The Golden Key Chronicles: A Time Travel Romance (The Golden Key Series Book 1)

by AJ Nuest

  Once they’d gotten bored and moved on to torturing whatever they could find next, she’d rushed over only to wind up wanting to smack her own face instead.

  The poor thing was only a nestling. Downy feathers barely dry. Wing mangled and one of its legs sporting a nasty gash.

  Wrapping him in her cloak, she’d snuck Dart back into the castle, and then half-expected to wake up the next morning with a dead baby falcon in her bed.

  To her surprise, he’d survived. And he’d kept on thriving as a prime example of what it meant to never up regardless of how hard the fight or if anyone told her she was ridiculous.

  She loved him for that. She offered him a second scrap before cinching the drawstring at her waist. He’d taught her a valuable lesson the day he’d swooped in out of nowhere during her first test. Although, she had to admit, his surprise attack had created a sidesplitting distraction.

  What brutal warrior wouldn’t shriek and scurry for cover with a screeching, enraged bird of prey on his back?

  Afterward, Master Denmar had stunned everyone present by laughing his way through ruling Dart’s participation legal. Even when her opponents complained, the caption had held firm. And hey, if they wanted to capture and train their own falcons, he’d be more than happy to allow those birds entrance into the games, as well.

  Once she’d heard that, Rowena had spent every spare moment prior to her next test running her newfound champion through his paces. Dart learned her series of calls and hand signals as if he’d been born to them, and aided her by stealing daggers, obscuring her opponent’s aim and, one time, even ambushed an arrow in midair.

  The two of them comprised a lethal pair. In the end, saving him had saved her…in more ways than she could ever think to thank him. “One more day, my friend. By this time tomorrow, we’ll both be free.”

  The grand bell tolled the onset of Apex and Dart launched from her shoulder as if he’d been shot by a bow. Her challengers gathered their weapons and leapt to various positions throughout the course. Denmar released the iron catch and the ropes creaked as the sandbags swung into motion.

  Good. No time like the present to get this done.

  Adrenaline shoved her pulse several beats north as she checked the silver throwing stars embedded in her belt, the honed blades tucked along the outside seam of her gray leather breeches. Thin cords reinforced with silver threads hung looped from the tops of her knee-high gray boots, a circular metal jot tied on one end.

  The stays of her fitted leather chest plate had been replaced with deadly silver spikes, but they were only five of the forty some-odd weapons she’d stashed in various spots around her body.

  In designing her suit, she’d become exactly what everyone believed. A flash of silver and white. An eerie specter with the power of flight.

  An angel of death from above.

  Tossing her braid over her shoulder, she confirmed the lines of her wind rider remained clear, shoved up her boobs and leapt after Dart into the sky.

  A blast of cold air numbed her cheeks. Back arched, she held her arms and legs spread eagled. Above the steady thrum in her ears, the silk sheet fluttered and snapped.

  Her shoulders wrenched, and she crossed her ankles, arms extended as the wind filled her chute and boosted her toward the crowd.

  Several women screamed. Grabbed their children and scrambled for cover under the canopies. Maidens swooned and chairs toppled. The milling throng parted and spilled beneath her in a wave of colored silks.

  All, except Fandorn. Standing beside King Austiere on his throne. And while the wizard’s face beamed with joy, perhaps even a smidge of fatherly pride, the king blinked up at her with a face that had gone white as a ghost.

  Dart screeched and dove low, spiraled under the rope bridge and grazed the top of a freestanding wall with his wings. Rowena hooked her fingers around the cord over her left shoulder and yanked.

  The angle of her descent keeled left. The Gantlet floor rushed up to greet her, and she flicked her wrists. Her blades sprang into the centers of her palms. Releasing a loud Whoo hoo!, she crossed her arms, slashed the silk tethers and plummeted straight for the lead sandbag.

  The soles of her boots bounced off the side. The momentum propelled her forward, and she dodged the second bag with a tight spin, unleashing a barrage of silver stars in Keegan’s direction.

  Thumps split the air as they embedded in his chest plate. He stumbled back and his spine slammed the foremost support of the bridge. Two more stars, and she’d pinned his shirtsleeves in place.

  “Hie!” She tore a cord from her boot, whipped the weighted jot in a wide circle and pitched it into the air. Dart swooped in, snagging the target in his talons. She tied the end to a wooden plank as he banked a dizzying spiral around a trapped Keegan.

  The guard grappled with the cord as it tightened around his throat. His boot heels tap danced an offbeat rhythm. Ducking the two remaining bags, she sprinted with full force toward her first hostage.

  An arrow lanced the top of her shoulder, and she hissed. Dammit! But at least Syme’s strike gave up his position. On the right, behind a rectangular partition.

  Veering left, she dashed four paces up a freestanding wall and flew back, tucking her knees to her chest. One—two—three, she hurled the blades from the small of her back before her feet hit the ground.

  All three snicked into place. Syme clutched his thigh, the handles protruding from thick muscle, and crumpled to his knees.

  Damn straight and, if she got super lucky, maybe the pain would disrupt his aim.

  “Release!” She hop-skipped and leapt into a front handspring. Dart zoomed past. The jot dropped from the sky. Rowena snagged the cord and, with a jerk of her arm, the weighted end whirled to the center of her hand.

  Wedging her heel against the base of the rope bridge, she leaned back and gathered the slack. Winding the cord from elbow to palm, she took up the slack a second time.

  Keegan sputtered as she climbed up behind him, using his hips and shoulders like a ladder. Three revolutions of the rope immobilized his neck to the pole. Hell yes, Dart was getting faster each time they took part in this event.

  Hugging the beam between her thighs, she crossed her ankles over Keegan’s stomach and squeezed.

  “Two words.” She panted in his ear. An arrow thudded into the wood above her head. “And I don’t have much time.”

  He wheezed, gasping for air, grimaced and shook his head.

  Snaking her fingers around the cords at his neck, she wrenched them tight. His feet sprang out in front of him and slammed back to the wooden platform below. “How about now? You got anything to say?”

  “I su-u-bm-mit.” He choked on a swallow.

  “Good boy.” She pecked his cheek.

  Another arrow streaked past her side. A spinning axe blade winked in the sunlight, flying handle over head straight in her direction. She slashed the strap of Keegan’s shield and braced behind the cover just as the blade thudded home.

  Enough, already. Syme’s reign of terror was over.

  With the shield at her back, she scuttled to the top of the pole, pried the axe loose and hacked at the end of the rope bridge. One final smack, the bridge freed, and she careened through the air in a gravity-defying sweep.

  Extending as far as her reach allowed, she hung on tight and braced her foot in the tangled ropes. The meaty section of Syme’s biceps split and peeled back under the sharp blade of the axe.

  Yeah, baby. Two down, three to go.

  He bellowed and flailed, tumbled, still thrashing, onto his back. On the return swing, she pounced, one knee pressed to his bleeding arm and her wrist blades crossed along his throat.

  “You got something to say to me?” A red droplet left her shoulder and splashed his cheek.

  “The sorceress bleeds.” He bucked and nearly tossed her off his waist.

  She increased the pressure on both his arm and neck and an enraged growl curled his lips. “As do you, my friend. And I got no problem
draining whatever remains in your body all over this floor.”

  “Tits of the Nine.” He snarled and slumped. “I submit to your will.”

  “Now see? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She retracted her blades and ruffled his sandy hair. “I accept.”

  Rolling off of him, she crouched on the balls of her feet, her senses so sharp the edge of each wall, the slight shift of the ropes stood out in stark relief.

  So, they wanted to play Hide and Seek, huh? Try to catch her by surprise? “Dart, search.”

  The falcon flew in, circled over a high bastion of sharpened spikes and disappeared in the direction of the forest. She stole to the partition, pressed her back against the wood and peeked over her shoulder inside the small fort.

  Rinald fell to his knees, hands clasped near his throat. “Never before have I witnessed such a thing, my lady. Truly, your ability with a blade is both cunning and quick.”

  Please. Swiveling to face him, she crossed her arms and camped her weight on one hip. “How lovely, Rinald. Thank you.”

  A smile that reeked of insincerity creased his cheeks. Pushing to his feet, he made an exaggerated display of sweeping his hand across his knees in a formal bow. “You’ve more than proven your worth. No need for further bloodshed, my lady.”

  He had to be kidding. Did he really expect her to believe that pile of shit?

  Silver whispered through the air as she withdrew a spike and applied the needle-sharp tip to the underside of his chin. “And the minute my back is turned?”

  His head jerked and he stretched to his full height as she stepped close and pushed a little deeper. A bead of red fattened near the point and snaked down the silver toward her fingers. “I suppose then you’ll gladly let me be on my way?”

  Wood creaked behind her, and she whirled. Her arm jarred as the downward stroke of Tristan’s sword dislodged her weapon.

  Shit! They’d double-teamed her with a diversion.

  A flick of her wrist, and she conserved the force behind Tristan’s blow and spun to one knee, her other leg extended. Tristan was swept off his feet at the same moment she rammed her wrist blade into the inner meat of Rinald’s thigh.

  Rolling onto her shoulders, she braced her hands near her ears and locked her ankles behind Rinald’s bowed head. A yank of her legs and he tumbled over her, collided with a rising Tristan and they careened to the floor in a crash.

  Down, but not out. She flipped to her feet, reclaimed Keegan’s discarded shield and jammed the pointed end under the seam of the nearest wall. Her full weight on the other end, and the balance teetered. A good solid kick to the side and it tottered.

  Breaking over its threshold, the wall collapsed in a deafening slam and trapped the two men underneath.

  Sprinting up the incline, she jumped, digging her heels into the wood. Muffled groans crept out from the sides, and she jumped again. “Let’s have it, fellas!”

  “I submit! Submit, submit!” they called in unison.

  She grinned and fisted her hands on her hips, peering toward the table of doom. Apparently, her last opponent was waiting there, unless he’d decided to tuck tail and run.

  Movement caught the corner of her eye, and her smile slowly faded as he stepped into view.

  Shirtless under a black leather chest plate, corded muscles straining beneath the wide black bands encircling his biceps, a pair of vambraces on his crossed arms to form a perfect black X…

  Dang. The man was a living personification of a warrior god.

  He cocked a dark eyebrow and curled his finger, beckoning her near.

  Well, shit…

  Victim number five was Prince Caedmon Austiere.

  * * * * *

  She’d trounced them all. Helios had yet to inch across the sky and she’d reduced his brothers into tarnished lumps of mewling flesh.

  Pride swelled in Caedmon’s chest even as he cautiously assessed her every move. That she could accomplish as much in such a short span warranted his careful consideration.

  Long into the night, he and Denmar had discussed her unusual fighting style, the technique they’d developed which allowed her to rampage her surroundings like a phantom. How she would bow under any attack, a willow in the wind. Only to lash back while transferring the power behind her opponent’s strike into her own…an ability which garnered her a much-needed advantage over the size and strength of her adversaries.

  Her speed, dexterity and those wicked blades she launched with the accuracy of a lightning bolt all had been assessed.

  What Denmar had neglected to confess, however, was the way a second skin of gray leather would hug each voluptuous curve of her body. The smooth swell of her breasts, the arc of her lower back, the succulent curve of her ass and the entire length of each perfectly formed leg.

  Whilst here he stood, his father’s kingdom in full attendance as he was denied the rapturous pleasures underneath.

  He squandered no effort in believing she’d been kissed by the goddesses. Her stunning beauty aside, the woman exuded both grace and power, an inner glow he yearned to breathe into his lungs.

  She was ecstasy. Intoxicating. A lush, ripe fruit to douse his lips.

  Thank the Nine, he retained a secreted edge to level the playing field. If not, she’d undoubtedly ride victorious from the castle before the tolling of the Setting bell.

  Dusting an imaginary speck off his shoulder, he feigned indifference. The table pitched under his boots as he strolled to the side. “Imagine my surprise to learn you’d been training with the guard, my love.”

  Her eyes narrowed into two glittering slits, though whether in anger over his intended endearment or to issue a challenge, he had yet to discern.

  “And you, I suppose, are here to teach me my place?” Matching him pace for pace, she maintained the distance between them. “I hate to break it to ya, but your lessons come a little too late.”

  “On the contrary.” He shrugged. “I am nothing if not pleased with your progress. To see you’ve advanced thus far under Denmar’s tutelage warms my heart.”

  Snapping his chin up, he locked his gaze to hers. “I do, however, take issue with your methods.”

  Her footfalls paused, and she squinted, shifting her eyes side to side. “I told you before. Stop talking in riddles and just say what you mean.”

  Her fingers twitched near the blades at her hips. A little too close for his liking. On an ear-splitting screech and rustle of feathers, her deadly falcon careened in from above and alit on her shoulder.

  Its wings remained spread as it chucked a warning, the continuous bob of its head another clue to the threat that transpired behind its black eyes.

  “Your engagement ring, my love.” Silver hummed along his spine as he withdrew his sword and made a display of inspecting the sharply honed edge. “’Tis quite regrettable, really, and yet I’m told offered without hesitation.” A tight flip of the blade, and he aimed the sharp tip at her chest. “Or do you deny you bartered my mother’s ring in exchange for your training?”

  Her spine stiffened at the same moment the color drained from her face. “Your mother’s ring? I didn’t…no one told me…” Myriad emotions flitted across her lovely features. Surprise, awe, regret. And at last an exquisite sorrow, hinting just along the corners of her eyes.

  Her jaw clenched, and she boosted her chin as if refuting the momentary lapse in her judgment. “What else did you expect me to do? I had nothing of value in my possession.”

  Not so. And her brusque dismissal cut him to the quick.

  “You had my heart.” He stomped forward. “You’ve always had it. Though you’ve quite soundly dashed any delusions I may have embraced regarding its value. Sneaking behind my back. Scheming to flee the very moment of my return.”

  The blush returned to her cheeks thrice-fold and his traitorous cock hardened and lengthened in response. She’d once worn the same captivating hue in the throes of passion.

  Passion she’d shared with him.

  “Schemin
g? Sneaking around behind your back?” With a blinding glint of sunlight against silver, two lethal blades whirred home into the centers of her palms. “Since when do I need your permission for anything? You don’t own me, Caedmon. No one does.”

  He internally scoffed. What fool would ever attempt such a misled cause? He no more wanted ownership of her than he was prepared to risk everything and let her leave.

  Security, trust and love are what he endeavored to build between them. Yet, he would never achieve such a goal without her protected.

  Guarded.

  In his bed.

  He affected his battle stance—one leg bent, the other extended to the side, sword high and at the ready near his ear. “You will not depart the safety of the castle grounds. And if bloodshed is the only path to make you see reason, then more is the penalty I’m prepared to pay.”

  “I knew it.” She spat the words at him. “I knew you were just like the rest of them. All this talk of love when the only thing you really want is to control me.” Daggers spun and flashpoints slivered the air as she exacted her own battle stance—legs parted, arms crossed, wrist blades twirling to a stop on either side of her shoulders. “This one’s mine, Dart. Just mine.”

  The falcon screeched and lunged forward. A draft from the powerful down stroke of its wings washed Caedmon’s face before the bird corkscrewed and disappeared over his left shoulder.

  Fury blazed in his love’s gaze, and he tensed as an evil laugh slipped low and smooth from the column of her throat. “Ya better brace yourself. This is gonna hurt.”

  She whirled with mind-boggling speed. The artful tune of singing steel altered to a discordant twang as he deflected the hailstorm of her assault. Sword in constant motion, he pivoted and dodged. A rain of blades littered the table. Chiming on impact. The floor pitched as she crossed in front of him, a torrent of silver spikes cloaking her advance.

  Securing a thick rope, she ascended halfway up the nearest wall, ran along the side and flew back, her white braid whipping the air.

  A thud damped his shoulders. His throat constricted as she wrung his neck between her thighs. The entire weight of her body swung pell-mell around his shoulders and his windpipe wrenched in the crook of her knee.