by AJ Nuest
Turning away from her, he presented her the full view of his ruined back.
Silence reigned. Her anguished sigh wafted across his skin. Water splashed as she submerged her hand in the chalice.
The retort of a barbed whip snapped in his ear as the light touch of her finger traced a lash mark he bore from nape to hip.
He gritted his teeth, calling upon a courage he’d not known existed to stay rooted in place.
“I can’t imagine what they did to you.” Her breath hitched. Another cool path trailed down his spine. “I know I can’t, but I realize what you’re doing. You’re worried if we get caught, this same thing will happen to me.”
No. She misunderstood. Seviere would never risk torturing her. Not whilst the power he sought ran hidden through her veins.
He would secret her away, buried under heavy guard and key. Never again would she encounter Helios’ bright rays. No more would she wander the gloaming of the forest. If captured, her freedom would be lost.
“I would suffer the consequences thricefold, if necessary. Without hesitation, I would submit to any machinations Gaelleod inflicted.”
“What?” The soft pads of her palm pressed his shoulder. “How could you even suggest such a—”
“Your name is Rowena Analiese Lindstrom.” He lowered his chin to his chest. “Sorceress of the Veil and Keeper of the Key.”
She snatched her hand back. The faint trill of running water seemed overly loud in the air.
“I need you to speak plainly.” Though her voice was low, it shook with anger. Mayhap a fair portion of the hurt he’d inflicted. “And explain everything to me right now.”
He swung around to face her and his gut sank. Two high red spots stained her cheeks, one of her hands fisted about the folds of her chemise.
Half his heart loathed the fright he had placed in her eyes. The other half pounded in relief.
She should be afraid. If, after he’d recanted, she still determined to follow through, whatever fear she carried would serve her well.
“Most of what I believe is supposition. No proof beyond my—”
“Caedmon,” she snapped. “Just tell me.”
Nodding, he reached for her hand. Perchance to stop her fussing. To dispense the unease between them or mayhap to maintain a physical connection, he wasn’t quite certain why. Only that an intense need to touch her overruled all else.
“Late into my imprisonment, I was paid a visit by Seviere’s Wizard Gaelleod.” Twining his fingers through hers, he pondered the contrast of color.
Pale against umber. Dark separated by light.
Bare branches of late autumn banded by snow.
“Gaelleod’s attendance during my punishments was not a rarity. His bloodlust often ensured a watchful eye over the many influential talents of his priests.”
Agitation tightened his shoulders and he rolled the joints to relieve the ghostly ache. How long had he dangled from those manacles, dancing about on his toes? Muscles straining and mingled beads of blood and sweat dripping from his brow?
His molars ground as the phantom screams of his own voice reverberated inside his skull. “Compounding his delight in their ingenious methods was Gaelleod’s belief I maintained a secret understanding behind the enigma that is the key.”
Lifting his hand, she pressed a fierce kiss to his knuckles. He smiled at her attempt to reassure him despite his efforts undoubtedly looking forced. “Wizard Gaelleod is the worst kind of depravity, my lady. Born of an age long spent, he claims knowledge of prophecy which reaches far beyond the seasons of most men. For me to have achieved such a prize, he knew our time together had been fruitful. A sorceress would neither cross the veil nor gift me the key elsewise.”
“Oh. Dammit.” Lowering her gaze to the floor, she nestled his forearm between her breasts. He applied the tip of his finger to her chin and kissed the salty tears from her cheeks.
They would likely not be the last. Though he would’ve given anything to stem the tide in response to what came next. “Over several generations, Gaelleod has used the influence and wealth of the Seviere reign to gather not just one chest, but many. A purpose both grotesque and unwavering guided his course and, upon the Gleaning, he believed his success was at hand.
“The key opened them all, yet not one contained the otherworldly wisdom of which prophecy foretold. All, excluding the most recent chest which has come into his possession. This chest the key would not unlock. So he set about breaking me, sparing no action to locate answers to a mystery I did not hold.”
A sob broke from her throat. She untangled their fingers and crawled onto his lap.
I’m sorry. Though her lips formed the words, no sound emerged.
Gathering her in his arms, he urged her fair cheek to his chest. “That is, until the bastard made a fateful mistake.”
She stiffened and sat back from his embrace.
“On the day of Gaelleod’s final visit, he brought with him the key. A curious circumstance to be sure, since I’d last seen it the afternoon of my arrest, yet one I did not find surprising. After so long under his tutelage, I’d learned not much went the way of unusual behavior where he was concerned. The entirety of Selene’s phase would sometimes pass during which he would be cordial, pleasant even, plying me with food and drink, conversing with me as if we were close friends. These respites were typically followed by days of beatings without end.
“I recognized his technique, of course, the constant deviation to keep me off guard. So, when he approached with the key and thrust it before my face, I was neither unsettled nor distraught. Merely…puzzled.”
Red firelight stoked by the dungeon’s bellows had winked off the surface, the key twirling a dizzying spiral in the air. Not until the movement ceased, had the vile wizard leaned close, his breath a rancid mixture of foul deeds and decay.
“He pointed to the stamped lettering on the side and demanded I tell him the significance behind the symbols. If they represented an incantation or specific rite of ceremony. In truth, I was caught so off guard, I laughed.”
Like a madman. Hooting into the black eyes of the worst adversary he’d ever faced.
But to this day, Caedmon had not forgotten the sickly sweet stench of burning flesh, nor would he ever forget the blind agony which had come soon after. “Gaelleod took it upon himself to instruct me firsthand in the ways of confession that day. My amusement over his failure propelled him to heights I do not wish to relate. Suffice to say only one thing prevented my death. My mind held the answer to his plight.”
He met his lady’s green gaze and braced. “Gaelleod had indeed located the rightful chest. But only one amongst us holds the power to wield the key. A beautiful white sorceress whose memories had been stolen so that not even she would recognize the profound influence she retains.”
Closing the distance, he secured the edge of her chin between his forefinger and thumb. “You, Rowena. You are the answer. The missing piece as to why the chest refused to open.”
Her lips parted and she leaned back from him to search his face. “Dear God, I’ve been a curse, haven’t I? Since the day we met, I’ve brought you nothing but heartache and pain.”
The entire width and breath of his being roared out in denial. Cupping the back of her head, he lowered her forehead to his. “You are my blessing. My heart and savior. I would gladly incite the wrath of Gaelleod’s evil wizardry to safeguard you from harm. But we cannot ride out for the key. Do you not see? To do so would present him the very opportunity he’s been longing to achieve.” Gliding his hand to the slim column of her neck, he firmed his grip. “Swear to me now. Say you will not seek the key so I may rest easy.”
She blinked and dropped her gaze to his chest. He stayed perched on the edge of hope and waited.
Her shoulders fell, and she sighed. “Okay, I know you’re gonna hate this, but I can’t do that, Caedmon.”
Seizing her hips, he tried to lift her off his lap, but she clung to him about the neck, chest to ch
est so he could not pry her away.
“Hold on a second. Just give me a chance to explain.” Her deep inhalation was weighted with frustration, exasperation and, most predominantly, her steadfast resolve. “Now more than ever, I’m convinced that going after the key is the right thing to do. I came through the veil for a reason. My initials are stamped on the key for a reason. The chest is mine to open for a reason. I can’t ignore that, Caedmon. I just can’t.” Tipping back from him, she straightened her arms and hung off his shoulders. “For whatever purpose, I’m part of this…this whole big puzzle. If I’m really this savior you keep talking about, snubbing my nose at such an important responsibility is wrong. You know that as well as I do.”
Winding her fingers through his hair, she guided his cheek to the soft pillow of her breasts. “If you can’t go with me, I totally get it. I really do. But as soon as I have my weapons restocked, I’m heading for Castle Seviere.”
His eyes slammed shut. By all the Nine Goddesses, he should’ve known the woman would never let fear overrule her duty. She’d always put others first. Him, the guards, the servants, the entire realm of Austiere.
Securing her in his arms, he jerked her farther up his hips. “You ride nowhere alone. We face the unknown together. Always and forever together.”
Her lips met crown of his head, and she turned her cheek to his hair. “There is one last thing.”
He slumped. For all the sweet bouncing tits in paradise, what was she on about now?
Tipping his chin up, he cocked a brow.
“That rat bastard Gaelleod? His ass is mine.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“A chance yet remains this preparation could all be in vain.”
Rowena double-checked the springs on her wrist blades before retracting her daggers in place. But she had to admit Caedmon did have a point.
Even though it seemed like only a few days had passed, once they stepped outside, they might find a week, a month or even years had gone by while they’d been getting busy inside the cave. “Doesn’t matter. If what you think is true, without me, Seviere could have never opened the chest. And I’d place bets that asshole Gaelleod still has the key.”
An exaggerated sigh heaved Caedmon’s shoulders—the third or fourth since she’d started rummaging the piles for anything to replace her weapons. All in all, she’d made out pretty good.
The decorative wooden box she’d found contained a variety of etched silver throwing stars, sharp as death and nested in a padded, velvet frame. There were enough small knives lying around to refill Denmar’s armory. No biggie there. And she still had one of her silver reinforced ropes, so that was a bonus.
The only thing she couldn’t find was a stand in for her silver spikes. Flipping open an elaborate trunk, she’d dug through the clothes and unearthed a pouch of long, ivory hair pins. Yes. Though a bit yellowed with age, they were polished as sleek as silk and honed to a fine tip.
Whoever she was, Rowena liked her style. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she inserted the first into her chest plate and then twisted her lips. The jeweled ends stuck up over her breasts, but if a person didn’t know any better, they’d most likely assume she’d decided to doll up her suit with a little decoration. “I’m doing this for you, Marcelene.”
Caedmon grunted and she glanced in his direction. The rut that had formed between his brows was so damn deep it was bound to leave a permanent mark.
Shaking her head, she propped her hands on her hips. Geez, it was like the guy was ready to call it quits before they’d even gotten started.
He worked his head through the collar of a leather chest plate and shrugged until the buckles on either side to the centers of his shoulders. A rainbow winked off the gold medallions affixed to the pecs. The crest of a fierce griffon, wings extended and tongue lashing the air guarded his torso, and she closed the distance to tighten and tie the leather laces by his hips.
Tension hummed off his body. Jaw cranked so tight, she was surprised pulverized enamel didn’t coat the air with his next heavy breath. Yes, they were about to sneak into enemy territory, but borrowing trouble would only keep them from thinking with clear heads. “You need to stop.”
“My worries shall cease the moment you desist on this foolhardy plan.”
She rounded his stiff back and cinched the laces his other side, securing the ends in a hard slipknot. “You’d prefer I go off and hide somewhere like a scared little girl?”
“I would prefer to maintain your safety, as is my duty as your husband.”
Only one thing wrong with that statement. “We’re not married yet.”
He snapped his head over, the agitation sizzling off of him so charged with a lightning strike her knees involuntarily locked. “Our lives are bound to each other, are they not?”
Not daring to blink, she nodded. Holy crap on a cracker, the man was sexy when he was pissed.
Nothing but rock-solid muscle. Edgy intensity. Shoulders tight and fingers flexing as if he were ready to pounce.
He leaned down to snatch a pair of black leather vambraces off the floor and all that dark delicious hair swung forward. “The exchange of vows before witnesses is merely a formality. In my heart, you are my wife.”
And watch out world, cuz he was all hers.
Hot damn. She cleared her throat.
On the one hand, she supposed it made sense, and telling everyone they’d actually gotten married inside the Cave of Tears would be pretty cool. And on the other, passing on all the whoop-di-doo did seem like sort of a downer.
She’d seen the way other women looked at him. That night at the party to celebrate his coming home. Caedmon was a member of the royal family. Not to mention, a complete piece of eye candy. “I’d still like us to have a wedding. Hell, I’ll even let Marcelene strap me into a dress.”
The sharp glance he shot at her could’ve cut glass. “Strapping you into finery has never been my objective. I shall, however, gladly submit to whatever agonizing frivolity your devious mind can concoct should you cease in this madness to ride straight into death.”
She slumped, grabbed his wrist and lifted his arm secure the ties of his vambrace. Okay, fine. She couldn’t deny his concerns were justified. When it came to keeping the key safe, Seviere wouldn’t be messing around.
But she also couldn’t help but think that Caedmon’s time in the dungeons was going a long way toward clouding his judgment. “Gaelleod’s a smart guy, right?”
He shifted his stance, nodding. “Without question.”
“He’s spent the last hundred years, maybe even longer, with one goal in mind.” Fingers nimbly tightening the slack, she jerked the laces down his forearm, knotted the cords and moved on to his other arm.
“To unlock the chest.”
“Right.” Last knot firmly in place, she grabbed Caedmon’s hands and squeezed his fingers. “What makes you think he’s suddenly gonna give up? Sooner or later, he’s gonna figure out what those letters stand for, and when he does, what do you think he’ll do next?”
Caedmon searched her face, so hard she swore she could see the wheels spinning in his head. Hatred slammed into his eyes. “He shall stop at nothing to seek you out. He will unearth every stone, wreak a path of destruction and raze the very gates of hell until he has you clutched tightly to his chest.”
“Exactly.” She arched a brow. “Wouldn’t you rather we meet him on our terms? Save all those lives and attack while the element of surprise is still in our favor?”
He scrunched up his face in a grimace. “Point well taken, my love.”
“Bingo.” She pecked his lips. “And so would I.”
She released his hands and gathered her hair, weaving it into a tight brain. Caedmon nudged the toe of his boot through the various items at their feet, pocketing a blade here, a bag of gold coins there.
Once they got back to Castle Austiere, they’d already agreed to make sure and repay the Dreggs for the supplies. But, in the meantime, in case they needed to pa
y for a night on the road—or buy someone’s silence—they didn’t want to leave empty handed.
Whatever he was looking for finally seemed to catch his eye and he squatted to untangle a small curved push blade from a strand of pearls. She secured her hair with a leather cord and then frowned as he stood and plucked her braid off her shoulder.
He worked knife down through the middle of the cord, and left the jagged end facing outward, hidden by the ends of her hair. Backing off a few steps, he twirled his finger. “Spin.”
Oh, man. Talk about the best idea ever. She pivoted and ended in a low crouch, one leg extended. The whip of her hair sliced a lethal circle and Caedmon cocked a brow.
No one within striking range would ever see that coming.
“Kick ass.” She pushed to her feet with a grin.
Caedmon huffed and continued strolling the walls of the cave, stuffing odds and ends into his pack. Some rope, an extra blanket and a bar of soap.
Rowena tugged an empty flask from her bag and dipped the uncorked end into the Pool of Tears. Water glugged into the neck and she met Caedmon’s eyes over her shoulder. “Just in case.”
Stopping the end, she stood and collected her pack. “Ready?”
“Nearly there.”
Oh, good grief. Delay, delay, delay.
She started for the exit, but he side-stepped in front of her. One scoop of his arm, and he had her pinned against his chest.
His lips captured hers. Hungry and desperate. The tip of his tongue flicked and teased until her head fell back and the ground reeled off-kilter beneath her boots.
Knees weak, arms dangling at her sides, she closed her eyes as he made love to her mouth. Over and over, he drank from her lips, thumb angling her head as if he were starving and she was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
His thigh eased between her legs. He clamped his hand on her ass and squeezed. Heat coiled and trickled into her belly. Any thoughts of wizards, or danger, or riding anywhere flew out of her head quicker than grease skipped across a hot skillet.