able before the man upon the dais, Thyra at his side doing the same. After he introduced them both, Gunnar respectfully broached the reason for his request to see the prince. He was told Cailin was gone and was careful not to reveal his despair when he asked, “Then Cailin is no longer under your care?”
Prince Oleg looked uncomfortable. “No. As I said, the woman you described no longer resides beneath my roof. You must look for her elsewhere.”
The guarded look and evasive answer made Gunnar suspicious and confirmed his gut instinct: something had happened between this man and Cailin. He fought back the jealousy and was careful with his next request, trying to sound worried. “Can you offer any clue where she went? I am worried about her.”
“She was in good health when she left my care,” Oleg said, appearing perturbed by his persistent inquiry. “But who are you to be so concerned?”
“I am her husband.”
The prince’s eyebrow shot up, and he glanced questioningly at Thyra. “Oh? I was under the impression that her husband was lost at sea.”
Gunnar balled his fists as he fought to control his anger and spoke through gritted teeth. “Ja, that is where we were separated. I must find my wife, my lord. Can you help?” He tried to sound contrite and penitent, but such groveling did not come easily.
The prince stood; something akin to fear in his eyes. “I have nothing more to tell you. I wish you luck in your search for your wife.” Without further words, he left the chamber.
Immediately, Gunnar and Thyra were escorted from the room, the doors thudding behind them with finality.
“He lies,” Thyra whispered, as they made their way through the hall to return to the ship.
“He lies,” Gunnar agreed under his breath in a growl. “But why?”
Thyra stopped and Gunnar impatiently looked back at her. “What is it, woman?”
Thyra did not pause to think before she spoke aloud. “He was afraid.” Then as her words sank in, she muttered wonderingly, “Veshchy the Prophet himself fears her.”
“AND WHERE IS IT you would like to go, sweet lady? My ship is at your command.”
With a flourish of his doffed hat, Kasimir bowed low to Cailin and she had to smile. He was a reprobate, but a lovable one. As promised, she was free to continue her quest, and she was grateful he had honored his word.
“To Miklagard.”
“Do you believe you will find your husband there?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Have you had a vision?” Kasimir spoke in a hushed tone, looking about to see who might be listening. Cailin laughed.
“No,” she confessed, lowering her voice too. “But it is where we were headed. It is where he will go if he is able.”
Kasimir once again flashed a bright smile. “Yes, he will move heaven and earth to be reunited with you. This,” he pointed to his chest with his thumb, “I know for certain.”
“How do you know?”
Her light-hearted question turned his look serious. “Because to have the lady Cailin’s love is to know angels do exist. He cannot live without his angel. This, I know.” He pounded his chest with his fist over his heart.
Even Cailin was taken aback with his words, the eloquence and sincerity making her throat tighten. It was a long moment before she could speak. “You are a scoundrel, but a romantic one, Kasimir. How is it I came to be in your company? What might have been a nightmare has become pleasant, and I have a friend to help me find my way. I am forever grateful.”
“Achhh,” he said and waved his gloved hand in the air, “I said winning the crowd would win your freedom. I just did not know you would win my devotion, too. If only your heart was not already taken, I would steal you away for myself. Away from what’s-his-name.”
Cailin laughed again. “If my heart was not already taken, I might have let you. And, Kasimir,” she added, “my husband’s name is Drake Talorcan.”
“Drake? Ah,” he mused, and his dark eyebrows raised as a sparkle lit his eyes. “Perhaps my angel is no angel, but immersed in a lover’s triangle?”
His words sounded teasing but confused Cailin. “There was my father’s Captain Gunnar, whom I refused to marry. But there is no triangle, I assure you.”
“No, no,” Kasimir shook his head, he too, now confused. “You called out his name when you dreamed … oh, what was it? Lach … Lachlan! Yes, that was the name you called out. Not Drake.”
Cailin chuckled at his confusion. “Lachlan is my brother. My twin.”
Kasimir looked sheepish in his misunderstanding. “I thought perhaps—” He shrugged and rolled his eyes.
“No, Drake is my one and only love.”
“Again, you dash my hopes and break my heart.” Kasimir said dramatically. “You are cruel beyond cruel, my sweet lady.”
Cailin heard the cry of a raven and looked above her. High in the mast Disir sat, his head cocked as he cawed to her again. “Cruel only in that I cannot protect and save everyone I love. But I am blessed to have so many to watch over me.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
GUNNAR’S FURY GATHERED LIKE clouds in a storm, the dark thoughts that possessed him churned and brewed into a black wrath. By the time he reached the Black Sea, he learned Cailin had already set sail.
“What is it you fear she will find in Miklagard?”
Thyra’s sharp voice broke through Gunnar’s ire and he turned to watch her cross the deck to stand by him. He didn’t feel the need to reply, she already knew the answer. Dark eyes studied him closely, her agenda hidden from him. “Ah, I see. You fear she will find out the truth of what you did.”
Never a patient man, Thyra’s comment stirred Gunnar’s ever-present anger. “It would not matter. No one would believe her.”
“But are you sure your men — I mean her father’s men,” Thyra mockingly stressed, “are you certain your treachery won’t matter to them?”
Again, he felt impatience spur him, a low, guttural growl was his only answer.
She seemed not to care he was close to losing control. “As always, you know nothing about women, Gunnar. Can you not pretend to converse with me? Like ordinary men and women do.”
“Can you not understand I will not play your games, woman? Tell me, why do you come to me, spread your legs at my will? You are but a whore, and I treat you as such. Do you think so little of yourself that you continue to seek out my attention, my cruelty?”
His blunt statement seemed to stun her, and he watched as a myriad of emotions played
on her hard, beautiful face. She finally gave a philosophical shrug.
“I am the daughter of a whore; what choice had I in life? I was born into a cruel world, ruled by cruel men. I survive by doing what I have to. For a woman alone, there are no choices. I have no family, no husband, no friends; I’ve been banished forever from the only home I have ever known.” She laughed harshly. “How can you understand such a thing? You had everything. You had a good life, a rich jarl who thought of you as his son, even made you captain of his fleet. Men respected you. Yet, you betrayed that jarl and everyone in your life. And for what? A woman who doesn’t love you. Her rejection turned you into a monster, a brute. One so despicable she preferred to give herself to a slave than share your bed.”
His low growl warned her she tread dangerously, but she shrugged once more. “Are you going to kill me, Gunnar? Is that what you wish to do? Go ahead, big man. Kill the whore who dared speak the truth to your face. I care not.”
Thyra stood proud, defiant, tears glistening in her eyes. She was a damn nuisance, Gunnar thought, but even with her hurtful words, he desired her. He grasped her about the neck and his hands easily encased the slender column. Slowly, he pulled her closer, the pressure he applied carefully gauged.
“You talk too much, woman.” Gunnar ravaged her mouth, tasting the salt of a single tear trailing into the corner of her lips. His hand slipped down to her breast and he yanked aside the fabric of her gown, feeling her silky skin beneath his rough fingertips. He felt Thyra relax, a soft moan escaping as he pulled her tight against him.
“Perhaps you and I are more alike than I care to admit,” Gunnar mumbled, burying his face in the dark waterfall of her hair. “I whored myself out to Thorvald for years, thinking he’d let me have Cailin. No more. I will find her and kill her, ending the curse. Would that make you happy?”