Timeless (Maiden Of Time Book 3)

by Crystal Collier

  “That I can promise.”

  Lucian turned to her. “Alexia, dost thou promise in the sight of God that thou wilt keep him as thy husband; that thou wilt have him and hold him in faith and fidelity, in health and sickness, and in all other misfortunes; and that either for better or for worse, thou wilt not replace him with another, all the days of thy life?”

  “It is my vow, yes.”

  Kiren lifted an eyebrow at her. She could almost hear the question in his stare—that she would marry another one day and make this very same pledge. How could she mean it? Although she wished to enlighten him, she held her tongue.

  He loosened the girder about his tunic, took her hand, and wrapped the rope around their wrists. She steadied, readying for the rush of the binding.

  A gentle warmth settled upon her, like the touch of cherubs, but not the enveloping rapture of her first marriage. Kiren gulped, his chest rising and falling as though he’d swum the entire English Channel. The glow of Alexia’s skin seeped into his wrist and spread, and with it, her awareness of him—like opening her eyes for the first time. She saw all of him. The trepidation in his soul grazed her heart—the uncertainty brought on by this step, the need for her, the hope and fear for keeping her alive. He profoundly adored her. She couldn’t look on him as ignorantly as she had, and she couldn’t look upon his scarred cheek at all.

  She hated that she’d done that to him. Her eyes stung with tears.

  Kiren lifted her chin, tenderness filling his sea. He shone, like when they first met, a light that elevated him in a dark world, one that set him apart.

  She gasped. He had been married to her all along. Those years he watched her grow, he knew he was gazing upon his wife, even if she hadn’t yet been married to him. How it must have tortured him! As it had tortured her these last months.

  She reached out and traced his jaw, the pucker of skin, the permanent damage she had done. His breath tickled her skin. It hitched.

  “Finish it.” His brows lowered.

  He wasn’t speaking to her. Alexia glanced at Lucian, his mouth hanging open.

  Light permeated the camp, like a miniature sun had taken residence in their bound wrists. They two put the fires to shame like a pair of fallen angels. Everyone watched them, eyes wide.

  “M-may God confirm the marriage contracted between you. You are now man and wife.”

  Kiren pulled Alexia near, grinning, and kissed her hard for everyone to see.

  Forty-Eight

  To War

  Kiren was a fool. A complete fool. A brainless bobbywagger who’d pledged his soul for an hour of gratification.

  He kissed Alexia deeper, running a hand down the curve of her hip. Fool or no, he wouldn’t reverse his decision today. They were alone in the silence of the trees, but he didn’t care if they occupied the highest spire of the Vatican. He’d want her just as badly.

  Alexia pulled free, panting. “Much more of that and we will fall too far to rise.”

  “I will fall with you.” He chased her lips and she backed away, pulling his wrist with her. They were still tied together. Under tradition, a couple was bound until their relationship had been consummated, until they were truly one. He hadn’t thought about that either before promising Amos he would agree to these terms.

  She believed she would die when the baby was born. She feared her death would bring about his. He respected that. He stomached it because she was wrong. And when she survived, when he’d saved them both, there would be no barrier between them, no reason to withhold anything.

  It was time to begin dispelling mysteries. He reached for her necklace, curious to see what she’d been so valiantly hiding from him. Alexia caught his wrist, her eyes wide.

  “I will show mine, if you will show me yours.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  She scowled and stepped away, the rope again pulling at his wrist.

  Or perhaps she would cling to her secrets longer. Kiren tugged the cord free from their wrists.

  Alexia placed a hand over his. “What are you doing?”

  “We cannot go into combat bound together like this.”

  “But it is dishonest. People will assume—”

  “We are married.” He slid a lock of hair behind her ear. “Let them assume.”

  Her cheeks flamed red. The tie slipped free and he felt strangely naked without it. She was right. It wasn’t meant to be removed until they were one. He wanted to push her over the precipice with physical persuasions, but he wouldn’t. No more selfishness. Except in one thing.

  “I do not want you going into battle with us.” He bowed his head.

  “Is that why you married me? So you could order me around? I warn you, it will not work.”

  “I am thinking of the baby.” He placed a hand on her womb and stepped up so their bodies pressed together. “And you.”

  “And I am thinking of everyone else, including you.” She slid around him, back toward the camp. “Why is it you think that I lead our forces?”

  Because you are marvelous.

  “Hm?” she asked.

  He hadn’t realized she was expecting an answer. “You are a skilled warrior.”

  “Because I can change time, Kiren. I can stop a tragedy from happening and orchestrate our efforts so we conquer or withdraw without loss.”

  He wrapped an arm around her, spreading his fingers over her enlarged girth. “Even while birthing a child?”

  Her spine stiffened.

  “That was another aspect of my discussion with Amos. Your time is near. He agrees it is unwise for you to lead us in your state. It has compromised you before.”

  “Traitor!”

  He grinned. “Mae thinks so as well. And Regin. And Lucian. Did I miss any of the votes bearing weight?” It had been easy enough to plant the idea in their minds through innocent conversation. Amos had agreed it would be best for the knight to lead the march.

  “Deamus.”

  “Ah.” The bumbling scroll reader who thought he had a prayer of winning Alexia. “As Deamus is absent, I suppose he forfeits the opportunity to voice his opinion, but I wholeheartedly believe he would join the others.”

  She glared.

  “It really is for the best, Alexia. Amos has agreed that you should remain behind this time. I think that wise.”

  “And if you are injured? If you die while I am here?”

  He laughed. “You tell me. Will I die?”

  Her angry grimace said it all. She knew he would not.

  ***

  Weapons were tucked under jerkins and hidden under sleeves and in boots. If they resorted to needing those weapons, they were in trouble.

  It is no different than any of our rescues, Alexia told herself again as she slipped her Soulless-slaying dagger into her belt. Except it was. She wouldn’t be leading the charge—upon Kiren’s insistence. An entity that would become the Soulless may appear in the conflict. Or in camp. No one else understood it. No one else had a weapon to subdue it. Kiren and the others were entering a lair of vipers, and if this thing was as intelligent as it seemed to be, it would manifest. Those in camp could run. Men and women in the heat of battle would be trapped. She needed to be there.

  The chosen warriors set out, following Leofrik’s lead. Alexia took a deep breath and fell into line.

  “No.” Kiren barred her way.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “You think you can stop me?” she challenged.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Will you force my hand?”

  “I have had enough of men telling me what I can and cannot do. You may disapprove, but you cannot change my decision, and I would rather be honest with you, so stand aside.”

  His jaw clenched. Fingers slid around her arms, tightening and loosening. “I love you, Alexia.”

  Her anger deflated. He’d said the words. He’d actually said the words.

  Kiren continued, “I have suspected for days that you planned to sneak along. And if you did, who would know until it was too late?”<
br />
  She folded her arms across her chest. “Without Velia to whisk people to safety, I am the last line of defense.”

  “We have Zeph.”

  “Zeph is wonderful, but he is not nearly wonderful enough. He is restricted by time and space. A single arrow could take him out of action.”

  He rubbed her arm tenderly. “A single arrow could take you out of action.” The softening of his voice reminded her that she expected to depart from this life shortly.

  She matched his tone. “I am not that easy to kill.”

  “And yet you insist you will die soon.”

  They were both quiet.

  “What would you have me do?” she asked. “Stay here and agonize about whether any of us will be lost today?”

  He bowed his head. “Better than birthing an infant on the battlefield only to leave her motherless after the conflict is ended.”

  Heat rushed to Alexia’s face. Now that he voiced his fear, she was plagued by the expectation that this would be the cause of her demise.

  Kiren tugged her into his arms and pressed his lips to her brow. “We will return triumphant. I will see to it.”

  “And if this is it? What if you go and we are besieged while you are away? What if I labor while you are away and that is how I die?”

  His eyes widened. “You will not. I have only just found you. You are not to leave me so soon. Do you understand?”

  She wished his command was enough to deny fate.

  He pulled a hand through his hair, then a second one. “Come with me then, but you are to remain on the fringe of the battle. You must be safe, Alexia.”

  “We are stronger together.”

  His cheek tugged upward. “And yet I have never been so terrified.”

  She patted his face. “You will live, Kiren.”

  “Yes, but will you?”

  Forty-Nine

  Locked Away

  Late afternoon rays threaded a sunset as Alexia stumbled into a township. A row of permanent, one-story buildings lined the thoroughfare, their wooden fronts weathered and rustic. Smoke rose from various chimneys—warmth she ached to experience. Kiren shot her a look and hurried forward. They had come in groups, small ones so as to not raise any concern. Their entire force was now within a short radius of the fort that towered over the town.

  The scent of baking bread and roasting venison made her mouth water, countered by the stench of refuse and unwashed bodies. Beyond a single row of buildings stood the gray fortress against the grayer sky. Alexia was growing to detest that color, with a vengeance. It meant shackles. It meant prison. It meant rain.

  She counted the number of men, women, and children still milling around the fortifications. Potential casualties. The very idea made her sick. Fires circled the building, along with tents, the soldiers of the fief lord who took pleasure in caging the Passionate.

  The idea was a precision attack. Go in. Grab the child. Behead the serpent who led the people. Get out.

  Metal clanged against metal—the timbre of blade on blade. She yanked the seconds to a halt and hurried forward. Let it be a smithy. Soldiers practicing in the yard. Anything but…

  Silivia’s weapon reflected sunlight, deflected by a knight’s blade.

  Alexia reached through time to go back a couple minutes and stop the conflict from happening. She pressed up against the inky barrier and groaned. As feared, the enemy was present.

  Goodbye, surprise.

  Goodbye, precision.

  Hello, war.

  She unsheathed her dagger, grabbed the charm about her neck, and dashed forward. Her womb contracted. She slowed.

  Carefully then.

  People surged around her, heeding the call to arms. Alexia slipped between them. Sarlic, Regin, Amos, Willem, and Mae made an intimidating line, pressing their way forward.

  Alexia drew on the medallion, slowing the world to a crawl as she walked straight for the gate. Any moment, the enemy would close the giant wooden doors to the fortress, and then this battle would grow far more interesting than she could condone. Not even she would be able to reopen them.

  Darkness exploded over the battlefield in waves.

  Well done, Amos, she thought. At least now they will not see us coming.

  She stepped by Regin who was casually reaching for a man whose sword had momentarily lowered. Mae had unclasped her armlet. Sarlic held both hands out, inflicting pain on an entire line of armored men.

  Alexia entered the shadow of the gate. Two soldiers were running for one door in slow motion. Another man shoved at the other door by himself, but he was not nearly strong enough to move it. Alexia placed a hand on the man’s chest and gave him a slight shove. His mouth flew open as he sailed backward and slammed into the stone archway.

  She cringed as his head smacked the wall.

  The two soldiers slowed, but she aimed straight for them. The first she knocked into another wall. The second ducked and side-stepped. She slipped a foot in front of his and lifted up, bending his knee. He tripped forward, landing on his face.

  She let go of time.

  Shouts filled the air, feet pounding toward her from outside the walls. Alexia pulled on the pendant once more, but stopped when Kiren appeared. His scar caught the light, followed by his ocean-deep eyes.

  “I thought you were staying behind. Away from the danger.”

  She knocked on the wooden barrier. “Just holding the doors for you.”

  His head tilted, mouth opening.

  Alexia nodded him forward. “We have a child to rescue, do we not?”

  In they went, to the courtyard. A man here or there rushed for the gate, but they hadn’t enough time to gather or arm themselves. She used time to knock them unconscious. If Kiren got to them first, he fought them until she arrived. Leofrik appeared amidst the skirmish, shouting orders and rushing forward, sword pointed. They followed him.

  “The child is in the tower. Guard me!”

  Zeph, Mae, and Sarlic fell into formation.

  Darkness engulfed the gate and stood firm—Amos’s darkness. As planned, Amos and Regin would hold the gate until everyone could escape with the child. Shouts abruptly cut off and turned to snores within the gloom. Alexia grinned.

  Kiren tugged her away from the courtyard and through two heavy doors. Scuffling and a shout deafened her. Two guards dropped to the ground—both at Mae’s feet. She reclasped her armlet. Their practice was paying off, and Alexia couldn’t be prouder. Mae met her eyes, relief and a tentative hope in hers.

  A single torch turned the narrow hallway golden brown, and a staircase twisted off to one side. Zeph and Sarlic tugged the unconscious men behind the edge of the stairs, and Mae waved them on. She took up her position at the exit.

  Shouts and confused voices reverberated toward them. Any moment more people would appear. Alexia and her company took the stairs single file, Leofrik’s armor echoing ominously against the stone as he led the way.

  Urine and mold stained the air. Alexia wrinkled her nose and tried not to breathe deep.

  A scraping of boots carried down from several floors above. Sarlic lifted both hands, the lines around his face tightening as he readied for an assault.

  Leofrik led them off the first landing and into a hall rather than continue toward whatever force awaited them. Slits of light cut across the stone floor from glassless windows, lighting a wall of doors. Leofrik motioned them forward, all the way to the end of the hall which bent right and opened to an inner corridor of the fortress. Torches lit the dark expanse and outlined doors. In the corner nearest them, another stairwell spiraled upward.

  Boots and naked blades appeared on the stairs. Alexia turned to retreat and yanked time to a stop. A sword hung mid-swing toward her neck.

  The man must have come from one of the rooms they’d passed.

  She ducked and tapped his blade upward while slowly releasing time, throwing his trajectory. The weapon smacked into the ceiling. Kiren leapt forward and slammed his hand into the man’s thr
oat. The enemy’s eyes rolled back, limbs shaking.

  Kiren dropped him like he’d been stung.

  Sarlic yelled and the last man fell. Five bodies littered the hall. He and Zephaniah moved the unconscious aside.

  Kiren stood frozen, staring at his hand.

  Alexia touched his arm. “We must move.”

  “I took it.”

  “Took what?”

  “Life.” His eyes met hers. “I have never…” He swallowed hard. “Always given, never…”

  “But he lives.” Alexia pointed out the rise and fall of the man’s chest.

  “Barely.” He pulled her to him. “I saw him attack you and I—I do not know what happened.”

  “Oy!” Sarlic stood at the base of the stairs, Zeph and Leofrik already pounding their way up. He nodded them up and crossed his arms, taking his predetermined position and glancing nervously past them down the hall.

  Alexia tugged Kiren after her. He let her drag him, a true testament to his shock.

  They rounded the curve and caught up to Zeph. He stood several steps below Leofrik as the knight raked his blade across an enemy’s weapon.

  “Stand aside!” Alexia ordered.

  Zephaniah flattened to the wall, and Leofrik twisted as close to the stone as possible. Alexia gripped her necklace and slowed time, lifting one foot then the other through the stilled minutes. Three enemies filled the stairwell above her. She pushed the nearest one squarely in the chest and watched as he flew backward in slow motion, smacking into the two behind him and falling to one elbow on the stairs. The man directly behind him lost his footing and tumbled onto his rear. The third backed up two steps and held a knife at the ready.

  She released time and Leofrik surged forward, dancing past the fallen and engaging the last man. Zeph leapt forward and knocked out the man who had fallen to his rump. Kiren shoved a hand against the other man’s throat and visibly cringed. The man fell unconscious. Kiren shared a look with Zeph and a nod, but neither spoke. He wouldn’t look at Alexia.