Scion of the Sun

by Nicola Marsh

  I could see it in the worry lines around his mouth, the genuine concern in his eyes.

  Then his gaze dipped to my mouth, and I held my breath, caring replaced by something entirely different in those staggeringly beautiful blue eyes.

  I waited. And waited. And waited.

  For my first kiss.

  I was a sad case, and that corny sweet-sixteen-and-never-been-kissed cliché? Totally applied to me.

  My heart jumped around so much he had to have heard. With one hand around my waist, the other cradling my head, all he had to do was bring me a little closer and …

  “Fine. You have one hour at the temple, and I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”

  My overheated body suddenly cooled as he released me. If I’d cried before, I really wanted to bawl now. Surely I hadn’t misread the situation that much?

  For the first time since all this craziness had begun, I wished he could read my mind all the time. Then he’d see how much I wanted him to kiss me, how much I wanted him, and how he’d just carved up my heart by rejecting me.

  “Never cry over me,” he said, his tone harsh. “We can’t be together.”

  “Why not?”

  Anguish contorted his mouth for a brief second before he shook his head. “Finding Arwen and defeating Cadifor is too important. No distractions.”

  “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you almost kissed me?”

  I could kill him. For being so high and mighty and in control, for having the sense to pull back from a kiss that would only complicate matters, for having a conscience, but most of all for being him and making me want him so damn much. “Let me guess. There’s some lame rule against warriors fraternizing with their charges.”

  He shook his head, his lips compressed in a stubborn line, as I mustered my best badass glare and flung open the door.

  This was so not the time for him to be reading my mind, and as I stalked past him, he snagged my wrist and murmured, “There’s too much at stake.”

  I couldn’t agree with him more, my breakable heart being on top of the list.

  The Temple of Grian pulsed with a faint glow the closer we got. Imposing in daylight, it was incandescent in the soft moonlight, the promise of magic and mayhem all the stronger as I stepped onto the path spiraling down toward the altar.

  I could hear Joss’s steady, dependable steps behind me, but I didn’t stop. I was still mad as hell at him for that aborted kiss—and for making me like him in the first place.

  With each step on the flagstones I relived every mortifying moment in excruciating detail. My mini-rant exposing some of my innermost fears, my blubbering all over him, my inviting that kiss … I stopped from making an L with my thumb and index and holding it against my forehead, just.

  Besides, with my freaky forehead, who knew where I’d end up?

  “You’re not in this alone.”

  I stopped, silently counted to ten, and clenched and unclenched my hands a few times before turning to face Joss. Either that or deck him. But the minute I caught sight of his face, some of my anger dissipated. He wasn’t playing games. He was too honorable for that, too damn noble. He genuinely believed finding Arwen and defeating Cadifor was all-important, even at the risk of ignoring the attraction buzzing between us.

  I guess that’s what made me so furious; deep down, I knew he was right. This wasn’t some twisted game. This was real, every terrifying moment, despite my wishing the contrary.

  Not intimidated by my don’t-mess-with-me glare in the slightest, he shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

  “Don’t. Say anything, that is.”

  If the guy didn’t shut up now he had a death wish.

  “I heard what you said earlier, about everyone depending on you. Yeah, it’s true, but we’re here to help. If you let that kind of responsibility eat away at you … ”

  He understood. That’s probably how he felt. I was his responsibility, and while being a warrior was his calling, it wouldn’t ease the constant burden of being expected to succeed.

  For once, he didn’t say anything, but he knew I knew. It was there in the faint pink staining his cheeks, the defiant smirk, daring me to call him on it.

  I went one better.

  “You know why it sucks having this responsibility dumped on me?” I threw my arms wide, encompassing the temple. “Because I didn’t ask for any of it. All I ever wanted my whole life was to be normal. To not stand out. To cruise along, doing the right thing. Good grades. Good granddaughter.”

  Thinking of Nan made my voice waver and I hurried on. “Then these stupid visions start messing with my head, my Nan ends up in a coma because of it, and I get dumped at some crazy boarding school. Normal?” I clicked my fingers. “Out the door, just like that.”

  “Normal is overrated.”

  I rolled my eyes. His serene expression got on my nerves. “Spoken like a true warrior who can read minds and produce heat to propel freaks like me through existence.”

  “Responsibility is tough, but have you ever considered it from another angle?” He spoke so coolly, so rationally, he piqued my curiosity. “It’s nice to be needed.” Back to his lecturing best, he continued, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve spent my life going through the motions. Being a good kid for my dad when Mom died, welcoming Uriel, being there for her when Dad died, getting good grades, undergoing warrior training without knowing if I’d ever get to use any of it apart from the general policing stuff.”

  “But if we’re bound, wouldn’t you have known to expect me?”

  He stiffened. “The rift could’ve been created at any time. You might’ve been too young and then … ”

  He didn’t have to spell it out. If Cadifor—or Brigit—had opened the rift between worlds too early, Cadifor would’ve probably succeeded in finding Arwen and annihilating both our worlds.

  Tension emanated off him, and I didn’t understand why. He was trying to give me a pep talk; why would that make him visibly uncomfortable?

  “I learned all that stuff from the text, but what does warrior training really involve?”

  A perfectly innocuous question designed to get us back onto safe ground, but if anything, he seemed ready to clam up tighter. After a lengthy silence, he finally spoke. “Warriors are mostly born.”

  “Mostly?”

  His evasive glance away as he nodded made me wonder. Had Joss not been born into this role? Did that explain his overprotectiveness? His obsessive dedication to doing a good job? His reluctance to pursue the spark between us?

  Before I could ask, he rushed on. “Warriors in the Innerworld are like soldiers in the Outerworld. We’re here if you need us, but active duty isn’t a given. If people need protecting, like the Sorority, we do the job. Otherwise, we maintain general peace, keep watch for Cadifor’s consorts, that kind of thing.”

  “How do you earn your stripes?”

  I expected him to smirk at my corny army joke after his reference to soldiers. His back went rigid instead. “Like you must master tasks, we are given assignments.”

  “People to protect, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Lucky for me I’ve got someone who probably earned his stripes at birth,” I said, determined to show I had full confidence in him.

  “Yeah, lucky.” Rubbing a hand across his clenched jaw, he looked like a guy who didn’t believe in luck. “Protecting you is like being called up to the big leagues. I screw up, we all lose.”

  He meant we all die. Like I needed reminding. “Is that why you’re so antsy all the time?”

  His face relaxed a smidgen. “Let me put it another way. I can’t afford to fail.”

  All the fight of the last half hour drained out of me as I grudgingly gave in to the point he’d been trying to make since we’d first arrived here. I sighed, louder than the wind whispering through the trees. “I guess you’re right. In a way, it’s nice to matter.”

  He reached out, captured a strand of my unsalvageable hair, and twis
ted it around his finger before tucking it behind my ear.

  He tilted my chin up and eyeballed me. “Let me be there for you.”

  I barely managed a strangled “Okay,” before I spun around and almost skipped down the path. No way could I take much more of that serious eye contact stuff without flinging myself at him.

  We traveled down the path in silence. The closer I got to Bel’s fire, the stronger the pull. My core temperature shot up by a few degrees as I reached the altar and knelt behind it, the flame burning brighter than ever in the pitch of night.

  Joss remained silent—smart guy—while I stared at the flame, semi-hypnotized, centering myself after the crazy day.

  I don’t know how long we sat there for, me contemplative, Joss just there for me.

  Without a vision to miraculously guide me, my mind started to drift to what I’d said earlier. I’d meant every word. I craved normal. All my life, I’d never quite gotten there. Sure, loads of kids at school came from single parent families, but I was the only one raised by my Nan.

  While the rest of the kids lived in cool homes in the middle of town, I lived in an ancient wooden cottage on the shores of the lake.

  While the rest of the kids couldn’t wait to escape Wolfebane, I was happy there.

  I liked skiing down the local slopes in the winter.

  I liked canoeing on the lake with nothing but the latest paranormal book for company.

  I liked hiking through the nearby forest, the smell of damp moss and pine strong in my nose.

  Maybe I was a freak before the visions started? But ever since they had, my secret wish of normalcy had been replaced by a wish for something else.

  A wish to live up to expectations.

  Everyone was depending on me: the Sorority, Brigit, Nan, even my mom in some warped way.

  Even though I didn’t know her, I refused to believe my mom could be with Cadifor by choice. Which meant she was being held against her will. If I could find Arwen, I knew without a doubt I’d find her too.

  “Your mom?”

  Uh-oh. Until now, I’d been very careful to avoid thinking about her around Joss. I didn’t want the Sorority knowing all my secrets just yet. Now, in the lulling silence, by the warmth of Bel’s fire, I’d screwed up, big time.

  When I didn’t answer, he grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him. “Your mom is with Cadifor?”

  “I’ve seen her in a few visions.” When he continued to stare at me in disbelief, I added, almost defiantly, “He’s violent toward her.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “You should’ve told us.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  He shot me another furious glare, repeatedly clenching and unclenching his hands, buying time, getting his emotions under control.

  “My mom vanished when I was six months old. Now I suddenly see her with some seriously scary dude, who just happens to be the bad guy I’m supposed to defeat.” Leaping to my feet, I searched for the right words to make him understand. “It’s nice to finally belong somewhere and that’s what I feel with the Sorority, but you don’t think I see their doubt every time they gawk at me? It’s hard enough to prove my worth without saying up front ‘Hey guys, sure, I’ll bring down the bad guy but by the way, my mom’s hanging out with him.’ Bet that would’ve gone over well.”

  Mutinous, he glared at me like I’d crossed to the dark side too. “It changes everything.”

  “Like what? I still have to find Arwen before Cadifor does. If my mom’s somehow involved, I find her too.”

  He shook his head, dragged a hand over his face to ease his somber expression. It didn’t work. “Have you seriously thought this through? If she’s on his side and it comes to a battle … ” He didn’t need to spell it out. Mom could get killed along with the rest of Cadifor’s consorts.

  “That’s not my only concern,” Joss said, touching my arm for a moment before thinking better of it and snatching his hand away. “What if it comes to a final showdown and Cadifor uses your mom as leverage against you? Her in exchange for Arwen? What would you do?”

  Panic fluttered in my chest, a familiar I’m-in-over-my-head feeling that squeezed my lungs and made it difficult to breathe. Though somehow, not being prepared for an algebra pop quiz didn’t have the same grave consequences as choosing between saving my mom or saving the world.

  “This isn’t going to be easy,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “You think I don’t know that?” I hissed. A twig snapped; we both ducked behind the altar.

  “Stay down,” he whispered, edging to the right, one arm holding me back protectively.

  If I’d inadvertently exposed him to danger because of my foolhardy hope to come here and conjure a vision, I’d never forgive myself.

  He released me and I sagged to the ground. Signaling for me to stay down with his hand, he straightened to his full height.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We’ve come to help the girl.” A masculine voice drifted down from the tree line, a voice I’d heard before but couldn’t place.

  “She doesn’t need philosophical guidance right now, Dyfan.”

  The druidh? What was he doing here?

  “No, but she can use my help. She needs to know what she’s facing.”

  I knew that second voice: Lia the witch. I couldn’t think of her as a medicine woman, not after the hocus pocus stunt she’d pulled with my wrist earlier.

  My wrist! I touched the braided bracelet she’d slipped on my wrist that morning. I’d totally forgotten about it in the dramas since. What had she said? It had a protective charm? Tracing it with my fingertip, I wondered if it had something to do with my escaping Cadifor’s henchman. Or was I just buying into a bunch of superstitious nonsense, grasping at anything to help me in this crazy quest?

  “Surely whatever we see in her future can help?”

  Joss glanced down at me with a raised eyebrow and I shrugged. What could a little more magic crap hurt? “Come,” he said, sounding more king than warrior, his bossiness beyond sexy as he ordered Dyfan and Lia to join us.

  Joss held out his hand and pulled me up, giving mine a squeeze before he released it as the witch and the druidh made their way down the path.

  As Dyfan and Lia approached, the fine hairs on my arms stood to attention. There was something seriously spooky about the two of them in the moonlight, one tall and luminous in head-to-toe white while the other carried a medicine bag half-concealed beneath her swirling crimson-lined cloak.

  When they reached us, Dyfan held up his hand in greeting first, leaving me no option but to press palms with him. “Stay warm, Holly.” I don’t know what creeped me out more, his clammy palm or the fanatical gleam in his beady eyes. Lia repeated the greeting and my skin prickled.

  Yep, these two were serious weirdos, but apparently they’d come to help. Considering I had to control my abilities pronto, master lessons both here and at school, and find Arwen before Cadifor, maybe I needed all the help I could get.

  Joss stayed close, as if he didn’t fully trust them either. “What did you have in mind?”

  Lia pulled her medicine bag from beneath her cloak and Joss stiffened as if it were a gun. “A simple psychic scrying. For what she faces, it can only help.”

  I wanted to ask why here, why now, and how the hell did they know we were here? But I was too intrigued as she started pulling paraphernalia out of her bag like a magician would from his hat. And yeah, I can see the irony in that analogy considering she was kind of one anyway.

  As if sensing my doubts, Dyfan said, “We ran into Maeve while conferring over Beltane festivities. She mentioned you may need our guidance.”

  Yeah, but how did Maeve know we’d be here? She’d left with Mack and Oscar, safe in the assumption Joss would teleport me back to C.U.L.T.

  Dyfan didn’t flinch as I studied him. Maybe I was extra jumpy, not trusting the people who were trying to help. Or maybe I was honing my intuition, which screamed this guy
, druidh philosopher or not, was bogus.

  “Have you mastered scrying yet?”

  I shook my head at the druidh, not wanting to divulge that so far, the only tasks I’d mastered were becoming one with the Triple Flame inadvertently, a semi-grip on the clairsentience, and some consistent teleporting.

  “That’s why we’re here.” Lia laid a large bowl on the altar. “Using this psychic scrying bowl now, you can’t fail.”

  Easy for her to say.

  “I’ve used a spell to harness the power of the moon,” Lia said. “This bowl has already been rubbed with a mugwort infusion, kept outside all night to absorb the moon’s powers, and then wrapped in a black silk cloth and kept in a dark cupboard for a month.”

  A month? Wow, whatever happened to waving a magic wand and saying a few words? Spells were more complicated in real life than any fiction I’d read. I snuck a quick peek at Joss, to see what he was making of all of this, but his face remained impassive.

  “Add the water from this bottle halfway into the bowl, then add a few drops of ink.”

  I did as she instructed, grateful when my hands didn’t shake.

  “Good. Now mentally recite an incantation. A wish, a heartfelt desire, something you want to know, then immediately focus on the water. Focus on the image of the moon reflected there, and after a while, you should find the water swirling.”

  She paused to study me, and once again something otherworldly brushed fingertips along my skin. “You may see images or symbols. Hopefully, something to help in your quest. Are you ready?”

  I nodded, more spooked than I let on. Joss touched the small of my back, letting me know he was there and giving me a much needed confidence boost. I stepped up to the bowl, grateful the small flame burned brightly beneath the altar—a sign Bel was with me—as I quickly sifted through many wishes and concentrated on one.

  Show me what I will face in defeating the Lord of Darkness.

  I repeated the phrase in my mind over and over like a chant, rhythmic and eerie. When I stopped, I peered into the bowl, seeing nothing in the inky darkness.

  I stared. And stared. And stared, my stomach tumbling with nerves, my face flush with embarrassment.