“Point taken.”
“So what happens when a Prince of the Sun House, or whatever, shows up in this Moon place—Gaelan?” Xander shot a look at Jameson.
“That’s a great question.” Jameson squinted at her. “I’m not going to get a pulse shot to the head, am I?”
Quince shrugged. “Cross through that waygate when we come to it.”
Neither man seemed satisfied with her answer.
THEY’D SET up camp in one corner of the House of the Stars’ courtyard. Darkness had fallen, and the chance to rest and eat a little should have cheered Jameson up.
Instead he felt even worse than before. He hadn’t figured out how to move past his feelings of guilt and shame for the deaths of those men and women back on Oberon. Those he had killed, and whom he had seen killed by others.
Back on Oberon. It sounded so strange to say that. He had followed Quince through the waygate, leaving behind everything he knew and loved.
Quince came to sit next to him as he stared into the fire.
Morgan was asleep in one of the sleep sacks.
He looked up at her, not seeing her for a moment, seeing instead the sudden, painful deaths of all those people.
“Are you all right?” she said softly, putting a hand upon his knee.
“I’m not sure. Nothing feels the same.” He flexed his wings behind him. “I thought I knew who and what I was. Now….”
Quince nodded.
His view of her had gradually shifted. She’d seemed cold when they first met. Now he saw past her façade. It hid a lot of pain, really old pain.
“I owe you a full explanation,” she said, looking into his eyes.
He noticed for the first time the fine network of lines that radiated from the corners of her eyes. She looked beaten down and tired.
“You’re my mother, aren’t you?” He’d been thinking it through, and it made sense. Why she called him Lyrin, and why they had been together when he was a babe.
“What?” Her eyes went wide. “Oh goodness no.” She laughed, but she must have seen him narrow his eyes. “Not that I wouldn’t be happy to be. I’m not your mother, but I did know her. She was a beautiful, wise woman, but she died before her time.” Her eyes lost their focus. “That was a dark and evil night….”
Quince awoke. Something had disturbed her rest. She opened her eyes and looked around the room.
The baby was quiet in his bassinet, but something was wrong. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she could feel it.
She slipped out of her bed and onto the cool stone floor, and crept across the small room to check on Lyrin, not wanting to wake his mother, Andra. The Queen was fast asleep in her own bed.
Lyrin was awake, staring quietly at the ceiling.
She reached in and picked him up, cradling him in her arms. Rocking him gently back and forth.
She opened the door to her small terrace, stepping out into the warm night. It was somewhere past midnight. In the distance, she could hear the waves of the Argent Sea crashing against the shore. The town below the House of the Sun was quiet, save for an occasional drunken outburst as the door to one of the taverns flew open.
“What are you doing in here?” Andra’s voice, harsh against the silent summer night, brought her around.
Quince was about to reply when she heard a man’s voice.
“We’ve come for the child. He is an abomination, and must be put to death.”
“He’s just a child.”
“He’s a child of the nimfeach. He’ll bring death down upon us all.”
Quince peered through the darkness to see a man holding a lantern in one hand and a sword in the other. Two others stood behind him.
“He’s off with his governess. How dare you invade the Queen’s chambers like this—”
“Search the place,” the man said, and one of his companions started toward Quince’s bedroom.
Andra stepped in front of him. “Get out of my room before I call the guard down on you.”
Quince considered coming to her mistress’s aid. She was handy enough with a sword. Even so, it would still be three to two, and there was Lyrin’s well-being to consider.
“Move out of the way, Your Highness.” The last was said with a sneer.
“I will not. You have no right to be here. Leave right now and I won’t—”
The last words were choked off.
Quince watched in horror as the man’s knife slashed through Andra’s neck. The Queen clutched at her throat, croaking, trying to stop the bleeding, and fell to her knees.
Quince looked away, her stomach clenching.
The man stepped over her still-twitching body. “Pardon me, Your Highness.”
She had to go, now, or both she and Lyrin would be dead.
Quince leaped off the balcony, vanishing into the darkness before the men could find her.
She had no idea where to go, only that she had to get away.
She could go home.
She set off toward Ballifor, her old village. She could hide there with her mother and brother while she figured out what to do next.
Jameson stared at her, his mind blank. As before, it was as if he had been there with her watching the scene unfold.
It was just a story. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.
He hadn’t just witnessed his own mother die.
But his resistance was crumbling. A floodtide of information and emotion was sweeping away the last of the pillars that underpinned Jameson Havercamp, and he was helpless to stop it. “Who was he?” Jameson asked, grasping at something, anything to anchor himself against the tide.
“His name is Danner Black, and he’s one of the men who runs the pith trade to Oberon.”
Jameson closed his eyes, still hearing his mother’s death scream. It echoed in his head with the screams of the men Morgan had killed.
He pulled his knees in and held them tight, willing them to stop. Willing the whole world to go away, to just leave him be.
Quince put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay in there, little robin?”
Something about that nickname reached him. Touched him deeply. Jameson looked up, aware his eyes were wet. He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure who I am anymore.”
“Oh, baby.” She pulled him into her arms. “You’re Lyrin Madainn. It’s who you’ve always been.” She held him tightly. “You just didn’t know it until now.”
Xander came to sit next to them. “Is he okay?” he said softly.
“He will be. I just gave him some news about his mother, and he’s taking it hard. That and the enforcers we killed earlier.”
“His mother?”
“I’ll explain later.”
Xander nodded. “Listen, Jameson, I know it’s hard to deal with all this.” He put a warm hand on Jameson’s cheek. “I’m still struggling with it, but you learn to push past it. Make yourself hard, like a rock.”
Jameson looked up at the man hovering over him, concerned. Xander was concerned for him. Xander, who’d barely said two kind words to him in all their time together. Sure, he’d defrosted a little, but this—he decided he liked having Xander show an interest in him. He nodded, wonder battling with his inner turmoil.
“You’ve lived a sheltered life,” Quince said. “You haven’t seen the things the two of us have. I know that must have been hard for you.” She held him at arm’s length, looking him right in the eyes. “Xander’s right. You have to make yourself hard, and wall out the emotions surging through you right now. You have to put the images out of your head, or they will make you weak.” She took him by the chin. “Can you do that?”
Jameson stared into her green eyes, seeing only purpose and compassion there. He looked up at Xander, who nodded.
More than anything, he wanted to make Xander proud of him. “I can try.”
“We should get some sleep. We have to train you to fly in the morning, after all, and then we have a long way to go in a short time.”
Wi
th just two sleep sacks and four people, he and Xander gallantly gave up their beds to Quince and Morgan.
They had agreed to take shifts watching over the camp. Jameson had volunteered for the first one, figuring it would be easier to stay awake in the early evening, rather than trying to keep his eyes open in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning.
The moon was about three quarters of the way across the sky. It was larger than either of the twin moons that swung around Oberon. It was full, huge and silver. He could make out several big impact craters on its face.
The whole place was quiet and peaceful.
He felt better, more at ease with things, but he still was split inside between the Jameson he had been and the Lyrin he was becoming.
Jameson closed his eyes and saw his birth mother’s face again. She had been beautiful. He touched his own cheek, wondering if he looked like her.
His time on Beta Tau—growing up the privileged son of a founding family, learning how to be a psych, to help others—all seemed less and less real as the days passed.
Even Jessa. He tried to hold on to her face in his mind, but she slipped away from him, laughing and fading into darkness.
He could still feel the warmth of Xander’s hand on his cheek. He shivered with the anticipation that touch had engendered in him.
Maybe he didn’t have to lose Jameson. Maybe there was a way to still keep ahold of that part of himself as this other part began to assert itself.
In the morning, Quince had promised to train him in the use of his new wings. Tomorrow he was going to fly.
It was the dream of every little boy and girl—to be able to soar over the world like a superhero. Or a god.
It was even an achievable dream for most people. With a flight pack or a glider, you could fly above the earth whenever you wanted, but this was different. And the fate of not one, but two worlds was apparently on his winged shoulders.
These wings were a part of him now. He was becoming something new—someone who could fly. Someone with a higher purpose than a psych practice back on Beta Tau.
Jameson scanned the courtyard, looking for any signs of trouble. After all, he was the one on watch. Quince and Morgan were fast asleep in their sleep sacks.
Xander was curled up against the courtyard wall, lying on a blanket.
“Lyrin Madainn.” He whispered the name Quince had given him, trying to reconcile it with the name he’d known all his conscious life. He was Jameson Havercamp, the psych from Beta Tau, with the conservative parents and the beautiful, rich fiancée, Jessa, waiting for him back home. Yet somehow he was also this other creature.
This “Lyrin,” who had wings and a destiny of his own in this strange, distant world.
Maybe he could find a way to be both.
XANDER WOKE, uncurling his body and stretching. It felt inordinately good. He was still tired, but he could cope with that. Besides, sleeping on the hard rock of the courtyard floor without a sleep sack was damned uncomfortable. They only had two between them—Quince had told him she’d had to throw out the third one when Jameson had been attacked by wereveren.
He sat up, glancing around. Everything seemed fine. Quince and Morgan were asleep, and from the looks of things she’d managed not to strangle the boy in the middle of the night. That was progress.
Jameson still sat against the wall of the House of the Stars, but his head lay across his knees. The man was asleep.
Xander frowned. He’d been worried about leaving Jameson to watch over the rest of them, but Quince had overruled him.
Then again, Jameson had gone through a really rough day. Part of him longed to comfort Jameson, to tell him everything would be all right.
Xander stood, stepping quietly past Quince and Morgan. The boy was fast asleep, one arm flung off to the side. Xander knelt and tucked him back into his sleep sack.
Quince’s eyes opened, but he nodded silently to her, and she closed them again and fell back into sleep.
Xander sank down next to Jameson, noticing once again how much he resembled Alix. He nudged Jameson with his toe, meaning to give the other man a dressing down for falling asleep on watch.
Jameson stirred and looked up at him. His eyes widened, and he sputtered. “I think I fell asleep. I’m so sorry!” he whispered. “I thought I could stay awake.” His skin was silver in the moonlight. Then he yawned, and Xander suppressed a smile. He was adorable.
“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “Nothing bad happened.” He swept his arm across the courtyard. “See? Nothing has changed. No harm done.”
Jameson shot him a grateful smile, and then stretched his own arms. “So what do you think of all this?” He gestured at the world around him, and the back of his hand grazed Xander’s arm. A thrill ran up his shoulder.
“It’s a lot to take in.” Xander touched the moon sigil that hung around his own neck.
“What about him?” Jameson gestured to Morgan.
“I don’t know.” Xander had been wondering about Morgan since the boy had rescued them with his still-unexplained power. “I’m glad he’s on our side. Whatever he is.”
Jameson nodded. “Me too.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, looking up at the alien sky.
At last, Xander continued. “When I was growing up, I always wanted to believe that I was special. That I was destined for better things. But I never imagined anything like this.”
Jameson nodded. “I used to stare out my bedroom window at home at night. There was a wide green pasture outside where we exercised the horses, and beyond that the dark trees of the forest. The moon would rise, even bigger than that one.” He pointed into the sky. “I would wish to be somewhere else. My parents were… strict with me.”
Xander was intensely aware of Jameson’s male form, so close to his. Part of him longed to touch Jameson’s cheek. To draw him in and kiss him boldly, passionately.
He hadn’t wanted anyone this way since Alix, and it was scrambling his brain. “I know what you mean. I had a horrible childhood. I kept wishing to get away from it all, but nothing ever happened.”
“Until now.”
“Until now,” he agreed. “Do you want to go back home?” He glanced up at the house where they had first entered this world.
Jameson was quiet for a moment, considering. Then he shook his head. “I don’t think I can, now. I’ve come too far. I need to see this through, whatever it is.”
Xander nodded. “Me too.”
Jameson shivered. “It’s getting cold. Do you think… do you think you could warm me up a little?” Their faces were inches apart.
Xander’s libido roared back to life. He shut it down ruthlessly. “Are you sure? You’re not like that, remember?”
Jameson’s lip trembled, but he nodded. “For the heat.”
“Okay. Just so we’re clear.”
Jameson turned over on his side, and Xander snuggled up to him, reaching around under his wings to pull him close. He pulled Jameson’s blanket over the two of them and breathed in Jameson’s scent deeply.
He just hoped Jameson didn’t feel his arousal.
QUINCE WOKE in the early morning. It was time to take her turn at the watch.
It had gotten chilly out, as summer edged into fall. The poor boys hadn’t had a sleep sack to keep them warm.
She sat up quietly. Morgan was still asleep next to her. The boy truly looked innocent when he slept. What secrets do you hold?
Then she spied Jameson and Xander. They were fast asleep, together, Jameson’s wings tucked in between them and Xander’s wings wrapped over Jameson protectively.
She smiled. The bond between the two of them was finally forming, and just in time. A few more days….
That’s all they had. A few more days.
Part of her wanted to roust them from bed and move on right away, but it would do her no good to arrive in Gaelan with two broken men. Or to lose one on the way.
She took up her watch post, finding a pla
ce just outside the courtyard facing the gardens, and settled in to wait for the dawn.
Chapter Fifteen: Flight
JAMESON AWOKE slowly. His whole body felt cramped—not surprising since he’d fallen asleep on the hard ground of the courtyard.
His wings were tucked tightly against his back, and he was warm. His eyes flickered open. There was a black line across his vision. He frowned, focusing on it. It was the leading edge of a long black wing.
What the hell? He scrambled out of Xander’s embrace, waking the man up in the process. “What do you think you’re doing?” He pushed himself away from Xander on his hands and his butt.
Xander sat up, and Jameson couldn’t help but admire his beautiful body. Not going down that road. “You were cold,” Xander said. “Don’t you remember?”
It all came flooding back. The fight, the vision, the aching soul-searching. He must have fallen asleep, and then Xander had woken him up. The night air had been cold. “Did… did anything happen?”
Xander smiled slyly. “Anything like what?”
“Anything like… you know.” Damn Xander for feigning innocence.
“Morning.” Quince interrupted them. “How did you two sleep?” she asked with a sideways smile of her own. Damn you both to hell.
On the other hand, his natural sense of optimism was clearly reasserting himself. He no longer wanted to remain curled up in a fetal position.
“Relax, Jameson. Nothing happened.” Xander stood and stretched in the sunlight.
My God, he’s beautiful. Xander’s body was nicely muscled, each line and curve standing out in the light of the morning sun. His back was crisscrossed with scars. And his eyes… his green eyes. Jameson could get lost in those eyes.
Jameson shook his head. One life-changing event at a time.
Quince was preparing something for breakfast—probably a cold meal again. His stomach longed for something hot, and maybe a little spicy. He was sick of bland.
Morgan sat in a corner of the courtyard, eating a citrone greedily.
Skythane Page 16