The Shades of Time

by Diane Nelson

  Veluria knew she should have been surprised at seeing the Dark One but the incessant delays, the unexpected stops, all indicated that someone had paid the captain handsomely to make the voyage last as long as possible. The days, then the weeks, had devolved into a hell-on-water for her. She'd become a virtual prisoner in the cabin, a slave to Stefano's insatiable appetites. She'd acquiesced at first, then tried making excuses only to suffer his childish whining and begging. Later he'd become ever more insistent, though the demands had been playful at first, until finally turning malicious and truly hurtful. The last night of the voyage had left her beaten and nearly broken in spirit.

  Antonio, waiting anxiously for her to descend to the dock, seemed a knight come to rescue her from the depths of degradation into which she had willingly plunged in performance of her duties. She knew the Sisterhood could heal her battered body, but she was not so sure about her chi, her life force. That had been corrupted and distorted as she'd sought control over Stefano's wild urges and unseemly demands. Like a dam unleashed, he'd hijacked her energy for his own and turned it against her. And with each passing day, the abomination that was Stefano became a nightmare from which she'd had no escape.

  All that had kept her sane was a fairy tale, a figment of her imagination—a fantasy about a demon with the soul of an angel. The gentleness she'd sensed yet never experienced gave her a reason to live, a reason to hope.

  Now he was here, waiting for her. She would have run to him if she could. Instead her body finally failed her and she sank toward the deck.

  Antonio watched in horror as Veluria pitched forward. He raced up the gangway and scooped her tiny body into his arms before she even hit the deck. She weighed nothing at all. Dark circles under her eyes and fine lines about her mouth spoke of some dreadful trials she'd endured during the voyage. Unconscious, her brain had shut down so he could not read her. He would need to take her someplace where he could look after her and keep her safe.

  He carried his precious burden through the narrow alleys, checking frequently to make sure they were not followed. He worried when she failed to wake up. The silence, the total absence of energy, spoke of normalcy, ordinariness and he wondered if somehow she had lost her powers.

  Antonio emerged from the alleyway and hastened to the carriage waiting on the other side of the narrow street. One of his men hopped down to assist his captain with the door as Antonio carefully placed Veluria onto the cushioned seat. He climbed in and made himself as comfortable as possible in the confines of the coach. He hated these conveyances as they were fashioned for passengers much smaller than himself.

  Pulling Veluria onto his lap, he rocked her like a colicky infant, all the while praying she would wake up. He had not given thought to what might happen beyond this point. He'd prepared for her sparring, the hide-and-seek tease of exploring each other's powers … not this absence of sensation. It made her seem dead, lifeless and he feared the worse.

  Nico, I need you, Brother, to give me guidance and direction.

  Unfortunately he had nothing in his experience to draw on. Fate was indeed a cruel and savage mistress for until that moment, when he held Veluria in his arms, he'd had no idea how much she completed him. She filled that void he'd protected with walls and kept all but his two brothers out.

  As the swaying of the coach rocked her in his arms, he wondered what it would be like to share everything with her—all his inner demons, his unformed hopes, his yearnings. Somehow he knew she would understand and look past the ugliness that ruled him to find the man he would be … for her.

  He glanced out the window of the coach though there was little to see. Darkness swept across the sere landscape as the coach jounced over rutted roads no better than sheep paths, the ground rock hard and unforgiving. A warm breeze wafted past the swaying curtains, brittle dry and barren. He'd given no thought to provisioning for the trip, an oversight he was already regretting. As much as a dry throat and gnawing ache in the belly was a distraction, nothing deterred his growing concern as Veluria floated in her little death, unresponsive.

  Nightscapes, shadows, and phantoms were his only companions. It had always been so.

  He imagined her stirring and whispered, "You are fine, Veluria. You are safe now." Antonio stroked her hair and nuzzled her brow, still damp with heat and stress.

  He would not have unwittingly put her into such a state, but could he bring her out? He'd never tried that, never needed to.

  The driver and his man spoke in low tones, the sounds drifting back, disjointed against the choir of hoof beats and the grinding of wheels. Though the road was unsafe for travel this late at night, he was unconcerned as he kept his senses tuned for any pending trouble. They'd be well alerted before any brigands had a chance to pounce. If it weren't for his precious cargo he would almost welcome a fight. With no answers as to why Stefano would so cavalierly desert his paramour, or why Veluria was in such a compromised state, all he had left was anger and a need to vent it.

  He took a deep breath and willed himself to concentrate. Shutting out all sound he sought the spirit that had vexed and ensnared him, imagined once more the taste of her, the fleeting hint of sweetness from which he would never drink his fill.

  Veluria, come back to me…

  Heart racing he watched the small twitches and hitched breaths as he drew her from whatever hidden room she'd locked herself into. He had an impenetrable fortress that guarded his secret self, why shouldn't she?

  Veluria whispered, "I prayed you would come for me. Every day, every night, in my dreams you were there for me."

  Voice thick with emotion Tonio said softly, "Sleep now. I am taking us to Portugal. On my instructions, my brother will arrange passage from there to England where we have friends who can help us."

  "But what of…?"

  "Hush, he has gone to Friedrich's court. My father will see that he fulfills his obligations and is safe."

  "But I must tell you what has happened. You must know…"

  "Non ora la mia donna bella. Later." He already knew or suspected far too much. His guilt would weigh heavy until he put his world to rights. For now let the shadows rule. "Close your eyes and sleep. I will wake you when we arrive."

  She husked, "Gracie, amore mio," and sank into oblivion once more.

  He would not think on her words, yet a smiled played about his lips as he stared into the night, the echo of amore mio caressing his heart.

  ****

  "I can walk. I'm feeling better now." Veluria stood with one foot on the step, both hands braced against the door jambs of the coach. She looked pathetic—her skirts were wrinkled and filthy, the usually neat braids loose with strands of lank hair plastered against her neck and face.

  She glared at him, stubbornly insisting on having her way. She repeated, "I can walk. I don't need your help."

  He smiled to himself. Someone got up on the wrong side of the coach this morning.

  Tonio leaned in close and snarled, "And I can carry you. You are too weak from the voyage and…" he paused for effect, "…I haven't got all day."

  The words came out a little harsher than intended. Antonio was accustomed to giving commands and to having his orders followed. While his head suggested this approach might be counter-productive, instinct told him otherwise.

  Without further ado, he swept her into his arms and stalked to the inn, his man and the driver wisely choosing to busy themselves with the horses.

  You aren't the only one in a mood this morning, M'lady.

  The innkeeper led them up the rear stairwell to a suite of rooms, small but well-tended and very private. He pushed open the door and allowed Antonio to sweep into the sitting room still carrying the now squirming Veluria. With a smile the innkeeper gently closed the door and padded back down the stairs to see to a meal and hot water for a bath for his guests.

  Antonio set his burden down on the large feather bed. A colorful quilt in a gold and green Moorish pattern lay folded at the foot of the thick mattress.r />
  Veluria sighed as she sank into the plush softness, as well she should. Ship's bunks were hard as rocks and every lift on a swell or savage thrust into a trough rattled the joints and loosened teeth. He was not a fan of being cooped up in a cabin, seeking out, instead, a hammock below deck that would accommodate his unusual size. She would not have been accorded that option.

  The urge to demand what happened surged strongly but now was not the time. He stood next to the bed, watching the satisfaction flit across her face, and taking enjoyment from knowing she could still find joy in simple pleasures.

  Even more than learning what had transpired during the voyage he longed to hold her and coddle her—to talk with her and to plan their next moves—but knew she would want to clean up first.

  At the soft knock he called out, "Come in." Two young woman carrying buckets of heated water shyly skittered past into the next chamber. The sound of water sloshing roused Veluria who looked with rapturous eyes at her captor.

  "Is that what I think it is?" she gasped.

  The young girls sidled past with one muttering, "It's filled, sir, call if you need more."

  Antonio helped Veluria off the bed. She swayed slightly forcing him to steady her.

  "I think you need my services one more time, Madame." With that he scooped her up and carried her into the bath chamber. The steam from the tub filled the room, releasing a subtle fragrance from the herbs sprinkled onto the surface of the water. Antonio set Veluria down and stepped away to give her privacy.

  "No, wait. Please."

  Curious, Antonio returned to stand close by as she spun around and patted her shoulder. "Please, the buttons. I cannot reach them myself."

  He felt a frisson of excitement course through his groin. Anxiously he fumbled with the tiny buttons, his hands far too large and clumsy for the task. It seemed amazingly sensual, this simple effort, while the waiflike figure stood with her neck bent forward, as if inviting him to nuzzle and explore with his tongue. In his mind's eye he tore the offending fabric off her slim form. Instead, he took a deep breath, finished his task, then slid the sleeves down her arms, allowing a small pause to tease her fingers. Her chemise was stained and torn and he could guess his brother had had a hand in that. After he slipped the bit of fabric off to puddle on the floor in a dirty heap, he stepped back, prepared to admire the view.

  What he was not prepared for was the bruising on her back and shoulders, and the fine white lines from a beating with a willow stick radiating out from her buttocks.

  Furious, he grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. She stood before him, face flaming from shame, begging him to look away, but he could not take his eyes off her. That his brother would be the one to damage something so frail and beautiful went beyond his comprehension. He had sensed Stefano's descent into depravity but to see it for himself, to have it confirmed so graphically, tore him in two.

  With hot fury like an anvil strike in his chest, he resisted the urge to pound his fists against something, anything. Murmuring low in his throat, he moaned, not now, not now, not now.

  Carefully he picked Veluria up and set her into the warm water. He found a soft cloth and lye soap and gently set to cleaning her hands, then her arms and neck. Her small breasts bobbed enticingly and his mouth watered with the desire to suckle and pinch the perfect nipples. Fearing he would go too far, he stood and held out the soap and cloth.

  "Don't stop. Please. I want you to do it." Veluria laid her head against the edge of the tub and sighed once more, "…please."

  His heart pounding, Antonio knelt at the edge of the tub and lathered the cloth. He ordered her to stand up but had to help her as she was still too weak to do much on her own. Blanking his mind, he quickly set about his task, cleaning away weeks of grime and things he had no wish to think on.

  Gently settling her back into the tub, he instructed, "Tilt your head so I can wash your hair."

  Veluria sighed, "Oh thank you." Then, as if to apologize, she said, "There were no combs or brushes…"

  Antonio took his time; but when he felt the water cooling, he lifted her out of the tub and wrapped her in a large woolen blanket. He rubbed her hair vigorously, attempting to dry it, but ended up making it more tangled than ever. Veluria laughed sadly and touched his hands to stop.

  A lightning bolt of energy coursed up his arms, then down his torso. She felt it too—he could trace the path of the energy, first centering in her belly and spreading to her thighs, leaving her unsteady and grasping his arms as she mouthed a strangled "Oh". The vibrations set every nerve alight and threatened to bring both of them to their knees.

  Antonio moaned, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

  Veluria gasped, "I will be fine. Just, please, not like that. Not yet." He had no idea what she meant. Before he could ask for an explanation, she hurried on, "I'm afraid you are right. I am still weak."

  "Let me put you to bed. You need to rest." With that he lifted her easily and carried her into the bedchambers where he placed her on the bed and covered her with the quilt.

  He avoided touching her as he feared sending another energy surge. It had been an unconscious act, his body reacting to hers, to the ache in his groin and the throb of his now swollen cock. That it came from him, not from her, caused him some consternation. He'd never had this reaction to any woman. Had he been right about her, had she touched that sacred inner core that he kept hidden from everyone, even himself?

  He would need to distance himself, not so much fearing she would breach his defenses but that he could do her harm. That was something he could not bear.

  He said, "Rest for now," and turned to leave.

  The last thing Veluria wanted was for the man she called a demon to leave her side. Without him close she was vulnerable—from without and within.

  She pleaded, "Don't leave, Tonio. Please. Lie with me. I need to be held tonight."

  Veluria moved over to make room for the man who would own her heart, praying he could overcome his own deep-seated fears. To her surprise he quickly stripped his clothes and slid next to her, wrapping her in his strong arms and clutching her with a desperation borne of years of longing.

  Veluria admired the restraint, the consideration, as he held her close. She knew in her bones that he struggled not to let his hands wander, keeping his needs contained so as not to inflict any more damage than her battered body had already sustained. She wished he would lose that struggle. She wanted his hands to pinch and fondle and seek out her secret places.

  She could compel him, unleash her special talent as the Reverend Mother would say, but she did not want him under false pretenses. She craved authenticity, a term in currency in her timeline, as so much of her culture rested on artifice that the inner being seemed somehow hollow, a mere shadow of itself. Not unlike now, she realized with a start. It was no wonder the Sisterhood chose her for this assignment. She was the penultimate mask, a pure construct, a reflection of the world in which she existed for the briefest of moments.

  Lies, deceit, and misdirection—she existed as a puppet in the service of the greater good. No different than the man of cruelty and violence cradling her with such tenderness, a man who danced to the demands of family and country, eschewing his own needs, burying them so deep it required alien powers—hers—to release the sensual man. It made their bond unique and desperately tenuous. Neither would falter in their chosen path, neither would sacrifice that which they held so dear. She understood that the Dark One's path and hers intersected at a single moment in time. He did not have her perspective, could not possibly understand the stakes, yet she knew that, for now, their futures were linked.

  She and the Sisterhood had been wrong. They had set her to search for an artifact, a device, something concrete, real. She had indeed found what she sought, though she still struggled to understand the why and the how. The way forward was couched in mist, indistinct, but the man next to her was more real than anything had ever been in her shadow existence. Joined now, they h
urtled toward some cataclysmic event that could disrupt both their worlds.

  As she drifted into dreamless sleep she thought of castles in the sand and an in-rushing tide, and all of them powerless to stop its advance. She prayed for guidance, some hint at the future, but the only clue was that the lock on her heart had been breached.

  She knew only one certainty: Antonio de' Medici was the key.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Antonio drew the frail form close, reveling in the warmth and clean scent, the tangle of hair soft as velvet on his chest. He trembled at the arrhythmic pulsing of her energies, and an erratic heartbeat that so mirrored his own. He wished for nothing more than to plunge into her depths, to fill her, plunder and ravage and claim her for his own. He knew how to take with violence, how to master and control yet his very core fought against his nature, cautioned him to exercise restraint. She would not be conquered or owned or manipulated. Veluria would require that which he gave to only two others: his heart and his soul. That neither seemed worthy of her he was in no doubt, but it was all he had to offer.

  Filling his senses with her essence, he understood the conflict and uncertainty coursing through her mind. He shared the confusion, the sense that they existed in some time out of place, in a shadow world where reality and its reflections switched places randomly, and by some miracle he and she had ended up sharing a piece of that reality. That it would not last, that events would conspire to drive each of them back into the worlds that spawned them, on this he could wager his family's fortune. But he was not a betting man, and he was no longer willing to forego his own desires. He had finally found that missing bit to his soul, lying next to him, curled against him in sweet slumber. Tonio knew—knew—this would turn his world upside down and inside out. And it didn't matter. He would let his essential nature, his Demon half, do whatever was necessary to hold onto this most precious thing in his life.