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

by AJ Nuest

  Whoever was coming better have their shit together. They were about to be on a first-name basis with the Nine.

  Bark dug into her palms as she swung hands to boots to mid-height. The trunk skimmed her butt as she perched on the balls of her feet.

  Exhibiting all the grace of an enraged bull, a hooded rider crashed into her camp. The horse’s dancing halt disrupting her blankets, flinging dirt all over the place. Upending her dinner and rattling the tin plate.

  Jerk. Based on his size, he was male. Not that any woman besides her would be out riding through the countryside all alone.

  Easing two sliver blades from the sides of her leather pants, she fisted the slender handles in her grip.

  Hello, stranger. Care to dance?

  In a fluid movement completely opposite of how he’d shown up, the rider leapt off his horse and knelt before her sputtering fire. The sides of his cloak billowed past his shoulders. Thick muscle pulled his leather pants tight around his thighs.

  And those arms…the black vambraces…the leather bands encircling his biceps.

  She slumped. For God’s sake, exactly how far did she have to ride to get away from the man?

  Caedmon pinched a bit of ash between his thumb and fingers, and lifted them to his nose. Rowena squinted past the branches as he rounded the fire and squatted to rifle her saddlebags.

  Most likely, he intended to drag her kicking and screaming back to the castle. But she wasn’t about to sit idly by while he got his grubby mitts all over her supplies.

  Sheathing her blades, she swung silently to the ground. Motions steady and even, carefully shifting her weight, she reclaimed her knives and side-stepped twigs and piles of leaves in his direction.

  Not that it mattered. For all her paranoia, he was apparently so preoccupied with searching her belongings, she could’ve easily stomped all over the place.

  A soundless bounce on her toes and she pounced, knees straddling his back, crossed blades pressed against the thin skin under his jaw. “I’m officially pissed off. If you plan on seeing tomorrow, I suggest you do exactly as I say.”

  The next instant, she was flying through the air. Her teeth clattered on impact and her blades scattered as she landed on her rump in the dirt.

  Shaking her head, she quickly scrambled to her feet. How in the hell had he dislodged her so fast? And which hurt worse? Her ass or her pride?

  Tendon flexed and every muscle in his arms popped as he tore the cloak off his shoulders. He unsheathed his sword from the scabbard at his back. Silver chimed through the air as he fisted the hilt at his side.

  Anger smoldered in his chocolate-brown eyes, but if that glare was meant to scare her, the man and his stubborn male pride were about to be disappointed.

  Boosting her chin, she scowled right back. Not for one second would she let him intimidate her. There weren’t any constructs out here in the forest. And if going head-to-head with him was the price for her freedom that was totally fine by her.

  “It’s time you learned a thing or two, my love.”

  Ha! Could he be any more condescending? On a click and whirr, her wrist blades snapped home and she widened her legs into her fighting stance. “Too bad Denmar’s not here to save your ass. I can’t believe you honestly like being jabbed in the dick.”

  Leaves scattered as he started forward. A roar built in his chest as he swung his sword high and lunged.

  She parried his thrust, wrist blades crossed to stop the edge of his sword from invading her rib cage. Penetrating vibrations pulsed down her arms, and she bowed under his press of her weaker left side.

  Son of a bitch. For a guy who’d spent two years in a dungeon, he sure as shit was strong.

  Her shoulders creaked under his weight, thighs shaking from the strain. She whirled to get some distance, but his hand seized her hip and he easily hauled her to side.

  Half-lifting, half-dragging her by the waist, he marched forward until her spine connected with the trunk of a tree.

  Pinned. In less than two moves, he’d overpowered her with sheer size and strength alone. How could she have been so stupid? She’d made a horrible mistake in letting him get so close.

  “How soon you forget.” Determination sparked in his eyes, his lips mere inches from hers. “We’ve contested before, my love. You favor your left side.”

  He withdrew and cool air hit her cheek in the same place his breath had warmed only seconds before. A nod, and he aimed his sword at the ground where their fight had started. “Again.”

  Sheathing his weapon, he spun and crouched near her saddlebags.

  Wait, what? Again as if this were his opportunity for a teaching moment? She shifted her eyes left then right. As if the outcome of their fight—and her future—didn’t matter to him in the least?

  Her shock evaporated and a thousand tiny needles of irritation stormed in. Narrowing her eyes, she pushed up from the tree. But she didn’t run over to leap on his back.

  She’d done that once already only to fall flat on her ass. She might be a little slow on the uptake, but she wasn’t about to go at him the same way twice.

  Sprinting full force, she leapt and punched his side with the soles of her boots. A grunt blurted from his throat, and he collapsed to the ground, rolling along his shoulders to land on his feet.

  His sword sang free as she released a barrage of silver throwing stars. Metal sliced air. Discordant clangs ricocheted off the trees. He deflected her halo and charged.

  But the space was too small, leaving her one of two choices. Re-engage him in hand-to-hand combat or go hide in the trees.

  The idea of running from him made her teeth gnash. She seated two silver spikes in her hands and ducked low, one foot extended to, hopefully, strike from below.

  Switching the angle of his attack, he caught the sides of her spikes and shoved, forcing her to straighten or lose her weapons. Three swipes of his sword and her back collided with the trunk of a large fir.

  A growl crawled up her throat even as he pushed away from her a second time.

  “No. Your counter-attack is faulty. Your defense position too high.” Grabbing her shoulders, he spun her to face the trees. She sputtered and tried to wrestle out of his grip even as his boot nudged her feet apart.

  “Pay attention.” His fingers tightened around her upper arm. “Shift your weight left and bend your knee.” His knee hit the back of her leg and she sighed but eased into the stance. “Now arms lowered outside your left thigh.” He guided her arms down and then rounded to stand in front of her, positioning her arms together, wrists crossed.

  Biting her tongue, she tried stay to focus on his instructions as a stream of questions burbled like mountain runoff in her brain.

  “Elbows unlocked.” He tossed his sword to the ground and pressed his thumbs into the crooks of her arms, slid his hands to her wrists and cocked them at a forty-five degree angle. “If a marauder were to attack thusly,” grabbing his sword, he brought the edge toward her hands, “you have the strength of your right side to either counter,” he guided her arms up and her weight automatically shifted as their blades met and she deflected his sword away, “or use the momentum of his advance to knock him off balance.” He returned her hands to their original positions but, this time, as his blade met hers he pressed on the back of her arm and eased her forward until their shoulders connected.

  “Now. Again.” He pointed to her original spot and reclaimed his crouch near her saddlebags.

  Tears flooded her eyes. She lowered her hands to her sides. A quite moment passed, filled with the evening chirp of birdsong as she studied his back.

  He’d been angry. Enraged, even. By now, he could’ve easily had her hogtied over Belial’s saddle and started them back to the castle.

  Rolling her shoulders, she fought to gather her thoughts. Wrist blades retracted, she sprinted across the clearing and repeated her earlier maneuver, shoving him to the ground and releasing a rain of five-pointed stars.

  He rolled to his feet a
nd charged, gleaming sword in hand. She took the stance he’d taught her and easily knocked him off-kilter with a driving blow, her right shoulder ramming his left. Two additional jabs to his counterattack and he was trapped, poled by a tree, one of her wrist blades hovering near his jugular.

  “Excellent.” He grinned. “I can see why Denmar regales you as one of his best student.”

  Air burned in her lungs, but she didn’t move. Couldn’t have move even if she’d tried.

  Why would he do this for her?

  Releasing his sword to the ground, he lifted his hands in surrender. “I submit, my lady. You’ve trounced me sound and true.”

  Trounced him? Hardly.

  Removing her blade from his throat, she slowly stepped back, one foot after the next. In her years at the castle, not a day had gone by she hadn’t needed to barter or beg for any small thing. No one had done anything for her without asking for something in return.

  Money, favors, tricks and schemes…it was the way things were done.

  But not this. Never this.

  “Explain. Right now. What are you up to, Caedmon?”

  His jaw clenched, and she braced for whatever demands he was about to spring on her next.

  “If you must go, then I would see you having learned the best defense you are able.” He shoved away from the tree and that same dark fury from when he’d rode into her camp creased his brow. “If you must leave me, then my first and only duty is to make certain you can keep yourself safe.”

  Again with the tears. Again, there was nothing she could do to stop them. Spinning away from him, she stared at the ground.

  This was his fear talking. His fear for her.

  Arms locked, muscles shaking, she turned and shoved his shoulders. “Liar.” She shoved him again. “You said yourself you would never let me leave the castle.”

  He stumbled back, but didn’t go for his sword. His arms remained relaxed at his sides. And that fact he wasn’t interested in defending himself made her so damn mad, she shoved him a third time.

  “Dangerous creatures inhabit this realm, my heart. Seviere’s men would capture and rape you without a single thought to do elsewise. Certainly, I would rest easier with you by my side. But I’ve suffered the abhorrence of a wrongful cage. What measure of man would I be if I insisted you do the same?”

  No. She bit her bottom lip to stifle a sob. He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that. Hands fisted, she marched forward and pummeled his chest, hitting him over and over. “Why? Tell me why you would do this.”

  His arms enveloped her, cradling her against his chest. Her pounding slowed as she dissolved into a fit of wracking tears.

  “How could I not? I love you, Rowena. That is the only truth I know.”

  Others cared for her. She knew that was true. But no one. No one had ever told her like he did. No one had ever shown her how much with their actions.

  All her doubts fled. Down to the depths of her soul, she knew that he loved her. And if he had to let her go to prove it, then that’s what he would do.

  God, she’d been wrong about him. So damn wrong, it wasn’t even funny.

  Clinging to his waist, she turned her cheek to his chest, hanging on as her crying gradually subsided. She should have known from the beginning he understood what it was like to have no say. The past two years, she hadn’t been the only one locked in a prison.

  His arms tightened across her shoulders. One large hand cupped the back of her head. Giving in to him, she buried her face in the sweet, smooth skin of his neck.

  When was the last time someone had hugged her liked this? Just hugged her and nothing else. Fresh tears tumbled and raced down her cheeks. He had, of course. Two nights ago on the verandah. When he’d said his love for her couldn’t be measured in the mere passing of days.

  The evening light faded, his breath ruffled her hair, and as he rocked her side to side, the constant resentment she’d been carrying floated skyward, disappearing past horizon with the descent of the setting sun.

  Chapter Seventeen

  If she had to guess, she would’ve said neither of them really knew what came next. Or maybe the tension in the air came solely from her.

  Tossing some dry twigs onto the fire, Rowena grabbed a stick and poked at the embers until the flames ignited. A few well-placed logs and the flames quickly grew.

  The wood sizzled and snapped. Fireflies of ash spiraled into the sky. Flipping her hands before the heat, she pushed off the ground and stood.

  The best word to describe her emotional state was drained. Physically, this weird numbness had settled into her skin. What she didn’t know was whether or not those side-effects were normal for a full-blown meltdown. She’d not exposed so much herself since the day Caedmon had been dragged from her arms and she’d been left standing alone in his room.

  Every second in-between, she’d spent shoring up her defenses. Shutting out the hurt. But sparring with Caedmon had awakened something in her. Something…unfamiliar. He’d eased back the rusty hinges on her heart and, in the process, an uneasy restlessness had snuck in to fill the gap.

  A quiet hush filtered in from the surrounding forest. The fragile rays of the setting sun bathed their small camp in the wistful light of a dream. A jingle of silver broke the muted silence, and she peeked to the right as Caedmon unloaded his supplies from his horse.

  With his back facing her, it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Maybe he thought she was weak. Or silly. One false move and she’d bolt like a nervous horse.

  Or maybe he was trying to work out whether or not he should try and seduce her. Adrenaline spiked in her belly, and she winced.

  God, she was silly. Like, for real. He’d already kissed her once. More than once, if she was counting. No, she hadn’t had sex in…she didn’t know how long…but why get all freaked out at the thought he might kiss her again?

  A quick jerk to the ties on each side of his chest plate, and he pried the shield away from his chest. His biceps flexed. Veins popped as he hooked the shoulder laces on his thumbs and lifted the leather over his head.

  Her eyes widened, knees mush as the side of his torso came into view. Muscle flexed. Thick ridges bunched under honeyed skin. A ripple of tendon as he tossed the chest plate aside and a mouth-watering display of tiered flesh led down to a delectable rim of solid muscle on his hip.

  Dang. She swayed unsteadily, and then squinted as he squatted to rummage through the saddle bags near his feet. Was the light playing tricks on her or were those—

  No. It couldn’t be.

  The firelight cast small shadows down his spine and a tight squeak sounded in her throat. From nape to tailbone, a crisscrossing network of thin pale slashes bisected his skin.

  Sweet Jesus, he’d been beaten. Whipped or flogged. And God only knew what other torture techniques he’d suffered inside Seviere’s keep.

  Well, no wonder he’d been a basket case at the thought of her leaving.

  Two rushing steps forward, and she drew up short as he stood and turned in one motion. A quick scan of her face, and he shook out his shirt before cramming his arms through the sleeves. “Forgive me. I’d meant to spare you the grotesque result of my interment at Castle Seviere.”

  Straightening the collar on his shoulders, he punched the tails of his shirt into his leather breeches. Her nails bit into her palms as she struggled over how to respond.

  Everything in her shouted to close the distance and run her palms over his back to soothe past hurts. But based on the way he refused to meet her gaze, he wasn’t prepared to discuss what had happened.

  Not that she could blame him. Whatever hellish nightmares they’d put him through, the guy had probably walked out of there with the kind of scars he would never forget.

  “Don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize for what they did to you.”

  His shoulders lowered degree, and he nodded. A glance in her direction, and he filled his lungs, but exhaled without any further explanation.

 
She waited, perched on the edge of tossing caution to the wind and pulling him into her arms. The silence stretched to downright uncomfortable, and she finally returned to the fire, tidied her bedroll and tossed her dinner into the trees.

  She sighed. Maybe, in time, his words would come. Until then, she would allow him the one thing she’d always craved—to heal in private.

  Searching for something to keep her busy as Caedmon wicketed and rubbed down his horse, she collected her throwing stars and stowed them in her suit, then tugged a scrolled map from her saddlebags and took a spot on her bedroll.

  Back braced against the large log she’d dragged near the fire, she unrolled the parchment across her thighs. If her calculations were correct, considering the angle of the rising moon and the position of the stars, they were a few leagues south of the Black Forest. Once she left the trees, it’d be easier to calculate her exact route. And yet, based on the diagrams, in order to reach Seviere’s kingdom before tomorrow night, it looked as if her best course would be to skirt around the eastern side of that marshy quagmire and head due northwest.

  Either that or she could always push straight through. Doing so would save her a few hours of daylight.

  A shiver skipped across her shoulders, and she stuck out her tongue, fighting off a serious case of the willies. Rumor had it a large coven of Dreggs inhabited the area, and a run-in with their kind was not something she was eager to write down in her diary. She’d heard several stories about the few who’d ventured inside never been seen or heard from again. Or, better yet, they’d appeared years later, confused and lost, looking as if they hadn’t aged a day since they’d left.

  If that wasn’t deterrent enough, the path alone would be sketchy. She’d have to pick her way slowly. Navigate the various bogs with a sharp eye to any spots where Belial might flounder or break a leg.

  A hand appeared in front of her face, offering a beat-up leather wineskin. “I’m in dire need of strong spirits. How about you?”

  God, yes. She glanced up at Caedmon, shoulders silhouetted by the indigo sky and orange firelight dancing along his face. “What is it?”