Homecoming (2 page)

“Are you insane? Of course I’m not leaving her here!” Jayems looked around.

“But about her friend? She said someone else was coming. Could he be one of us, too?”

The shock of finding his long-dead cousin was still muddling his brain.

His day had started out so ordinary. He’d gone over the books for the Citadel, and then made plans to walk Fallon and Keilor to the gate. Fallon had business on Earth, tending to those of their kind who’d chosen to stay behind. Keilor had been planning to visit, having never seen the planet. He’d been born in the Dark Lands, the world where most of their kind had migrated. His duties as Master of the Hunt, the captain of the Citadel’s guards, he’d assigned to another. Jayems assumed that his subordinate would be disappointed to hear of Keilor’s sudden return. He couldn’t imagine Keilor staying behind now.

He looked at Fallon.

The blond looked torn. He’d been as fond of Rihlia as any of them. “My business can’t wait, Jayems.”

“I know. Don’t worry, you’ll be back, and she’ll be there. This time, she’s not leaving my sight.” He looked around. “Keilor? You can hide this camp? We’ll need to watch it in case she wasn’t bluffing.”

“Done.” He looked at the girl in Jayems’ arms for a moment, and then shook his head. “I’ll send the
volti
out scouting. They’ll let us know if anyone is coming. I’ll join you when I’m done here.” Similar to wolves in temperament and appearance, the
volti shared a unique bond with Jayems’ people. Fierce and loyal, they occasionally served as guards or scouts.

Fallon said his farewells and strode off to take care of his business. Keilor dismantled the camp as Jayems hefted the girl and strode for the gate.

It was a subtle transition, the gate between worlds, and you had to walk into it just so, for the path was narrow and only accessible from one direction. Moments after he’d started on the path, the landscape changed. One moon became three in the balmy sky, and volti
wove in and out of the tall ferns between giant trees. A spicy forest smell wafted on the gentle wind, mixed with the distant scent of the sea.

It took only a few minutes to reach the gates of the Citadel. The Haunt guards, always in wolf form, saluted him with respect even as their eyes lingered on his burden.

Remembering how she’d reacted to his own transformation, he was glad she couldn’t see them.

Parquet tiles clicked under his boots as he made his way down the hallways to his rooms. The Haunt at the doors opened them for him, and in moments he’d crossed the sitting room and laid the girl gently down on the couch. He studied her, frowned, and then straitened her head on the pillow.

She was dressed far too warmly for the climate. Keeping a sharp eye out for movement, he pulled off her hat, releasing a riot of dark hair plastered with sweat. The heavy coat had to go, too, but he dreaded taking it off. She would not be pleased to wake up and discover him removing her clothing. Taking a quick breath, he pulled it off as fast as he could and laid it next to her hat. While he was at it he dispensed with her boots and the second layer of heavy socks. The rest he’d leave to her.

Searching for a handle on the moment, he glanced out the window that took up an entire wall and looked at the three moons. She was going to wake up soon, and would want explanations. One couldn’t just take a woman from her place, dump her on one’s couch and expect her to take it calmly.

Practical matters first. She’d been cooking her dinner. She would be hungry and perhaps thirsty. Fetching a tray with a glass of water, bread, cheese and fruit took too little time--he was left staring at her, willing her to wake up.

When she did wake, her eyes opened with a snap. She took one look at him and tried to back up over the couch. “Don’t touch me!” she shrieked when he reached out a reassuring hand.

He spread his hands and backed off a step.

Breathing hard, she stared at him, her eyes wild. Whatever their natural color, at that moment they were swirling gold with stress. Sweat trickled down her temple and dripped down her neck.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said calmly, willing her to believe him.

“You stole me!”

“Yes, I did. I wanted to bring you here to explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. You take me back right now or I’ll ...” She looked around, maybe searching for a weapon. When she found nothing more dangerous than couch pillows, her eyes shot to his weapons. She glanced at his face and shivered. Maybe she dreaded the
change
more than she did his gun.

“I don’t hurt women,” he tried again. “I’m especially not going to hurt my betrothed.”

Her expression of horror said it all. “Your wha …wha...?” She couldn’t get the words out.

Afraid she would hyperventilate, he snapped, “Breathe! You’re going to make yourself sick, woman.”

Anger seemed to serve her better than coddling. “You’re not marrying me!” she got out. She even stopped shrinking back into the couch.

He looked to the side, searching for patience. “We were betrothed when we were both younger, Rihlia--”

“That’s not my name! You’ve got the wrong girl.”

“I hear what you’re saying, but a simple fingerprint match will prove it. If that’s not enough for you, we can take stronger measures. As for me, I’m convinced. It was no accident that you were there tonight. Things were taken out of both our hands.”

She was shaking her head. “You’re crazy. Stark-raving nuts.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You were traveling with your parents when you were four years old. Their party was attacked. You were lost in the battle and presumed dead.

We never found your body, though we searched for days. Now I know what happened--

you found the gateway to Earth and wandered through. Someone must have found you and … ” He trailed off, unsure how the rest of the story went. “Tonight I found you again.”

“You found me, and now we’re not on Earth,” she said with derision.

He gestured behind her.

She narrowed her eyes, and then risked a peek over her shoulder. She did a double take and stared. “It’s a trick,” she said after a moment of strangled silence.

Raising his brows, he went to the balcony and threw open the door, letting in the warm night air. “Go outside and look at the trees. Feel the warm wind. Look at the sea below us. Were you anywhere near a sea when you camped?”

She glanced at the three moons through the huge window, then at the open balcony door. She didn’t move.

He left the door open and moved away. “It’s no less true if you refuse to look.”

Slowly she rose and edged to the door, keeping a wary eye on him. She stepped out on the balcony and looked out for long minutes. When she came back in, her eyes were haunted.

“Water?” he offered her when she dropped back onto the couch.

She stared at the refreshment tray, then gingerly picked it up and took a sip.

“It’s been a long day for you. You can stay in the spare room for tonight. It has a private bath and a lock on the door. No one will disturb you. If you would like to rest now, we can talk more in the morning.” She didn’t look as if she could take much more, and he needed to think.

She looked at the water in her hands with a lost expression.

Guessing it was an improvement over her trying to climb the walls, he summoned a maid and sent her to prepare the spare bedroom. After giving more orders to his staff, he sought out his guest. She was watching him with wary tension.

“Your room is ready and the maid drew a bath for you. She’s left fresh clothes for you on the bed and will show you the room. If you need anything during the night, you have only to ask. Would you like to take the tray with you?” She hadn’t eaten a bite.

When she stood up, but said nothing, he retrieved the tray and took it to her room, leaving it inside. She didn’t enter the room until he left, then she slammed the door and locked it.

“So much for a truce,” he muttered ruefully.

Feeling tired, he paced over to the balcony and looked out, though he didn’t exit the room. Somehow he felt he’d better keep an eye on her door, lest she disappear again.

Had it really been twenty years since her disappearance? So much in his life had changed. She’d been so young when they’d been betrothed, but if she hadn’t been lost, they would have already been wed for six years now. If he’d only known she was alive ...

It didn’t matter now. There were things that had to be done, arrangements to be made. For a moment the thought crossed his mind that she would have been better off left alone, but he shook it off. After all those years of searching, of seeking answers, he couldn’t just leave her in the woods. As hard as it might be for them both, he was going to make this work.

The next morning didn’t start much better. Rihlia emerged from her room very early, looking as if she hadn’t slept. Maybe she’d hoped to escape while he slept, for she didn’t look happy to see him.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly, noting that she’d put her freshened clothes back on, though he’d guess she had less layers on underneath. She’d put on the lighter boots he’d ordered for her. It was a tiny start, but encouraging nonetheless.

In the morning light, he could see that her natural eye color was brown, the same as the hair she’d pulled back into a tail. It had been longer as a child, but many things had changed since then.

He'd seen the maid go into her room and come out with the untouched tray.

“Would you like some breakfast?”

She said nothing, but slunk like a prisoner into the dining chair he pulled out for her, leaning away when he slid it back in.

“I didn’t know what you were used to, so I ordered a variety of things.” He said the blessing, then dished a little of everything onto her plate. Normally he would ask what she wanted, but nothing about today was normal.

She looked at the spiced rice on her plate, then poked the curled vegetables next to them. “What is this?”

“Fern heads.”

“Ferns.” She didn’t sound impressed.

“I believe you’re familiar with apples,” he said, pointing to poached fruit.

“They’re cooked in wine and honey. The juice next to you is a native berry--you used to love it.” It was hard to be patient. She’d once treated him like a beloved brother, and now she thought he was trying to poison her over breakfast. It was almost more than he could stand.

She shot him a look and went back to staring at her plate. “What’s this sausage made of?” She looked hideously suspicious and a little green. “You don’t eat people, do you?”

His eyes widened. “What! You can’t be serious.” When she just looked at him warily, he snapped, “It’s an animal. A grazing beast called a deerhare.” When she still wouldn’t eat, he demanded, “What’s wrong?”

She considered him. “How do I know this isn’t drugged?”

Frustration made him sigh. “Would you like me to taste everything for you?

Better yet …” He switched their plates and cups, then handed her his roll. Then he topped off her plate and dug in, ignoring her.

Keeping an eye on him, she finally picked up her spoon. She must have been hungry because once she started she quickly finished everything in front of her in mere seconds.

Relieved to see her fed and feeling less like an ogre, he gestured her over to the sitting room as the servants cleared the table. When they were alone again, he retrieved a

folder from his desk and placed it on the low table in front of her, taking one of the chairs opposite. “This is your dossier. We’ve completed a fingerprint analysis, voice scan and DNA test. You are Rihlia, daughter of Rhapsody and Crewel Sotra. When you were a child, we often called you ‘Wiley One,’ or ‘Wiley,’ for all the mischief you got into.

Obviously that name was the one you used when you crossed worlds.” When she said nothing, he asked, “How did you come up with the last name, Jayems?” The question had been burning him.

She looked away, focused on nothing. “The orphanage gave it to me.”

“Orphanage?” Somehow he’d never pictured her in such a place. There’d never been a question that she was loved, and he’d thought she was dead. They all had. The thought of her in such a place chilled him. What other indignities had she suffered while they’d given her up?

“The place where they raise children who have no family. Unwanted children,”

she said sarcastically, as if he needed a definition.