by Inez Kelley
“Jana, I won’t force this on you. I want you to be happy. If you’re not interested, then so be it. I’ll deny his request.”
Which could cause tension between the High Captain and his protégé. No soldiers were closer than those who guarded the monarchy. She hated the thought of being a wedge between men who gave everything to protect others. A warrior’s woman guarded the home and hearth, ensuring they had all they needed to do their duty free of worry and strife. Peace was the least any wife could grant to a man who might die for his country.
For the first time, she looked at her father, trying to see him as a younger man who killed enemies like batting flies and daily put his life in jeopardy to ensure the crown’s survival. What had attracted her mother to him? Had she loved him straight away or had she grown to love him? Could she grow to love Argot?
She could indeed do far worse than a man following her father’s pathway.
“I think Argot would make a fine husband, Papa.”
His brows shot up. “Then you agree to his request?”
“I agree.”
He reached for her hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze. “I’ll sign the contract then. I expect he’ll call on you later when his duty allows.”
“That’s fine. I’ll look forward to it.”
She had to fight to keep her smile in place. Letting go of that childish romantic vision of a true love stung but then, all dreams had to die sometime.
* * *
Darach stared into her pale face, aware that time ticked but uncaring if he ever moved. The early night was still except for the soft cries coming from his charge. Jana. He knew her name, had tasted it in that brief touch of her mind. He had learned much about her in those few moments, things she herself did not even acknowledge. Such as he knew she feared the dark. His gaze darted to the low light of an oil lamp. A flame burned through the night while she slept and she dared call him a coward?
The rush of her heartbeat had called him from his rest and he expected to find some peril. Instead, he found her asleep. She writhed on her bed, twisting blankets as she shied from some unseen thing in her dreams. Contempt curled his upper lip. Most likely some trivial human fear had lured him out, like a mouse or perhaps an insect.
Drawing magic from the Earth, Darach squatted beside the bed and closed his eyes, his invisible mental fingers sinking deep inside the woman. He tried to delve into her soul, searching for the pathway to reach her. A wave of enormous magic knocked him to his backside.
His eyes snapped wide. Could such magic truly be unknown to her? Unbound dark golden curls spread along the pillow. He brushed a strand from her brow and a gentle fragrance rose. His keen scent drew the smell into his soul, the aroma of a cool mountain spring stirring the minerals in his blood. Such temperate waters could mask many things. Did they truly mask an untapped power?
When he was summoned, he’d done the briefest cursory touching of her mind, her powers. They were minor, a mere reminiscent seer. But this time, as she slept, a force welled from deep in her core. A thin vein of power threaded through her like silver through rock, reaching toward the surface, its immense depths hidden from view. It shocked him with the strength. How could she not know what she carried in her dreams? Did she not even realize the magnitude of her talent?
Somewhere buried in his center, an unbreakable bond welded into place. He was right to have accepted this request. He would mine the very fathoms of her soul to guide her through, show her how to harness the ability to fulfill her quest. A quest that somehow, in some way, was tied to his own destiny, if she was the miracle he now suspected.
There was only one way to know. Darach drew himself to his full height, gripped her shoulder and shook. “Wake.”
Jana leaped out of the bed. One long leg shot out and her foot connected with his groin. Pain spiraled through him. He cupped the aching flesh between his legs and fell to his knees.
She shoved her hair away from her face. “What are you doing here?”
“Hurting,” Darach gasped, his voice higher than before.
A frown turned her full mouth down. “Oh, sorry. I was dreaming.”
He stretched out his mystic touch once more. Dormant. The magic he sought had retreated into her slumber. “What did you dream?”
“Nothing.” Jana reached toward the small bedside table and raised the wick of the tiny oil lamp. Light surrounded them. “I thought you were waiting for me to call you.”
“You were in distress.” The pain seeped away. Darach sucked in a slow breath and rose from the floor. “I sensed your unease and came, expecting danger.”
Something darkened her eyes as she glanced away. “It was a nightmare. I’m sorry. I have them a lot, I always have but lately they happen more and more. It’s why I leave the lamp down low, so I can tell if I’m awake or not.”
Certainty filled him. Every word she spoke rang true to his belief. “There is darkness in your dreams?”
“Darkness.” Jana shuddered. “Pitch black. I can’t see my fingers in front of my face. And there are... Nothing, it’s nothing.”
“Dreams are everything, Jana.” Laced with iron, his words drew her face upward. “You are a poor spellsinger by blood, a mediocre charmist by blood, but your destiny holds more. Look inside yourself, feel that heat, that fire of knowledge. It is there. I sense it.”
“Right.” One brow slanted. “You sensed so much you weren’t even going to stay until I insulted you.”
He bristled. “I am here now.”
“Be quiet.” She made a frantic movement with her hand. Cotton whispered against cotton as she reached for the robe she had worn earlier. She grabbed a tiny pair of slippers and a heavy cloak.
They tiptoed through a richly appointed antechamber, out a sturdy wooden door and down a dimly lit hall. Jana pressed her finger to her lips then crept past a well-lit stairwell. Not one of the posted guards turned to look as Darach followed. Down a narrow passageway, she motioned to skip the fifth step. His boots were heavy but he moved silently, stealth entwined in his nature.
Jana slid into the empty kitchen. She put her slippers on, pulled the thick wool cloak around her shoulders then slipped out the side door. Frost painted the distant mountains and sparkled on the grounds. Air misted before his face with each breath. “Where do we go?”
“Someplace no one will overhear us. Oh, you don’t have a cloak.”
“I am not chilled.”
An unfeminine snort burst from her. “I forgot. You’re a big, tough man. Suit yourself but little female me is freezing.”
“Because you are human. You are weaker.”
“Fine. I’m weak. You’re not. I’m cold. You’re not. But I have the sense not to step in fresh horseshit.” Amusement enlivened her face as she looked down. Lifting his boot, he grimaced. Jana laughed. “Come on, oh mighty guide. Let me lead you for a few minutes.”
She tucked her arm through his. Her fingers were cold against his skin. It seemed a harmless gesture, one she’d given little thought to, but Darach was extremely aware of it. His eyes bore into hers. Her eyes were the intense blue of an island cove. A pink flush tinted her cheeks, and a kiss of moonlight crossed her skin.
Dipping his head to her ear, he inhaled, taking her scent deep inside. It was primitive, raw with hunger, and spiraled a dizzying force along his bones. His head spun. What power was this? It was no magic he had ever known.
She dropped her hand and stepped away, tugging the hood of her mantle to shield her face. “This way.”
The magic faded. He shook his head to clear his mind. Although he had sensed none, she must possess some hidden charm to addle his mind. This human form was heavy, so opposite to his natural state. He must conquer these new reactions, harness them and control them. Determination flooded his essence. No frail female would keep him from his mission. He moved to a patch of frozen grass and scraped his boot sole as he would scrape her from his memory when this task was complete.
Nothing concerned him ab
out this world or this woman except his vow. He would fulfill his promise then return home to tranquility and grace, peace and song. To a place where no blue-eyed she-demon distracted him with tantalizing fragrances from her burnt-gold hair.
She led him around the darkened grounds, the sickle moon coloring everything in an icy shade of blue. Ice sparkled on the rooftops and lined the grass, crunching beneath their feet. The stables and the greenhouses held no interest for Darach. He barely glanced at the barracks or laundry shed, and the tanner’s hut only wrinkled his nose. Soldiers crossed their paths, weapons at the ready and eyes vigilant, but they looked at her with affection and him with distrust. The hair on his nape bristled.
“You’d draw less attention wearing a cloak,” Jana whispered.
In an instant, lilac swirled around him, leaving behind a thick cloak of deepest brown. He’d mimicked the mantles of those men he’d seen, sturdy dark woolen outside with fur inside. The soft gray of Jana’s cloak suggested rabbit or maybe mink. He’d chosen as his nature dictated and lined his cloak with the thick pelt of a grizzly. It absorbed the warmth from his body in an instant.
Jana gasped and reached out, touching the fine wool. Her fingers found the edge and slipped into the thick fur along the inside. Silver tipped many of the hairs, giving a sheen to the mahogany coat. Her hand brushed his stomach and heat radiated from within him, an unseen fire that thawed an ice he hadn’t known he carried in his bones. Her hand sank deeper into the pelt and her soft exhale enchanted him.
“What animal is this?”
“It is as I am, a grizzly.”
“I can’t imagine you becoming a bear.”
“I shall and will if a need arises. For now, this form suits well.”
Her gaze drifted across his open cloak, down his bared chest and stomach. Her voice lowered to a fragile whisper. “It suits very well.”
She blinked, then stepped away. He frowned but followed her to a huge oak, gnarled and tall, its branches bare and coated in ice. The trunk, from root-showing bottom to above his head, was carved with names. This caught his attention when nothing else on the rounds had and he angled his head, drinking in the strange sight.
“Anyone in Thistlemount who wants can declare their affection here. We call it the Claiming Tree. A name here is the same as announcing a wedding. There are a few names that are so faded, nearly grown over, that you can barely read them in the full sun.”
“Is your name here?”
“No. At least, not yet.” A discord heightened her tone.
“You have a mate?”
“I’m promised to Argot, Batu’s captain.”
Possessiveness flared inside his gut though he had no cause. “If your name is not here, why do you seek this place?”
“I just like to come and sit here when it’s warm. It’s like I can feel all the love in this tree, in my family, surround me.” His gaze followed her finger’s path to a crude heart scratched into the bark of the ancient oak. “Those are my grandparents, Mactog and Darlan. And below? Those are my parents.”
Squinting to make out the faded marks, Darach stepped closer. “You have two mothers?”
“In a way. My real mother died when I was a baby. Papa remarried a woman from your world.”
He spun to face her. “My world?”
“Yes. She chose to become human to stay with him.”
“Why?”
A disgusted noise erupted from her. “For a spell, you’re a little stupid, aren’t you? Why do you think?”
A growl buried in his throat fought to escape. “I have no idea why anyone would wish to remain here. This world is—” he glanced back at the castle, the grounds, “—muted and ugly and fractured.”
“Fractured? What do you mean?”
Words tumbled in his mind, thoughts he had no expressions for, images that had no description. “My home is living music and light. It has no true translation you would understand. It is harmony. It is every tenderness, every gentle thought, every happy tear you have ever felt. It has a rhythm that holds nothing but beauty and peace.”
“You’re homesick?”
“Homesick?” Darach mulled the word. “Perhaps. I chose to leave and have no reservations that it was the right choice. But yes, I long to return. Your world holds many strange things—” he looked up at the barren oak, “—but it is not my world and never shall be.”
“How long will you be here?” Jana’s voice was softened, light and timid.
“Until we save the blood I was called to help you save.”
“Exactly how do we do that?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Together.”
She shoved the mantle hood back and rubbed her cheek. “What about the blood that sang to me? What does that mean?”
He pounced on the admission. “Blood calls to you?”
“Only Batu’s. Other people’s blood makes me sick. How does that help us? I thought we’d be investigating clues or watching people, maybe setting traps or something.”
“And we shall. But we do it my way.”
The glower she aimed at him should have melted the frost. “And that way is...?”
“Be at peace, my charge. Time reveals everything.”
Frustration warmed Jana’s blood. She hated non-answers. Everything about Darach irritated her, from his condescension to his arrogance. She had a job to do. What did he think he was doing here? Enthralling her with his lovely personality? If she wanted a rash, she’d go rub lye on her skin.
“There’ve been four attempts on Batu’s life in a week. I can’t wait for him to die while you find some magic map.”
Darach’s hair absorbed the moon’s glow, turning to a thick stream of frosted night. One dark brow scrunched in confusion. “Are all humans impatient?”
“Are all spells annoying?”
He considered that. “I know not. I know only of myself.”
Was it a crime to kick a magic spell in the balls twice in one night? She really should check with her father on what constituted torture because this...this being in front of her had her ready to scream. “Well, if you don’t have any more fascinating wisdom to impart, then I’m going back to bed. You go back to wherever you were.”
“As long as the Earth is beneath your feet, I am always with you.”
She blinked. “Aren’t I the lucky one?”
Lips too full for his rugged face thinned. Biting back words that she’d learned at her father’s knee—and that had earned her many tastes of soap through the summers—she stormed past him. Some help her guide was. She’d get more guidance from an unlit candle.
His long legs easily caught up with her until they walked side by side. The slight breeze teased through his long hair, pulling it out and away until it fluttered over his shoulder, settling like a woman’s hand. The planes of his cheeks and brow seemed immovable, stark and unforgiving. Try as she might, she couldn’t deny he was extremely handsome.
She needed to remember that he wasn’t a real man. A handsome face had turned her head once, and the cost had been dear. Just because she found this magic spell striking didn’t mean she was going to make the same mistake twice.
Besides, she was promised to a real man. A man of integrity and courage. One she owed faithfulness and devotion. If he didn’t yet thrill her blood, then it was something she would have to learn to accept. Argot would soon carve her name beneath his into the ancient oak and she would be claimed before all of Thistlemount. Perhaps, in a few summers, he might even claim her heart. A terrifying thought stopped her, freezing her feet to the ground. Darach had touched her mind, read her soul. Did he know of her disgrace?
Licking her lips, she slicked a path for her voice to escape. “You can’t be seen going into my bedchamber. You should return to the necklace or wherever.”
A solemn nod dipped his head. The sharp tang of fresh fallen snow wrapped around her, not from the weather, but from Darach. He carried the scents of copper, cool minerals and icy control.
“S
leep well, my charge.”
His intimate whisper stirred her blood. With no expression, but never lowering his gaze, Darach misted to lilac smoke, spiraling into her pendant, infusing it with living warmth. She refused to acknowledge the trembling in her fingers as they rose to grip the turquoise.
She had a mission, the first and most important in her life. She couldn’t let her head be turned by gorgeous eyes and a rock-hard stomach. Why couldn’t the queen have summoned a female spell, or a male spell with a potbelly and rotten teeth?
A small smile lifted her lip. He’d said his realm was pure peace, pure beauty. There probably wasn’t an ugly creature there. She’d just have to stick to her resolve and ignore how delicious his mouth looked. With conscious effort, she called to mind Argot’s square jaw and fixed it in her thoughts.
Fast feet sounded over her shoulder and she turned. Batu and Argot hurried a frighteningly pale Feena along the pathway. Vomit splattered all three of them. Feena’s grip on Batu’s arm was white-knuckled and clenching.
“I’m going to be sick again.” She turned quickly and retched on the ground.
The prince’s mouth was a thin slash. “This isn’t normal sickness. It’s too fast, too strong. Argot, go for the healer.”
Jana’s promised husband-to-be didn’t spare her a glance as he barreled into the castle. Jana used her cloak edge to wipe her sister’s mouth. The too-pale skin and fast, shallow breathing frightened her.
“We had dinner sent to my chamber but took the vanilla cake to the greenhouse, just to get out a bit and stretch our legs. She ate half a piece and got sick right away.” Batu slipped his arm under Feena’s knees, scooping her up. “This is poison.”
Chapter Three
Death lay in wait, hanging in the suite like smoke. Jana rubbed the tension from her neck. The king sat on the settee, bouncing one knee in agitation. For all his power, he was as helpless as the rest. Batu was gray. He leaned in the doorway with his head resting on the frame as if he had to be close to Feena, even though banished from the bedchamber.