by Rowan, Cate
Alvarr smiled, exultant. “Your mother was a Source, and so are you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“So she’ll do after all,” said a voice behind Alvarr. Jilian glanced over and saw a slim, light-haired man with a proud stance and inquisitive eyes watching her from the doorway.
“Yes, Thoren. Jilian is a Source. And her kyrra is whole and untapped.” Alvarr looked supremely satisfied.
This doesn’t sound good. Jilian’s gaze volleyed between the two men.
“Then there may be a way out yet.” Thoren smiled at last and came toward them. “I’m glad you’ve come, Jilian na Sara. I’m Thoren sen Denal, Alvarr’s Prime Councilor. I knew your mother, long ago.”
Somehow, a “gee that’s great, now send me home this minute” didn’t seem wise. “Um, it’s nice to meet you.” Big lie. Wish I’d never seen any of these people. And how do I get back?
Thoren stopped next to the seated prince. “When can you start with her?”
Alvarr turned and looked deep in her eyes. A warm flush rose to her cheeks and swirled down to her bare shoulders. His gaze slid lower, as if following the trail of warmth, and lingered at the edge of the blanket over her breasts. Hey! She clutched the covers.
He met her indignation with an amused smile. Belatedly, she remembered the bandages—he’d probably just been examining those. Her flush deepened, searing her.
The prince continued to study her as he eased back in the chair. His sleeveless leather tunic revealed chiseled muscles and smooth bronzed skin. She bit her lip and glanced away.
“She appears almost well, Thoren,” he said finally. “Perhaps tonight.”
Jilian swiveled back to Alvarr. “Tonight what?”
“So soon!” Varene said, marching into the room. “By Fate, Alvarr, she’s been shot! She’ll need more time.”
Alvarr flashed Varene a winning smile. “With such a skilled Healer, no doubt she’s almost whole again.”
“Nevertheless.” Varene stopped in front of him, crossing her arms. “She’s not ready.”
He rose slowly from his chair. “How long?”
“Hmmph.” The Healer moved to Jilian’s bedside, assessing her.
Wondering how evident her panic was, Jilian clutched her hands into the blanket, only to wince at the jab of pain in her chest.
Varene gave her a private, sympathetic smile, then turned to the prince. “Two days.”
“Time is dear, Healer,” he said quietly. “I don’t know that we can wait.”
Just two days? And wait for what? Jilian squirmed back into the soft pillows, wishing she could melt into them and disappear.
Varene stood a moment in silence. “Your duties are to all of Teganne, my lord.” She bowed her head. “But mine are to my patients. And I don’t believe it’s in Teganne’s best interests to rush her.”
Alvarr gave a short sigh and looked down at Jilian. “I’ll return. You may not be able to transfer kyrra yet, but you can learn your duties as my Source.” His gaze dipped to her covered breasts again, then back to her face. A smile played at the corners of his mouth.
He turned on his heel and strode out, owning the world as he went. Thoren nodded at her and Varene and departed as well.
“Males.” The Healer stood with hands on hips, staring after them. “Especially males in charge. They’ll step on anyone’s toes.”
An unexpected smile rose to Jilian’s lips. “I guess men are the same everywhere. Although those two seem to respect you.”
Grinning, Varene turned back to her. “And well they should, considering how often I’ve fixed their scrapes and bruises.” She snorted. “When Alvarr was younger and learning to sword-fight, I thought he’d do them both in—Alvarr from an injury and Thoren from a seizure over it.”
She patted Jilian’s hand. “Well, Sara, I’ve bought you a bit more time, but you’ll need to push yourself along.”
Jilian flinched at her mother’s name. This was insanity. How could her mother be involved with any of it?
With a deep breath, she looked into Varene’s eyes. “I’m not Sara.”
The Healer cocked her head, frowning. “What?”
“Alvarr tried to get Sara, but he got me instead. I’ve never seen this place.”
Varene dropped to the bedside chair with a thump.
“I’m not sure, but I think the Sara that he wanted…” No, this is ridiculous. Crazy! But… “Maybe she’s my mother.”
“Does the prince know?” the Healer asked softly, flattening her palms on her thighs.
“Yes. That’s why he stormed out earlier. But then he came back, and touched me, and something happened… It felt like my nerves vibrated.”
Varene closed her eyes and slumped in evident relief. “So you have the power.”
The power? The power to do what? Could it get her home? Her insides lurched. If she asked Varene, would that be safe? Who could she trust?
The Healer leaned in to feel the warmth of Jilian’s forehead, then her cool fingers checked the bandages around the wound. “You’re much better, but sleep will heal you even faster. You should get some rest.” She patted Jilian’s arm.
“But I’m not tired, and—”
“That’s easy enough to fix.” Varene winked at her and cupped her palm around Jilian’s wrist.
Jilian floated into a peaceful sleep.
Why were they yelling at each other?
Jilian clutched the stuffed horse in her grubby, six-year-old hands and stared up at her parents’ closed bedroom door.
She retreated against the wall by her mother’s study. “Stop shouting,” she whispered. They didn’t hear.
Her father boomed her name behind the door. Jilian jumped, and heard her mother scream back in a higher pitch.
Jilian’s tummy twisted.
She held still, trying to listen above her own pittering heart, but couldn’t understand what was happening. She glanced down the hall toward her room. Could she run from the yelling?
But her parents’ door flew open. She dropped the toy horse in surprise. Mummy swooped her up and walked out of the house into the dark night, hugging her close with warm arms.
Her father shouted again, calling Jilian’s name. She peered over her mother’s shoulder. There he was on the doorstep, all in shadow except for the edges of his wool sweater and dark hair outlined by the kitchen light. Gripping the doorframe as if to hold himself up, he stayed where he was and watched them go.
She burst into tears, but Mummy was there to soothe her, whispering in her ear. Her words were soft promises from one heart to another: “It’ll be all right, Jilly Love. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”
Comforted, Jilian tucked her head beneath her mother’s chin and fell asleep to the steady rhythm of her steps.
Then Jilian jerked awake. Her soul splintered when she realized she was still trapped far from home.
The curtains at the bay window waved in the breeze, and the brilliant sunshine beyond them pricked like a knife at her heart.
Or more to the point, an arrow. Her wound ached. She closed her eyes and turned her head toward the whitewashed wall.
Mom… It’s been days since I’ve come to see you. If days are even the same here! You must know something’s wrong, must be so worried… Have you called the police yet?
God. Not that they could find me, wherever this place is.
You’ve loved and protected me from the moment I was born—and now, when you need me most, I’ve abandoned you to die alone in a hospital room.
Guilt poured over Jilian like sludge.
She fingered her bandages—new ones, she noticed, and less extensive. When she took a deep breath, there was only a slight twinge of pain. She wondered what an arrow wound looked like—they weren’t exactly common back home. But she didn’t want any more evidence of her bizarre situation.
Her gaze fell on a peach robe draped over a nearby chair. Varene must have set it there. She eased out of bed to put it on, since anyth
ing was better than nakedness and clutching the sheets under the prince’s scrutiny.
The soft, long-sleeved robe wasn’t as simple as it seemed. Four thin ties down its center fastened the two sides together, but she wasn’t sure whether the ties went in back or in front. If Varene needed to check the bandages, probably the front.
But once she’d slipped it on, she felt uneasy with the gaps between the ties, and the robe seemed all too like the hospital gowns of her mother’s. Jilian tugged the edge farther over her body with a clenched fist.
The sweet scent of flowers drew her to the window. She reached out to pull aside the billowing curtain, then halted, hand in mid-air.
I’ve been abducted. I don’t even know where I am. Her hand trembled. Snatching it back, she rubbed it against her thigh to stop the quaking.
I have to get home! But how?
She laughed, because if she didn’t, she’d cry. Hard.
A tear rolled down her right check. Then her left. Sniffling to halt the stupid waterworks, she only managed to sound more pitiful. Furious now, she wiped the tears away with the sleeve of the robe.
For all I know this is some other universe. I’ve been abducted, threatened, and shot with an arrow, I have a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving a magical fight with an evil madman, and I wasn’t even able to say goodbye to my mother, who could be dead by now.
Her fingernails bit into her palms in another painful reminder that this was all too real.
“You’ve risen. You must be feeling better.”
Jilian whirled to find Alvarr standing in the middle of the room, arms folded over his broad chest. Her strange robe threatened to show more than it ought, and she yanked it back across her body.
At that he smiled, and his silver gaze locked on hers.
Those eyes. How could a man have such beautiful eyes? It should be against the law, on behalf of all womankind…
Horrified, she snatched back her thoughts. He got you shot! He’s your kidnapper. He’ll do anything to get what he wants.
Anything. Her mind whirled as a piece of the situation clicked into place. After the fight between the soldiers and the mages, Alvarr had calmly told Gurdan that he’d kill him before the sun went down. Jilian clenched the robe more tightly. “Gurdan,” she said.
“What about him?” He raised a regal brow.
“Did you kill him?”
“I don’t kill unless it’s unavoidable. Not that he needed to know that,” he said with a wolfish smile. “Gurdan and his men…” he paused as if choosing his words, “have ceased being a threat.”
“What did you do?” she asked, holding his gaze.
“They’re no longer men.”
No longer men? Did he castrate them? Bile rose to her throat.
The prince raised his palms and made a square gesture. “Vardim,” he whispered. A silver cage appeared in his hands. “Here.”
She peered through the narrow bars. Brown, fur-covered creatures moved inside it. Edging closer, she counted nine of them. They looked like chipmunks, but with smaller, flattened heads and naked, rat-like tails.
The one in the center stood on its hind legs to view her. No—it stared straight at her. A familiar stare.
A shiver crawled over her. “That’s Gurdan.”
Glancing down at the cage, he shrugged. “Yes. And now he can’t harm you, or my plans.”
Her gaze snapped back to his.
“Jilian,” he said quietly, “if he or his men had returned to Bhruic and told him of you, you would have become Bhruic’s target. He’d hunt you down and murder you for being my Source. Or worse, he’d make you his own Source. Then he’d destroy everyone and everything I’m trying to protect.”
And if I don’t become your Source? Will you turn me into a rat-thing too? Rocking back on her heels, she hissed out a breath.
Alvarr sighed. With a flick of his wrist and a whisper, the cage disappeared. “Perhaps this all seems strange to you. But you’ll learn to like it here.” He motioned toward the window. “It’s a beautiful world. And as my Source, you’ll have an important and much-needed function.”
Gee, that’s great. I’m so proud. Pompous ass.
And his Source—especially the “his” part—what did that mean?
She turned and stared out the glass toward the towering hills beyond. Yes, his world was beautiful. But her mother was dying. “I want to go home, Alvarr.”
“Your duty is with me.”
“What duty?” she snapped, spinning to face him. “I don’t know you, and I don’t belong here. I don’t owe you anything.”
In a split second his eyes cooled, and she wondered how far she could go. The image of the caged rat-things vaulted into her mind.
His voice was low and deliberate. “We’ll begin your training after lunch.” He marched out, each measured bootfall reinforcing his words.
And then the only sound was the furious knock of her heart.
CHAPTER SIX
At lunchtime, a smiling Varene brought in a tray with soup and freshly baked bread. After motioning for Jilian to come eat, she seated herself at the table.
Jilian gathered the robe against her body and settled into an empty chair. A wayward lock of hair fell across her eyes. Wondering what type of banshee she must resemble by now, she tucked her hair behind her ears and picked up a spoon. It weighed less than she expected and was colored in swirling hues of dark caramel and cream. “What’s this made of?” she asked, turning it in her fingers.
“The horn of a chukril. From our own herd,” Varene said with a touch of pride.
Jilian’s mouth watered at the scent of the russet soup in its bowl of polished wood. She dipped her spoon and blew on the hot liquid before taking an experimental taste. The broth danced with tantalizing spices. “Delicious!” She set to with enthusiasm.
Varene beamed. “Thank you. I don’t get enough compliments on my cooking—people seem to shy away.” She leaned closer. “Between you and me, I think they’re afraid I’ll throw in the wrong herb by mistake and ruin their ability to make love.”
Jilian’s hand froze, spoon hanging in midair.
Laughing, Varene patted Jilian’s other hand. “I’m only kidding. Healer humor—please forgive me. It’s strictly food, that soup.”
After a moment, Jilian chuckled and resumed eating. Like I have a sex life to worry about.
“Anyway,” Varene said, tapping the table for emphasis, “I enjoy cooking. No magic’s necessary, only a love of food.”
“Magic. Is that how you put me to sleep?”
The Healer gave a modest shrug. “Just a little Healer technique.”
Jilian eyed her. “Does everyone here have magic?”
“It varies a great deal. Mages are born with the real power. They’re trained from early childhood in the skills that let them direct it.” Varene broke off a fluffy piece of bread and took a bite, then waved her hand in the air until she’d finished chewing. “Others have less power, like me. Since I wanted to help people, I became a Healer. That sleep trance—it can be quite a boon with children,” she said with a wink.
Jilian refilled her spoon. “How many children do you have?”
Varene shook her head. “I’ve plenty of time yet. I’m only ninety-eight.”
“Ninety-eight what?” She sipped the delectable broth.
“Years, of course.”
Jilian’s involuntary gulp nearly sent the soup down the wrong pipe. “You’re ninety-eight years old?” Varene’s pretty face was unwrinkled, her hair a shiny and youthful blonde. She did seem more mature than her appearance, but… “Just how long are the years here?”
Varene cocked her head, amused. “The same as yours, of course. Why?”
Jilian closed her mouth with a snap. How could they be the same? Was this some sort of parallel universe?
Belatedly, she realized the woman waited for an answer. “In my world, you’d be lucky to live to be ninety-eight.”
With widened eyes, Varene wh
ispered, “Your world is that violent?”
Jilian laughed. “No, no. It’s just that people…age.”
At the woman’s puzzled look, she continued. “Their joints start to ache, it gets harder for them to move around. Their bodies stop working well and eventually fail.”
“So young!” Varene breathed. “How do your people deal with it?”
“Well…there isn’t any choice.” Wait a minute. No one ages here? Jilian’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean your people are immortal?”
“Ha, no.” the Healer said with a shake of her head. “But once we reach adulthood, our outer appearance doesn’t change much until our fourth or fifth century. After that, a few experience this ‘aging’ you’ve described. For others, over time the will to live fades away. They go to sleep and don’t wake again. Of course,” she said, neatly twisting off another piece of bread, “many die before then. There are diseases, and injuries, that just can’t be healed.” Her expression turned melancholy. After a moment, she looked at Jilian. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Hoo, then you’re practically a baby, like Alvarr!” She grinned.
“How old is he?”
Varene waved the bread in the air dismissively. “Twenty-eight—nearly the same.” She leaned in. “He almost wasn’t confirmed, after the death of his parents. There were some who didn’t want to be ruled by a skinny twelve-year-old.” Leaning back, she gave a sharp nod. “But Danyd and Kessa were wise. They’d gathered good advisors who helped Alvarr get through the rough. And there was certainly rough. Such a burden for a grieving boy… But he’s a young man now, and an honorable ruler—much like his parents. Gaining the crown so early wasn’t easy for him, but he turned out well.” She beamed.
Something in her manner nudged at Jilian. “You’re one of his advisors?”
“Ah, you caught me then. Maybe I helped just a little.” Varene pinched air between her thumb and forefinger and winked. “When my master Yollin left the world a couple of years after Alvarr ascended the throne, I took Yollin’s place here at the castle.”
“Master?” Jilian blinked. “As in…‘slave’?”