"She has seen this man?"
"Once." A pained look flitted through his eyes. "He is old enough to be her sire and his heart is misaligned."
"He's evil?"
"Nay, not evil, but he cares not for her, only wishes to increase his armaments."
"Balion must see that about the man."
"Aye, he sees it, but Roldan swore an oath on the matter." He slumped onto the bench again and buried his chin in his hand. "I do not have the power to stop it."
"It would seem to me it is an issue of pluck not power."
His eyes narrowed. "Speak freely; what is the meaning of your words?"
"They don't know she loves you or that you love her."
Frustration laced his voice. "How can they not? I am a bumbling ox when the girl is near."
"People see what they want to see, so you must find the strength to make them aware. Tell Balion, convince him your heart is true, your love pure."
"And if he sends her away?" he asked, his forehead wrinkling.
"You must stop it."
"Take up arms against my prince?" He shook his head. "Nay, it is unthinkable."
"There are other ways to convince him."
With a kernel of hope in his brown eyes, he studied her. "What other means?"
"You could take her away, kidnap her and they'd be forced to deal with the consequences of her sullied state."
His face suffused with blood, he screeched, "Ye are not thinking straight!"
"Oh, but I am," she replied. "Hector would not want her after―"
"Nay, he would not," he cut her off. "It would nullify the agreement." With eyes wide, he faced her. "Are ye suggesting I force myself on the girl, return her to King Roldan sullied?"
"Precisely, but I doubt it will come to that if you tell Balion what you've told me."
"The king could order my death; put an end to it in the blink of an eye."
A giggle left Kira's lips. "Yes, I suppose he could, but I don't think he would. There isn't a father in the entire universe who can deny the heartfelt pleadings of his daughter."
His step lightened. "Do ye think it would work?"
"Jarlock, not even death can douse the burning flames of love, much less a king. I beg of you, tell Balion."
His hand felt cool against her cheek. "Lass named after the sun, I shall miss ye when ye return to this place ye speak of."
"And I shall miss you." Her eyes pooled with tears. And the Light-Prince and everything about him, right down to the tiniest inflection of his voice, his smile, his touch, his kiss.
Alone with her miserable thoughts moments later, she sat for a lengthy time brooding over the sad state of affairs. There were no simple solutions to her dilemma, or the giant's.
Her heart troubled, her footsteps measured, she rose from the bench and followed the pebbled walkway back to the keep.
Simon the Brave trailed her closer than a collie.
Chapter 14
Toward evening, Kira took a bath and flipped through the scrolls on Balion's desk, but none made sense. Magical, mystical drawings of the solar system and the stars, and drawn by some ancient scribe who left his mark and the date, Nine Hundred in the Year of the King, they were accurate.
Balion sent word via the same girl who drew her bath that he wouldn't be returning until the moon passed over the mountains. Looking out the window now, she watched the dismal battle proceedings, trembling with wanton desire whenever Balion came into her field of vision. Exhausted after the day's events, she dropped onto the mattress—stuffed with soft hay—and drifted off to sleep.
Strange dreams came to her. The Pantherinae chased her through the woods, Balion laughed as he parried her clumsy spear thrusts, and Sirene called her from beyond, her lyrical voice sweet.
Something awakened her, a familiar, soothing voice. Bolting upright, she looked around the darkened room, illuminated by a single torch near the door. She felt a presence, heard the fragile breathing.
With clenched teeth, she asked, "Who's there?"
Shadows shifted and Kira blinked, trying to focus her light-hungry eyes. Terror struck a dissonant chord in her heart. Visions of The Scarlet Angel, his knife against her throat and his sinister laugh just before…
"Don't be frightened, lass."
She knew that voice, would know it anywhere, the same one that journeyed with her to Locke Cress—the sorceress who not only dabbled in magic, but had the capabilities of commanding cyclonic winds and violent storms.
"Sirene," she whispered.
"Yes, it is I."
"What are you doing here?" Her chest heaved and her hands went cold. "What do you want?"
"What I've wanted for a very long time."
"I don't understand." Kira searched the dimly lit room and wondered if her dazed brain conjured the curvaceous form in a darkened corner.
"Poor wee one, how can ye understand?"
Laughter trickled from Kira's throat, a high-pitched staccato rhythm of hysteria. "I understand nothing about this world I've been thrust into, an absurd realm of fairytales, spotted cats, sorcery, and a blond archangel who turns my heart to mush."
"Yes," Sirene replied. "There is that. Look on the bright side, dear child, it is rare to find such love, is it not?" Without waiting for Kira to answer, she continued. "Hours ago―well hours in your world, minutes in mine―I hovered above The Story Mage and his minion. The Mage has called forth Umargo's mighty army, reversed the spell. Curse the man and his quest for stories!"
Despair clawed at Kira's heart. "Umargo's army will crush Roldan and Balion?"
"Perhaps, but I still have a spell or two to conjure. Aye, my powers are diminished, but not eradicated." Pacing the room, but well concealed in phantom gloom, the sorceress stopped and turned to Kira, her voice soft. "I did not send ye back without purpose. The medallion had to be returned to the Light-Prince." She resumed her pacing. "Balion has become so besotted with ye."
Kira felt the warmth of the woman's smile flood the room.
"Ye, who is named after the sun," Sirene added. "From the moment he saved ye in the forest his heart was lost."
Kira's imperturbable gaze lingered on the woman's eloquent movement, her every word. "Would it be presumptuous of me to ask where you fit in?"
"It crushes me to speak of it, but I will try. Only Balion can remove the spell on my son now, only Balion can hold the medallion in his hand and call Barrett forth from The Sixth Realm."
Her head reeled, like it had since the moment she'd entered this strange world where magic and myth rode the crest of collision. Her sanity hung by a thread. "The Sixth Realm again."
"Aye, a dark, alien environ where nothing is as it seems." Sirene sighed "I cannot bear up under it, the thought my beloved Barrett might never return."
Acute, erotic sensations of the Light-Prince flooded Kira. Soft pliant fingers caressed her breasts and a mind-numbing ache sprouted in her loins. "Are you manipulating my mind?"
"No, dear, the thoughts surface without my help."
"Good, it's not necessary, you know. Just tell me what I must do."
Sirene's luminous eyes cut through the muted light. "Ye must send the medallion with Balion tomorrow." Her tone rang desperate. "He must wear it into battle."
"But why?"
"It is the only way to save Locke Cress, the only way to rescue my son."
"Let's back up." Kira drew a deep breath. "Tell me about this mystical medallion because for the life of me, I'm unable to comprehend how it holds the power to accomplish such feats."
"Oh, yes, ye would not be able to understand its powers, but here's the long and short of it."
Kira narrowed her eyes, bracing for another over-the top, otherworldly explanation.
"I conjured it up years ago and bequeathed it to King Roldan, hoping it would protect his army from evil forces, all enemies known and unknown."
"Conjured it up? How does one do that?"
"One doesn't, dear, but for a sorceress, it isn't so very d
ifficult and I had assistance." Kira blew air through her lips and waited. "First, it was cut and polished to produce a symmetric brilliance—to maximize light reflection and refraction. I wanted to christen it River of Fire, but thought the honor should go to King Roldan. Fire is the dispersion of white light into a rainbow of colors. In this case, I created red, ruby red." Here Sirene veered off on a tangent, her voice wistful if not boastful. "In every great fairytale, sorcerers take a little science and toss in a little magic to create the perfect instrument that brings two lovers together. Your mother did the same the night she found the dusty tome, the ancient book of potions."
"Oh, yes." Kira sighed. "The potion she concocted to call my father forth."
"Love potion number seven."
"Number seven? Why seven?"
"It's my lucky number," Sirene replied.
Kira shook her head to clear it. "Let's move on. Why did The Story Mage banish Barrett to the Sixth Realm?"
"Invidia, dear."
"In-what-e-ya?"
"Invidia, the Latin word for envy. Ye know, one of the seven deadly sins―lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride. Pope Gregory the Great defined them for us in the sixth century."
"You knew Pope Gregory?"
"A casual acquaintance." Sirene paused as if distracted. "Or I suppose it could have been ira—the Latin word for wrath."
Time hung suspended. Was she having a conversation with Sirene? "Ira? What could The Story Mage be envious or mad about?"
"Oh, dear me, that's a very long story."
"I have nothing but time," Kira said. "No pun intended."
"Nothing but time; I suppose that's true. Well, anyway, I'll make it brief. At one time, The Mage and I were, how to put it? Involved."
Kira drew in a sharp breath of air. "You slept with The Story Mage?"
"Well, I did more than sleep with him, Kira. We were, well, all arms and legs, but only once."
"Keep talking. I like this dream."
"This is no dream, sweet thing. I assure you I'm here in the flesh."
"Why don't you step into the light so I can see you?"
"No, I'm quite comfy in the shadows, thank you." Sirene cleared her throat. "Where was I? Oh, yes, the wizard became enraged when he discovered I carried another man's child."
"He loved you," Kira said, ever the hopeless romantic. "What happened next?"
"I'm getting there. Ye Americans are so impatient." She wrung her pale white hands. "Delivered of a son, it was the beginning of the end for me."
"The Story Mage's son?"
"No, and therein lies the problem. Filled with jealousy or rage—have your pick—he stole the child, cast a spell, and banished my Barrett to the void."
"But you're the most powerful sorceress in the universe, the solar system."
"Was, dear, until he took my son." Agony laced her words. "I depleted my powers when I banished Umargo to the black void."
"So it's true, you banished Umargo?"
"Aye, it cost me dearly. I no longer had the power to reverse The Mage's spell on Barrett, but I couldn't allow Locke Cress to fall."
"How will you redeem your powers?"
"I won't until Barrett is returned to me, and this debilitating grief is eradicated."
"What about Barrett's father, can't he do anything—and, hey, who is his father?"
"He is but a mortal, although a great, magnificent mortal." Her voice changed again, wistful now, as though she called the man forth in her mind.
"Well, if you don't want to tell me who the father is, tell me why Balion must wear the medallion into battle."
"Umargo fears the power of your father's medallion, and well he should!"
"Who is this infamous Umargo?"
"A cutthroat, a murderer, the most evil of men, and…." Here, Sirene paused for a lengthy time, and it was just as well, for Kira had been holding her breath. "Umargo sprang from the loins of The Story Mage."
"An eye-for-an-eye, a tooth-for-a-tooth," Kira whispered.
"Aye, he took my son, so I took his."
"Whew! And I thought tracking serial killers was complicated." Kira rubbed her temples. "Tell me more about my father's medallion. I've seen the ruby stone burn blood red, felt heat radiate from it."
"It transported Nicholas to your mother, did it not, and brought ye here to Locke Cress?"
"I thought you did."
"Nay, sweet girl, I provided the chant and accompanied ye on the journey. Do ye not remember ye clutched the medallion just before that despicable man was about to carve ye into a side of beef? Do ye not remember the chant?"
"Yes, I remember it, but I tried it in the forest today and it didn't work."
"Oh, that, well, that's because ye were not ready to return yet."
"Am I now?"
"Only you can decide, dear. Now that ye have tasted the sweet nectar of Balion's love, can ye live without it?"
Kira paused.
"Can ye?"
An exasperated groan left her lips. "No."
"Ah, I didn't think so."
"So, how do you get Barrett back from The Sixth Realm if you can't reverse the spell?"
"The medallion, of course, and a special chant uttered by the Light-Prince."
Kira rubbed it now, mystified by the powers Sirene claimed it held. "What chant?"
"In due time, Kira, in due time."
"So now you want the medallion to bring Barrett back?" She blew air out her lips. "Jeez, I'm going to toss this thing into the ocean when I get back to Providence, if I ever get back."
"Nay," she said. "I don't want the medallion. I want ye to give it to Balion, convince him to wear it into battle."
"I'll convince him if you give me something."
"Anything within my power." Her tone poignant, she asked, "What do ye want?"
"I want to know who my father's mother is."
Silence came to the room, and for a moment, Kira wondered if the sorceress had stopped breathing.
"My father was born in Locke Cress, which meant his mother came from here too. Tell me, Sirene, who is she?"
She floated from the shadows, the torchlight streaming around her. Beautiful, magnificent and exotic, Kira's breath caught in her throat. Her silver hair had tumbled forth, caressing her shoulders in a silky spill before cascading about her in wild abandon. Her father's words stormed through her mind…the Lady of a Thousand Veils. The multi-layered dress billowed around her in vibrant hues of cerulean blue and forest green. Long moments passed before Kira shifted her gaze to her face. A strangled moan left her lips. The features were so familiar.
Sirene dropped her chin and tilted her head to the right, her expression pure love and adoration. "Sweet, sweet, child, I am your father's mother."
As quickly as Sirene had entered, she left, her ethereal gown twisting around her with fluid grace as she lifted herself from the room.
Kira slammed her eyes shut, opened them again and blinked several times. Her father and Barrett were brothers, or at least half-brothers. Her befuddled brain roiled against the myriad thoughts tumbling through it. Not only had she held a conversation with a powerful sorceress, but she had just met her grandmother!
* * *
Sleep eluded Kira for the next several hours. She rose from bed a hundred times it seemed and paced the room, pausing to look out the window. Horses gathered at the gate, dressed in the colors of war—the standards of Locke Cress. Campfires burned throughout the village, casting eerie shadows on the people hustling about. Women fell to their knees in prayer, men held their children close to their chests, and then Balion and the King came into view, their broadswords drawn as they faced the heavens. She didn't need the sorceress to tell her they were praying to the Gods.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn't help but wonder what Balion must be thinking as he stood beside his father. The weight of the world—Locke Cress' world—rested on his broad shoulders. In the next instant, the clouds released the moon and reflected light shone ove
r his powerful body in a brilliant beam of radiance. Lord help her, The Light-Prince was all ageless power and strength. Drawn to him like a hapless moth seeking the flames of death, she'd never felt such despair. He turned to his father and spoke, looking up at the window in the next breath. She choked back a sob as he walked toward the keep. In spite of herself, terror struck her heart.
Heavy footsteps fell in the hallway outside and next the door to his bedchamber opened. Cowering by the window, numb with love and pain, a part of her prayed she'd open her eyes and Balion would be there, another part prayed it wasn't him. She didn't belong in his world and had to find a way to get back to hers. The memory of his touch, his kiss would haunt her till the end of her days. She didn't need more, didn't want more.
The shifting sapphire light of his eyes found hers. "Stay back!" The conflicting words rushed from her lips.
A flash of anger crossed his heart-stopping features, replaced seconds later by compassion. "Ye are frightened of me?"
"No, I mean, yes."
"Nay, it is not me ye fear, but the potent love between us." His eyes searched hers. "Ye don't want me to leave."
"I do. If you come any closer, I'll scream."
"No one would help ye. I'm the―"
"Prince. I know, the Light-Prince, the prince of my dreams, my heart." Over the sound of her rapid breathing, she didn't know if she wanted to throw something at his head or fling herself into his arms.
She chose the latter.
His soothing voice calmed her. "Poor little one, thrust into a strange world of wizards, sorcery and death."
She cried harder against his leather jerkin.
Finding the small of her back, he pulled her closer. "Do not cry, please do not. I cannot ride into battle with your tears etched in my memory."
She lifted her chin and searched his eyes. "Promise me something."
"Whatever is within my power."
"If you die," her words caught on a hiccough, "you'll come to me again."
"Know this, on my sacred oath, I will find ye wherever ye are."
Whatever reserve Kira may have felt earlier vanished the moment he touched her. His fingers burned into her skin, sent electric shocks through every part of her body. His hand shook as it slid along the curve of her breast and next her thigh, his words of adoration like ice and fire coursing through her. Suffocating under a wild passion, a moan tore from Kira's throat as her hips moved in an age-old motion against him. She knew now the exquisite euphoria of Balion inside her, filling her completely. She wanted it again. Now.
Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1) Page 54