by Inez Kelley
“He’s alive.” Something hidden in that brusque tone slithered over her skin but he turned away. “Darach, you need to be on guard. Think. To fire over four hundred arrows in less than five minutes would have taken a full platoon of men, not a single traitor. Unless...?”
“Magic.” Understanding illuminated Darach’s face. “But only immense power.”
“Yes, and who in this castle has that much power?”
“The queen,” Darach answered immediately. “But she wouldn’t wish her son dead. Warric has great magic but his broth—”
“He wouldn’t be the first Segur to try to get rid of his elder sibling.”
Jana gasped. “Papa, no. Warric isn’t even within the castle walls. He’s never wanted the crown. From the time he was a child, he’s openly said he was glad to have inherited the queen’s magic, not the throne.”
“Men often say the opposite of what they mean.” Her father sighed. “I want to be wrong. I don’t want Warric to be the traitor but I can’t overlook it.” A cold deliberation washed over him and her father disappeared beneath the soldier he was. “Warric will be under watch. Stay vigilant, Darach. You protect not only my country’s future, but my daughter. I’d die for either and expect nothing less from you.”
A calculated stillness embraced Darach. “Nothing will harm them while I’m of this world, I vow to you.”
Chapter Six
Papa halted her escape to the healer’s with a stone-firm hand clamped on her arm. Royal duty overshadowed her betrothal commitment. As Lady-in-Waiting, her place was at her sister’s side. The hurried wedding of the Crowned Prince of Eldwyn and the Princess Presumptive took place in the king’s study. Both their clothes were covered in grime and blood but love shone from their eyes.
Jana twisted her ring throughout the ceremony. After the perfunctory but obviously welcome married kiss, the king knighted Darach, the first time in written history that such honor was given to a spell. King Taric stumbled over Darach’s solitary name then simply created a human one for the royal records.
The newly knighted Darach Tero Ursat, temporary Captain to the Crowned Prince, barely had time to rise, mist to smoke and seep into her necklace before Jana and her father raced from the study.
Her father paused with his broad hand on the door latch. “Argot’s not going to make it.”
“No.” Denial thrust heat into her face. “He’s strong. He can fight.”
“He’s dying. You need to say good-bye, to let him go in peace.”
Cold reality seeped the warmth from her skin. She had to force her feet to move, to push open the chamber door and step inside. The stench of blood no longer registered but the odor of lingering death leached the feeling from her cheeks. The healer looked up, her weathered face lined with compassion. She nodded toward the far corner.
Jana lifted her chin. A warrior’s woman didn’t cry, not while he could see. Argot would not go to the other side with her tears in his memory. No smile would rise to her lips but she made sure her eyes were dry before she crouched beside the bed.
He lay flat on his stomach, head turned to the side and arms dangling to the floor. Raw pink ringed each wrist and she swallowed revulsion, knowing he’d been tied down as the arrows had been torn from his body. Only a white cloth covered his buttocks. His long thick legs and broad back, still covered with blisters and burns, were left exposed. Ugly, half-crusted crimson wounds wept sluggishly.
She counted eleven marks from shoulder to calf but knew which was stealing his life. One ragged gash, between his ribs on the left, oozed darker blood with every beat of his heart. Frothy bubbles burst silently along the edges as his very breath sped death closer.
Her hand shook as it brushed his shorn scalp.
His eyes opened. “You look like hell.”
A laugh snorted from her. “Do I? I feel like it.”
“But you’re still beautiful.” His eyes shone so bright, so crystal clear.
She focused on them. “Are you in pain?”
“Not much. Took some caralic so I’m a little...drunk.” He grinned and that puppy-dog look nearly shattered her heart.
She rubbed his hair, marveling at how soft it was. Somehow, she’d thought it would be prickly. It wasn’t. Something touched her knee and she laced her fingers with his searching hand.
His thumb stroked the band he’d put there only last night. “Batu and Feena?”
“Fine.” She padded the truth, hoping to ease his mind. “They married in secret and she became his heir. The royal line is safe...for now.”
His eyes closed. “He got hit first and threw her to the ground. I did my best to cover them.”
“You did everything. They’re alive because of you.”
“My duty.” He choked, coughed, then noisily drew in air.
She wiped his lips, swiping pink-tinged spit away. “Don’t talk about it.”
She’d seen enough of the arrow storm, couldn’t bear to hear more. He coughed again and more bubbles burst along his ribcage, trickling down his side in a soapy rivulet. Smoothing her fingers across his brow, she wished for some magic words to say to give him peace.
“I remember the first time I saw you.”
“When?” she whispered.
“You and Warric came home on break for the Minstrel Festival. You stepped out of the carriage just as I was coming out of the stables. Your cloak was white, like the snow, and your gown was as pink as a rabbit’s nose. You looked like some candied treat, far too sweet for someone as gruff as me. But then you looked right at me and smiled.” His fingers tightened around hers. “I was lost.”
Jana blinked blurriness away. “That was three seasons ago. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Have you ever been afraid of reaching too high? That was me. I was an orphan who became a soldier and then pulled myself up to be the Crowned Prince’s Captain. Wanting more seemed selfish.” His eyes closed and she watched his back rise. It did, slower, not as far, and with a gurgling noise. “I thought I’d just be your friend. Stupid. That just made me fall completely in love with you.”
“Oh, Argot.” She bit her lip. Her knees were numb from the stone floor, and an ache formed in her lower back but she didn’t move an inch. She’d never known and now felt unworthy of his silent devotion.
A haze shifted over his gaze as his breath rattled deep inside him. “I would’ve been good to you.”
“I know. You always have been. I wish I’d known before...before this.”
“Me, too. I was afraid.” Humility rasped with finality in his deep tone. “But at least you were mine for a little while.”
“Too little.”
“I wanted to make you proud, to be half the man you deserve.”
“You’re more than any woman could have ever hoped for.” He, perhaps more than anyone she’d known, deserved the truth. “In all Eldwyn, I couldn’t have found a better, more noble, more gentle man than you. I would’ve been your wife with pride.”
A tear crested his lashes then trailed down his cheek to dampen the sheet. “Can I just say it once?”
She nodded, sucking back hot, salty air. The muscles in his forearm trembled as he lifted their joined hands and brushed her knuckles with his mouth. “I love you, Jana.”
She pressed her lips to his, touched her tongue to his in a bittersweet farewell. Then his last breath mingled with hers. In her palm, his hand went limp.
Time passed but she made no note of it. She simply sat, cradling his hand and stroking his hair until the healer pulled her away. Her father stood behind her, discipline and training masking the pain she saw buried deep.
To honor the man she hadn’t deserved, she sat in complete silence as they rolled Argot to his back. Her father knelt, murmured low words of ceremony honoring a fallen captain, then used Argot’s dagger to cut his own thumb. He pressed a bloody print below his one visible eye, a tribute no captain ever wanted to earn.
With his massive arms crossed over his chest, Argot could
have been sleeping. Jana had nearly convinced herself he was until they pulled the shroud over his face. Something inside her broke. She whirled and ran from the room with her skirt bunched high above her ankles. Had one person stopped her, she would have collapsed. Only a fragile thread held her sanity.
Slamming into her room, she spared only a single second to calm her racing heart before calling. “Darach?”
“You call and I come, my charge.”
She whirled, finding him standing so proud and strong, silent as a stone, beside her washbasin. She looked away, unable to withstand even that slight compassion. “I want to dance through time, now.”
“You cannot.”
“The hell I can’t. I want to dance now. I want to find the answers to everything. I want to know who did this. I want to break them and watch them bleed out, begging for a mercy that never comes.”
Darach merely shook his head.
She shoved at his chest. “Then go away. I’ll do it without you.”
He grabbed her upper arm in a stony grip. “You’re not yet experienced enough to dance without my guidance.”
“Watch me.” She ripped from his hold and tore the blankets from her bed. One knee hit the mattress, then she was wrenched up and carried across the room. Darach’s fingers bit into her arm like teeth. His hand wrapped in the back of her hair and forced her head steady, forced her to look into the mirror.
“Look, Jana! Look at yourself. Look!”
Blood—Batu’s, Argot’s and her own—covered her. Her hair was more tangled than pinned and red had dried to dark brown along the side of her head. One ear was missing the topmost ridge. Her dress was torn and splattered, stained and ripped. Dark circles haunted the flesh beneath her eyes and her skin was paler than winter moonlight. She looked dead.
“When did you last eat? You slept but an hour or two this morning and it’s near sunset. Today was an emotional hurricane and this is but the eye. There’s far more to come. In a handful of hours, you ride with Batu into the night, away from this castle and into the unknown with danger and death stalking you. Do not be stupid. You haven’t the strength to dance to a cricket’s song.”
In the silvered glass, her eyes locked with his. “I didn’t love him.”
The thread snapped and every emotion rushed outward. Sobs racked her shoulders, tears burned her eyes and her throat ached with the cries. When her knees buckled, Darach was there, lowering her to the rug and cradling her, letting her weep against his chest. She cried until there was nothing left—no pain, no remorse, no anything. It may have been minutes or hours, she hadn’t the faintest clue, but his arms never left her.
With a last shuttering sigh, she closed her stinging eyes and slept a dreamless sleep, knowing only that he held her.
* * *
Stealth was vital as well as speed as they made their escape from Thistlemount. Batu carried a single torch, leading the way through a snaking pathway of tunnels. Though his clothing was simpler, of heavier material and less ornate, and his arm was bandaged in a sling, Batu still carried himself as if a crown sat upon his head. How any man could mistake him for anything other than a prince confounded Darach.
Jana was dressed as a man. If anything, he found it more appealing than the layers of velvet and ribbons she’d worn previously. Dark fabric cupped her firm bottom, and the leggings drew his eyes to the curves along her thighs. But her face held his attention. It was blank, void of fear, anticipation or anxiety. She had barely spoken when she’d awoken, simply asking him to leave so she could bathe and dress. Concern stiffened his stomach but he said nothing.
Too many thoughts rumbled in his brain. How had he ever considered her weak? Although her frame was slight, she had an internal might that astounded him. Her entire world had changed in a blink and she stared it down, daring it to do its worst. She’d faced death, injury and bloodshed with quiet grace, dry eyes and calm competence. Even when her emotions erupted and she’d wept in his arms, she hadn’t wailed for sympathy, just cleansed her soul of the ugliness. His prior claims felt paltry now.
Their footsteps echoed against the tunnel walls, an occasional splash sounding where the Earth wept from man’s digging. Darach realized they had passed under Thistlemount’s outer bailey. At last, a pinprick of light appeared. The prince jammed the torch in a wall notch and shoved a door open with his good shoulder.
Bitter wind rushed in, carrying the nip of frost. Weak moonlight cast a blue-silver shine to the woodlands. Three horses tethered to a nearby tree raised their heads at the noise. One pawed at the dirt. Jana moved toward the animals but Darach’s hand held Batu back.
“I don’t need a horse. I’ll travel through the Earth.”
“Well, I need you visible. Jana’s a woman, Darach, and a beautiful one. There’re men who would attack us just for that reason. With this arm, I can’t protect her alone.”
His teeth ground together. “I’ll kill any man who touches her.”
“Good.” Batu nodded. “Would you take my sword if I gave it to you?”
Darach tapped his gloves. “No need. Human weapons must be wielded with thought. My claws become part of my hand and, if needed, my teeth are sharper than a blade.”
“Figured. But take this in case we get separated.”
A weighty leather purse pressed into his hand. “What is this?”
“Money. Silver coin mostly and a bit of gold.”
“I have no need for coin.”
“You might not but Jana will. She’ll need food and shelter along the way. It’s not a long journey but it’s north, where it’s colder and there’ll likely be heavier snows. If we stay together everything should be fine.” He motioned to the horses. “The black, called Storm, is for you.”
“I’ll ride no animal.”
“It’s a long damn walk where we’re going and we need to move fast.”
Darach tucked the coin purse in his waistband and smiled. “Batu, you have your ways. I prefer mine.”
In a mist of lilac, his bear formed and lumbered toward the horses. Wide nostrils flared as the horses caught the scent of a predator. The mounts reared and whinnied, fear fire-bright in their eyes. Jana fought to maintain her seat, tugging reins and clamping knees. One loud growl, magic to nature, and the horses calmed to a watchful stance.
Batu snickered. “It’d take a damn fool to approach a full-grown grizzly. Maybe your way is best, after all.”
The first full snow had fallen, covering the land in a thin blanket of quiet. They headed north in silence, climbing up a gentle knoll. Not ten minutes into their journey, Jana went rigid, her face trained on the castle in the distance. The very top of the kirk peeked from the outer walls like a gopher from a hole. Magic prickled through Darach’s hide.
“He stood here, listened to the screaming as the arrows fell.” Jana’s whisper raised the hair on Darach’s neck.
“What?” Batu pulled his mount to a stop and looked toward the castle.
“Lucky bitch.” Her voice was not her own. “Fucking prince and his pet have more lives than a damned cat. But this land is mine. This time, there’s no subtlety.” Her hands made a motion, waving outward, upward then down. A grin split her lips into a cruel slash. “Run. Run and fall, you bastards. The entire castle will bow before me as your blood drips into the dirt.”
The sight seeped from her and her shoulders slumped. Batu gaped in amazement. “What was that?”
A violent shudder worked Jana’s spine. She drew a deep breath then blew it out slowly. “It was like I became the man who’s trying to kill you, felt everything he’s feeling. He hates you so much.”
“Shit. When I find who this maggot is, I’m going to stick his head on a pike in the bailey.”
Darach’s bear growled. Not if he got to the bastard first.
“Is that how we’ll find out?” the prince asked. “You’ll be able to feel who it is?”
Jana shook her head. “No, somehow the answer lies in the Segur past. Darach and I will be look
ing there.” Batu scowled, confusion plain on his face. She lifted her chin. “I’m a time dancer, Batu.”
If possible, the prince’s face grew even paler. His gaze snapped to Darach then back to Jana. For a tense moment, he stared at her. Slowly his stance relaxed. “I can’t imagine anyone else being better suited to the task than you, Jana. For the first time, I feel like we’ve got a fighting chance at winning now. Come on, let’s get moving.”
The horses turned and Darach followed, his keen eyes locked on Jana’s back. Argot’s death struck something in him, left him hollow in an unpleasant way. Understanding made his snout rise. Argot’s bravery, his conviction to a purpose greater than himself, rang with a courage than spoke to Darach on a fundamental level.
Argot had chosen his position, had sacrificed his life for it, not out of promised riches or rewards but out of a sense of honor. Such selflessness in a human man humbled Darach. The foreignness of this world, his human body and the emotions that came with it, had drenched him in sensations. One of the less pleasant ones was jealousy. He’d been jealous of Argot’s place in Jana’s future, a thin film of pettiness across the memory.
Waning moonlight cast long shadows on the snow and Darach deliberately stepped inside Jana’s. He could feel none of her warmth. It bothered him more than it should.
Snow fell and gathered, kicked up from the horses’ hooves. Rest was snatched at half-frozen streams to water the horses or to be cupped with hands. The terrain inclined, turning into mountain passages that rose sharply toward the sky. The night bled into dawn, into afternoon and into evening once more.
As the last sparkle of daylight faded, Batu led them to a ramshackle barn. Half leaning and half standing like an old man bent by time, the barn had an eerie stillness. But inside, the hay was fairly clean and the angled walls blocked the wind’s bite.
Batu and Jana didn’t speak, eating cold biscuits and venison, sipping over-chilled water then collapsing in fatigue, their cloaks wrapped around them. Darach lay by the door, blocking the gusts through the cracks and waited until dawn. At the first blush of pink, the trek began again, farther north into more snow, more mountains and more silence.