Dawning of Light (26 page)

Unfortunately, as always seemed to be the case, the events in Carley’s life could not possibly work in her favor.

Miguel wasn’t alone when she arrived home. In fact, there was a rather large gathering of lightbearers in her living room, all Miguel’s cronies, all followers of the Chosen One.

He was there too, seated on her couch, while everyone else stood around him. No one else was seated. As if they were all anticipating doing his bidding.

He wore a hooded cape that was tugged low over his face. She could see nothing more than his mouth and clean-shaven chin. The rest was hidden in the shadows of his hood. It was red, a brilliant crimson, the color of fresh blood. It covered his body and pooled on the carpet at his feet. The hem was wet, presumably from being dragged through the snow, the wet stain inching up the cape, giving Carley an even stronger impression of blood.

“Er, hello,” Carley said uncertainly, and for the briefest of moments, she considered turning around and bolting out the door. Between the pregnancy, working all day, and Finn and Tanner’s questioning, she wasn’t sure she had enough energy left to make it back up the stone steps to the beach house, but she was sorely tempted to try.

Miguel took advantage of her hesitation and stepped up next to her, wrapping his hand around her upper arm and holding her securely. There was no escaping now.

“This is my mate, Chosen One,” Miguel said with reverence in his voice. Reverence Carley knew was for the seated man, not her. “She is only a few minutes later than I promised.” He sounded as if he were desperate to please the man in the hooded cape. Carley fancied that if he were half that desperate to please her, she might not dislike sex nearly so much.

“The snow,” she explained, fighting to keep her voice from wavering. “It makes the steps treacherous. I had to go slowly.” No one had given her a reason to be frightened, as of yet, but she was. Petrified.

The man in the hooded cape spoke. His voice was low, barely above a whisper. Everyone in the room hung on his words with rapt attention.

“Understandable,” he said in his whispery voice. “We wouldn’t want you to injure yourself coming home, Carley. Especially not today. We understand you have news to share. News we are eager to hear.”

Carley stiffened, and Miguel tightened his hold on her arm. Oh no! What did they know? What did they think she knew?

“I—I don’t have any news,” she stammered. “Th-the last party was a success. Olivia and the babe in her womb are both hale and healthy. Th—they are designing a nursery. Th-that’s all.” All news they should be aware of already, and if they weren’t, none of it was particularly harmful to Olivia or her family. So Carley hoped.

But when she commented that mother and babe were healthy, there was a collective hiss around the room, indicating she’d said something to displease the masses. The hooded man held up his hand and the room fell silent.

“Temporarily,” he said. “The babe growing in the king’s daughter’s belly is a monstrosity. If it does not die in her belly, it will die soon after birth,” he predicted ominously.

“It is the truth,” he affirmed, as if those words alone made it so. When Carley looked around the room, she could see that every one of the followers believed him. Even Miguel. Especially Miguel.

She willed her hand not to stray to her own abdomen, as it did almost constantly these days. She had not yet informed her mate that she was carrying his babe in her belly, and she had no desire to do so with an audience—especially this audience.

“I understand the shifters were in the beach house kitchen today, Carley,” the hooded man said smoothly, his voice low and soft.

“They are everyday,” she said, trying for lightness. “They are bottomless pits, and are forever searching for additional food.”

He didn’t buy it.

“That isn’t why they were in your kitchen today, Carley.”

She hated the way he said her name. It made her feel like he was cursing her. She struggled not to wince each time.

“They have grown suspicious. They have figured out that Cecilia’s accidents were not accidents after all,” he commented.

Carley did wince at that one. Poor Cecilia, what had she ever done to these people?

“Do not feel sorry for the foolish woman,” the hooded man said, his voice raised ever so slightly. Carley had the uncomfortable feeling that he was somehow able to read her thoughts. It was something she had never known was possible.

“She made her own choices. Her family did their best to train her to choose the right path, and she continually defied them. Samuel,” he barked, the sound causing half the inhabitants of the room to jump in surprise.

Samuel stepped out from behind a cluster of lightbearers, looking every bit as frightened as Carley felt.

“Well?” the hooded one asked, speaking once again in his soft, soft voice.

Samuel’s gaze darted nervously around the room. It briefly locked with Carley’s before quickly shifting away again, but not before she saw it: guilt. What had he done?

“She’s chosen the shifter,” Samuel confirmed. “I asked her to be my mate and she refused. Well, she didn’t exactly refuse…more like he stepped in and refused to let her answer. But she didn’t stop him. And he admitted that they are sleeping together. Cecilia and—and the ginger-haired shifter.”

The Chosen One’s reaction was peculiar, at least to Carley. He became angry, visibly shaken, leaping to his feet and storming to the window, then pacing from one end of the room to the other. Magic shimmered in his wake, trailing behind him like a train of sparks. As he walked, the other lightbearers in the room parted to let him pass, and then closed ranks again, only to have to shift apart to let him walk by again.

On his third pass, he reached out and grabbed Carley’s arm, so that she was caught between him and her mate, and neither was looking at her with any amount of sympathy or warmth.

“Is this true?” he asked her directly, his voice an angry whisper.

“H-how would I know?” she stammered. She did not understand why it angered the man so that Cecilia or Olivia or anyone for that matter was sleeping with a shifter. To Carley, they were not very different from lightbearers, other than their magic manifested in a different way and they strongly preferred her meat-based dishes over the vegetarian ones.

She supposed that in general, they were larger than lightbearers and slightly more intimidating. Although maybe not, she determined, as she watched the hooded man’s mouth form a bitter scowl. His agitation was affecting his control of his magic. She tried to take a step away, half-afraid he might burn her or injure her in some way, but Miguel tightened his grip on her arm and refused to let her move.

“You see them every single day,” he whispered. “Cecilia spends more time in that beach house than she does in her own home. And you just said those shifters are forever in your kitchen, filching
our
food.”

“They don’t
filch
the food,” she defended. “I give it to them.” And why shouldn’t she? There was plenty to go around, now that Tanner was in charge. He’d had a greenhouse built, so that she could grow fresh vegetables all year round. He’d purchased livestock from the humans, and already the cows and pigs and sheep were breeding, the herds growing, the ability to provide sustenance increasing with each passing month. And they were excellent hunters, forever bringing her fresh game from the woods surrounding the beach house, or giant salmon and trout from the lake. It was because of the shifters that she was able to create the fabulous meals she offered each day. She would never deny them when they came calling, telling her how much they loved her lamb chops or grilled duck breasts or the steaks she seasoned with her special rub.

The Chosen One’s hand twisted around her arm, his calloused palm burning the skin. She made a noise of pain, and her hateful mate did not even react. Probably because he was used to that sound. He heard it nearly every time they had sex.

She resisted another urge to flatten her palm against her belly. She had no inkling how Miguel would react to the news that he was to be a father. They’d never discussed having children. They’d never really discussed much of anything, in truth.

“Why were they questioning you today?” Miguel demanded. She wondered who in the beach house was a snitch. Was it one of her under-chefs? Or another servant? So many lightbearers wandered in and out of her kitchens, it could be damn near anyone.

“I don’t know,” she said again. No point in denying it had even happened. Someone had obviously forewarned them, otherwise why would they all be in her living room, clearly waiting for her arrival?

“What sort of questions did they ask?” the hooded one wanted to know.

Carley tried for nonchalance. It was hard, because she was so tired, and she could feel the man’s compulsion, pushing into her brain from where he held her arm. Lightbearers’ magic was strongest when there was physical contact, and she was so mentally and physically exhausted, she would not be able to stave him off for long. “Nothing of consequence. I just kept telling them I didn’t know.”

“Perhaps it is of consequence to me,” the man whispered. He released her arm and lifted his hand. The sleeve of his cloak fell to his elbow, revealing skin so pale it was practically translucent, as if he hadn’t been exposed to the sun in years, possibly his entire life.

But that was impossible. Now that she could see a portion of his skin, she could see the magical sparks dancing there, the faint shimmer of magic that clung to all lightbearers’ bodies. It occurred to her that Tanner’s skin often sparkled like that, and recently, so did Finn’s.

Was there truth to the lightbearers’ ability to share their magic? Once, they feared all shifters wanted to kill them to inherit their magic. Had Tanner and Finn proved that the way to share magic was far, far different from murder?

The thought was fleeting. Her mind was pulled back to the hooded man with the pale skin. How was it possible that he was a lightbearer—a living, breathing lightbearer—if he was not regularly exposed to sunlight? Surely his skin would not be so translucent if he regularly sought the sun like all lightbearers did. Yet if he did not, he should be dead. Everyone knew a lightbearer’s very life force was directly connected to the sun’s rays.

He reached for her, and Carley instinctively shied away, but Miguel still held her in his firm grip, and he forced her to remain where she was. The pale, veiny hand touched her face. She felt the magical compulsion immediately and instinctively fought against it, but her resistance was futile. Her magic was nearly depleted, and there was just not enough sunlight at this time of year to fully regenerate her. Alexa had warned her that winter was far more difficult for pregnant lightbearers, because it required almost a third more energy to grow a baby than a typical lightbearer used under normal circumstances.

“Just be sure to get enough sleep,” Alexa had advised. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had time to follow the healer’s instruction.

She sagged against Miguel, who let her nearly collapse to the floor before hauling her to her feet again. The hooded man shook out his sleeve so that it covered his arm and hand again, as he pulled away from Carley and walked back to the couch. He sat serenely, back ramrod straight, hands resting in his lap. Every gaze in the house was drawn to him, avidly watching.

“What did you see, Chosen One?” Miguel asked, his hungry gaze trained on the hooded man.

“They did question her,” he replied, speaking slowly. “And she is right. She told them little. But they told her a great deal. Enough to confirm suspicions she already had.”

He stood again, a fluid, graceful movement. Everyone in the room took a step away, giving him plenty of space. Carley stumbled as Miguel dragged her out of the man’s way.

“Miguel,” the hooded man said. “Keep your mate close. We would not want her to get ideas into her head and try to thwart our efforts. The rest of you, come with me. It is time to set my latest plan into motion.”

He swept from the room and the crowd of worshippers filed out behind him, until Carley and Miguel were alone in their living room. She was so utterly exhausted, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep until the sun rose again the next morning. But Miguel was fairly vibrating with rage.

“Because of you, I have to stay here and babysit,” he spat. “What did he get out of your head?”

Carley staggered over to the couch and sank down onto it. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. It seemed to be her phrase of the day.

“You must know something,” Miguel insisted. “Why else would he be afraid that you could ruin his plans? I should be with him. I should be standing next to him, doing his bidding. I shouldn’t have to be here, with you.” He sounded mightily unhappy about the fact that he was stuck home with his mate while everyone else went off to do the Chosen One’s evil bidding.

“Go,” Carley said weakly. “I don’t know anything. And I’m far too tired to go anywhere anyway.” She lay her head on the cushion and closed her eyes.

Miguel hesitated, and Carley lay there, unmoving, struggling against the sleep that wanted to claim her. Finally, he abruptly turned and left the house.

She waited for the count of ten, and then her eyes popped open and she pushed off the couch. No way was she going to sit here and sleep. Not when Cecilia and Olivia and those nice shifters might be in danger. She didn’t know why, but she felt a certain comradery with Olivia—possibly because they were both now with child. Whatever the reason, she knew, without a doubt that she had to do something.

She looked out the window, watching for any signs of movement. She would not put it past her suspicious mate to hide out, waiting to see if she was lying. Normally, she never did anything to warrant his suspicion. Today was not one of those days.

But luck was finally on her side, and she was able to slip away from her home undetected.

She hurried through the snow, heading back to the beach house. As the sun gradually set, the wind picked up, warning of another snowfall heading their way. The temperature plummeted as well, causing the stone steps to be coated with ice. Not wishing to expend too much magic in the dark, and in her delicate condition, Carley did not pull on her magic to eliminate the ice on the steps. She clung to the railing and made her way slowly and carefully to the top.