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

by AJ Nuest

  “I shall purchase a new ball, milord.” The boy grinned and pocketed the money. “And a pair of shoes for my sister.”

  “There’s a good brother.” Caedmon spun the kid by the shoulders and swatted his back side. “Off with you now before your mates grow weary of waiting.”

  Okay, seriously. Like, for real. Up ʼtil then she’d never known a woman could actually experience her ovaries quivering.

  The kid scampered off, and Caedmon clasped her hand to lead her from the doorway. “Come. The boy’s given me an idea, but we’ve only a short time to spare.”

  He wound them through the outdoor market, stopping at a table here, a booth there, buying various items that seemed of no value whatsoever. What could the man possibly want with a colorful scarf and a stick of kohl? Or those fancy ribbons and that jug of ale?

  After a while, she had to wonder if he was trying to camouflage their approach toward the castle. Each stop brought them closer. The turrets looming higher. The long line of folks waiting to try their turn with the key nearing every time she glanced over her shoulder.

  At the last vendor, he finally ordered two meat pies wrapped in slippery waxed paper and passed the first one off to her.

  Okay. Now that she got. Her mouth watered and she bit into a warm pocket of savory beef and herbed vegetables, even though the rest of his shopping spree had seemed like nothing but a huge waste of time.

  As it was, the sun was nearly sitting on the horizon. Though once they got inside, it was anyone’s guess when or even if they’d get another meal.

  Shadows lengthened and stretched as they ate. Shop owners lit their oil lamps and, with a final wink from Helios’ bright face, the bell on top of the castle tower tolled the setting hour.

  “Make haste, now. Stay close and keep a watchful eye.” Caedmon settled his hand on her lower back and urged her straight into the mass of haggard people who’d been waiting and waiting for hours.

  Those near the end split off almost immediately, clogging the route to the palace door. But those at the head of the line stayed by the steps, as if hoping the guards would change their minds and let a few stragglers in.

  “Open the doors!” Punching his fist in the air, Caedmon shuffled them closer. Rowena lifted her brows as she was jostled from side to side. Um, really? One more outburst like that, and he was liable to instigate a riot. “We shall not be turned aside!”

  “Yeah.” Several men shoved their arms in the air.

  “Since Apex, I’ve been biding my chance,” a voice called. “Let us in!”

  The two guards on opposite sides of the steps traded a nervous glance and tightened their grips on their lances.

  The shouts grew louder. Unruly. Bodies pressed in on her from all sides.

  Someone shoved her shoulder, and she stumbled. Tripped. The mob pitched and she was lifted off her feet.

  A steel arm snagged her around the waist. A large hand clamped the top of her head and bore down as the crowd’s momentum propelled them forward.

  Caedmon shoved past the heaving throng and barreled into the foyer. People spilled through the door behind them, scattering in every direction. Setting her on her feet, he grabbed her elbow and steered her down the adjacent hall.

  Shouts rang out against the marble columns, echoed from a balcony overhead. Armor jangled. A woman screamed. A battalion of armed guards stormed into the grand hall.

  Nearing the first room on their right, Caedmon tossed open the handle, dragged her inside and slammed the door.

  Heart racing, her breathing labored, Rowena smacked her hand to her chest and collapsed against the wood. “Holy shit, that was epic. Great job.”

  Based on the lutes and gilded harpsichord, the dulcimer and assorted drums hanging on the walls, they’d landed in a performance room of some sort. “Yeah, I like it. But I’m not really sure we have time for a song.”

  Caedmon huffed. “Mayhap on our way out.”

  “Do me a favor? Remind me to never provoke you in a crowd.”

  “Wasted words, my heart.” He winked. “Your nearness alone inflames me in ways beyond measure.”

  She sputtered. And no doubt in more ways than one.

  Heavy footsteps thudded past the door as Caedmon pulled their purchases from his pack. He folded the scarf, placed the edge against his forehead and tied it around his head.

  “Whoa.” She leaned away from him. That was whole lotta sexy gypsy right there.

  A swipe of the kohl across his fingertip, and he scrubbed the black powder over his lids.

  “Um…yum?” She blinked. Probably drooled. And it really was a damn shame they couldn’t risk even ten minutes alone in this room.

  He dug through his bag for the ribbons, spun her by the shoulders and wove them into her braid. A pop of the cork and he doused the front of his chest plate before tipping the neck to his lips for a swallow.

  “Okay. I think I get where this is headed.” Hands on her hips, she lifted a brow. If one of the guards caught them creeping around the castle, they wouldn’t think twice about coming across a drunk gypsy and his girlfriend. Instead of being hauled before Seviere as Prince Caedmon and his white sorceress, they be escorted outside the same as everyone else. “I only have one question. Am I happy or appalled your hands are roaming toward scandalous territory?”

  “Aim for a bit of both.” Caedmon cracked the door and a sliver of torchlight bisected his face. “’Tis an act you already play so well.”

  “Very funny.” She smacked his ass.

  A peck to her lips, he eased the hinges open and, together, they snuck into the hall.

  Staying hot on Caedmon’s heels, she darted from doorway to doorway, ears tuned to the distant shouts of the guards or an occasional burst of laughter. In hallway after hallway, they searched from the ground floor up, trying to figure out if they were anywhere close to getting near the key.

  It had to be centrally located, someplace safe but still open enough to have within easy reach. A room that could handle a steady stream of people, but not so big the guards would lose track of who was doing what.

  Ascending the stairwell to the fifth and final floor, Rowena frowned as the tart aroma of burning incense filled the air. She tapped the side of her nose and pointed toward the corridor it seemed to be strongest. Caedmon nodded and she watched his back as he led the way.

  Around a bend, they pulled up short and lunged for a shallow niche near the gilded frame of a towering scrolled archway.

  This had to be it. A peek around the corner and her heart jammed itself her throat. Shit, at least a dozen men milled around inside the circular antechamber, and if their shaved heads and black robes were anything to go by, the entire group was none other than Gaelleod’s priests.

  Another glance, and her heart pulled a reverse flip and dove directly for the bottom of her feet. And if that wasn’t bad enough, a garrison of palace guards stood at attention around the perimeter, the two biggest galoots standing on opposite sides of an ornately carved door.

  So, now what? She locked eyes with Caedmon and he shook his head, sword perched over his shoulder and grip tight. If she took a wild shot in the dark, the most obvious conclusion was that Seviere ordered both the chest and key locked behind that far door each night. But unless she and Caedmon miraculously came across an invisibility spell, there was no way they making it past all those men.

  Caedmon crept along the wall, spun to face her and risked his own peek inside the room.

  His jaw firmed. “At least fifteen to one. Dire odds, indeed.”

  Pffth. He had to be kidding. “And that’s different from when, exactly?”

  He frowned. “Tell me again what our reasoning was for leaving the Dreggs behind?”

  A laugh bore down on her and she bit her bottom lip, dropping her forehead to his shoulder. His chest bounced and it didn’t help. At all. For God’s sake, this wasn’t the time or place.

  His weight shifted and she lifted her head as his focus darted past her shoulder a sec
ond time. “The far door doesn’t appear to be barred. The priests come and go at their leisure.”

  Whirling him around, she reversed their positions and pressed Caedmon’s back to the wall. Yeah, he was right. The door to the second chamber swung open at regular intervals, the priests coming and going with candles, smoldering thuribles or yellowed scrolls easy as you please.

  One of the guards yawned and scratched his chin. “That dude on the left is half-asleep. If the rest of the guards are as lazy, I could take out four before they even knew what hit ’em.” Plucking two silver stars from her belt, she stepped for the archway. “I’ll create a diversion and you charge straight for the key.”

  Caedmon jerked her back to his chest. “My love—”

  “I know, I know, I favor my left side.” She sized up the rest of the guards. “Just…try not to kill anyone. I would hate to make that little boy upset.”

  His fingertip met her jaw, and he pushed until she met his gaze. “I was about to say, no matter what fate lies ahead, my heart will always be yo—”

  A blur caught the corner of her eye and she stiffened. Caedmon clamped his hand over her mouth. She didn’t dare breathe, didn’t dare move as a steady stream of black-robed priests filed into the hall. If one of them so much as turned their heads…

  A cloying, foul presence coated her skin, and she held back a groan as a wave of nausea bloomed in her belly. Her eyes watered and Caedmon went white as a ghost as the last of the figures floated past.

  Terror gaped its jaws wide. The tension in Caedmon’s hand went slack. A bead of sweat traced down his cheek and a horror unlike any she’d ever witnessed slammed into his dark gaze.

  Gaelleod. He was here.

  She twisted her shoulders, the muscles along her spine protesting as the priests slowly came into view.

  The last of them stopped dead in his tracks. The moment stretched. Torchlight danced along his shiny head as he lifted his face and his demented laugh echoed off the vaulted marble ceiling.

  Goose bumps erupted. A chilled sweat broke over every inch of her skin.

  “Prince Caedmon.” Gaelleod turned. His cracked lips stretched into a ghoulish sneer and a silent shriek pierced the lining of her skull. “How delightful that you’ve come back to me.”

  His black gaze shifted to her and a whimper eked from her throat. “And you’ve brought me a gift.” He tipped his head, dead eyes carving through flesh into her bones. “This, I presume, is the mystifying R…A…L?”

  “Go.” A hard shove and she stumbled sideways. Her foot caught on her cloak and the ground reeled.

  A jolt jarred her shoulders, and she tucked, hoping to absorb the impact. Caedmon’s roar pitched past the top of her head. Hard fingers dug into her sides. She was lifted and tossed through the annex door.

  The two guards straight ahead frowned, but neither moved to unsheathe their weapons. But, then again, why would they? An ale-soaked lunatic and a clumsy woman were no kinda threat.

  “Seize them, you fools.” Gaelleod’s command spurred the guards into action.

  They charged to the center of the room, but their advance was as inept as her bumbling entrance. Too many moved at once. Shoulders bumped and swords tangled as they all vied for position.

  Tearing her cloak off her shoulders, she calculated their size and various angles of attack.

  A combat-ready tranquility flooded her muscles. Two silver blades whirred home to the centers of her palms. Crossing her arms, she widened her stance and eased a calming breath deep into her lungs.

  A twirl and her blade embedded the meaty section of a corded forearm. A spin and she deflected the deadly edge of a sword. The guard behind her reeled back, choking and gurgling. Blood pumped through his fingers. He scrabbled for a hold on his neck.

  The knife in her braid. Holy shit, that worked.

  She dodged his flailing arm, booted his ass and shoved him toward the door. Caedmon leapt aside and the brute sprawled face-first over the threshold. A parried thrust and he delivered a sharp jab to his opponent’s throat. The man’s eyes thunked back in his head. He toppled forward and crashed on top of his bleeding brother.

  “Use them to block the entrance.” Caedmon rammed his elbow into a jaw. Punched the pommel of his sword into another man’s stomach and tossed the guard onto the pile.

  Gaelleod’s priests clamored and howled, struggling to climb over the prone bodies.

  She pivoted and gashed. Spun and sliced. Dodging some and feeding the wounded toward Caedmon to bottleneck the door.

  Grunts punctuated the room as they landed. Blades clanged to the floor. A spine-chilling current exhaled along the nape of her neck and she gritted her teeth as the candles flared with a wraithlike aura. Shit. Gaelleod was about to unleash some bad-ass mojo and three guards still stood in her way.

  A whirl and she raced for the wall. One, two, three—halfway up, she wrenched her shoulders, flying through the air in a back handspring. Shock drained the guard’s face as she landed on his shoulders. She dropped her butt, stretched for the floor and heaved.

  He soared over her, slammed into the two remaining men and they crashed in a heap to the ground.

  Caedmon was at her side before she’d made it to her feet. “To the key. Now.”

  Magic crackled along her arms. Sparks danced before her eyes as she twisted the handle.

  “You go to your death.” Gaelleod writhed his hands. A ball of wizard’s fire grew between his palms. “There is no future where I will not find you.”

  She seized Caedmon’s arm and dragged him into the second chamber. He snapped the bolt, tucked her against his body and they dove, arms outstretched, for the floor.

  Blue-white light seared the crack between the hinges. A bone-jarring quake shuddered the walls. Knees folded to her chest, Rowena covered her head with her arms.

  Gray smoke crept under the jamb. She coughed and waved her hand in front of her face. A moment later, thick fists rattled and pounded the frame.

  “It’s still intact.” Caedmon leapt to his feet. “We must find something to barricade the door.”

  A shrill whine pinged in her ears. The floor pitched as she crawled to her knees and fought to get her bearings.

  Chests were scattered everywhere. Wooden tops flipped open like legless mismatched chairs. Some held treasure. Others scrolled parchments or piles of bones. But none were big enough to block the entrance unless they were stacked.

  A quick spin on her knee and she froze. Then frowned.

  “Your armoire.” Just as Caedmon spoke over her shoulder. “My armoire.”

  She tipped her head back. Their eyes locked and realization clicked home.

  “Braedric.” And once again, they spoke at the same time.

  But there was no one else who could’ve made sure Caedmon’s armoire was delivered to Castle Seviere. Braedric was the one who had ordered Caedmon’s chambers sealed after she’d requested her own set of rooms. He was the one who’d sent his hashishans to their camp and commanded the rogue Dreggs to attack when Caedmon rode out with the key.

  The only thing she still didn’t understand was why.

  Scrunching her face in a grimace, Rowena pinched the bridge of her nose. What could the reigning prince possibly stand to gain by aligning himself with the enemy? He had his own country, for God’s sake. His actions just didn’t make any—

  A crack splintered the door and she was on her feet, racing for the far side of the room.

  Didn’t matter. The bigger issue was making sure Seviere’s men didn’t make it inside.

  Working together, she and Caedmon heaved and shoved, pushed and pulled until the armoire stood centered before the entrance.

  The pounding stopped. Muffled cursing echoed from the opposite side and slowly faded.

  O-o-okay? Whatever the heck that was about.

  Filling his lungs, Caedmon nodded and swiped his forearm across his brow. “That seems to have deterred their efforts. For now.”

  “Yeah, but why?�
� That was the real question. Not to mention how they were gonna get out of this room. She scanned the stained-glass ceiling, the bizarre assortment of religious artifacts aligned along the altar. “And what about the key? I don’t see it anywhere, do you?”

  Scrubbing his hand over his jaw, Caedmon frowned at the armoire. He snapped his fingers, strode forward and pressed a small oval plate hidden in scrollwork above the doors.

  An internal whirring sounded and a small wooden door sprang open, disguised by a square rosette above the top-left hinge. Reaching inside, he smiled. Pulled out a long gold chain and, dangling from the end, a thick golden key.

  Holy hell. There was no simply way. “How did you even know it was in there?”

  He wagged his brows. “You must wear the key to find out.”

  Arms extended, the necklace twined through his fingers, he closed the distance and lifted the key over her head.

  But… “Hold on.” She placed her hand on his chest.

  His entire body tensed. He tentatively backed up a step. One glance at her face and his arms dropped as if they’d been filled with lead.

  “Hold on?” Searching her eyes, he cocked a brow. His jaw clenched and she shrank in her boots as a muscle ticked near his temple. “Would you care to explain the exact nature of our delay?”

  Yeah, crap. This was bound to go over like a Dregg in heat.

  “Okay, the thing is… I mean, I recently decided…”

  “Yes?” He crossed his arms.

  “That I don’t really need it. Exactly.”

  “What?” Stalking away from her, he ripped the scarf off his head and shook it in his fist. “Of all the infuriating, confounding lunacy, why not?”

  “I just don’t, Caedmon.” She opened her hands and lifted them as if they somehow held the answer. “I don’t need the past any more. The only thing that matters to me is you. Us. Our future together in this time. Don’t you see? You’ve already given me everything I’ve ever wanted. And that’s more than enough. Because I happen to be head over heels in love with you.”

  He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Standing in front of her, nothing but a long dark tower of simmering angst.