Prince of Fire (37 page)

Ryn appeared at Joryn's side, and he offered a long, plainly crafted dagger on the palm of his large hand. Joryn had expected some protest from Keelia's father at the hint that he and his daughter were mated, but while Ryn's face was solemn, he seemed accepting of the situation which was not of his choosing.

Joryn did not hesitate to take the dagger from Keelia's father, nor did he hesitate to do that which was required of him.

* * * * *

Keelia knew Maccus was truly and completely dead because her psychic gifts grew clearer as the night passed and the dark magic he had created faded into nothing. As they descended the mountain—three wolves and two mountain cats traveling together, a pack united like no other—she began to see all that had been hidden from her in months past.

Ariana needed her.

They were all at war, but most didn't realize it yet.

The throne of Columbyana was at risk, and while it was not her country, she realized that whoever sat on that throne would change the world not only for Columbyanans, but for everyone. A darkness that had begun there was spreading like a toxic disease, and it would not stop spreading unless the Isen Demon and all those who served him were defeated.

More personally, Keelia realized that she and Joryn were one species, not two as she and all others on these mountains had always thought. Their children, and the children of others like them, would usher in a time of evolution, a return to the remarkable ways of the past. They'd been punished by separation enough, for whatever long-ago sins had created the division.

They made good progress on their way down the mountain and toward Ariana, more than they would be able to make once the three nights of the full moon had passed. She could continue alone, in whatever form she chose to assume, but she did not wish or need to make the trip on her own. Besides, Ariana was traveling with an army that marched slowly, and Druson claimed to know shortcuts aplenty through these mountains.

She sensed thousands of years of knowledge locked in the Caradon's mind. Whether or not he could handle that knowledge had been uncertain for a time, but he had passed the point where permanent madness was possible. He had fought for his sanity and his power, and he would be a great ally in the months to come. Druson still had much to learn, but he would make a good Grandfather to the Caradon, and to the Anwyn.

When dawn came, Keelia transformed with the others. They would rest for a short while before moving on, but not for long. She had much news to impart to her cousin. Much news. She found she was anxious to join the battle, though she imagined she would have to light her father and brothers, and a few of her guards, in order to do what she knew had to be done.

Joryn would not fight her, though. He would join her. He would be beside her through it all.

The five of them changed by morning light, and in their human forms again they dressed in ragged traveling clothes, clothes which had been carried in a lightweight pack Juliet had carried on her back through the night. Normally the clothing and food would be left in a safe place to which the animals would return when the night was done, but as they were traveling and could not afford to track backward, that was not possible.

No, they could not go back. From here on out, they could only move forward. It would not be easy, but they were united. Keelia's father had accepted that Joryn was his daughter's mate and therefore his King, but he did not like the development. He would accept, in time. Her mother had already accepted Joryn. Knowing that the Caradon would leap off a cliff after the woman he loved was enough to bring the Queen Mother completely to his side.

Druson was a treasure they would all protect. He had insisted all along that Keelia was Queen of the Caradon as well as the Anwyn. In that same way he was Grandfather to all people of the Mountains of the North, a keeper of magic and history like no other she had ever known. If Maccus had realized the power in his presence, he would've been in awe.

Exhausted after the night's run, Druson lay down and immediately dropped into a deep sleep. Juliet was not far behind, and Ryn reclined beside his wife and protected her with his arms as he, too, fell toward slumber.

Keelia was about to follow suit when Joryn took her hand and wordlessly led her away from their camp.

You need to sleep,
she insisted.

Not just yet.

She knew he had sex on his mind, and even though she was exhausted, she didn't mind. Not at all. She needed him in all ways. It was the way of mates, she imagined, but the feeling was much stronger man she'd realized it would be. She had seen her parents' love through the years, but she had never experienced the depth and strength of that love. Not until now.

There was something else on Joryn's mind, something he was able to hide from her. She did not poke and reach for the knowledge he attempted to conceal, but willingly followed him along the narrow path to a secluded chunk of mountain where a wide fissure gave them walls on either side but also allowed the sun to shine down upon them.

In this place where they had privacy and sunlight, Joryn placed his arms around Keelia and pulled her close. She willingly melted in his arms.

He sighed and stroked her hair almost mindlessly. "I've always insisted that I did not want or need one mate for life, but you changed my mind."

"Yes, I know," she said, awash with contentment,

"I love you."

Keelia smiled. "I love you, too."

"I am yours in every way possible."

"I like the sound of that," she whispered.

Joryn moved slightly away from her, took her face in his hands, and turned his head far to the right and up. He very gently drew her face to his offered throat, where she felt the throb of his heartbeat and tasted the salty maleness of his skin. "In all ways, Keelia" he repeated, "I am yours."

She kissed his throat languidly, as he had kissed hers when she'd offered it to him. Smiling, content, and increasingly aroused, she raked her mouth and her teeth gently along the column of his strong neck.

So close, so intimately connected, she saw some of what was to be for them. Not all. Even with her powers returned to her, she could not see all that awaited her. It was best that way; it was as it should be.

But she did see love, and remarkable babies, and the peace her people had been promised in the prophesy that had been written so long ago. She was the promised Red Queen, and Joryn was her lover in all ways ... and together they would fight for that peace, and for the union of two peoples who should be, and would be, one.

The longer she kissed his throat, the more aroused she became. Her exhaustion was erased by something much more powerful. Need. Not only the need for physical release, but the necessity for a complete connection with her mate; the man she loved. Mind, spirit, and body.

Joryn knew what she wanted, and he wanted it, too. He freed his erection and then lifted her easily. Keelia wrapped her legs around his hips and guided herself onto him. She rode him fiercely, as if she were in the heat of her fertile time and he was touching her for the first time. He was the man of her dreams, but no pristine fantasy could compare to her reality.

Reality was wonderful, and every moment was to be cherished.

When completion came to them both, sparks of flame danced on the air around them. Once again, Joryn had lost control. The flames he created were quickly restrained. The fire died slowly and dropped to the rocky ground as their heartbeats and the flow of blood in their veins returned to something near normal.

"I can't believe you once commanded me to pleasure you and I refused," Joryn said breathlessly. "You can demand anything of me at any time. Anything."

Keelia rested her head against his shoulder. "I command that you love me forever," she whispered.

"Yes, My Magnificent Majesty. Anything else?'

"Nothing else matters."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

Babies, war, discord, harmony, bloodshed, happiness ... it was all coming. But for now, nothing mattered but love.

Epilogue

For a long, terrifying moment, Ciro felt as if he'd been drained of energy. The strength he had come to rely on, the power that had become his, flickered and then departed, and then it disappeared completely and he was
nothing
once again. He was a scared boy, an ineffectual prince, a pampered lad who was afraid of life.

And then the power came rushing back... but he could still remember too clearly what it had felt like to be without the strength of the demon, however temporarily.

There had been a defeat of some kind, a blow to the demon and his plans. At one time Ciro had felt as if he and the Isen Demon were invincible, that he himself was invincible. He had been convinced of that invincibility as the power of the demon filled him.

Apparently that was not the case. Somehow the demon and all those he commanded were connected, as if they shared one mind, one body, one black soul. When there was a defeat, they all felt it. When a battle was lost, the demon and all those he led were weakened. The Isen Demon, Ciro, Ciro's Own, the wizards and witches and ordinary people who waited to be called... even the child Diella did not yet know she carried.

The demon had expected to be stronger by this time, and Ciro felt its disappointment, and its rage. There were many reasons that the growth of dark power had not progressed as planned. In a manner the demon had not known was possible, the healer had snatched back dark souls which it had once taken. The fear that shoukTve swept the country and fed the demon was tainted with naive disbelief and arrogant defiance and—worst of all— hope. Every wound was felt by all those connected by the demon, and on this night Ciro and die darkness inside him were weakened.

It was also true that victory fed them all, but it was not victory that Ciro, and all the others, felt at this terrible moment.

He stood atop a small grassy rise and studied his growing army. His soldiers were being well trained, but they were not unbeatable. An army of another sort was coming. An army more prepared, more dedicated, even more willing to die for what they believed. He knew all that to be true; he felt it to his bones. Now more than ever, he felt the coming defeat.

He could not stay here.

Ciro walked calmly to his tent, where he packed a small bag, choosing a change of clothing and a healthy portion of the drug Panwyr, which he still needed on occasion. Food was not a problem; he would find nourishment along the way. There were many farmhouses and small villages in Columbyana, and while they might have been warned to keep an eye out for a brutal army of soulless soldiers, they would not be alarmed by one young and seemingly harmless traveler. Not until it was too late.

When he was ready to depart, he had one more important decision to make. Did he ride for his father's palace and the throne that should and would be his? Or should he turn back and collect his bride from the mountain palace where she was imprisoned?

Rayne is for another day.

The Isen Demon still spoke to him, though it did seem weaker on this night. Was it possible for a demon to be melancholy? It seemed so. The demon was much more subdued than Ciro could remember, but it remained a force which he did not dare to fight.