There is a portal here; the mitres will only open if I first link with you, Thea explained tersely, which we are doing—and then access the data to connect with the portal.
Go ahead. I’m ready.
Thea marveled that Kelsey never seemed to know fear or apprehension; she always propelled herself right into things.
Thea worked into her human mind, felt, sensed memories and experiences, all manner of intimate impressions. She acknowledged none of them, dwelled on none of them. She would honor Kelsey’s vulnerability by preserving as much of her privacy as possible. The only time she hesitated was over a memory that held particular power—the death of Kelsey’s mother. Thea paused then, closing her eyes, remembering her own mother’s death. They had something in common, a strange thought for Thea—something else in common besides a love for Jared. But then she pressed onward, at last locating the data, lodged hard within Kelsey’s subconscious, but it was there—and intact—nonetheless.
I have it! Thea proclaimed excitedly. Across their link she felt Kelsey’s own thrilled reaction.
What now? the human asked, sounding almost breathless.
We create the portal and the four of us—Thea glanced at Marco and Scott where they squatted on the edge of the cliff, guarding the two of them—move inside the chamber.
Chapter Eleven
Marco found himself face-first on a cold, smooth floor. Somewhere. Nowhere. He had no idea how he’d landed where he was, and it almost seemed as if his arms and legs were made of thick rubber. His stomach rolled with nausea, and as he worked to move his fingers the air around him thickened.
Last he remembered Thea and Kelsey had been mind-linked outside the mitres chamber, working to upload the codes. He recalled the twin expressions of intense concentration on both their faces—each with their eyes closed, each seemingly reaching beyond the moment. After that, there’d been a bright blue ring that formed around the four of them, swirling and undulating as it tightened like a lasso about their group.
Then only free-falling through memories, impressions, images. He saw the ranch he’d lived on in Idaho. The palace hill in Thearnsk. A lifetime of memories and half-remembered places, all lost to him now. Then . . . nothing. This dark, dank place with the cold floor, and a body that refused to bend to his will.
‘‘Thea?’’ he mumbled, his mouth thick as gauze.
He felt someone nudge his booted foot. No answer. Soft groaning. Then, ‘‘Dimensional . . . sickness.’’ That was Thea. ‘‘Arienn . . . wrote . . . about it.’’
Pressing his forehead against the cold floor, he gasped for air. So they’d been successful—they had managed to create a portal and enter the chamber.
Someone else stirred, off to his right. With a painful movement he managed to turn his head sideways. Scott Dillon was sitting upright, his face buried in both hands. He appeared in better shape than the rest of them. Farther away from them he heard a soft, feminine moan that he was pretty sure came from his queen. Must . . . recover. Kelsey. Queen, he thought foggily. Struggling past every unholy physical sensation, he managed to lift onto his knees at last.
Thea lay on her side, near to him. She had been the one to touch him. Had she been reaching for him? Slowly, he slid toward her, placing his palm in the center of her back. Strength. Can give her my strength, he thought, studying Kelsey where she lay about six feet away from the group of them. He had to crawl to her somehow and make sure she was all right. But first, he thought, I can help Thea. Beneath his hand, she stirred, groaning. ‘‘Thea, here,’’ he urged, ‘‘let me help you up.’’
‘‘I’m . . . all right.’’ Her voice was hardly recognizable. Slowly she struggled to a sitting position, her face ashen.
Again, he looked toward Kelsey, and finally sure he wouldn’t pass out, began to crawl toward her, every movement demanding a supreme amount of strength.
She lay on her side, curled into a ball, and seemed to be totally unconscious. It concerned him; what if her human anatomy had been ill-equipped for dimensional travel? The mitres did not open by a door or a hatch or any basic method: it could only be entered via a dimensional portal. That was what ensured its safekeeping from all their enemies. But as far as he knew, no human had ever made such a dimensional journey.
When he reached Kelsey, he saw that she was breathing—a slow, deep rhythm as if she’d been asleep a long time. He was pleased to see a peaceful expression on her face.
Thea worked her way toward him, sliding on her knees. ‘‘Gods, that was awful!’’ she cried, sounding again like herself.
‘‘It still is awful,’’ Scott groaned, continuing to sit cross-legged, his face buried in both hands.
‘‘Arienn wrote all about this. The first time he traversed the portal, he was sick for days.’’
‘‘Thanks for the warning.’’ Dillon grunted.
Thea stared in his direction, an irritable expression on her face, then, catching Marco staring at her, she rolled her eyes. They both laughed softly.
Hearing them, Scott barked, ‘‘Shut up.’’
‘‘Did I say a word?’’ Thea shot back at him as he stared down at Kelsey where she lay on the floor. Looking up at Marco, she asked, ‘‘Do you think she’s all right? I mean, she’s out cold.’’
‘‘I’m not sure,’’ he said, reaching for her wrist to take her pulse. ‘‘She looks well enough, but—she’s certainly different from the rest of us. This obviously took a huge toll on her.’’
‘‘It wasn’t the dimensional jump—it was the data removal.’’ Thea shook her head, reaching to touch Kelsey’s shoulder with surprising gentleness. ‘‘She’s tough. It wasn’t easy on her at all. But we have it now.’’ She reached to her hip and indicated a data collector, a slim, portable device no bigger than a cigarette lighter; it was what they used to house and transport all their critical data and intelligence. ‘‘I linked with her, found the data, exported it . . . and then uploaded it into the collector. In the process, I was obviously successful in creating the time portal. Damn!’’ she suddenly cried, her beautiful face spreading into a huge smile. ‘‘We’ll chalk this one up to our side!’’
‘‘Good work, Haven,’’ Scott Dillon said, sounding less than enthusiastic. He was slowly regaining his composure, and was looking in their direction. Marco was about to ask the lieutenant if he needed help when he noticed Dillon’s gaze track past them all, fixing solidly on the far side of the room. ‘‘What in All’s name is that?’’ he asked.
It was the coiling unit, Thea thought. It was what the large, glowing cylinder had to be. Jared had seen it the night he dismantled the codes and managed to enter the chamber. Arienn had detailed it in his journals, describing how he had seeded his own energy inside the large tube. Still, knowing what it was did nothing to spoil the powerful magnificence of the object. Thea rose unsteadily, walking toward where the unit stood in the center of the room. The device was transparent, revealing only the cool, last embers of the prince’s long-ago-seeded energy.
Reverently, she reached her palms toward the cylinder’s smooth surface. Would it scald her? Change her? She hardly cared, so drawn was she to connect with her ancestor’s energy still glowing cool green within.
‘‘Thea, watch out,’’ Scott cautioned her brusquely. ‘‘You have no idea what the hell that thing is!’’
‘‘It’s the core of this chamber,’’ she said. ‘‘We should be quiet, respectful.’’
‘‘Because of a device?’’ Scott pressed, taking the place beside her. His black eyebrows corkscrewed into a scowl.
Thea turned to him, smiling at her longtime friend. ‘‘Because it’s my ancestor’s energy inside. A part of him is still alive’’—she pointed toward the tube—‘‘in there.’’
‘‘There’s a difference between the prince’s energy and his essence,’’ Scott countered.
‘‘No,’’ she disagreed quietly, ‘‘it is part of who he was, and it continues in there. He left that in order to protect all of us. It w
as the ultimate sacrifice to give up part of his core self.’’
Scott turned to her, his familiar black eyes troubled. He had never fully understood what she and Jared were, that they were dual beings. It had disturbed him, confounded him, but he never could seem to wrap his mind around it. Glancing between her and the coiling unit, she could see how fast his mind worked. ‘‘Does he know we’re here?’’ he asked at last, and Thea couldn’t help laughing a little.
‘‘Lieutenant, no. It’s his power. His raw energy. Not his spirit.’’ She turned back toward the coiling unit, lowering her voice. ‘‘But we should still be respectful.’’
Suddenly the hairs on the nape of her neck prickled, standing on end. Marco spoke from just behind her, giving voice to her deepest emotions at the moment. ‘‘You feel a strong connection with the prince,’’ he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
She nodded, saying nothing, feeling tears sting her eyes.
‘‘Because you’re like him,’’ he continued.
This time the tears burst forth, beginning to stream down her cheeks, and again she nodded. All her life, she’d felt alone. Different. And all her life she had craved the company of someone like herself.
‘‘You have always felt alone,’’ Marco continued, slipping one large palm onto her shoulder. Her entire body erupted in flame at his touch—perhaps because of the intimacy, perhaps because he understood her to the depths of her fiery soul. She wasn’t sure; all she knew was that suddenly she found herself sobbing, staring at the long-dead prince’s lingering energy shadow.
You are not alone, my sweet lady. She stiffened instantly. Marco had whispered within her mind, she was certain of it! Behind her, he took another step closer, until hardly any distance separated them at all. He moved his hand from her shoulder, slowly roaming his fingers to her neck, caressing her. I wouldn’t let you be alone.
They weren’t bonded, but it had to be Marco. She trembled beneath his touch, unable to stop the tears.
How are you doing this? she asked, but no reply came. There was only Marco—towering, proud, beautiful Marco—standing behind her like her very own Madjin. Which he was. He was her protector in every way.
With both palms extended, she reached toward the unit again, ready to feel its surface. Scott moved to stop her, but much to her surprise Marco caught his arm. ‘‘Let her, Lieutenant,’’ he urged. ‘‘She needs to do this.’’
‘‘We have no way of knowing if it’s safe or not,’’ Scott argued, his voice rising.
‘‘It is safe,’’ Marco told them evenly. ‘‘I sense it.’’
Thea spun to face him, but still he kept his hand firmly on her shoulder. ‘‘You’re intuitive?’’ She thought of the night before, the way he’d wooed and calmed her. Such a strange gift the man possessed!
‘‘Something like.’’ He gave her a cocky, proud grin.
‘‘Something like . . . what?’’ Scott pressed. ‘‘We need to know.’’
Marco dropped his hand from her shoulder, and seemed to think for a long moment. ‘‘The best way to explain my gift—in a way that will make sense to you—is that, yes, I’m intuitive.’’
‘‘So you’re sure the coiling unit is safe to touch?’’ Thea pressed, feeling her entire body burn.
Marco nodded toward it. ‘‘Go on.’’
She swallowed hard, felt Dillon tense at her side, but reached with both hands as she might have reached toward a treasured doll as a little girl. Gently—ever so gently—she closed both hands around its surface.
And felt nothing. No spark, no awareness. Just . . . nothing. Her earlier tears turned to genuine sobs and she sank to the floor, still holding on, desperate for the slightest quiver of energy inside her soul. She was aware of the others around her, but she didn’t care. She pressed her face flat against the glass and cried. For her lost ancestor; for her dead parents; for everyone who had died in this damnable, bloody war. And she cried for Jared; that she had managed to lose the one person on the entire face of the planet who was anything like her.
A strong arm slipped about her shoulder. ‘‘Thea,’’ Scott whispered. ‘‘Come on. It’s okay.’’
She shook her head. What had she really expected? She was a military leader, she had to pull it together. ‘‘I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me,’’ she said, leaning her forehead against the tube, but letting her arms fall to her sides.
‘‘The journey through the portal exhausted you,’’ Marco volunteered. ‘‘Look at our queen. She’s still asleep.’’ Our queen. Why does he have to call her that? Thea thought. While linked with the human her antipathy toward the woman had faded; she’d felt compassion, understanding. Even kinship. Staring at her from across the room now, it was still surprisingly easy to resent her once again. Thea doubted she would ever accept Kelsey as her true queen.
Thea rocked back on her heels, wiped her eyes, and said, ‘‘We need to wake her up. We have work to do.’’ All soldier once again, she rose to her feet and brushed her knees off.
From across the room Kelsey suddenly stirred, bolting upright, wild-eyed. ‘‘I’m awake,’’ she declared, and at that precise moment—not one second sooner, not a millisecond later—a powerful hum began in the center of the chamber.
Beside her, Marco’s entire body tensed as he spun first one way, then another.
‘‘What in All’s name is that?’’ Scott hissed.
But the hum—that eerie, otherworldly sound—grew louder until it seemed the entire chamber shuddered and lurched. It was at that precise moment that Prince Arienn’s energy began to brighten.
Thea raced to the giant cylinder. ‘‘My gods,’’ she whispered, feeling her heart thunder so hard it seemed she’d never breathe. ‘‘His energy!’’
‘‘Whose energy?’’ Kelsey asked, staggering unsteadily toward the mitres center.
Thea reached once again to touch the cool surface of the tube; this time it had grown warm. But it was only when Kelsey reached her side, just in front of the tube, that the energy turned a warm, glowing orange.
‘‘It’s responding to the queen,’’ Marco said, taking position between them all. ‘‘Here, my lady, reach toward it, just as Thea is doing.’’
Thea shook her head dazedly. It couldn’t be! If the prince’s energy was reacting at all, it had to be to her own core nature as a D’Ashani. Not to the human.
Kelsey took a bold step closer and spread both palms against the surface, trembling as she did so. Again, the cauldron of luminance reacted, turning a blazing reddish gold. ‘‘Wh-what’s happening?’’ Kelsey asked in awe. ‘‘Tell me, please.’’ She cut her eyes sideways, never dropping her hands. ‘‘Thea, please explain this to me. I’m lost here.’’
Thea closed her eyes, almost unable to bear the reality of the situation. ‘‘My ancestor’s energy is contained inside the cylinder,’’ she explained numbly. ‘‘It’s . . . reacting to you, Kelsey. It somehow—he—his essence—recognizes you, I think.’’
‘‘Recognizes me?’’ Kelsey repeated, shivering visibly. ‘‘Recognizes me as what?’’
It was Marco who spoke next, his dusky features glowing in the light of the powerful energy. Dropping to both knees he said, ‘‘Recognizes you as our true queen.’’
‘‘That’s energy inside there,’’ Kelsey told them, never releasing her grip on the large coiling unit. ‘‘How could it know who I am?’’
Marco rose to his feet again. ‘‘Because you bear the mark of the D’Aravni. You are the true queen. That has to be significant in some way.’’
‘‘No, that’s not it.’’ Thea walked briskly to the other side of the circular room. Marco watched as she moved, aware as always of the lieutenant’s sleek grace, and erotic beauty. Every motion of her body, every simple gesture electrified him, even at high-tension moments such as this one. He shook his head, struggling to center his thoughts.
Beside him Kelsey stood, eyes trained on the glowing cauldron of power. It seemed she was riveted to t
he spot, unable to break contact. The thought concerned him for her safety on one level, but on the other hand he knew this moment was crucial. Reaching with his intuition he sensed no danger to his queen, so he didn’t try to pull her away.
Across the room Thea worked with the data collector, her blond eyebrows drawn into a tight frown of concentration. ‘‘It’s not possible,’’ she announced. ‘‘Damn it all! This is not possible!’’
‘‘What’s happening here, Haven?’’ Scott demanded. ‘‘You lost me a while ago.’’
Thea cursed rapidly in low Refarian, studying the data collector within her hands. ‘‘Outside’’—she paused, shaking her head in disbelief—‘‘I had it. I had the mitres data downloaded into this collector. Now, it’s . . . gone. As if I never captured it at all.’’
‘‘Let me see that damnable thing,’’ Scott said, yanking it from her hands. After a few moments of fiddling with buttons and staring at it, he slowly raised his eyes to meet Thea’s. ‘‘Empty. Completely empty.’’
‘‘And the data was in there!’’ Thea shouted, seizing the instrument from Scott once again. ‘‘I don’t understand. How could it have been in here while we were exterior to the chamber and then just—’’
‘‘It’s still inside me,’’ Kelsey announced calmly, sweeping her gaze around the room. ‘‘The data never left my mind.’’
‘‘What makes you so sure of that?’’ Thea demanded.
Kelsey slowly dropped her hands to her sides and immediately the luminance cooled, turning a softer dull orange. ‘‘Because that’s why the energy reacted to me. Not because I’m the queen. It’s the data inside of me. Somehow this device reacted to those codes in my mind.’’
‘‘Kelsey, do you understand how serious this is?’’ Thea asked her, obviously trying to soften her tone. ‘‘It means that . . . I wasn’t able to remove the data from your mind.’’
‘‘You made a temporary upload,’’ Kelsey explained evenly. ‘‘In order for us to traverse the portal. That’s all.’’
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