Regan averted her eyes from the bed and walked to pick up her book of jingles. “I think we should get out of here right now."
He grinned at her. “You go first. I need a moment to collect myself."
Regan's gaze dropped to below Peter's waist. “I see what you mean.” She returned his grin. “I'll wait for you below.” Still grinning, she walked out the door.
Chapter 18
"DAMN!” REGAN SHOVED her chair back from the table. Her violent movement rocked a bottle of ink. The opaque bottle toppled and rolled across the table, trailing a spreading blue line. “This isn't working. I'm drawing a complete blank."
Peter rescued the rolling bottle before it landed in his lap, then blotted the ink pool with sheets of discarded paper. “You are trying too hard. Just relax and let the magic flow."
"This isn't what Thea ... I ... am all about. I talk to animals, remember? Thea didn't write spells."
He studied her in silence for a long moment. “But you are more than Thea. You are also marked with the blue flame."
"I've been trying for hours. I can't do it."
"Do you want to quit?"
"Yes ... no ... I don't know what I want."
He pushed his chair back and stood. “Let us take a break. There is something else I would like to try."
She sighed, then reached up and swiped damp tendrils of hair off her forehead. “Maybe a break will help."
He nodded and walked to the door.
"Hey, where are you going?"
"We need Kelsey. I will be right back.” he said, then disappeared through the door.
Regan stared at the open door. “Great. That's all I need right now—the grand commander of Daradawn.” The muscles in the back of her neck knotted and she grimaced. Rubbing the cramping muscles with her hand, she stood. “God, I feel like I'm going to explode.” She hiked up her skirt, then sat down in the middle of the floor and crossed her legs Indian style. The cool marble felt wonderful against her hot skin. Closing her eyes, she inhaled slowly through her nose to a count of ten and then exhaled through her parted lips, blowing out until her diaphragm hugged her backbone. “Serene thoughts, serene thoughts,” she chanted and slowly rolled her neck.
She opened her eyes and looked across at the table. Okay. Maybe Thea couldn't, but I can do this. It's no different from any other ad campaign. I know my audience and what I want to accomplish.
Wrapping fragile calmness like a blanket around her, Regan stood and walked to the table. Still with slow controlled breathing, she sat in the chair, picked up the quill-tipped pen, and dipped its point into the remaining ink. Evil ... Dirkk is pure evil.
Evil is as evil does, she wrote. Evil as evil ever was. She stopped, brought the pen's pale, boned end to her mouth and chewed on it. What do we want to happen ... we want his pets to destroy each other. She dipped the pen again and added, “Pitted one against the other, death to one or the other.” She stared down at the words and started to scratch them out, then hesitated and quickly wrote, “All else pales and fades away...” She heard footsteps and voices and looked up.
Peter entered the queen's solar, Kelsey behind him. He crossed to where she sat and looked down at the words she had written.
"You have overcome the barrier?” he asked.
Regan frowned and shrugged. “It's a start."
"We will finish it together, then there is something I must try. I need your moonstone earrings and Kelsey's pendant to attempt it."
"The earrings are upstairs in my pants pocket."
"I'll get them,” Kelsey said. “You must finish that spell."
Regan glanced at her sister. “Thanks,” she said in a flat voice.
Kelsey turned toward the door. “I'll be right back."
Regan watched in silence as Kelsey walked out the door.
"You are going to have to work this out with your sister. It is important that the two of you are in harmony,” Peter said, placing his hand on her shoulder.
Regan frowned at the empty doorway. “We'll work it out later, but right now we have to finish this."
"Let me read it.” He picked up her notes. “Evil is as evil does, evil as evil ever was.” He glanced at her, then read the rest out loud. “Pitted one against the other, death to one or to each other. All else pales and fades away..."
"It's missing something."
He stared down at the blue words written on the sheet of paper. “What is it we want above all else?” He raised his head and stared into her eyes. “We want peace. We want our land back and most of all, we want our people freed."
"The people Dirkk has changed. Can they be fixed ... put back to the way they were?"
"What he has done to their bodies and minds is permanent.” His mouth thinned with anger. “But I would rather see them dead than have to live the way they are."
"Then we will free them."
He stared at her for a moment, then sat down at the table across from her. “The need ... our need ... is to put an end to Dirkk.” He took the pen from her and pulled the sheet of paper across to him. Holding the pen above the paper, he closed his eyes. “He Who is All, guide my hand."
His hand began to form words, first with hesitation, then with mounting confidence.
Regan leaned across the table and read the words, “except our need to have our say...” he penned in bold blue flourishes. “The need to fight him to the end, until death claims all, both foe and friend."
Peter's hand began to shake and she saw his face go pale. He shuddered, then laid the pen aside and opened his eyes.
She leaned across the table toward him. “You look totally drained, but I felt no use of the Power."
"I did not use the Power; it used me. He Who is All wrote those words,” he said with a wan smile. “What we have created is a spell of great power that..."
"Now we just need to see if I can make it work,” she interrupted.
He shook his head. “This must be known only to a few, and used only if your mind-link does not work."
She drew back from him. “Why?"
He ignored her question. “Both of us created it and, to have it work without harm, we must cast it together. When we do, it will take all the power we have. The casting will leave us drained and possibly ill for hours afterward."
"What if only one has to cast it?"
Peter drew his hand from beneath hers. “That must not happen."
"But if it does?” she persisted.
He refused to meet her eyes. “Peter?"
"It can be cast by one,” he finally said.
"But?"
"It would use all the caster's power."
She grimaced. “So we stay tired a little longer, what's the..."
Peter reached out and laid his fingertips against her lips. “You do not understand. I mean all the power available."
She shivered. “You mean if one of us does it alone, they will die."
He nodded.
She closed her eyes. “I want you to promise me that you won't try it without me."
Peter turned away. “I cannot do that. If necessary, I will cast it."
She backed away from him and the words written on the paper. He turned and faced her. “It is not too late. I can take you back to the rift and this will be nothing to you but another ... dream."
"Leave Kelsey ... and you? You won't come with me?” she whispered.
Peter smiled. “You know I cannot, but maybe Kelsey..."
Her face heated in a rush of anger. “Kelsey won't leave, at least not yet, and neither can I. This time you and I will not be parted, one way or the other."
He crossed to her and pulled her into his arms. “My love, my heart,” he whispered into her hair.
Behind them the door opened and they separated. Peter turned to face Kelsey. “We've finished the power spell."
"So I see,” Kelsey said dryly.
Regan pulled out of Peter's embrace and walked to the back wall. Above a vase of orchids from the queen's forest hu
ng a faded tapestry. “Can I read it?” she heard her sister ask and Peter answer, “Of course."
Regan picked a flower from the bouquet and held it to her nose. The orchid's scent was spicy and sweet. She leaned closer to the tapestry. Nude maidens swam in a round marble pool of crystalline water, their blue-black hair twining around them like inky seaweed. In the background, a white-pillared temple rose toward the sky. On the temple steps stood a red-haired woman. She was gowned in white, a belt of linked gold rings at her waist. Her green eyes stared beyond the swimmers. She waits for something, but what? Regan felt a pang of kindred sadness. She's trapped in time and will wait forever, the same way I've been waiting through lifetime after lifetime, waiting to at last be with Peter.
"Regan. Regan, are you listening?” Kelsey asked.
Regan turned away from the tapestry. “What? Yes, of course I'm listening."
"We've no time for daydreaming."
Regan cringed at the rebuke. “Yes, master,” she said, then watched her sister's hands ball into fists at her sides.
"Then answer the question."
Hot blood rushed to Regan's cheeks. “I didn't hear it."
Kelsey smiled, then turned back to Peter. “So, when can we set out tomorrow?"
Peter looked from one sister to the other, then stood and walked to the door.
"Where are you going?” Regan said, disbelief in her words.
He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. He looked first to one woman and then the other. “The two of you need to work through this childish behavior. I will return shortly.” He opened the door, walked through, and then closed it behind him.
Stunned, Regan stared at the closed door.
"Well, that's just great,” Kelsey said. “We're in the middle of plans for tomorrow, and he pulls a disappearing act."
Regan's gaze shifted to her sister. “Maybe it was something you said."
Kelsey's lips tightened. “No, he's just not thinking clearly."
"What? Using the wrong head again?"
"Most likely."
"Damn you, Kelsey, I've had just about all your arrogance that I can stand,” Regan said.
Kelsey glared at her younger sister. “If you were so hot to have a man between your legs, why couldn't you have chosen someone besides the High Mage of Daradawn?"
Regan's face paled.
"After all,” Kelsey continued, “you've only known each other a couple of days. Wouldn't a farm boy do as well?"
"You mean ... like Rourk?"
Kelsey drew back as if she had been slapped. “You never did care about anybody but yourself."
"Then why am I here?"
"How would I know? Maybe you liked Peter's eyes?"
Regan's sight blurred. “No,” she said in a choked voice, shaking her head. “I'm not going to do this. For seven years I thought you were dead, and I was sick inside."
She heard Kelsey sigh in exasperation. “I'm sorry, but you get to me quicker than any person alive."
"Hey, what are sisters for?” Regan said. “I guess it's a good thing neither of us holds a grudge."
"Yes. What was it Daddy used to say?"
Regan smiled. “That our anger exploded like a star going nova, then quickly burned out. About Peter..."
"That's none of my business,” Kelsey said. “I'm just tired."
"It's your business if our feelings for each other put Daradawn in jeopardy. I promise you we will not let that happen."
Kelsey met her eyes in thoughtful silence. “It's just that I don't understand how it could have happened so quickly. Every woman at court has thrown herself at Peter."
"Kelsey, I know it seems sudden, but it isn't.” Regan placed her hand on her sister's arm. “Do you believe in reincarnation, past lives?"
"I'm not sure. Are you saying you and Peter knew each other before?"
Regan nodded. “We've been lovers in many other lifetimes. I've had dreams of Peter in other lives since I hit puberty and discovered boys."
"But how...?"
Regan smiled. “It took a unicorn to point out the obvious. Peter says his heart recognized me on my doorstep."
"My God,” Kelsey said.
"It took me a little longer, but I know it's right,” Regan said. “But I'll keep my promise. Nothing will happen between us that will hurt Daradawn in any way. I promise."
Behind them the door opened and they turned. A hand thrust through, waving a white handkerchief.
"Is it safe to enter?” Peter asked.
"Yes,” the sisters answered in chorus.
Regan tucked the orchid behind her right ear and moved to meet him. She reached out and grasped his hand. “I'm sorry for being such a brat. Will you forgive me?"
Peter dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “All is forgiven,” he said, then winked over her head at Kelsey. “Now let us get to work."
* * * *
Regan stared at the knife's blade. Her hand, resting in Peter's, trembled.
"I'm just going to prick the end of your finger,” he said.
With paralyzed fascination, like a mouse with a cobra, she watched Peter bring the knife's point to her finger. With a sudden flick of his wrist, he slid the blade's point across her middle finger. A fat drop of blood blossomed. Peter turned her hand over and let gravity do its job.
Regan watched the drop of blood fall to the face of the pendant lying next to the earrings on the table. It flowed across the opalescent surface until the white jewel wore a coat of red.
Peter turned to Kelsey. “Your turn."
Face void of expression, Kelsey held out her hand. Regan watched her sister's eyes and felt a stab of irritation when they remained impassive as the cut was made.
She looked down and watched the two drops of blood spread over her great-grandmother's earrings. “Now what?"
Peter reached out and touched each piece of opal jewelry with the tip of a finger. He backed away and closed his eyes. Regan's stomach heated in reaction to the Power being summoned.
"Blood calls to blood,” Peter said in a clear ringing voice. “Wherever you are, the other will hear, as long as the amulets are near. Only for known blood will they heed the call. Nothing can hinder their voice; not mountain, not river, not man-made wall."
He stumbled and grasped the table to steady himself.
Regan felt her stomach cool. She saw him stare down at the pendant and earrings and then frown.
They look the same. What were they supposed to do? she wondered.
Peter swore beneath his breath. “The spell did not work."
"Are you sure? How can you tell?"
He glanced at Regan and frowned. “Do you not think I would know if a spell I cast worked?"
"Would you like me to try? Maybe the spell needs a caster whose blood has been used?"
Peter flushed. He pushed away from the table and walked across the room to the fireplace. Frowning, Regan waited for his answer, but he remained silent, staring into the flames. She started to go to him, but Kelsey grabbed her arm and shook her head.
"This is ridiculous. So one spell fizzled,” Regan said.
Peter ignored her.
She looked down at the pendant and earrings. The caster needs to be one of the blood offerings. I know it. Why doesn't he?
Regan looked inward and found her spark of power. With a few mental puffs, it flared and warmed her stomach. “Blood calls to blood,” she said. She felt, rather than saw, Peter whip around to stare at her. “Wherever you are the other will hear, as long as the bloodstones are near. Only for known blood will they heed the call. Their voice stopped by naught, not mountain, not river, not man-made wall.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Peter and Kelsey cross to the table and look down at the opals.
The gold setting of the pendant glowed. The film of blood melted into the surface. Flecks of color flashed, as if a ray of sun struck them, then the milk white surface returned. She glanced at the earrings. The red stain was gone from them too. “Oh, that's how you know if i
t worked."
Peter stared at her. “Are you not weakened even a little?"
"No."
He frowned. “Why did you change the words?"
"I didn't know I had."
"You called them bloodstones."
Regan shrugged her shoulders. “Well, that's what you made them."
Peter turned and walked away.
"Couldn't you feel there had to be a blood connection to the opals?” she asked quietly.
He stopped in mid-stride, then continued across the room. “This is ridiculous,” she said, then turned and faced Kelsey. “I'm going to take a nap. Wake me for dinner."
"So you are tired.” Satisfaction rang in Peter's voice.
Regan stared at him for a long moment. “Tired? No. Just disappointed.” Shaking her head and ignoring Peter's remote face, she crossed the room and walked through the open door.
* * * *
Regan flopped in the middle of the bed. It was jealousy, just plain old-fashioned jealousy. Well, he'd just have to get over it.
A breeze drifted over her from the open balcony doors and she yawned. Maybe I should have yawned below; it probably would have made Peter happy. She yawned again. I don't know why I'm lying here, she thought, I'll never be able to sleep. She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.
A hand on her shoulder shook her gently awake. “Regan,” a husky voice whispered. “Wake up."
Eyes still closed; Regan stretched like a cat and smiled. She opened her eyes to a slit, then sat up with a gasp, and drew herself up into a tight ball against the headboard. “What ... but how ... who are you?"
"Close your mouth. You might swallow a fly,” The words came from a man sitting on the bed beside her. A man she had never seen before. From behind a black, molded mask, he looked at her with green eyes that glittered with amusement. His lips curling upward, he waved a hand in front of her face. “Now do you remember me?"
Regan clutched a pillow to her stomach as memory of their first encounter surfaced. “Oh, God,” she whimpered, “Please don't hurt me."
His smile widened. “So what do you have to tell me?” Regan pressed her trembling lips together and he sighed. “Are we going to have to go through this again?” He reached into the folds of his cape and brought out the crystal. Regan went rigid and he laughed aloud. “Thomas sent it for you ... as a small reminder.” He tossed the crystal onto the bed in front of her. “You know I've no need for such baubles.” He waved his hand and pain lanced through her temples. Through eyes blurry with tears, she saw his smile broaden and clamped her lips tighter together. The smile left his face and he leaned closer to her. He drew a slow circle in the air in front of her eyes and the pain knifed deeper.
The Blue Flame [Book 1 of the Daradawn Series] Page 21