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

by AJ Nuest

  Rowena’s heart skipped a beat, even though everyone knew Oliver’s suggestion was impossible. For her to accept would only negate every good and decent thing she and Caedmon were trying to accomplish. Every principle they believed in would become a lie. The Austiere Kingdom would get caught in the crosshairs and, in the end, they’d be no less selfish than Braedric.

  Stepping forward, she held his cheek and smiled over the hard knot crowding the base of her throat. Never, in her wildest dreams, would she be able to thank God enough for bringing him into her life. Regardless of what happened next, there was one thing she knew for sure.

  Oliver would always be her big brother. “I’ve never done things the easy way, Ollie. I don’t see why this time should be any different.”

  “But…I love you.” Snagging her around the waist, he jerked her close. Jon joined in their hug and the three of them shared a moment of inconsolable heartbreak. “The thought of you traipsing off to get yourself killed is ripping my heart out.”

  A tear crept from under her lashes. He was right, of course. Saying goodbye tore her heart out, too. “A war is raging, Ollie. One that I’m a part of whether I like it or not.” Offering her other hand to Caedmon, she smiled softly as he clasped it in his. “But I’ve got everything to live for. I promise you, I’m not going down without a fight.”

  “And I shall go to my death defending her.”

  A wail broke from Jon’s throat, his shoulders shaking so hard, she bounced. Clearing the tears from her cheeks, Rowena stepped back and rolled her lips to stifle a chuckle.

  “How will we know?” Jon honked loudly into his tissue. “If you beat this Braedric asshole, is there any way we’ll be able to tell?”

  She smiled. At least, in this one thing, she could give them the answer. “The armoire will swing closed and stay that way. If we win…” Shaking her head, she glanced at Caedmon. “After we win, Caedmon and I will make sure both the chest and key are hidden away someplace safe. Until their power is forgotten and so I can find the key like I did two years ago in this time.”

  Oliver wrinkled his nose. “It’s exactly this kind of twisted logic that makes my head hurt.”

  They shared a quiet laugh as she ran her palm past his wrist to squeeze his fingers.

  “Well…” He opened his arms and she went in for one last parting hug. “This seems like a horrible thing to say, but I sure hope I never see you again.”

  “Now that’s where you’re wrong.” Twining her fingers through Caedmon’s, Rowena left Oliver standing beside Jon and turned toward the shimmering glass. She dropped a wink over her shoulder and grinned as another tear fell. “We’re going into the past, remember? Don’t worry, Ollie. It’s only a matter of time before you and I meet and become best friends.”

  With a nod toward her prince, she faced the mirror and they leapt.

  The roar of fleeting centuries washed past her ears. Oiled machinery. The coppery scent of spilled blood. Broken promises and the sweet bloom of wishes granted.

  The light distorted and stretched. A dazzling halo sparked along the top of Caedmon’s head. In the distance, a focused pinpoint emerged.

  They lurched and spun. Caedmon seized her in his arms and she held tight to his shoulders. Vaulting ass over tea kettle, they landed in a bone-jarring heap inside the domed chamber of Seviere’s castle.

  Her head throbbed as she rolled off of Caedmon and blinked toward the glass ceiling. Fiery magenta streaked through the sky, mingled like watercolor with deep azure blue. Near the horizon, a sprinkling of white stars winked into non-existence one by one.

  Sunrise. It was just before dawn.

  Groaning, she sat up and then smacked her hand to the top of her head. The floor pitched and she gritted her teeth as her stomach heaved. “Good grief. I wonder if traveling through dimensions is something a person ever gets used to.”

  Smacking his lips, Caedmon turned his head. His brow twitched, pupils dilating as he dragged his focus up her naked body.

  “Please tell me you’re joking.” She shoved his arm.

  His chuckle grew to a moan, and he placed his hand on his chest.

  Behind her, the armoire still stood in front of the door, their clothes and supplies lying in a crumpled pile under the mirror. Around the room, the chests remained open and a fine layer of dust coated the black cloth running the altar.

  Huh. Apparently, Gaelleod and his minions had never figured out how to get inside their inner sanctum. Reaching for her leather cat suit, Rowena worked the pants onto her legs. Not surprising, considering he probably didn’t want to risk damaging the armoire, though that certainly didn’t solve the problem of how she and Caedmon were going to sneak out of this room…or the castle.

  Pushing to her knees, she wriggled the tight leather up her sides and shoved her arms into the sleeves. Man, it was downright odd how a simple change of clothes could make her feel like herself again. She jerked on the laces to tighten them over her breasts. God, it was good to be home.

  Her spine wrenched and she glanced toward Caedmon, leather breeches already tied at his hips and tugging his black boots onto his feet. Before he’d come back to her, she couldn’t begin to overstate how much she hated it here. Her sole focus had been how fast she could find an escape.

  And now, only when everything she stood to lose hung in the balance did she realize how much she’d come to love this place. Braedric, Seviere, Gaelleod…they threatened not only Caedmon’s kingdom but quite possibly the future of the entire Austiere race.

  Despite the risks, she was going to do whatever it took to protect what was hers. A sneer curled her lip as she secured her weapons and stepped into her boots. If their enemies wanted a fight, then they’d better have their shit locked down tight. With God as her witness, she was going to rain down a wrath of destruction that would make them shudder at the thought of ever pissing her off again.

  Striding toward the altar, she snatched a brass thurible off its stand and swung the incense burner on the chain. A pump of her wrist, and it swung faster. The momentum built and she smiled as it rotated a complete circle.

  Muted pink rays from the rising sun glinted off the brass surface. The speed built and formed a strobing streak of light. The thrumming pulse of the chain increased and she braced her wrist with her hand.

  A grunt punched from her throat as she tossed the missile as hard as she could into the air. It flew toward the glass roof, tinked against a pane and careened toward the ground without doing a bit of damage.

  Shit. Covering her head, she braced for the crash. The burner exploded on impact and sprayed ashes all over the place.

  Well, so much for that idea.

  Adjusting one of his vambraces, Caedmon stepped to her side. He squinted at the dome ceiling and crossed his arms.

  She nudged the damaged lump of brass with the toe of her boot. “Okay, so, either this isn’t heavy enough, the glass is too thick or I just don’t have the strength to smash through.”

  One of his brows rose. “Or this chamber is guarded by a spell.”

  Aw, crap. She slumped.

  Leaning over, Caedmon plucked the chain off the ground, swung the thurible and repeated her maneuver, lobbing it high into the air. A loud clang vibrated the window pane and Rowena clapped her hands over her ears.

  The brass burner clattered to the ground but, again, not so much as a scratch dented the surface of the glass. “If everyone in the castle wasn’t already awake, they are now.”

  Scanning the room, she considered and discarded several other objects. Of the ones that were small enough, none of them looked sturdy or heavy enough to break through.

  A tick sounded overhead and she flinched, knees bent, ready to dive for cover in case the glass had finally cracked and was preparing to shatter.

  The flutter of brown wings caught the corner of her eye, and she slowly stood. Dart pecked the glass from his perch on one of the curved metal support beams and another tick echoed throughout the room.

 
; “Holy shit. I can’t believe it.” Though why she should be surprised that big beautiful bird had come to her rescue seemed stupid the second the words left her mouth.

  Cocking his head, he stared at her with one shiny black eye. Time and again, he’d proven how smart he was, and had always had her back no matter what.

  “Can you command him from here?” Placing a flat hand to his brow, Caedmon shielded his eyes from the rising sun.

  But before she could even try, Dart took wing and soared south. His body shrank to a dark pinprick in the distance and Rowena sighed.

  So much for Plan B.

  Caedmon glanced from side to side, nostrils flaring as he deeply inhaled. “Do you detect an odd aroma? A fell odor is permeating this chamber.”

  A spin toward the door, and her stomach performed a swan dive worthy of Olympic gold.

  “They heard us.” Gray vapors crept under the seam, blanketing the floor in a faint smog. “Wild shot in the dark here, but I’m guessing Gaelleod is right outside, pumping some sort of noxious poison into this room.”

  “They also attack from above.”

  She whirled a second time and tracked Caedmon’s line of sight through the ceiling.

  No, no, this couldn’t be happening. Above the trees, an inky black cloud formed near the edge of the forest, but that just didn’t make any sense. Far as she knew, Seviere’s army didn’t have the capacity for flight. Unless…

  Oh no. She grabbed Caedmon’s bicep as the strength left her knees. Reddeck had told them a band of rogue Dreggs had split from the clan, and Seviere had them all prepped and ready to go for the second she and Caedmon jumped back through the mirror.

  A sickly sweet film coated the inside of her mouth. She swallowed and coughed as it trickled down the back of her throat. God dammit, they’d stepped right into Seviere’s trap. Pressing the back of her hand to her nose, she frantically searched for something—anything—they could use to smash the glass. A hidden doorway or window they might’ve missed.

  “Wait, look again.” Seizing her shoulder, Caedmon pointed at the sky. “There, in the lead.”

  The Dregg formation shifted, forming a massive black arrow. And riding a draft out in front, her white and brown-spotted falcon led the way.

  “Oh, thank God.” Tears stung her eyes and she wavered unsteadily, stumbling forward then back. Those weren’t Braedric’s Dreggs, they were hers.

  Her breath soured her tongue. Weird pounding echoed under a loud whine in her ears. A glance at Caedmon, and any hope she had of staying conscious was snuffed out like a flame in the wind.

  His skin was pasty. Sweat beaded on his neck. He locked onto her and panic gripped her chest as he crumpled to his knees.

  Seismic gongs resonated overhead. The Dreggs bombarded the metal beams, landing one after the next, leathery wings a sea of ridged umbrellas against a canvas of cornflower blue.

  The sound waves rattled her bones. Thick fists hailed against the ceiling. Glass shattered and needled barbs plunged down like acid rain on her face.

  Wait. Before it was too late. They couldn’t leave without the armoire. If it stayed with Gaelleod, they’d were screwed.

  Reddeck hammered to the chamber floor and the earth quaked under her feet. Her lips moved. But no sound emerged. A reach for him with her dead arm and gravity disappeared.

  She fell.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Crouched amid the thick forest bordering the Austiere castle grounds, Caedmon filled his lungs to their full capacity and slowly exhaled. On her knees at his side, his love breathed deep and mimicked his grateful sigh.

  He stole a quick taste of her lips and she shared with him a smile of mutual understanding. Never before had the simple act of drawing air seemed such a blessing. If not for the Dreggs’ aptly timed arrival, they would have assuredly fallen prey to the sedating qualities of Gaelleod’s evil fog.

  Once removed from the debilitating fumes inside Seviere’s inner chamber, Caedmon’s faculties had gradually returned, aided by the high, clear winds buffeting his cheeks as the Dregg legions had arrowed them toward the Black Forest. Rowena’s eyes had sparked alert and aware as well by the time they’d landed and, after a small sip of the sacred water she’d procured from the Pool of Tears, the last of the poison’s symptoms had departed their systems.

  Without haste, they had secured their mounts and made to ride for the realm of Austiere.

  Though more cumbersome on land, the Dreggs had agreed to follow on foot, and upon their arrival outside the gates, Caedmon had never been more thankful for the thick trees masking the number of their approach.

  Three days he and his lady had been missing and, though he was not surprised to learn as much, it seemed Braedric had used their absence to his fullest advantage. In the time they had skulked along the forest edge, not once had a garrison of Austiere guards ridden out for their regular patrols. And the archers whom usually stood watch on the high bastions of the crenellated walls were suspiciously absent.

  Chains jangled and the pointed spikes of the Austiere portcullis grated against stone as the drawbridge gaped a toothless yawn from its upright position. Adrenaline surged through his veins and he squinted at the high-spirited steeds of the emerging riders.

  The only activity which occurred with any regularity?

  The periodic dispatching of Braedric’s venomous black-robed assassins.

  “Stand at the ready.” Drawing his sword, Caedmon fisted the hilt in his hand. “They come.”

  “And remember, we don’t want them dead.” Rowena flicked her wrists and her silver blades sprang forth into the centers of her palms. “We just need their clothes and to keep them quiet.”

  Given the grim undertone of Violet’s prophecy, if he and his lady hoped to avoid arrest, they must sneak inside the castle undetected. Hasten to the king’s bedside and detail everything they’d learned during their stay in her realm.

  Somewhat more than the dire illness of a failing king was remiss inside Castle Austiere, and the only way to determine the certainty behind such an ominous event was to gain a much-needed audience with the king.

  The thunder of approaching hooves vibrated the center of his chest. The first of five hashishans crashed into the forest and branches snapped as the Dreggs lunged in on all sides.

  A volley of chittering shrieks rent the air as their sharp talons scored the ground. The horses reared in a frenzied panic and dislodged their riders.

  Shoving through the snarling Dreggs, Caedmon swept the edge of his blade to within a breath of the lead rider’s neck. “Afternoon, gentlemen. Care to loan us your attire?”

  With nary a word between them, the five men scrambled to their feet and hastily disrobed.

  Caedmon and his lady donned the voluminous uniforms of their hostages. A quick rustle through their supplies and they rimmed their eyes with the kohl from his pack and rode at full speed for the gates.

  Not one glance was spared in their direction as he and Rowena dismounted inside the courtyard. Even as they ascended the stairs and entered the castle proper, the threat of discovery vacated his list of worries in favor of other, more vexing, concerns.

  None amongst the royal guard attended their stations and, in their place, Braedric’s shrouded heathens teemed throughout the halls.

  Muttering a curse, Caedmon strode directly for the grand double staircase. Their numbers far exceeded his earlier estimation. How and, even more importantly, in what dark corner had Braedric been secreting these men?

  Most milled about in loosely knit groups, and not the least of them bore the anxious mannerisms which oft accompanied a kingdom teetering upon the brink of war. A glance toward his love and the smoldering fury in her gaze confirmed every last one of Caedmon’s suspicions.

  The wheels to Braedric’s treasonous plot had been set in motion far longer than a single season ago.

  “Some of them seem familiar.” Clearing her throat, she kept her footfalls measured and even as they ascended to the firs
t landing. “Look at their eyes, Caedmon. I could swear several are recruits from the royal guard.”

  A garrison passed and he scanned their faces before jerking his focus to the next set of stairs. Half, if not more, of the brows above the veiled faces bore the lighter skin of his father’s lineage, the hue of their kohl-rimmed eyes glinting either green or blue.

  A conversion, then. The lesser ranks of the royal guard had joined with Braedric’s henchmen.

  Dread knotted his gut and he gritted his teeth over how such an unwelcome transformation had occurred in a mere span of days. Great tits of the nine, where was Denmar? He would have never willingly allowed such an incursion of his domain.

  “For God’s sake, has Braedric already claimed the throne?” Head down, Rowena side-stepped three scimitar-laden hashishans walking shoulder to shoulder along the corridor. “Are we too late?”

  Sweat trickled down Caedmon’s back and he increased his pace. “Let us pray not.”

  Though he could not deny, his love had honed in on the only credible explanation. Of course the guard would take up arms in a way which best served their king. Moreover, their nonchalance was a direct reflection of their sovereign’s apathetic demeanor.

  Why should they suffer preparation for battle when the king had not yet ordered them to war?

  A brown-eyed viper approached and Caedmon fisted his hands against the urge to seize the man and choke some answers from his throat. What contract had Braedric signed with Seviere? Why were the walls left undefended?

  And what of his kinsmen, those loyal to King Austiere? Where and how had Braedric disposed of the elder, more-seasoned guard?

  Leaping the final staircase two steps at a time, Caedmon started briskly down the hall toward the king’s chambers. The moment he’d seen to his father’s health, he would search out Denmar and make his return known. They must plot how best to safeguard their people before Seviere stormed the gates unopposed.