Time Dancer (13 page)

Firelight flickered across her ring. A wry snort shook her head. She had terrible man sense. She’d thought she’d been in love with a gentleman but he turned out to be a lying bastard. Another man had loved her with an undemanding devotion, and yet she’d never known, despite seeing his face every day. She couldn’t trust her own heart to not lead her to destruction, how could she hope to save the crown?

Her hand rose to her necklace. Darach barely knew the rudimentary facets of human life but he knew instinct, magic and tracking. He would lead her in the right path to save Batu. She just had to keep reminding herself that he wasn’t a man even if the one taste of his mouth lingered in her blood like rich spiced wine.

The ground shook with a roar. Jana leaped up and ran to the window, using her tunic sleeve to wipe a circle in the fog. She’d read of times when the earth would shake and tremble but never felt one. It lasted less than a minute but even the empty branches quivered and snow fell in great sheets from the rooftop.

The barn door burst open. A plume of lavender shot straight from the door to the stone chimney and exploded into the cabin. Darach in his natural form speared into her necklace so hard the impact stung her chest. She gasped and wrapped her hand around it. It was hot and pulsed with raging emotion.

Limping footsteps warned her before the door opened and Batu ducked in.

“What happened?”

Batu avoided her eyes. “Did he say anything?”

“No, he returned to the necklace. What did you say to him?”

The fire snapped and sizzled as he brushed snow from his mantle into the blaze. He draped it over a chair then settled into another, his solemn gaze studying the dancing fire for a long stretch of tense time. He avoided looking at her while pulling his boots off unassisted.

“I told him a bit about loving, the mechanics mostly, then I answered some questions. He had a lot and I’m afraid not many of my answers were pleasant.”

“It’s strange,” she murmured, lowering back to her pallet. “He’s so fierce, deadly as we saw, but in some ways, he’s completely innocent.”

“Tread gently, Jana.” Batu’s grace and dignity carried softly on a soothing voice. “In only a few days, he’s seen treachery, lies, murder, thievery and cruelty to children. I’ve never seen anyone so angry. To him, you are all that is good in humanity.”

Behind her ribs, something twanged with pain. Darach had taught her so much, opened doors she’d never known existed. He made her feel in ways that were foreign yet felt right. Thinking of his leaving was like imagining the rain turning to milk.

Silence stretched like a waking man. Pops and cracks filled the room. Batu cleared his throat. “He very much liked his first kiss, by the way.”

The rest of her body was covered in gooseflesh but her cheeks warmed at his tease. “And they say women gossip.”

“Jana, I’m not your father. You’re an adult and what you do is your business but if—”

“Stop. Do not finish that sentence. He’s not human and he’s not staying.”

He pursed his lips but stayed silent. Every muscle ached, her eyes felt gritty with the need for rest.

“I was conceived before my mother became human.”

Her head snapped up at Batu’s low whisper. “That’s impossible.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I can count, I know the dates. Even better, she told me. It wasn’t that Mama couldn’t conceive as a spell, but that she couldn’t carry a child. They—the spells—they have to revert to their natural form to replenish their magic or they die. Any child created would have been lost then.”

He looked at her with a warning set to his chin. “Men are different, Jana. They don’t carry the child, only plant the seed.”

She and Batu had always been close but this conversation verged on embarrassing. “There isn’t anything for you to worry about.”

His brows rose but he said nothing. The howl of the wind was the only sound. Batu lowered his body to a pallet with a muffled moan. Jana drew the blanket to her nose, her fingers clutching the necklace beneath the wool. As long as their journey had been, as fraught with tensions and dangers, they should have dropped to sleep immediately but each lay awake, staring into the ceiling for over an hour.

“Want to know a secret?”

“Of course.” Jana laughed softly and rolled to face him. They’d always begun each heart-to-heart the same way.

He shifted, his grin spreading. “I planted a seed.” She raised her brows in question and he chuckled. “Feena carries. I felt it. I felt the instant the child was made.”

“A baby?”

“A little girl.” He rested his good arm along his forehead. “Segur men know, thanks to the heartmate bonds. Papa said he knew with me, but not with Warric. Maybe it’s only the firstborn, I don’t know, but I felt this. I haven’t told a soul, except Feena, of course. I’m going to be a father.”

The awe in his words softened her smile. She was happy for him and her sister, but too many unknowns circled around them. Would he live to see his child born? She banked her worries like a fire, holding the heat of them inside herself. It was a flame that burned her cold.

Chapter Seven

His head was going to explode. Warric rubbed his neck while crossing the entry foyer. At the echoing shout of his name, he closed his eyes. Damn, did his father always have to pick the minute he walked in the castle to summon him? He turned and went down the short hall.

“You wanted me, Papa?”

King Taric tossed the quill onto the desktop. “Where have you been?”

Warric puckered his lips. “I don’t think you really want to know that.”

“Guess again,” the king corrected. “Didn’t you notice the gates are closed? The doubled guards on the wall?”

Impressions he’d brushed off bombarded him. He’d had to summon a guard to open the wicket because the portcullis was lowered and the heavy oak gates had also been closed tight. The bailey yard was near empty, something that never occurred this time of morning. Dread choked him. “What happened?”

“Argot’s dead. Batu and Feena got married and Bryton claimed High Captain’s Right.”

Warric’s eyes went wide. “What?”

His father held his hand up. “Bryton sent Batu away. Darach and Jana are with him.”

“Darach? Who’s that?”

The king rubbed his forehead as if pained. “Your mother summoned a spell for Jana, a guide to help her become a Time Dancer.”

“A Time Dancer?” Warric’s jaw dropped. “They’re real?”

“Apparently, although rare.”

Warric shifted, the charcoal painting on his butt seeming to pulse. “He’s a bear shifter, right?”

“Grizzly, yes. Darach is very strong, very brave. He stepped in to guard Batu when Argot fell, so Batu took him along as a temporary captain, but he refused to leave Jana behind.”

“Where’d they go?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Warric recoiled and King Taric softened his look. “For both your protection. Batu’s safe, or as safe as he can be for now.”

“They got married already? Why?”

“She’s now his heir by marriage.”

Warric clasped his hands together and looked up. “Thank you, God, for sparing me that torture.”

King Taric frowned. “Feena was taken somewhere safe. Where, I don’t even know. I want to assign you a guard.”

“No, Papa,” Warric groaned. He was not about to be saddled with a shadow. That was one of the perks of not being the heir, freedom to come and go without having to report his every breath. He sank into one of the flanking chairs across from his father’s desk. “I don’t need a guard.” He formed a bright ball of fire and held it in his palm. “I’m more dangerous than any sword anyway.”

“Put that away before you singe the carpets again.”

A hiss sounded as he closed his fist.

The king laced his fingers together and fixed a hard glower at him. Despite his age, Warric fought not to squirm under that look. “I don’t want you to return to school unguarded.”

“Actually, I think I’ll just stay home.” Massaging the muscles at the base of his skull, he lied with complete calm. “I couldn’t concentrate on my studies with Batu in danger.”

“All right. Now, where have you been?”

“In bed...not alone. Good enough?”

“No.” The king leaned back, fully expecting complete obedience. “Who?”

“Sorry, Papa. I don’t kiss and tell.” He allowed his lip to curl arrogantly and thumped his chest with a finger. “Don’t worry. Built-in bastard control, remember? No little royal surprises from me.”

“Enough with the attitude.” Authority firmed the king’s shoulders. He snapped forward, jabbing his finger at the blotter on his desk. “I want to know now. Do you have a bondmate?”

“No. Want me to strip and show you my chest?”

His father exhaled noisily. “Do you have to be contrary? It’s vital to protect your heartmate if you have one.”

“I don’t have a heartmate. Besides, I’m off the hook. Feena’s Batu’s heir now.”

King Taric sighed. “By law, yes, but without a blood child, that’ll always be in question for some. Blood is a stronger link than a secret marriage. I need to know that, if the worst happens, you’re prepared to fulfill your duty. More than that, you’re my son and I don’t want anything to happen to someone you care about.”

His duty. He never wanted any duty but to practice his magic. Could he tell his father that he feared there was something seriously wrong with him? That no healer could help with the headaches that came more and more frequently? That he had no idea what he did when he blacked out? What kind of king could he be if he had no idea if he was losing his mind?

He fixed his gaze on the dagger-shaped letter opener on the corner of the desk. Pain had slammed into him like an axe blade after he left Kya, and he’d awoken an hour ago in an abandoned hut. What had happened during those lost hours? Or was it lost days? What day was it? He needed answers before he could tell his father anything.

“Batu isn’t going to die. Everything will be fine.” A wish and a lie slipped off his tongue with the same gilded ease. “Last night, I got drunk and passed out. Can I just go to my chambers and lie down?”

He was getting too used to that look of disappointment in his father’s eyes and turned his head. Maybe he wasn’t as serious as Batu, but he’d never bring true shame to the family name. It hurt that his father always assumed the worst of him. In belligerent fashion, Warric always lived down to his expectations.

“Fine. But don’t leave the grounds.”

His father’s displeasure rankled but it was a minor annoyance as he sprinted up the stairs. The maids had cleaned his chambers but none dared touch the odd bits he’d left strewn around. He knew some called him strange and he was actually quite happy with the description. It afforded him more privacy. But privacy also meant he had to tend to his own belongings. The boxes from his Endicort chambers sat stacked along the wall where he’d piled them. He groaned and threw himself onto the fully made bed.

He’d lost more time. Trying to remember only made his head ache more. He rolled over and blocked the sunlight with a pillow. The gold braid on a book spine caught the late morning sunshine and he hefted the pillow aside. The book on magic’s history was one he wanted to read but with schoolwork, he’d never had the time. He ran his finger over the title.

Magic. It lived in him, was as much a part of him as his bones but yet, no matter how much he learned, he’d never match his mother’s innate talent. He couldn’t. He had been born human. She’d been born from fire, from a distant realm he’d almost chalked up to fantasy until Darach had been called.

He idly flipped the pages, glancing at the drawings, sketches and renditions, letting the words blur by without focus. One etching snagged his attention. A charcoal-drawn head, split down the center, whirls and stars exploding out of the gash. His heart hammered as he read. It was all there—the pain, the blackouts, the actions he couldn’t recall. Somewhere in his mind, a puzzle piece clicked into place.

He slammed the heavy book shut and jumped from the bed. He paced, twisting each piece of information until a clearer picture formed. What grew sent waves of sourness through his belly. He’d been looking at his headaches wrong. There was nothing wrong with his body. There was something very wrong with his magic.

His feet barely skimmed the carpet runner as he sped toward the tower room. His mother might be able to answer his questions, but she would also try to protect him like a suckling child. He didn’t need her protection, he needed answers. He also knew who else could give them to him.

“Mama?” He tapped on the open door of her workroom. The new door had been sanded smooth but it remained unpainted as of yet.

Queen Myla turned with a smile. “Warric, where have you been? I was ready to send the guards searching for you.”

“Off being completely irresponsible and wicked.” He returned her smile easily if falsely.

She tilted her head. “Have you been needling your father again? Why do you insist on painting the bleakest picture possible of yourself for him?”

All his answers seemed too light:
because
it’s
fun
,
because
it
gives
me
an
identity
other
than
as
the
spare
to
the
heir
,
because
it’s
one
way
to
get
attention
from
Papa
without
taking
it
from
Batu
. He’d been doing it so long he never even thought about it. It just came out.

Warric fiddled with a pestle. “He expects it. If I suddenly turned all serious he’d have me sent to the healer.”

A shade passed over her eyes, and a wrinkle bloomed between her brows. She reached out to stroke his hair. “Are you all right? Something seems different about you these last few months. I no longer see your path.”

Uneasiness tightened the painted muscles on his ass. Deliberately casual, he sniffed. “I’m coming into my magic more, maybe that’s why.”

“Perhaps,” she murmured. Every hair on his body twitched as she scrutinized him.

“I’m not going back to school,” he announced. “But I was doing some experiments I’d like to finish. Can I take some supplies from here to do them?”

A regal wave of her hand granted permission and he started gathering ingredients, herbs and powders. He piled them in a stray basket from under the table until it nearly overflowed. She eyed the growing collection with a narrowed gaze. “What are you trying to do?”

“About five different things. Don’t worry. I won’t blow myself up.” He dropped a swift kiss on her cheek, picked up his basket and headed toward the door. His feet slowed, then he turned and just watched her.

Queen Myla was fierce and ferocious, with a fast temper and faster strike. Some called her eccentric, others feared her, all respected her power. But she’d been the one to kiss his scraped knees and dry his tears, rocking him when sleep would not come. The first words he could recall were in a haunting language as he cuddled on her lap. She’d laughed at his first stumbling attempts at magic, teaching him the proper basics long before he left for training.

His father’s disapproval he could stomach but never hers. “Mama?” She faced him with a raised brow. “I love you.”

Her mouth bowed. “Warric, I don’t think you’ve said that to me since you were a little boy.”

“I just want you to know.” The basket creaked as he squeezed it. “I need you to know that.”

He closed the door before she could question him. He wanted a bath and a fresh set of clothes. Some food wouldn’t be turned away either. But he needed answers more. He could leave now and head west, toward the melee fields. This late in the year, the open plain would be deserted and he could—

A spike of agony sliced into his skull and he dropped the basket, scattering tiny leaves and vials across the hall floor. He lurched toward the closest door, the maids’ closet filled with rags and buckets, mops and brooms. Clutching his head, he dropped to his knees. He dragged a bucket closer as his stomach surged but only dry heaved.

“No!” Black swirled around the rim of his sight and he fought it.

The black won.

* * *

The mountain lion leaped with no growl to announce his presence. Jana screamed as the streak of deep gold lunged toward them, sinewy muscles hunching and stretching. Darach’s bellow accompanied his counterattack. The clash shook the ice from the trees. Cat met bear in a blur of claws, fangs and fur.

The horses shied from the fight. Jana jammed her heels tight and pulled on the reins to control the flight instinct. Dark yellow lunged. Batu already had his sword out, striking without mercy toward the cat’s head. The massive feline twisted at the last moment and Batu’s momentum nearly unseated him. A paw darted out, catching Jana’s cloak edge and raking her horse’s side. The animal squealed as Batu whirled and swung again. His aim landed true, cleaving into the cat’s side, but no blood spilled.

The mountain lion vanished with a soft pop.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

Darach’s grizzly grappled with two lions, one biting at his feet, the other clinging to his hunched back. He feinted, drawing the cats away from the horses. Red dotted the snow but it all came from the bear. Jana pointed to a third lion creeping in low, preparing to pounce.

“What the hell’s going on?” Batu spat. “Mountain lions aren’t pack hunters.”

“They also don’t disappear when killed.” Jana swung her bow from her shoulder and reached for her quiver. The third lion sprung at Darach’s neck and Batu kneed his horse, racing toward the fight.

Darach ripped the cat from his neck, his lethal five-inch claws splitting the cat’s belly wide. It disappeared without a whimper. Snow churned beneath the horse’s hooves as Batu shouted a battle cry and speared the cat at the grizzly’s feet. It too vanished. Three more mountain lions appeared in the tree line, all barreling toward them. Batu abandoned his panicked horse. Limping, he and a huge grizzly fought against magical lions that kept coming.

Jana let her arrow fly. The first sank deep into one feline shoulder. The animal was gone but her arrow fell to the snow. She notched again. Every time her bowstring sang, the arrow hit true. Mountain lions appeared and disappeared like bubbles from a soapy bath. Twice Jana gathered fallen arrows, ducking razor-sharp claws and fangs, then retreating to kneel and fire. Still the animals came. It seemed an impossible magical battle that no one would win.

The cracking of crusted snow yanked her focus to the right. A huge feline stalked toward her, shoulders rolling with her gait. Jana pulled the bowstring back and a malevolent smile lifted the cat’s lips, twitching long whiskers and showing deadly teeth.

“Jana.”

The meowed name raised gooseflesh along her skin. Evil intelligence shone in cat-gold eyes. She froze, finger hooked in the string tight by her cheek. “Who are you?”

“Kat...ina.”

“My mother is dead!” She released the arrow.

The broadhead tore into the muscled chest. The cat panted a laugh before it vanished, the undamaged arrow falling to the ground. Jana shook, staring at the shaft protruding from snow. She never heard the second animal leap.