by AJ Nuest
“Who cares?” Oliver scratched at his beard. “The important part is we got in without anyone figuring out who we are.”
A few seconds later, the door flew open and Violet burst into the room. She skidded to a stop, searching each face. Her gaze finally landed on Rowena and she squealed, racing forward, to throw her arms around Rowena’s neck. “I knew it. When Ben said Ollie was here with an old friend, I knew it had to be you.”
Laughing, Rowena hugged her friend just as hard in return. “How did you know?”
“Oh, come on.” Standing back, she held Rowena at arm’s length, silver bangles jingling on her wrists. “It was only a matter of time, right? I mean, what other choice did you have?”
Caedmon’s brows cranked together in the frown he’d been wearing all day and, yeah. This time, Rowena had to agree.
Linking their hands, Violet led them to a tattered couch and tugged Rowena to the cushions. “What was it like, boss? When you went through the mirror? Start at the beginning and don’t stop until you tell me everything you remember.”
Anxiety jabbed the pit of Rowena’s stomach and she slowly sat back from the excitement stamped all over Violet’s face.
Dammit, this was why Caedmon had been acting crazy all day. Somehow, he’d picked up a bad vibe, and the only reason he hadn’t said anything was because he didn’t have the first clue what was coming.
But Violet did.
“We don’t really have time for that, sweetie. The only reason we’re here is to see if you can help us before we go back.”
“Go back?” Violet’s eyes widened in alarm and she quickly glanced around the room. “No, no, you can’t go back. Wait, are you nuts?”
Shit. Rowena’s eyelids slammed shut. She shook her head. And not only had Violet learned everything that was about to happen, in typical worst-case scenario, it wasn’t good.
Lowering to one knee, Caedmon clasped Violet’s shoulders and turned her to face him. Goosebumps lifted the hair on Rowena’s arms as the worry in his gaze morphed into ice-cold fear. “You must tell us everything. I beg you. If your visions foretell a grim future, I would hear all that shall come to pass.”
Violet stared at Caedmon’s fingers, digging into her upper arms, and slowly lifted her head. “And you are?”
“The protector of my kingdom’s most valued treasure, and husband to the same, Prince Caedmon Austiere.”
“Uh oh…” Jon snapped the book shut.
“What?” Oliver’s arms shot out at his sides. “You’re married? Since when? And how come you never told me?”
Dear God, give her strength. Rowena scrubbed her hand over her forehead. The entire night was circling the toilet bowl, and this wasn’t the time or place to get into her marital status with Ollie. “Calm down, we’re not married.”
Caedmon spun on her and cocked a brow.
“Okay, yes, we’re married, but not formally. We haven’t had the chance. Now can we please get back to the reason we’re here?”
Ollie squinted but, in a miracle to rival the second coming, stayed quiet.
Rowena breathed deep and worked up her best smile for Violet. “Whatever you found out, can you please tell us?”
“Yeah, of course. In fact, I can do better than that.” Pushing to her feet, Violet approached the desk, her black robe snagging along the concrete floor. A flip to open the laptop, and everyone gathered around as she clicked a folder entitled Rowena’s Key.
The images flashed rapid-fire, one document layering on top of the next, the type and pictures popping so quickly, Rowena didn’t have the chance to process them all.
“Okay, so, after you left, I decided to do a little more digging. Sorta start my research from scratch.” Pulling out the chair, Violet sat and aimed her finger at the screen. “When Rowena first appears in history, her arrival with the key is the catalyst which eventually leads to a war. Later on, this battle is named the Night of Silver Knives after her bad-ass abilities with a blade.”
Caedmon loudly exhaled and Rowena peeked at him to find a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Most of the time, she’s regaled as a stunning beauty.” Violet shrugged. “No big surprise there. But in several references she’s also depicted as wickedly immoral, and is credited as the character behind several quasi-historic women such as King Arthur’s Morgan le Fay, the witch from Hansel and Gretel. I even found a spot where she claims rights as being the original evil step-mother.”
Okay. Rowena fiddled with the chain around her neck. Bad as that sounded, it wasn’t anything new based on Violet’s research from two years ago. And it wasn’t like Caedmon had any kids, so…could be worse, right?
Violet clicked to another page and Rowena went stiff as a board. Caedmon snuck his arm around her waist and tugged her against the hard wall of his body.
There was no denying that antique portrait was her. Long blonde hair flowing past a white gown trimmed in gold. Heads bowed as several men knelt at her feet. And standing back from her elbow, she would have to be blind not to recognize that wizard as Fandorn.
Son of a bitch. A shiver wound through her shoulders, and she grabbed the back of Violet’s chair.
“Here’s where things get tricky.” A few more clicks, and she rearranged the documents on the screen. “After Rowena worms her way into the royal household, all hell breaks loose. The prince and rightful heir to the throne rebels against her and, in return, she poisons him and takes off for home, the neighboring kingdom to the north. No accounts are given as to whether the reigning prince dies but, evidently, the king is so torn apart by the way she screws over the whole kingdom, he takes to his bed and is no longer able to rule.”
No. Rowena jerked her focus back to Caedmon and the strength was nearly sapped from her knees. This couldn’t be happening. He raked his hand through his hair, but it did nothing for removing the grief-stricken panic on his face.
His father. Sick and bed-ridden. The kingdom undefended while everyone laid the blame at her feet.
For crying out loud, no wonder Braedric’s hashishans had been hell bent on returning her to the castle. She was supposedly the worst kind of traitor. The second she’d snuck out in the middle of the night, Braedric had probably made it public knowledge she was selling Austiere secrets to Seviere.
That was, of course, unless she and Caedmon landed back in Gaelleod’s chamber and all that stuff was yet to happen.
Her hands fisted at her sides. But it would be a cold day in hell before she blabbed about everyone she loved. That piece of shit Gaelleod would have to cut out her tongue first.
“You can guess what happens next.” Violet brought up another document and swiveled around in her chair. “In the king’s weakened state, his enemies to the north decide to invade, all thanks to the double-handed tricks of Sorceress Rowena. For a while, she’s declared a hero of her people and leads the charge but, in the end, she still loses. Somehow, the reigning prince catches wind of the invasion and rides out with his army to meet Rowena’s legions. His campaign is successful and he becomes the hero and savior of his country.”
Oh. She slumped. Sure, it sucked to find out Braedric came out on top, but at least in making her the bad guy, he ended up saving the kingdom. She frowned. But what about the key? And the armoire? Where did they fit into the picture?
Maybe it didn’t matter. Rowena chewed her bottom lip. They still needed to get back. If not to clear her name, at the very least, so Caedmon could see his dad.
If they could give the king a heads up, let him know they were still on his side, a good chance existed they could stop Seviere’s men before they had time to attack.
Her brows rose. Hell, maybe that was exactly what they’d done.
“And Sorceress Rowena?” Caedmon swallowed and cleared his throat. “What of her?”
Violet glanced between them before dropping her gaze to the floor. “She dies, you guys. Burned alive by something called wizard’s fire deep inside Castle Seviere.”
Chapter Twenty
-Seven
Twigs snapped beneath the determined stride of his boots. Gnarly fingers of the barren branches clawed at his sleeves, but he pressed onward, driven by some inner demon he had neither the means nor wherewithal to escape.
A death sentence. With each word of Violet’s prophecy, his heart had slowed, ever more squeezed within the desperate clutches of terror’s menacing fist. Should his love return through the mirror, she would die as surely as if he’d plunged his sword into her chest himself.
Yet for her to stay in this realm would wound her just as deeply. To reinstate the centuries and distance would forever wound them both. The fading of her sweet kiss, the absence of her silky skin would become nothing more than a bitter reminder of all he had lost.
He broke through the forest into an open glen, clenched his fingers and marched down the slope to the water’s edge. The undying light of Selene’s pearlescent face spilled a milky trail across the black water, the shattered remains of Helios’s white heart reflecting off the surface like diamonds scattered at Caedmon’s feet.
She must stay. For her to survive, his love must remain in this realm. With a snarl, he spun away from the idyllic view and resumed his restless stride along the shore. Curse the moon goddess and her callous lover. How many hearts must be destroyed by their folly? What more lives should be torn asunder to bend to their will?
“There you are.”
He whirled to face his white sorceress, the ground squelching beneath his boots. She hopped to the side and pried one of her silk slippers off her foot, and he quickly steadied her elbow with his hand.
“You know there’s a paved path that leads down to the water.” She tipped the shoe and emptied several small pebbles onto the sand. “I don’t know why you had to storm off like that through the woods.” Returning the shoe under her skirts, she dusted several dry leaves off her shoulders. “I could kill Oliver for making me wear this dress. You wouldn’t have gotten away from me if I’d been wearing a decent pair of boots.”
He smiled despite himself, plucking a few errant twigs from her hair. “I had naught the sensibility to ascertain my direction. My only thought was to flee the confines of that room.”
“Well, the next time you have a panic attack, try to remember my wardrobe limitations.”
Moonbeams frolicked along her face and his smile faded. There would be no ‘next time.’ Not for them.
Yanking her close, he held her tight in his arms, kissing the top of her head and trying to memorize how effortlessly she fit against him.
“So, we should probably head back to Oliver’s.” Her breath warmed the side of his neck. “I hate to think what Denmar and Fandorn are going through right now.”
Frowning, he seized her upper arms and brought her away from him. By all the Nine Goddesses, the woman spoke as if her return to his realm was not the slightest bit in question. As if she’d spared not one thought to her untimely death.
“You will not spend one moment longer than necessary inside Castle Seviere, Rowena.” He firmed his grip. “You will see my safe journey through the veil and immediately return here.”
She tensed under his palms and he braced for the unavoidable tirade which would assuredly follow. Yet of all the skirmishes between them, this clash of wills would not be hers to win.
The gentle lap of the water continued its ceaseless kiss of the shore, tugging at the earth with the same persistence the air burned in his lungs for release.
“Caedmon…” She sighed. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”
The breath rushed from his throat. Though not what he’d expected, her reproach did not shelve his worries. Helios, himself, would be hard pressed to surmise what transpired behind the enigmatic light in her eyes. “Desperation? A man ill-prepared for the crushing realization his sole purpose for living is soon to be stolen from his grasp?”
“I see a king.” She brought her hand to his cheek. “The rightful ruler of the Austiere Kingdom and the most amazing man I’ve ever known.”
Ah, yes. Adulterous tears stormed his eyes and he withdrew a pace, lowering his arms to his sides. She’d always clung to the erroneous conclusion he was more than his worth. “I do not covet the throne, Rowena. Least of all, if the price to sit upon it is one I shall never survive.”
“And when you look at me?” One small step, and she closed the distance he’d initiated between them. “What is it that you see?”
He jerked his gaze toward the dim line of the distant horizon. At a time, he’d seen the savior of his world. A fierce, beautiful sorceress and the fated other half of his soul. “I see a woman determined to put herself second no matter what the cost.”
“But that’s just it, Caedmon. Don’t you get it?” A slight breeze toyed with the ends of her hair as she slid her hands into his. “From the first day we met, you’ve spent pretty much every waking second trying to convince me how special I am. And yet, now that it’s time for me to prove it, you decide your best move is to take it all back.”
Her fingers tightened and she tugged on his arms. Once, then twice, until he relented and met her gaze. “Rarely in life do what we want and what we have to do take the same path. You and I both know Braedric is a traitor, and if you accuse him alone he could have you imprisoned or worse. We need to face him together. So I can confirm how we found the armoire in Seviere’s castle. If I don’t and your father gets sick, Braedric could toss the gates wide open and Seviere could march in unopposed. How am I supposed to turn my back on that? This is our chance to save everyone we love.”
No. She hadn’t considered the risks. She could not stand before him and ask that he would willingly sacrifice her life. “I shall not now, nor will I ever consent to such madness. If what you say is true then, as your future king, I command you stay in this realm.”
A harsh breath broke from her lips and she released his hands, spinning away from him. Like the fleeting moments so quickly ebbing, the tide washed her footprints from shore. “So, you would just throw it all away, huh? You would alter the past, strip me of my birthright and never have us fall in love?”
Of course not. He scowled. If he held onto one joy moving forward, ʼtwould be the blissful moments they’d spent in one another’s arms. “You are the white sorceress of prophecy and shall now and forever remain my wife.”
“Oh yeah, how? How is that suppose to happen, Caedmon?” Hands fisted, she marched back to her previous spot before him. “If I don’t return with the key, then it stays here. In this realm. You go back without it and when the day comes for me to find it in the armoire, it’s not there. The door will never open, I won’t be able to help you and Sorceress Rowena remains a myth. Someone who never existed.”
His stomach seized and the steely bands of dread bore down upon his chest. A moment later, rage teemed through his blood like so much boiling oil, and he tossed his head back with a deafening roar.
By Helios’ bright reign, where did the sacrifices end? Must he lose everything to appease his heartless god? Had not he proven his faithfulness time and again?
“I don’t wanna die, Caedmon.” The comfort of her arms came about his waist and he instinctively held her to his chest, fingers splayed along the back of her head and his arm across her shoulders. “If the choice were mine to make, of course I’d say we can’t go back. I honestly couldn’t care less how I’m remembered.”
Oh, his love. His purest, most noble love. To maintain his heart had not always been hers would be the cruelest blow of all.
“But I’ve already forgotten you once. I don’t wanna do it again. If my only two options are facing Gaelleod or never knowing you at all, then I choose you.” She clung to him harder still. “I will always choose you.”
His eyelids slipped closed. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. He’d been a fool to believe he could alter events preordained by the gods. The course of their lives had been written in the stars, and his place was not to contest the fulfillment of their destiny.
Out
of respect for her…to satisfy his vow and make safe the Austiere Kingdom, he must consent. Yet if the vows were truly his to make, then her life would not be the only one at stake. Whether in his realm or in paradise, they remained together.
The will of Helios and Selene be damned.
“We return through the veil. And may the Goddesses bless our devotion with eternal grace.”
* * * * *
“Historians have been known to be wrong, you know.”
Or, at least, that was the excuse Rowena kept giving herself during the two-hour drive back to Oliver’s condo. Sitting in the front passenger seat, she struggled like hell not to freak out, all while adamantly refuting every rational argument he and Jon tossed in her direction.
Of course, she was worried, but what other choice did she have? She wasn’t about to run from her responsibilities like some scared little girl.
Absolutely, going back through the mirror could be a huge mistake. She didn’t want to roll the dice with her life any more than she wanted to go up against Seviere. But how was she supposed to look at the man she loved and tell him he wasn’t worth the risk?
Without her, the second Caedmon accused his half-brother of treason, his life would be the one at stake. Her disappearance from the history books would only fulfill Violet’s prophecy in another, no-less-disturbing way.
Even as they all climbed off the elevator, she argued her case, and was the first one to lead their entourage down the hall into Jon and Oliver’s room. “There is no way such an obscure event from the fourteenth century could’ve been recorded with any kind of accuracy. If I don’t go back, I’ll be giving up the very opportunity to alter what’s already been done.”
Pressing a tissue under his nose, Jon stifled a sob against Oliver’s chest.
Oliver heaved a sigh and rubbed and patted Jon’s shoulders. “There’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind?” Standing beside the armoire, he failed to blink the tears from his eyes. “You do know you’re welcome to stay, right? Hell, you’re both welcome to stay for as long as you’d like.”