“Taylor,” Veris said. He patted her cheek. “Taylor!”
Taylor gave a whispery sigh and opened her eyes. She looked at Veris, then Brody, her eyes growing even wider. “I’m dead already?” she whispered.
Brody sucked in a breath. “Dead?”
“You’re dead. I must be too. At last.” She gave a little smile. Tears trembled in her eyes, faintly pink. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Rafe turned away. He came over to Alex and put his back to them. “This is Neven’s world!” he said very quietly. “The one where we all died in the fire. The council drugged Veris and Brody and threw them back in, too.”
Alex nodded. This, then, was a consequence of that dark night. Unlike Rafe, he couldn’t look away.
“Taylor, tell us what happened,” Veris said urgently. “After the fire.”
Taylor nodded. “You died.”
Brody groped on the carpet behind her and held up a dose bottle. “What the hell?” he breathed. “Alex!” He threw the bottle.
Alex caught the bottle and looked down at the simple label. All it had was a number. The number was one he would never forget. He looked up at the wall safe in the corner. It stood open. That was why Taylor had come here. She had found the combination and she had known what was in it.
“This is Sommeil, the sedative,” he said. “The seal has been very recently broken, too.” There were no soot marks on the rubber flange, as there were on the rest of the bottle.
Veris shook Taylor’s arm. “Did you take Alex’s sedative?” he asked her. “Taylor!” He shook her again.
She turned her head slowly to look at him. “I took it all.”
Alex’s heart dropped. There were fifteen doses per bottle. The bottle was empty.
Brody hung his head. He knew it was too late.
“Why?” Veris demanded of her. His voice was choked.
Marit, the older one, gave a little coughing sob. Alex went over to her and pulled her against him. She dropped her head onto his shoulder and hid her face.
The other Taylor walked over to Rafe. “This is Uncle Rafe,” she told Marit. “You’ll meet him when you’re older. For now, let him hold you. I have to help Athair and Far.”
She held Marit out to Rafe. He took her and put her on his hip. “Everything will be fine,” he told her.
Marit shook her head. “Mommy is dying.”
“That Mommy is,” Rafe said. “It’s not your Mommy, though. You know about crossing timelines, don’t you?”
Marit nodded. Her chin quivered. “It still hurts though.”
Rafe sighed. “Yeah. It does.” He stroked her hair.
Taylor knelt down between Brody and Veris. “Taylor,” she said softly. “Look at me.”
The dying Taylor opened her eyes. The pupils were large and glassy. They widened. “How…?” she whispered.
“What happened? Why are you doing this?” Taylor asked.
The other one sighed. “There is nothing for me now. Marit has her life. The twins…” Her face twisted. “They tour time. I can’t find them anywhere. They haven’t been back since…since…” She looked around, frowning. “Since this.” She swayed unsteadily.
Brody caught her and held her up.
“There is just me,” Taylor whispered. “I can’t stand it. Not anymore. Then I remembered how to make it all stop. Alex’s stash was still here.” Her mouth turned up in a tiny smile. “I wish I could thank him for giving me the way out.”
She looked at Veris and Brody again. “I love you…so much. I just couldn’t bear it, without you. Forgive me.”
She sagged, her eyes closing.
Brody laid her on the ground and Veris covered his eyes.
The other Taylor turned him, using force. She took his hand away from his eyes. “That would not happen to me. You’re here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Brody kissed her hard, as if he was trying to inhale her. Veris swept them both up in his arms and rested his head against theirs.
The body that had been Taylor disintegrated and the ashes blew away, leaving the carpet next to the three empty.
* * * * *
Taylor took the smaller Marit from Rafe’s arms. “You must jump home, Marit. You remember how to get back, don’t you?”
Marit touched Taylor’s cheek, as if she wanted to test it was really her. Then she nodded.
“I know some of this doesn’t make sense to you,” Taylor told her. “It will as you get older. Marit?”
The older one nodded. “Although I understood most of it,” she said quietly. “Enough to remember this time-and-place far too well.” She grimaced.
Taylor bent and put Marit back on the ground. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Go home and hug Mommy. She loves your hugs.”
Marit looked from Taylor, to Brody and Veris, then Marit. She waved goodbye, her fingers curling down and up. Then, without warning, she vanished.
Veris came over to Marit and kissed her forehead. “Let’s get out of here,” he said roughly.
Marit clung to him, then lifted her arm toward Brody. He stepped into her arm and held her, too.
Taylor came over to Alex. “I’ll take you two back,” she said quietly.
Alex held out his arm and she stepped into it and gathered Rafe up against her other side.
“You okay?” Rafe asked.
Taylor shook her head. “No.” She sighed. “I’m glad I don’t have to direct this jump.”
She closed her eyes.
Alex caught his breath as the giant hand picked him up again.
Chapter Thirteen
Sydney woke when fresh, cool air touched her face. For a moment she hung between sleep and waking, listening to the snort of the camels and horses, the quiet murmur of people, while the stars wheeled overhead, in a perfectly clear sky.
The storm was over.
Then she realized she was cradled against Alim’s shoulder, her face uncovered.
Faint alarm touched her. She should sit up and cover her face. Only, it was so nice, right here, and she was so tired. The alarm wasn’t strong enough to make her move.
She could hear his heart, firm and strong.
He gripped her shoulders and shook. “Wake up.” He was nearly whispering.
Sydney sighed and sat up. The caravan had halted on a sinuous s-shaped curve at the top of a dune. All around them, people were jumping to the ground and stretching. Water pouches were passed along.
Alim slid to the ground. “We’ll sleep here. At first light, we’ll move on and find a place to camp and rest.”
The idea of stopping—just stopping and not moving again—made her almost moan with the luxury of it.
Alim held up a hand. “Get down,” he told her.
She knew she was far too tired to do the backward swing of the leg and the jump down to the ground that he made look so easy. Maybe that was why he had his hand up, to help her.
So she lifted her leg over Basel’s head and swiveled on the saddle blanket, her feet dropping down. Then she slithered down to the sand and her knees buckled.
Alim caught her. She landed heavily against his shoulder and tried to push herself upright. He lifted her back onto her feet and steadied her, his hands at her waist. Sydney looked up at him and met his eyes.
She caught her breath as the impact of his gaze registered. She had managed to convince herself that this was Alim, a stranger. Now the illusion was ripped away, because there was raw wanting in Alex’s eyes. The heated lust, that no one but she and Rafe ever got to see, was burning there. Her body reacted as it always did to that look in Alex’s eyes. She trembled, the tips of her breasts growing hard and sensitive, her clit throbbing with sudden urgency.
Sydney fought the need to reach for him or to show in any way her frantic need. Her hand moved restlessly against his shoulder. She could feel the heat of him through the layers. She could feel the solid power of his body. Even as a human, he was strong.
His gaze moved to her lips and lingered there.
She could feel the air slipping between her lips, while a thousand memories of Alex kissing her flickered through her mind. Oh, how she wished for his kiss now! She had been alone for days, carrying this impossible burden of having to fix time itself, to right history. A kiss would tell her she wasn’t alone.
His head lowered, by the tiniest amount. She sucked in her breath again.
Alex swayed toward her and she felt his breath fan her face.
For a heartbeat or two, they stayed locked there, while temptation raged in both of them. She could see it in his eyes, as he must surely be able to see it in hers.
Then he straightened up, pulling away from her. He moved slowly, as if reluctance dragged at every muscle. Then he stepped back, severing all contact between them.
The air felt cold against her and she shivered.
“Cover your face,” he said. His voice was strained. “Until I build a shelter for you to sleep beneath.”
Sydney’s breath shuddered in and out. She was trembling again. With shaking hands, she hooked the veil back into place.
Silently, Alim stripped Basel of his saddle blanket and storm coverings, then stacked two piles of packs and draped the cover they had used as protection against the storm over the top. He held up the side. “It is primitive, but it is private and warm,” he assured her. “You can sleep knowing you are well protected even here.” He pulled out his sword with the other hand and buried it tip first in the sand, so that it stood quivering next to the packs.
All down the line, low tent-like shelters were being erected in a similar fashion. Sydney watched a woman crawl underneath and pull the canvas over herself.
Encouraged, Sydney did the same. She looked out at Alim. “Where will you sleep?” she asked.
“Right next to you.” He laid down on his back, within reach of the sword and rested his hands on his chest, looking up at the stars. Then he rolled his head to look at her. His eyes met hers. “Sleep,” he murmured.
Sydney pulled the shelter over her, curled up on her side, pillowed her head on her arm and slept the deepest sleep of her life.
* * * * *
Alim preserved Sydney’s privacy even when waking her. He could have simply pulled the covering away and the rising sun hitting her face would have woken her. She stirred, though, when she felt his hand on her arm, shaking her. She opened her eyes.
He was on his knees in the sand, reaching in under the cover to stir her. He had folded just enough of the canvas back to do so. His body blocked the blinding rays of the morning sun from hitting her in the face.
“There is tea,” he said.
She hooked her veil into place, slid her hood back over the turban and brushed down her overdress, then eased out from beneath the canvas. Along the line, others were doing the same. There was stretching and murmurs. The sounds were subdued.
There were two glasses sitting in the sand. The glass portion was seated inside a silver filigree holder and handle. The scent of mint tea wafted toward her and steam rose from the glasses.
Her throat closed down. Her mouth was parched. The tea would be heavenly.
Alim was holding a cloth-wrapped bundle. He sat in the sand next to the cups and unwrapped it. Sydney moved over to sit next to him, then paused. “Do you mind…should I sit here?” Perhaps it was offensive to sit next to a man out in the open.
“There is no tent. For now, expediency outweighs propriety,” he said. “Sit. Drop your veil and eat. No man will think less of you at this time.”
She settled in the sand, keeping the tea cups between them, and picked one of the cups up. Alim held out the cloth toward her. On the cloth were three rolls of what looked like a thin pancake.
“We will eat better when we camp. This must serve until then,” Alim said.
Sydney’s stomach rumbled emptily. She had not eaten since yesterday. She took one of the rolls and bit into it. It did taste a lot like a pancake. Then the flavors hit her tongue and she paused, savoring them. There was something sweet—honey, probably. A creamy taste was mixed with it. There was a hint of a spice. Nutmeg, perhaps. Or cloves. It was delicious and Sydney ate quickly, then licked her fingers and picked up her tea and sipped.
Alim ate more slowly, as if his thoughts were far away. He poured the last dregs of his tea onto the sand, then touched his forehead and lowered his head toward the sun. She realized it was a form of prayer.
He glanced at her. “Allah will understand,” he said. “We must remove ourselves from the horizon before enemies see us from afar.” He got to his feet and picked up his cup and the cloth.
Startled, Sydney looked around. The horizon was a long way from here, with miles of undulating dunes between. If she could see that far, then someone down there would easily be able to spot the shapes of them on the crest of the dune. “There are enemies out here, still? I thought you beat Naravas and his men?”
“Naravas is but one enemy of my people. The Caliphate…” He glanced around. “It is not as strong as it once was,” he said, his voice lowered. “Enemies can sense weakness and prey on it. Thus, we defend ourselves every day, from without and within.”
Civil war. Sydney frowned as she put her veil back into place and poured out her dregs of tea. Alex had mentioned before that the Fatimid empire had crumbled because of leadership disputes. The loss of Palestine to the Christians had been just one of the last blows and that was a few years from now.
Alim patted Basel’s nose and talked to him, as he put the saddle back on. Men hurried along the line, coiling up the rope that had led everyone through the storm. Others were settling packs and bags on camels and horses. The caravan was preparing to move again.
Alim jumped up onto Basel’s back, then slid backward and held out his hand.
“I ride with you?”
“We must hurry this morning, faster than you can walk.”
Sydney took his hand, yet he did not immediately lift her up. His fingers rested against her wrist. His eyes met hers.
“What is your name?” he asked softly.
Sydney was startled. In all this time in his camp, no one had had reason to call her by name. She was the whore, the stranger, the Englishwoman.
Now, Alim was asking for her name. She had become more than an outsider. Under the veil, she smiled, knowing he could not see it. “I am called Sydney,” she told him.
“Zid-nay?”
“Sydney,” she repeated.
“Zidnay of the Angels.” He frowned. The tips of his warm fingers shifted against her flesh. “It is a strange name.”
“I am a stranger.” Any reminder of the larger world beyond his would keep his thoughts on the lands beyond the sea.
Alim looked as though he was about to say more, then a pair of horses nudged past him, the two riders chatting softly.
He glanced at the riders, as if he had just remembered where he was, then pulled her up onto Basel. She lifted her leg over and settled into place.
The caravan did move more quickly. They did not immediately slip and slide down the face of the dune they were on. Instead, they took the gentler slope down the side. Once they were below the horizon, they stayed in the valleys and depressions. Sometimes their path was a sand-lined gulley barely wide enough to give passage. Other times, the wide bowl they traversed stretched beyond sight, while hot currents distorted the air, making images waver.
As the sun climbed higher, the heat became ferocious. Sydney was glad of the protective clothing she was wearing, even though she sweated freely beneath it. Where the cloth did not cover her, especially the back of her hands, the sun bit deeply. She pushed her hands inside the overdress, using the slits in the sides. There was no need to hold the reins. They rested on Basel’s neck, loosely knotted together. What little direction Basel needed Alim gave with his knees.
The sun was at its zenith when the valley they were in opened up into one of the wider plains. On the far side, it looked as though there were tents and people moving among them. Sydney squinted, wondering if this
was another mirage.
As the rest of the caravan emerged from the narrow file, they shouted in excitement. Several men broke ranks and cantered their horses ahead, little spurts of dust rising with each hoof beat.
From the tents ahead, Sydney could see more plumes of dust rising. Gradually, she made out more horsemen heading in their direction.
“More of your family?” she asked Alim, glancing over her shoulder.
“All my family is here with me, or in al-Qāhirah,” Alim said. “These are friends, though.”
“Fatimids,” she concluded.
“Most certainly.” He sounded pleased. “It will be a good night, tonight.”
The approaching horsemen greeted those who had raced ahead, then everyone cantered back to where Rashid rode at the front of the column. They turned and fell in along with Rashid, talking loudly. Sydney couldn’t make out what they were saying. She glanced at Alim again. “Should you go and join them? To hear what they’re saying?”
“Not with…” He shook his head. “Not now,” he amended. “I will hear the news later.”
Not with her on his horse. Sydney knew with complete certainty that was what he had been about to say. He would not parade her in front of his brother. Was that because he did not want his brother to know she was travelling with him? Sydney remembered the startled comments from the others when Alim had first tied her to his horse.
Or was he hiding her away from his brother to protect her? Would Rashid even care about her anymore? He had more than enough problems on his plate right now.
Trying to decide what was on Alim’s mind kept her occupied until the caravan reached the other camp.
The tents there were all gathered around another well. This well was a far grander affair than the simple circular wall that had made up the last one. There was a windlass made of bleached tree trunks. Sydney wondered where the trees had come from. They must have carried them for miles to get them here. A large metal bucket was attached to the windlass and was currently sitting on the edge of the well wall, which was waist high.
It was a marvel that the wood and the bucket had not been stolen by opportunistic travelers. Or perhaps not. In the desert, water meant survival. No one would steal the tools that delivered water.
Kiss Across Seas Page 14