Queen of Jastain (24 page)

Bewilderment set her mind in motion. Why
had
she come? “I…don’t know…I wanted to make sure you were okay.” She stared down at the reins in her hands. “I was…worried.”

“Were you?” Petra asked, genuinely touched. He helped her dismount. Pulling her down by the waist, he set her on her feet.

She gazed up into his rich brown eyes that were more familiar than anything in Jastain. But as if seeing them for the first time, she allowed their warmth to flow through her. Her heart thumped a strong beat and a flush of heat rose in her cheeks.

At first Petra's eyes narrowed then widened as a realization came over his face. “Who am I?”

She creased her brow. “What?”

“What’s my name?” He gazed intently.

Confused, Abby looked sideways at him. “Petra.”

His mouth descended on hers as he took her in his arms, hesitating for just a moment. When she didn’t pull away, he made full contact, his lips brushing hers like a gentle wind against the new growth of barley. The mint and lemongrass scent of his skin infused her, and his soothing arms conveyed security but not confinement. Her mind scattered like apple blossoms in the breeze. Was this why she’d come?

He pulled from her lips to gaze into her face. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she tried to focus.

Petra smiled and whispered, “I'm invoking my right to renegotiate. Have we an accord?”

She didn’t know what to say. Petra was like…home, easy and comfortable. Looking into his face, she knew she loved him. How could she help but love him when he loved her so freely? She laid her palm on his cheek.

He leaned in again. His tongue gently parted her lips, beckoning her to take part in his pleasure. Her stomach fluttered like small moths in the grass. She opened her mouth, her heart, basking in the warm sunshine of his love, as new and bright as the spring. Lacing her arms around his neck, she moved her hand into the satin hair at the back of his head and pulled him closer, her kiss matching his stroke for tender stroke.

The sweetness of their kiss smoldered and became more urgent. Petra's arms drew her flush against his strong body, and his hands roamed her back. Passion stirred in her core. She sighed. He deepened the kiss, and the evidence of his arousal pressed into her.

A vision of Avant penetrated her mind, and her heart responded with a sharp spasm. She pulled from the kiss. Her heart fractured; his broke.

“Petra, I’m sorry. I can’t.” She leaned her forehead against his chest.
Damn it.

“Abby, every time I kiss you, you end up apologizing to me.” He smiled sadly. “I understand you’re conflicted. It’s all right.”

A sick feeling knotted in her stomach. “I don’t know what to say.”

He whispered into her hair, “Say that you love me.”

She lifted her gaze. “I do love you, Petra, more than I knew or thought was possible.”

He closed his eyes and listened, like it was his favorite sound in the world.

“But—”

He put his finger to her lips and shook his head. “There’s no need to explain, and I can’t bear to hear the words.” His hands warmly cupped her face. “I love you, Abby. I can make you happy. I'll never be the one to break your heart. And I'll be here waiting, until you decide.”

She closed her eyes and held back the tears. Gladly, she would give him anything she had. But her whole heart wasn’t hers to give, and he deserved nothing less. She hugged him with all her might and kissed him gently. He helped her back on Imperial, and she rode to the falls.

What a mess. She did
not
want to see Avant right now. Could she even look him in the eyes? Crap. Avant felt something for her, but he still loved his wife. She didn’t owe him
anything
, but her heart disagreed.

When she got to the falls, Avant waited for her. She took a deep breath before she dismounted and walked to him. He turned when he heard her approach.

“Ahh!” She gasped.

It wasn't Avant. This man had the same dark hair, but his cold gray eyes betrayed the resemblance. Aesdil. Her pulse shot up like an arrow, and her body trembled.

The harsh lines of his face made him appear older than Avant. Not quite as tall, the king possessed the same air of formality. The sharp edge of his voice cut into her with mock civility. “You must be the fair lady in my lands about whom I have heard so much.”

“These are not
your
lands.” Abby glared at him trying to keep from shaking. Nothing good could come from this meeting.

He laughed and took a step toward her. “I see you've been speaking with my dear cousin, whom I thought dead until recently. How is Avant?”

Abby ignored his taunt and glanced behind her. She might make it to Imperial. He didn’t have a horse nearby that she could see.

“You've caused quite a stir in my kingdom. It seems you've been traveling to the Great Heights. What could a gentle lady such as you need in the Great Heights?” He took another step.

How much did he know? Was Avant in danger? She had to get back to warn him.

Abby took off in a sprint but an unseen force restrained her. Struggling against the invisible bonds, she heard Aesdil call out. Five soldiers rushed from behind the trees to grab her. Thinking quickly, Abby amassed all of her energy and started slinging stones in their direction. Hitting three of the five soldiers, she knocked them back before they caught her. She pushed her will against Aesdil’s Implanting. His grip loosened. As she reached Imperial, two of the soldiers caught her from behind. She told the mare to find Avant as fast as she could.

Abby screamed Avant’s name in her mind, hoping he was close enough to hear her.

Then everything went dark.

* * * *

Avant finished the meeting with his captains. The news hadn’t been good. Aesdil’s spies had returned to the forest in the southern vale. Avant’s troops had caught two of them and chased three others across the Itehris. Using creative interrogation techniques, the spies confirmed the king planned to attack the Freelands. According to the men, Aesdil had information that Lord Ventium had traveled the Great Heights and had not yet returned.

Avant raked his fingers through his hair as he paced the room. What else did Aesdil know? Was he aware of Abigail? If he was, their time ran short. The prophecies weren’t widely known but the king was aware of them. If Aesdil suspected Abigail was the Chosen, he would use all his means to lay claim on her. They must find the Crown and the jewels.

He sank in a chair and rubbed his tired brow. Tossing and turning, he'd spent the night thinking of Abigail. So used to having her next to him, he couldn’t sleep without her and though he lay in his own bed, he'd found no rest there.

A heavy sigh blew from his lips. His fractious exchange with Petra had given him much to consider. Petra was right. He had no justification for his jealousy, but he could not control it. For years, he placed his body and emotions under submission. He’d lived in complete self-control, but at the thought of this young woman, he unraveled.

Sitting in the empty room, he rested his head in his hands. His feelings for Abigail had changed, or, perhaps, they would no longer be denied.
She
had changed, grown. Her destiny had called, and she had responded. Avant lifted his head and smiled, remembering how she had cared for him on the mountain.

But what of Sentieve? His duty was to his wife, to the kingdom, but like it or not, she now shared his affections with another. What that meant, only the Light could know. The task was at hand, and the fate of Jastain took precedence over matters of his heart.

He left the command post and strode to Spiritus. His heart leapt with joy at the thought of meeting Abigail for lunch. Lying awake the night before, he'd thought of way to help her tap into her Placement Implanting, but she would resist. He rolled his eyes. The stubborn woman always resisted. A smile spread over his face.

He rode hard from the village, anxious to see her. In the distance, a horse bolted toward him.
Imperial
. He sped toward her, but a sick dread hit his gut as her empty saddle came into view.

The horse galloped straight for Spiritus and stopped when she reached them. Avant spoke to her mind,
“Where is Abigail?”
Imperial neighed and twisted her head toward the falls.

Without a second glance, he took off in that direction with Imperial following behind. He flew to the water's edge and jumped off his stallion. “Abigail!”

Tracks lay in the mud at the pool's edge and a struggle had taken place by the trees.

The sick feeling spread from the pit of his gut over his whole body. He mounted Spiritus and rode for the south field.

When he pulled up hard in front of Petra, the boy looked white as the snowcapped peaks. Did he already know something was wrong?

“Have you seen Abigail? I found Imperial wandering alone near the falls. I believe she has been taken.”

“What?” He dropped the plow from his hand. “Abby was headed to the falls when I saw her this morning.”

“Could she not have gone back to the house or to the village?” Hope tried to spring in his heart, but his Gift told him it was vanity.

“She wouldn’t have had time and Imperial wouldn’t have left her. Something's happened.”

Petra was right. Imperial was the only reason Avant had allowed Abigail such freedom in traveling the valley.

“That is the same forest where my parents were killed.” Petra’s voice wavered with rage.

Avant dismounted Spiritus and collapsed to the ground. His elbows rested on bent knees. If anyone harmed her, he would rip them to pieces.

Two of Avant’s captains galloped up on their mounts. “Commander, our spies on the eastern road have spotted the king and his men. My Lord, they had Lady Abigail with them.”

He shot from the ground and reached for his horse. “As the Light is my witness, I will kill him!”

Petra tackled him and held him back.

“Release me! I'll stomp that damnable snake into the ground once and for all.”

When that defining moment presents itself – for it always presents – what choice does one have but to become the sum of their experience and act in accordance with all they are?

Raeida Randall, on sacrifice

When Abby woke, her cheek lay on cold stone and her body ached. The trickle of water echoed off the surrounding rock. She lifted her head and tried to focus. A torch flickered against the slate wall across from her barred cell. Her head throbbed and she rubbed the knot where they'd clocked her. The mingled smells of raw dirt and urine permeated the dank air.

How long had she been unconscious? What day was it? Her head dropped back to the floor, and she passed out again. Dreams of Petra and Avant swirled in her mind. She imagined their happy faces in the parlor, laughing, joking, and spending time together. Her love for them washed over her, and happiness wrapped around her in a shield of protection. She was home.

Rousing to a sound of clanking metal and heavy footsteps, she lifted her foggy head. How long she'd slept she couldn’t tell. The footfalls halted in front of her.

“I must apologize for the inferior quality of the accommodations, my lady.” The king’s sneer made her queasy. “But this will be your home until you tell me where my Crown is.”

She scrambled to her feet and retreated to the wall in the rear of the cell. So, he knew she was here to find the jewels. What else did he know? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Abigail, I think you do know, and you will tell me or there will be consequences.” He flashed a sickening smile that chilled her bone deep.

“I don’t know anything.”

“On the contrary, Chosen One. You know much. Please don't make me harm you.”

This is bad.
She'd seen too many horror shows to know she couldn’t withstand much torture before she would spill her guts. But he didn’t know that, did he? “I won’t tell you anything, you rat-bastard!” Maybe he wouldn’t see that she was trembling like a California quake.

The king studied her and then taunted, “Not to worry. I am sure Avant will save you.”

“Don’t you even speak his name, you sick monster!” Abby seethed.

“Ah, I see the noble Lord Ventium has won the heart of the lady. He is so very…charismatic.” His venomous words spewed like acid, and his gazed raked her body. “But knowing Avant and his sense of honor, I can imagine he has not taken his place in your bed. A mistake I would never make, my lady.”

Her empty stomach heaved and tears streamed down her face. Would he try to rape her?

Even in his fine robes with a false crown on his head, his authority could not withstand Avant. No wonder he feared Avant. Abby stared at the man with disgust. She’d fight him with everything she had, but she wasn’t sure that would be enough.

“Unless you reveal to me what I want to know, I will finish what I started long ago, my lady. In the meantime, I want information on this mysterious horseless carriage.” Aesdil turned toward the hall. The heavy oak door creaked open and light spilled down the corridor. The sound of marching feet echoed around her. Her body wouldn't stop shaking.

Two soldiers appeared. One carried a short whip with small tails.

Her knees gave way, and she crumbled to the floor, sucking in ragged breaths. Her fear embodied the two soldiers as they unlocked the cell door and stalked toward her, their long shadows reaching her before they did.

Tears coursed down her face. She couldn't swallow the bile in her throat. “Lord, please help me.”

Light gathered all around her. Her hands glowed from within. She held them up, turning them from side to side. A tangible force encompassed her. It coursed through her like electric current looking for a grounding wire. The soldiers froze. She illuminated the dungeon like it was high noon, and her Gift appeared as a force field advancing toward the intruders, pushing back against the shadows.

Aesdil cursed then yelled to his men, “Retreat at once.”

They rushed from the cell, slammed the door, and hurried down the hall.