The Golden Dynasty f-2

by Kristen Ashley

  After searching, every room was empty, not just the rooms he shared with his wife but throughout their home.

  Nothing was left of her except his queen’s tattered feathers lying on the tiled floor.

  The iron crosses outside the windows were in place, they had not been tampered with and Lahn knew even his small Circe could not force herself through the space that a small child could not get through.

  And even if she could, the house butted the side of the plateau, there was nothing to catch her should she jump and the fall was so deep, it would kill her.

  Even so, Dax Lahn ordered warriors to search the bottom of the plateau.

  They returned with no sightings of Circe, dead or alive, not even a footprint should her magic have saved her so she could run away.

  His wife was gone.

  I gave up my world for you.

  As this news processed through his system, Dax Lahn, the commander of Suh Tunak, the King of all Korwahk threw back his head and roared.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Home

  I heard my name being called and, weirdly, it sounded like me who was calling it.

  My eyes fluttered open and I looked into a mirror.

  “You are fine, my sweet twin,” my reflection which appeared to be leaning over me in a bed said to me and I felt my hand squeezed tightly. “Do not be alarmed at the fatigue. The magic takes it all out of you. It will be a few days. We will care for you. Rest, my sweet.”

  My eyelids drifted closed because I was right with what I told me, I was fatigued, so freaking tired, it was unbelievable. I’d never felt that fucking tired in all my life.

  But I forced them back open and saw me still leaned into me.

  I smiled at myself but it wasn’t me smiling.

  Then I whispered (but it wasn’t my whispering), “You are safe, sweet Circe, you are home.”

  Then my eyes drifted back to closed.

  And those actually were mine.

  * * * * *

  “She will be like this for a day, Harold, maybe two.”

  I tried to force my eyes open as words in my voice but not said by my lips were whispered close.

  Harold.

  My Pop.

  “She’s okay?”

  Oh God. Yes. My Pop!

  I tried to open my eyes and turn toward his voice, a voice I never thought I’d hear again, but I just could not fight off the sleep.

  “She is…” a hesitation, “fine.”

  “Circe, darlin’, if you haven’t got that you can’t hold back with me…” Pop’s warning trailed off and I heard a sigh.

  “I’m sorry, my beloved father, they are weak but my senses tell me she’s with child.”

  I heard my father suck in a hard, rough breath.

  Then I was out.

  * * * * *

  “Are you with me, my love?”

  My eyes slowly opened and I saw my bed and then, beyond that, my bedroom.

  In Seattle.

  Holy crap!

  I turned to my back and looked to the side of the bed. Sitting in one of my dining room table chairs was me.

  Or… the other me.

  “Circe?” I whispered and she smiled.

  “Sit up, my twin,” she whispered back, moving off the chair bent toward me, she helped me pull myself up and arranged pillows behind me.

  I stared at her in shock.

  Totally me. The spitting image. Wearing my clothes but having had a haircut in the last few months.

  She sat back down and scooted a bit forward, taking my hand.

  “You know I am not you?” she enquired.

  I nodded.

  “You know who I am?” she continued.

  I nodded again and she smiled.

  “You worked out what happened,” she whispered.

  I nodded yet again and she nodded back.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  Flipped out was how I was. Totally.

  “Um…”

  “Still tired?” she went on.

  I nodded.

  “Are you thirsty, hungry?”

  I shook my head though I was. I was both.

  “How…?” I started and she shook her head this time.

  “I do not know. Though you clearly have powers, like me. That said, Harold tells me you never did and, indeed, he told me no one in this world does. But he is wrong; those holding power here are smarter than we at home. They keep it guarded, the most guarded secret. This is wise. Nevertheless, it is clear from your extreme exhaustion that you discovered how to spirit yourself out of that world to your home. I felt the same when I…” she hesitated, her face going soft yet cautious, “spirited myself.”

  I knew it. She totally bailed.

  Good for her. Way bad for me.

  “We have been searching,” she continued, “to find a way to bring you home. My magic is depleted. I did not know, though had been warned, but it takes much power to move between worlds, vast amounts. I feel it growing inside me but it is feeble and it may take years, even decades, for it to replenish. But we have located a witch in this world who we thought could help. Before we could try, you returned.” She smiled a small smile. “This is good and has caused our father great relief.”

  “Our father?” I whispered and she gave a small, wary shrug, still smiling.

  “He has forgiven me for what I’ve done to you, especially since I have worked so hard to locate this witch at the same time trying to find ways to rebuild my own powers to bring you home. My father was murdered by my king when I was very young so that he could um… well…” She stopped then went on, “I have talked much with your father. I have explained things and we have grown close.” Her eyes grew warm. “He is a fine man and has a big heart. He says since my father looked exactly like him, but, of course, through memory, much younger, then he is really my father anyway, in a way.” She smiled again. “But I still call him Harold.”

  I stared at her. Or, more to the point, at me.

  Her smile faded and her eyes grew intense.

  Then she whispered, “Now I must ask the same of you, if you could find it in your heart to give it to me.”

  “The same what?” I whispered back.

  “Forgiveness.”

  I stared again and she leaned closer, squeezing my hand.

  “I knew, I knew you existed,” she said softly, closed her eyes tight and opened them before she continued. “I knew what I would… what I was doing to you in an effort to protect myself but… but…” she pressed her lips together and released them before she said so quietly it was an effort to hear her, “I could bear no more.”

  I knew it. I knew that. Shit, I knew it.

  “Circe,” I whispered.

  “For years,” she whispered back, “my king…” she shook her head, “then those pirates taking turns. Then those scouts apprehending me. I knew about Korwahk. I knew about the Hunt. I’m so sorry, my sweet twin,” her hand squeezed mine hard as tears filled her light brown eyes that looked, I noticed for the first time on her but never noticed on me, golden, “I could bear no more. I knew of the spell, I had heard of it and considered it often. But the only spell I knew was to change places, not to move between worlds on my own, but to switch me with you, and I couldn’t live with myself if I did that to the unknown you. But standing in that pen, having been prepared for the Hunt, I had no more strength to do the honorable thing and instead I did the selfish thing. So I changed places with you and I know why I did it. I know why. But learning of you, living your life, being with those you love, you must know I regret it.”

  I squeezed her hand back. “Don’t.”

  She blinked at me in surprise. “What?”

  “I met Baldur,” her eyes widened and I nodded, continuing, “I heard about the pirates. I put it together and I know why you did it,” I said gently. “I get it. Boy…” I smiled as best I could at her, “do I know.”

  She nodded and her eyes moved to my belly then back to me. “I know you do.
Oh Circe, the horrors you must have endured because of me.”

  “Don’t do that either.” I squeezed her hand again. “It’s over.”

  She nodded. “That it is.”

  Yep, that it was.

  “What has been, has been,” I whispered, “and what will be…” I trailed off, my eyes filled with tears and unlike the other me, I could not hold them back.

  “Oh, my twin,” she whispered, pulled me into her arms, sat on the bed at my hip and held me while I cried. My arms wrapping around her, I shoved my face in her neck and sobbed.

  And I sobbed for my lost kingdom. For my lost Ghost. For my lost Diandra, Narinda, my girls and my posse. For my lost guard.

  And for my lost king.

  This meant I cried hard and I did it for a long fucking time.

  And when I stopped, my twin settled me back in the bed, brought me a box of Kleenex then moved my hair away from my face as I wiped my eyes and cheeks and blew my nose.

  The she said, “I will bring you coffee and breakfast. Yes?”

  I nodded.

  “And I will phone your father.”

  That was when I nodded and gave her a shaky smile.

  She nodded back, murmuring, “I will do the second first.” Then she grabbed my hand and gave one last squeeze before she let me go and moved from the room.

  I stared at her back.

  Yep, she was wearing my clothes. It was good to see I wasn’t wrong when I bought them; those jeans looked great on me.

  Then I wondered if I’d miss my sarongs.

  Or the sun.

  Or the dirt, sand and stone.

  I knew I wouldn’t miss chamber pots.

  The rest of it, fuck me, I was going to miss.

  I pushed back down in bed, curled into a ball and deep breathed.

  No more crying.

  That was done.

  Now, I had to suck it up.

  I was home.

  Chapter Thirty

  Back

  Five months later…

  The lights over the fleet (fleet, as in, four of them) of moving trucks in the garage went out panel by panel, the only one staying illuminated being the one by the front door and I knew Pop was closing down for the night.

  In my office at the back, I shoved the last invoice in an envelope, checked that the address could be seen in the window and licked it closed.

  Pop moved through the doorway and I smiled at him.

  “Just need to stamp this then I’m off home to change. I’ll meet you at the party.”

  The other Circe was leaving and we were having a going away party. She was taking the money Pop had given her, I had given her and the boys had collected for her (with a little training, she’d taken over the office for me while I was gone, she was good at it and the place was not the mess I’d worried it would be) and she was going to New Orleans. She was going there because she’d read about it and wanted to see it, in fact, when not searching for ways to get me home and working in the office, she read about a lot of her new world and she wanted to explore as much of it as she could see. And New Orleans was a good choice, seeing as she’d see a whole heckuva a lot of the country driving there from Seattle (Pop, by the by, taught her to drive).

  And she was also going there because an old buddy of Pop’s had a job opening in his office at his tow truck company. Pop recommended her (or, kinda, me) and called in a favor to get her hired.

  Unfortunately, I’d met this old buddy of Pop’s a couple of times when I was young so he was going to get a surprise when I walked in (but didn’t walk in) to meet him for the first time and he would have a Circe who wasn’t Circe.

  Pop said he would explain things after it happened and his friend Buster got to know Circe. He thought this was wise. My twin agreed. I didn’t bother arguing. Those two were two peas in a pod and ganged up on me frequently and, frankly, I didn’t have it in me anymore to give any lip. They wanted to give Buster a heart attack? I wasn’t going to stop them.

  I put the stamp on the envelope, grabbed the other four I’d done and put them in my out tray which wasn’t really an out tray, as such, since it would be my (now) fat ass that would waddle out of the garage and put them in the mailbox at the end of the block tomorrow. Still, I liked my outbox even if it was me who dealt with the out as well as the in.

  I started to switch off my computer but saw Pop had settled in one of the two cracked, vinyl seats in front of me.

  “Darlin’, we gotta talk,” he declared.

  Oh shit.

  I didn’t want to do this. In fact, I’d successfully avoided doing this for five months. I was hoping to hold out for five more months or, maybe, fifty years.

  “Not now, we’ll be late,” I told him, hitting the button on my mouse to click the shut down on my machine.

  “Now, Circe, uh… the other Circe’ll understand.”

  Seriously, it was weird there being two me’s.

  I looked at him. Then I took in his look. It was his determined look.

  Then I determined we weren’t going to talk, now or ever.

  “Pop –”

  Like it was since I was a child, Pop’s determination when it came to him saying what he had to say and hearing what I had to say was a lot more determined than mine could ever be.

  “Circe, darlin’, what gives?” he leaned toward me. “You ain’t right.”

  I switched off my monitor and declared. “I’m fine.”

  I started to get out of my chair when Pop’s words arrested me.

  “Girl, do you not think I know heartache when I see it? Damn, darlin’, I’ve seen it every day of my life for twenty-five years starin’ back at me right in the mirror.”

  My (now) fat ass plonked back into the chair and I looked at Pop.

  “And now,” he went on, “I see it every time I look at you.” He lifted a hand and knocked his knuckles on my desk before sitting back and demanding, “So, no more foolin’. What… gives?”

  “Pop,” I whispered.

  “Circe,” Pop stated firmly.

  “Pop!” I snapped.

  “Circe!” Pop clipped back.

  Shit!

  I stared at him. He took my stare and raised it with an eyebrow lift.

  Then I shook my head. “I don’t –”

  Pop cut in. “You love that asshole.”

  I blinked. Then the pain knifed through me. Then I looked away.

  After a moment, Pop muttered, “Shee-it. You do. You love that asshole.”

  I looked back at him.

  He knew. Yeah, he knew.

  We’d never discussed it. The other Circe had told me her story in total (and it was worse than I imagined and I imagined it being bad). I had not shared mine. She didn’t pry. But she knew the Korwahk and their practices and she watched me like a hawk, like my father did since I figured she’d shared (not to mention I’d disappeared for months so he was gun shy). But she didn’t pry. I’d seen those two with their heads together, starting with a few times in the beginning when I came home but it was growing more and more frequently lately.

  They’d orchestrated this. It was a wonder she wasn’t there browbeating me right along with Pop.

  By the way, the other me could be annoying. She was sweet and she was funny but she was also seriously annoying.

  “Circe, start talkin’ or I’ll talk for you,” Pop warned.

  “Yeah?” I asked sharply. “You and Circe, you both think you’ve got it figured out, do you?”

  “What I got figured out, child, is that is the first time I’ve seen you spit fire at me in five fuckin’ months. And my Circe could spit fire when she had tonsillitis. She could spit fire at Larry, who was six foot five, weighed three hundred pounds and had a meaty fist bigger than her head. She could handle my crew of twelve guys without them knowin’ they were bein’ handled. That fire, girl, it’s been gone and Circe and me, your friend Marlene, we thought it was because…” he stopped, his jaw flexed at the thought of me being violated then he sta
rted again, “but it ain’t. It ain’t that. I don’t see pain in your eyes from memories that are torturin’ you. I see a different kinda pain, darlin’, one I recognize, one I know, one that lives in me.”

  “Can we not talk about this?” I asked quietly.

  “No, we been not talkin’ about this for five months and you ain’t snappin’ outta it. Now tell me, girl, did you fall in love with him?”

  I licked my lips. Then I closed my eyes.

  Then I opened them and whispered, “Yes.”

  He tipped his head to look at the ceiling, muttering, “Shee-it. Circe warned me this crap happened.”

  “Pop –” I started but he tipped his head back to me.

  “So why the fuck you come home?”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “You went to the doc, there was time. You coulda had that kid you’re carryin’ taken care of…” I knew my eyes flashed at the very mention of abortion when he pointed right at me. “That. That right there. You want this kid. That asshole didn’t force that child on you; you’re carrying it for him. You made that baby and you liked doin’ it. Am I wrong?”

  Oh God. Seriously. With my Pop, I didn’t want to go there.

  “Pop –”

  “Answer me, am I wrong?”

  “No,” I bit off.

  “I fuckin’ knew it,” he clipped.

  “Pop –”

  He interrupted me again. “So why’d you come back?”

  “It doesn’t matter why,” I returned swiftly.

  “It sure as fuck does ‘cause you, Circe, girl, you… you are the product of your mother and me. I didn’t love that one before death and all this time after it for foolish reasons. I did it ‘cause you got a love like that it does… not… die. And I’m tellin’ you, darlin’, I took that bullet instead ‘a her, she would be lookin’ at you with that same dead in her eyes as I’m lookin’ at you with now. The same dead that’s in your eyes as you’re lookin’ at me. We Quinns, we don’t fall in love. We fall in love. And you, girl, you’re in love so what I wanna know is, why the fuck you used up all your magical power, pixie dust and shit and came home when you got his baby inside you and you couldn’t know that you’d ever get back?”