Rion (37 page)

For so long he’d been on the run. He’d given up all hope of a normal life. But now… now he could have a life, a real family,
a future.

Rion’s roar of happiness was heard throughout the palace. He kissed her forehead. “I love you.” He kissed her cheek. “I love
you.” He kissed her lips. And after he stole her breath, he kneeled, kissed her belly, and spoke to their unborn child. “And
I love you, too.”

“Our child will be born in a new era.”

“We’ll make sure it’s a world that doesn’t live in fear of slavery. Where people are free and tolerant. Where people don’t
fear differences but celebrate them.”

He stood, and with a tender smile, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I didn’t know I could be so happy.”

“Make love to me, Rion.”

He tipped up her chin. “I’ve heard on Earth, it’s customary to wait until the wedding night.”

Marisa laughed. “It’s a little late for that.”

“Anticipation will make our wedding night even more special.” He winked. “I promise, I’ll make the wait worthwhile.”

She arched her brow. “In that case, I’ll hold you to your promise.” Then she lifted her lips for another kiss.

The next day, during the royal wedding, there wasn’t a dry eye in the land. The celebration lasted all night. And for a time
there was love and peace again on Honor.

The precious myths of our heritage are our way of understanding things greater than ourselves. They are tales of the inexplicable
forces that shape our lives and of events that defy explanation. These legends are rooted in the spilling of our lifeblood,
in the courage of brave hearts, in the resilience of humanity’s tenacious spirit.

—A
RTHUR
P
ENDRAGON

In the near future

S
low down, Marisa,” Lucan Roarke warned his twin. They were deep inside the cave he’d discovered in the Welsh countryside in
the shadow of Cadbury Castle, and his helmet light had settled on a gaping crack in the compacted clay of the cavern’s floor.
“Don’t step on that—”

“What?” Marisa looked back at him just as the ground opened beneath her feet. Falling, she flailed her arms and clawed at
the cave wall for a handhold, but the loose earth crumbled beneath her fingertips, and gravity dragged her down through the
crevice into the darkness below.

Lucan lunged to grab her, but the unstable earth lurched and dipped under him, throwing him off balance, and his fingers missed
her by inches.

“Marisa!” The sound of splashing water drowned out his cry.

Lucan had brought his sister to Cadbury Castle for a vacation, and he’d been excited to show her this cave—his latest discovery
in his quest for the Holy Grail. Although many dismissed the Grail as mythical, his years of exploration and research had
convinced him the vessel actually existed.

Lucan peered through the gloom into the chasm, but his helmet light couldn’t penetrate the blackness. Even worse, the earthen
sides of the hole made a steep vertical descent. Reaching for the heavy-duty flashlight he carried in his back pocket, he
yelled, “Marisa? Talk to me, damn it!”

Nothing but silence answered him.

Closing his eyes, Lucan inhaled deeply and concentrated on linking his mind with hers, a telepathic communication the two
had shared since they were little.

Marisa. Where are you?

In the water. Help me. I’m cold.

Heart racing, Lucan shone the flashlight into the darkness and spotted her head above the rushing water.

“Lucan. Here.” Smart enough not to fight the powerful flow of water that tried to sweep her downstream, Marisa swam for the
wall at an angle and clung to a rocky ledge.

“Hang on.”

She coughed and sputtered, then shot back, “If I let go, it won’t be on purpose. Hurry. It’s freezing.”

Lucan reached for the rope in his backpack and cursed himself for bringing his sister into the bowels of the cave. He’d sweet-talked
her into coming along, desperate to break her out of her funk. Since her latest miscarriage, she’d been fighting off depression.
He’d hoped this excursion would take her mind off her loss, at least for a little while. He hadn’t intended to distract her
by risking her life and scaring her to death.

He uncoiled the rope, then leaned over the hole to see her lose her grip on the ledge. The current pulled her under. “Marisa!”

A split second later, a pale hand broke through the water and clutched a rock jutting from the wall. She pulled her head and
shoulders above the torrent, spat water, and forced her words through shivering lips. “I knew… I should have gone… to Club
Med.”

He looped the rope around the biggest boulder within reach. Then he tossed the line down the narrow shaft. “Grab on and I’ll
book the next flight to Cancún.”

Marisa stretched for the rope. And missed. Water surged over her head. Again she swam to the surface, but the current had
carried her too far downstream to reach the lifeline.

With no other choice, Lucan jumped into the dark shaft. He fell about twelve feet before frigid water closed over his head
and ripped away his glasses. His flesh went numb, but he managed to keep a grip on his waterproof flashlight. His lungs seized
and his vision blurred. Forcing his shocked limbs to move, he kicked for the surface. And heard Marisa’s scream. Turning around,
he swam in the direction he’d last seen her.

Already his teeth chattered. He struggled for breath, and his waterlogged clothing and boots weighed him down. The raging
current swept him under, but his concern was for Marisa. She’d been in this icy water too long. Clenching his teeth, he kicked
harder until he was finally close enough to grab Marisa’s shoulders. They had only minutes to find a way out before hypothermia
set in.

He pulled her close. “I’ve got you.”

When she didn’t reply, fear poured through his system. Fighting to lift her head above the surface, he shone his light around
the cave in search of a shoal or a shallow pool.

Marisa lifted a quaking hand. “There.”

Just ahead, the river forked. One side widened, the other narrowed.

Using most of his remaining strength, he steered them toward the wider fork, praying it wouldn’t take them deeper underground.
His prayers were answered when they rounded a bend and the water leveled out onto a dirt embankment.

He pulled Marisa out of the river, and together they lay on the bank, panting, shivering, and exhausted. When she didn’t speak,
he aimed the light on her. Her eyes were closed, her face pale, her lips blue. He wrung some of the water from her clothing,
then rubbed her limbs with his own freezing hands.

Her eyes fluttered open. “One word… about my hair, and I’ll s-smack you upside the head.”

“You look good in mud.”

She slapped at his shoulder but didn’t have the strength to land the blow.

He smoothed her hair from her eyes. “Save your strength. I don’t want to have to carry you.” She needed to walk to keep the
hypothermia at bay.

“W-wuss.” She crawled up the bank until her back rested against a dirt wall.

Lucan focused on survival. “We’ve got to get moving or we’ll freeze.”

“You wrung the water from my clothes. What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Of course, you’re fine. J-just like when y-you were in Namibia and that black mamba bit you?”

“I lived.”

“Barely.” Marisa took his hand and tried to stand, but her knees buckled. She grabbed the wall behind her for support and
it began to collapse on top of them.

Lucan lunged and threw his body over hers, shut his eyes, and prayed they wouldn’t be buried alive. Clumps of cold mud cascaded
over them and bounced aside.

“You okay?” Lucan asked.

“Oh, now I’m really having f-fun.” Marisa spat dirt. “So glad you suggested”—her teeth chattered uncontrollably—“this little
vacation.”

Lucan shoved to his feet. “Think what a great adventure story you’ll have to write.”

“I don’t want to
be
the story.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “But you love this shit. You’re probably getting off on—”

Wow.
Her telepathic thought interrupted her words midsentence. And her amazement came through in waves—surprising waves that peaked
with astonishment.

“What?” He spun around to see exactly what had shocked her, and he froze. He focused his flashlight on the unearthed urn,
hardly believing his eyes or his luck. The intricate design made dating the piece easy. “It’s Tintagel ware.”

“Tinta-who?”

“Tintagel ware is an ancient indigenous pottery. Fifth or sixth century. More evidence that Cadbury Castle really was King
Arthur’s home base.”

They both jumped aside as another slice of wall and more pottery crashed down, revealing a hidden room. At the sound of breaking
terra-cotta, Lucan winced. An ancient scroll poked from the shards, and he dashed to pull the paper from the muddy earth before
the dampness reached it.

Old and fragile, the antiquity had survived in amazing condition. He balanced the flashlight between his shoulder and chin,
unfurled his find, and squinted, wishing for his lost glasses.

Marisa peered over his arm, her reporter’s curiosity evident. “What is it?”

Lucan stared, his pulse racing in excitement. The astrological map revealed the sun, the earth, planets. And many stars. But
what had his heart battering his ribs was the line drawn from Earth to a star far across the galaxy. He was looking at an
ancient map of the heavens. His mouth went dry. “This is a star map.”

“Why do you sound so surprised? Even the most ancient cultures were into astrology.”

“Astronomy,” he corrected automatically. “I’m no astronomer, but this looks… far too accurate for its time. King Arthur, remember.
The age of chivalry.”

“Yeah, right.”

Lost in thought, he ignored her sarcasm. “This map has details the Hubble telescope might not pick up, yet it’s thousands
of years old. It’s unbelievable.”

“So it’s a fake?”

“I’ll have to perform tests…” He squinted at the map. His gaze moved on to the distant stars and their planets. “Hell.”

“What now?”

He pointed to the map. “This moon is named Pendragon.”

“Wasn’t that King Arthur’s last name?”

He nodded and squinted. “And written right under Pendragon is the word
Avalon.
”

“Avalon? Is that significant?”

“Avalon was a legendary isle ruled by a Druid priestess called the Lady of the Lake,” he answered. “She helped put Arthur
on the throne. And according to the stories, Avalon was also where King Arthur left the Holy Grail.”

“The Holy Grail?” Disbelief filled her voice.

“The powers of the cup are legendary. If the myths are true, the cup might cure physical ills—cancer, heart attacks, and”—he
hesitated before breathing out the word—“sterility.”

Though neither his sister nor her husband was officially sterile, like most of Earth’s population, they couldn’t have children.
Her recent miscarriage had been her second in as many years. If the cup truly existed and he could find it, his sister—and
hundreds of thousands of others—could finally carry a child to term.

“Throughout the ages,” he continued, “many men, including Arthur’s own Knights of the Round Table, have searched for Avalon
and the Holy Grail. Legendary stories of the Grail’s healing properties exist in many cultures, yet no one has found it.”
He pointed to the small moon on the ancient map. “Maybe that’s because Avalon wasn’t on Earth.”

“You’ve lost your mind.” She sighed, but the catch in her voice exposed her wishful thinking that after all this time despairing,
she might be able to hope again.

“A search for the Holy Grail might be the most exciting thing I’ll ever do.”

“It might also be the last thing you ever do. Didn’t you learn your lesson when you went in search of Preah Vihear antiquities?”

“The golden statue of the dancing Shiva I found in the Khmer temple was worth—”

“Ending up in a Cambodian jail?”

“Just a little misunderstanding. We got it squared away.”

She cursed under her breath. “You sure you don’t have a death wish? Or are you just an adrenaline junky?”

She was only fussing because she loved him, so he ignored her rhetorical questions. Besides, he wasn’t the only twin who took
calculated risks. As a reporter for the
St. Petersburg Times,
Marisa had placed herself in danger many times. They were some pair. She wanted to report the present to change the future.
Until now, he’d believed humanity was headed for extinction and had studied the past because the future looked bleak. But
if he could find the Grail, the past just might offer hope for the future.

Marisa sighed. “We need to dig out of here.”

He carefully rolled up the parchment and placed it in the dry sample bag he’d pulled from his backpack. Then he shone the
light on the broken pottery. Kneeling, he began gathering as many shards as he could carry.