“Take the wheel,” he shouted, startling Mariel from her song.
Eyes growing wide, she hurried to do so, holding the wheel steady so he could strip off his shirt, revealing his arm bands. They were there to protect his body from the full brunt of Aelynn’s strength, allowing the power to pour into the shield rather than him.
Trystan spread his arms above his head to take the full impact of Aelynn’s force. Lightning crackled through his blood and radiated from his pores. The bands on his upper arms caught the energy and multiplied it, feeding and fortifying the invisible force that would guard the island for another moon cycle. The rush of power reinvigorated his energy, set the hairs of his arms on end, and produced the golden glow of sunlight like an aurora around him. Once again, he rejoiced in his ability to perform his duty.
Throwing his head back, boots firmly planted on the deck, he parted the shield in front of the sloop, allowing Mariel to pass through without harm. No loud boom permeated the air this time. Aelynn accepted his amacara.
With a sweep of his hands, he closed the barrier behind them again, and gave thanks to Aelynn for her help and guidance.
Then he reclaimed the wheel, brushing a kiss of thanks across Mariel’s brow. The golden aura surrounding him would fade within minutes, but he basked in her awe and appreciation now. Mariel’s earlier song had seemed to add speed and potency to his task, and he smiled at her, nodding for her to look behind them.
Aelynn’s fog shimmered with the rainbow colors of happiness. She cried out in excitement and surprise. He’d always thrilled in his duty, but he swelled with pride at Mariel’s admiration.
She touched his bare chest, and the contact surged with electricity. She jerked her hand back, then daringly kissed him where her hand had stroked.
Trystan thought he would surely go up in flames. To his relief, she laughingly darted back to her post to help guide the sloop through the final strait.
Iason and Lissandra, the Oracle’s son and daughter, waited at the dock as the sloop sailed into the calm, turquoise waters of the bay.
Lissandra wore her golden hair secured with tortoise shell combs, but the breeze still tugged at loose curls. She looked like a goddess, but Trystan didn’t experience the same warmth of desire for her that he did just thinking about Mariel.
A traitorous whisper in his head wondered what it would be like to marry Mariel instead of Lissandra, to have her in his bed, sharing his home and life. She would bring him joy and terror, as she had these past days, but with the emotional whirlwind there would also be this deep, abiding affection that Lissandra did not generate.
But Lissandra was the island’s future, and so must he be.
The Oracle’s daughter crossed her bare arms over her tunic in a gesture that conveyed both defiance and disapproval, and Trystan’s heart sank. Wooing her for his wife had just multiplied in difficulty—she had “seen” why he’d returned with a live mermaid.
Iason walked out on the dock to help Mariel make the leap from the sloop. Both tall, slender, and dark-haired, the Oracle’s son and Mariel made a picture-perfect couple, and Trystan felt the cold bite of jealousy—until Mariel turned a laughing smile in his direction. In that moment he realized she had not looked at another man since he’d met her—despite the array of eligible males that she’d encountered.
He knew it was not a noble sentiment, but he could not deny his satisfaction.
Stepping up to the dock, Trystan clasped Mariel’s waist and calmly handed the sack bearing the chalice to Iason. “You may have missed this by now.”
Surprisingly, Iason gave the sack little notice. “Not so much as you might have thought,” he murmured, eyeing the two of them with interest.
Shocked by Iason’s nonchalance toward the sacred object, Trystan changed the subject to one of most importance to him. “We are returned and ready to say our vows.”
The Oracle’s son lifted his dark eyebrows. “That is a change of heart since last we saw the two of you. Does the mermaiden agree and promise not to steal away again?”
Mariel’s smile could have blinded the sun had it not been setting behind the mountain. “I am ready, but I shall always come and go as I please.”
“I think not,” Lissandra murmured silkily, crossing the sand to meet them. “You misunderstand the forces here if you believe you have any choice in the matter.”
***
In another time and place, Mariel might have been intimidated by the golden goddess who apparently wielded powers which awed even men. But she’d just seen Trystan’s full powers in the setting sun, saw how he’d drawn energy from the land, saw the marvelously strong man that he was, and understood his responsibilities. She admired a man of his greatness for still accepting her after enduring all the trouble that she’d brought down upon his head.
And she knew he would never allow harm come to her.
She nodded acknowledgment of the other woman’s declaration. “Admittedly, there is much I do not understand,” she agreed. “And I regret any trouble I may have caused you. But I cannot regret what I did if it means my friends and family will not starve. Do I owe you an apology for being what you are not?”
Trystan coughed and Iason chuckled. Lissandra granted them haughty glares.
“Aelynn does not bestow miracles without a price, as you have already discovered. You would do well to anticipate what additional cost you must pay. I am needed elsewhere this evening, so I will bid you good fortune on your mating and blessings on the child to be conceived. Good day.” She nodded regally, and without waiting for their reaction, glided into the long shadows thrown by the jungle.
Lissandra knew they had returned as mates. Mariel glanced at Trystan to see if he regretted his decision, but he wasn’t even watching his intended. He was smiling down on her, and she basked in his admiration.
“Forgive my sister,” Iason said stiffly, shifting the sack with the chalice to his shoulder. “She lives with the pain of too much knowledge and does not always know how to hold it back.”
“Nor does she care to learn how,” Trystan replied with a shrug. “You do not need to make excuses for Lissandra. She is what she is. I never meant to add to her pain.”
Mariel wrapped her fingers around Trystan’s arm. “I think she brings the pain upon herself,” she said softly, feeling for the right words. “Holding herself aloof is how she has learned to deal with what she sees, but it hurts.”
Iason looked upon her with a glint of admiration. “You understand more than you think if you know that much. Lissandra could never have bonded with Trystan as you have. She would not have allowed it.”
He looked at Trystan. “But my sister is right. You have made a choice for which you must pay, and it is too late to change your mind. You will want to see your friends and family before you make this commitment. I will take Mariel to the temple.”
With his free hand, he gently tugged Mariel from Trystan’s arm. She threw a look of panic over her shoulder as Trystan stepped away, effectively abandoning her to this stranger.
In the fading sunlight, her bold, brave, giant of a mate looked grave, and sadness colored his eyes. Or was that regret? She could not tell. The distance and the shadows between them were too great as Iason hurried her toward the jungle path she remembered too well.
And did not remember at all.
Lush leaves shut out the last rays of twilight, but Iason led the way without hesitation. Fireflies flitted among the vegetation, flashing against the luminous reds and yellows and whites of the flowers she could smell more than see. Exotic aromas filled her senses, and perhaps she remembered that most of all. They reminded her of the musky scents of sex and perfumed soap and instantly aroused her despite her fear.
“You have nothing to fear,” Iason said, as if reading her mind. “You will see Trystan again tomorrow at moonrise if my mother approves the match.”
“Tomorrow? Why not tonight? I must return home as quickly as possible,” she argued in panic. She had been impris
oned here once. Had she trusted Trystan only to be imprisoned again? Was that what his eyes had been telling her?
“You both need rest,” he said reasonably enough. “The ceremony is not brief, and we must give the gods time to choose your child. We are not so very different from your people. Trystan’s friends will wish to ply him with strong drink and say farewell to his bachelor ways.”
He halted to regard her with a worried frown. “You do understand this is not a casual thing you do? If Trystan had wanted a mistress, he could have taken you as your grandfather took your grandmother. Or he could have returned you here and handed you to the Oracle to do with as she pleased. The bond you will make tomorrow is permanent. It cannot be cast off, even in his absence.”
Mariel sniffed in disparagement. “You have not suffered this amacara bond, have you? If you had, you would know you are telling me nothing new.”
She could feel Trystan under her skin even as they spoke. She’d felt him in the fog that guarded the island. He was a constant warmth in her chest and womb.
Just watching him sail his sloop had been an erotic experience beyond any she could possibly dream. She had seen him naked and knew the lean golden flesh and muscle concealed beneath his clothes. When he’d fastened his heated gaze on her over those long hours, it had been easy to imagine him steering his will directly toward her. It was like watching two ships on a collision course. Soon, they would both be in pieces.
“The gods grant strength to those they tear asunder,” Iason said, shifting the chalice and returning to half dragging her down the path. “You will find you are stronger as one whole than separate halves.”
“Are you reading my mind?” she demanded, too agitated to be polite.
“You are practically screaming your thoughts. I cannot help it,” he apologized. “I am usually quite good at shutting out other people, but admittedly, I do not often come in contact with Others. Your mind is more open and accessible than ours.”
“I do not thank you for that knowledge,” she grumbled. “That will assuredly drive off any intimate thoughts I might have.”
He chuckled. “By the time you see Trystan again, you will have forgotten my existence. My mother has been Oracle for forty years and grows weary of the burden, but she still enjoys the anointing ceremony that brings new life to our old world. She will prepare you.”
“You’re all very certain about this ceremony, aren’t you? I have known couples who have been married a lifetime and never had a child. I do not believe in magic or your gods, and I cannot believe one night in your temple ensures any such thing.”
“It would not for just anyone. It will for amacaras, whose bodies are meant to be mated. You do not have to believe. It will happen. You must simply prepare yourself and be ready. Trystan is a wealthy man. Afterward, he can take you into town and let you choose a house you may furnish as you desire. The child will need many things when it enters this world.”
Another statement bound to cause her panic. Mariel wanted to dig in her heels and halt this rush toward destiny, but Iason’s pull was too strong. Trystan’s pull was too strong. She could not turn back.
“I will not be staying here,” she asserted, just to prove she was still herself and not a broodmare for these people.
Iason halted so quickly she almost smashed into him.
“I was afraid Lissandra was right.” His dark eyes glowed in the moonlight filtering through the fern trees. “Her visions are prophetic but seldom clear. She says the children in our future will be born on the edges of hell. I knew she did not mean here.”
“Here is a beautiful prison,” Mariel retorted, the words coming to her tongue without thought. “The real world, the one we must make better, is outside your walls.”
That was not a thought she’d ever had reason to think in her life, but as soon as it was said, she could see that it was true.
Even Iason nodded thoughtfully in acknowledgment. “You are possibly right. Trystan thinks that Lissandra shares his vision of the future, but secretly, she views the world beyond the Guardian’s shield as hell, because she does not understand it.”
“Then it’s time she learned. Education and experience are the first step toward understanding.” Deciding she’d had enough of this weirdness, Mariel pulled her arm free of his grip and marched on ahead of him, drawn to her fate by the shining stone temple ahead.
Iason cautiously kept the chalice in his possession when he turned Mariel over to his mother.
Twenty-seven
The usual noisy arguments, drunken song, and clatter of mugs in Teutor’s Tavern ground to a halt when Trystan entered. Evidently, word of his arrival and his predicament had already spread throughout the bachelor village.
“Did I sprout horns while I was gone?” he asked dryly of his audience, signaling Teutor’s wife for a tankard of the island’s ale.
“Lissandra’s bedded no other man, if that is what you ask,” Waylan answered, breaking the silence and allowing the murmur of gossip and clink of glasses to begin again. “But methinks we see a golden chain wrapped around your John Peter. Do we say farewell to another of our merry band of bachelors?”
Trystan tried not to wince at the image as he accepted his tankard and shoved his way to the bar beside his friend. But his John Peter twitched and his thoughts instantly traveled to Mariel. Golden chains didn’t begin to explain the bond between them.
“Marriage isn’t in the plans,” he said coolly, refusing to allow his friends to crawl under his already crowded skin. Even as he denied marriage with Mariel, he couldn’t find the words to explain why. He phrased his mating in ways they could grasp. “But Aelynn may have another L’Enforcer in the spring.”
Shouts of “L’Enforcer!” and “Amacara!” rang through the room, along with the crashing of tankard against tankard. Waylan clanked his mug to Trystan’s, and Nevan slapped his back so hard, Trystan nearly spewed his ale.
“Congratulations. She’s a beauty. You are fortunate to find such a one in the Other World. May the two of you breed a multitude of talented L’Enforcers to shield Aelynn into the future.” Nevan signaled for another round. “Keep them coming, Trudy! We must see Trystan into fatherhood and give him strength for the coming night.”
“An aching head won’t give me strength,” Trystan commented, but he accepted the second round after throwing back the first. The next twenty-four hours would be long, and he wasn’t feeling patient.
He dismissed Lissandra’s vague warning about the price he would have to pay. She would do better to keep her obscure predictions to herself if she couldn’t interpret what she saw, and to Hades with her if she merely meant to play with his mind.
“It’s not your head that’s needed when the moon rises,” Kiernan, the Finder, jested, echoing Trystan’s thoughts. “The part with the golden chain attached works fine without thinking.”
Laughter erupted and the jests turned bawdy—as if Trystan needed encouragement to think of the night ahead when he could have Mariel in any way his imagination conjured. His loins would burst with need before then.
Oddly, lusty thoughts did not ease the hollow ache left by Mariel’s absence. The tavern filled with his friends was no longer sufficient companionship. The pastimes that had once made him yearn for home now seemed juvenile and lacking in ways he could not quite identify.
Perhaps a real round of swordsmanship, instead of that tepid encounter with the duc’s guard, would let off some steam and keep him from thinking too much about what Mariel was doing now….
“Mayhap you’d have a woman, too, if you thought with your head instead of your balls,” Trystan countered, releasing his rapier and stepping back.
“I have more brains in my nose than you have in your balls,” Kiernan returned with the senseless boast of too much ale, reaching for his own weapon. “And I’ll prove it.”
“To arms! To arms!” Waylan shouted as Kiernan and Trystan squared off, rapiers reflecting lamplight.
With shouts and laugh
ter, the all-male crowd spilled into the street.
***
“I’m relieved to find you still here,” the Oracle said dryly, entering the chamber as Mariel blinked awake.
The cave had no windows, but somehow, Mariel knew it was dawn. She’d slept away her first hours in Trystan’s mystical home.
The tall lady in brown robes held out a pewter goblet. She wore her thick, silver hair stacked loosely on top of her regal head, as if she ought to be wearing a crown instead of acting as servant. “This should refresh you. You needed rest before we could begin.”
Mariel rubbed her eyes, brushed hair from her face, and tried to adjust to this new and strange environment. “How do I know it’s dawn?” she asked sleepily, reaching for the goblet.
“Aelynn tells you. This is good. It means you are truly connected to us, and bodes well for your bond with Trystan.”
Dylys sensibly said nothing further while Mariel sipped juice that tasted as she imagined ambrosia would taste. She glanced at the milky orange liquid in surprise. “What is this?”
“Unobtainable anywhere else in the world,” Dylys said. “Mostly, it is oranges, lemons, and coconut juice. But I must teach you a lifetime of lessons in a day, so I have added ingredients granted to us by the Ancients.”
“The Ancients?” Mariel sipped the drink more carefully. After this past exhausting week, her strength ought to be flagging by now. But the juice flowed through her blood with swifter effect than strong wine.
The Oracle arranged a tray of hot rolls and honey at a cupboard on the rocky wall. “The Ones Who Came Before Us. We do not have time for lengthy explanations, but the chalice is one of the many artifacts they have given us to guard and use wisely. You see their work in the standing stones of your own home. Have you never wondered how such immense stones could have been carried from so far away?”
“I had not realized they came from anywhere else but some poor farmer’s field, although I did wonder why anyone would waste so much energy standing them on end. They make a poor foundation for a house.” Mariel tore into the roll offered and let the exquisite bread melt in her mouth. She would be tempted to stay in Trystan’s home for the bread alone.
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