Time Dancer (17 page)

So softly spoken, those words stole into her heart and stitched the final seam, sealing him forever inside her. Even if he was only here for a short while, it was time she had with him, time she’d never forget. When she was old and bent with age, with more lines on her face than in a book, his voice would rock her to sleep.

Her hand raised from his shoulder to his lips.
Warm
satin
.

He murmured her name, then his tongue slipped into her mouth as he had slipped into her life, with an explosion of power and a gentle lick. The minty bite of coldest winter sizzled hot from his lips. One arm wound around his neck. A possessive clutch tugged her to his chest and forced a small gasp from her mouth. He nibbled the sound away.

The clasp at his nape annoyed her and she plucked it loose, freeing his hair to her fingers. If his lips were satin, his hair was silk. The only two soft things about him entranced her. She let everything go, burying herself in the complexities of him, of stone and satin, of granite and silk, of innocence and boldness.

Dyal’s groan broke into their circle. The black began to intrude. The firelit chambers faded into the spread of nothingness. Answers to questions rushed her mind.

“Of course! Now it makes sense.” Excitement quickened her breath. “The loving was complete. The answer came with its end. A child, Darach. If Rycca carried Dyal’s child into marriage, the bloodline changed.”

Lines carved around his mouth. “But she’s to marry another man?”

“Yes, well, I suppose she wouldn’t be the first woman to pass another man’s bastard off as her husband’s.” Jana fought a sudden yawn, but it escaped. She covered her mouth as it stretched through her. “But that doesn’t seem quite right. Cator Ooman was the last king before Segur rule. Rycca has to marry a Segur. What was her promised lord’s name?”

“Mergot, no family name was given. Perhaps it was Segur.”

“No, Segur didn’t appear on the lexicon until they took the crown. So who does she marry and is she carrying Dyal’s child? Is the blood curse in Dyal’s bloodline or the Segur line? We’ve more questions than when we began.”

“We have more pieces to a puzzle. The answers are here, waiting for us to discover them.” One strong finger followed the curve of her jaw. “This dance has drained you after the journey. We will try again after you rest.”

“I want to know. I can go on.”

“Dancing in time is draining but bridging to a new bloodline is twice as risky. Do not overtire yourself. It’s too easy to become trapped in the past and lost forever.”

“What does that mean?”

He pulled his shoulders back. “If your spirit travels along a bloodline other than your own and you’re lost, your body—which remains in your time—will weaken and die. Most time dancers have perished this way. You must take care,
nayeli
. When you’re fatigued, return to your time.”

She nodded and closed her eyes. “All right. Let’s go back, then.”

Rapid swirls rushed her, and she clung tight to his hand. Cold seeped away to be replaced by softness and warmth. She opened her eyes and saw nothing but him, kneeling by her bedside.

Darach removed the bloodstained cloth from her hand and tucked it in his pouch. “Rest now, my charge.”

Languid with the hazy glow of dancing, Jana stretched her arms and curled her toes into the blankets. “Stay, talk with me awhile.”

Darach sat on the edge of the mattress. “What do you wish to speak of?”

“Tell me about your world.”

His sigh brushed her skin. “I wish I could share with you even one small moment in my realm. So quickly it fades from my mind as this world presses in. It is...I don’t know the words. We have no form, not like this body, but we feel. We sense. We know. Music fills every corner of our spirit. Light warms us from within. Serenity cradles us. The air carries a fragrance like...it’s sweet but not heavy.”

She hated that he longed for his own realm. “It sounds like paradise.”

“Paradise?” His smile drifted away. He leaned closer, his head angled over her. The sable silk curtain of his hair fell around her. “No. For it to be paradise, you would have to be there with me,
nayeli
.”

“
Nayeli
, what does that mean?”

“It is...everything. You are my everything.”

She fingered the waterfall of silken hair. Her tongue touched her lip and his gaze dropped to her mouth. Deliberately, she slicked across the bottom, watching his pupils dilate. The woman in her purred.

“I think...I need the healer after all.”

* * *

The healer left, closing the door behind her. A tingling on her nape gave Jana two seconds to collect her scattered mind before Darach stepped into the room. He looked at the side table, his gaze falling on twin pouches. “Did her medicinals give you ease?”

Jana sidestepped the question. “Yes, she gave me what I needed. She suggested I use the sauna to help me sleep. Come with me.”

The saunas were in the lower levels, carved from the bedrock of the castle foundation. The stout wooden door creaked when she pulled it open. The underchamber wall torches played inside the room, showing a thick glossed wood bench around a center collection of hot stones. A bucket of water stood nearby with a wide-mouthed ladle. Darach opened the bake pit next to the sauna and used huge metal tongs to put three heated rocks on the squat platform. The low ceiling nearly brushed the top of his head when he straightened.

“Will you not grow hot in this place?”

“That’s the idea,” Jana murmured. She shut the door and flipped the latch. Her pulse galloped in her neck as she crossed to the center rock pile. Water hissed and popped as she poured a ladleful over the stones. Steam wafted quickly and a thin film of sweat formed along her upper lip. She added another dipper of water.

“We’re supposed to disrobe. It opens your skin to the steam and flushes out the chill.”

Jana let the robe slip from her shoulders. Molten lava could not have left a more searing burn than his wide gaze traveling over her nude body. The thick cords of his throat moved with a swallow. Heat burst along her skin, half from the rolling steam, half from the way his mouth dropped.

“
Nayeli
.”

She tucked a towel across her breasts and extended another to him. “Your turn.”

He took the thick material in one hand, his predatory gaze leaping to hers. She claimed a spot on the bench simply to hide her shaking knees. Leather and steel hit the stone floor as he dropped his belt. He jerked the quilted tunic over his head with one swift move, muscles rippling with grace. His boots came next, joining his belt with a shuffling kick. Sweat glistened in the hollow below his Adam’s apple. His hands went to his waist and Jana held her breath.

Sudden shyness swam across his eyes and he angled away from her. The taut lines in his back shifted as he pushed the breeches down to his ankles. The sculpted flesh of his ass flexed with his step. Her tongue inched out, gliding along her upper lip.

Darach wrapped the toweling around his waist and sat, far away from her, at the opposite end of the bench.

“I don’t bite,” she teased.

His growl carried a hunger that stroked her with an erotic caress. “I do.”

She had no idea how tempted he was to bite her. Darach struggled to restrain the primal urges coursing through his body. Listening to Dyal and Rycca while holding Jana, tasting her, feeling her soft breasts against his chest, had sent his senses spinning. The human part of him craved more.

No force in either realm could stop him from watching the toweling across her breasts dip low as she spooned another dipper of water over the stones. Steam billowed upward. Hazy mist surrounded them but his animal vision cut through the barrier like a knife. Fine drops formed along her hairline, curling the dark gold silk to tighter spirals. She didn’t return to her seat but lowered to the bench beside him.

His eyes lit on the red streak of torn skin along her collarbone, the dark scabs of healing. A primitive growl unfurled in his belly. He wanted to soothe her hurt, lick his tongue along her wound, draw the pain into his own mouth. Want thickened his tongue and hardened things beneath his towel. He spread his thighs, letting the heavy weight drop between them to hide the growth.

A single drop of sweat slid from his throat, trickling down his chest. Her fingers followed it. His muscles quivered and his nipples beaded tight. Slender fingers glided up his biceps. They trailed across his shoulder and up his neck, sinking into his hair. He suddenly hated his hair, wished he could shear himself bald just to bring her touch back to his skin.

“I love your hair. I’ve never known a man to keep it so long. It’s as long as mine.”

Words wouldn’t come. Something in her touch robbed his voice and left him mute. His hair trickled through her fingers. She tucked it behind his ear, tracing down his jaw. Her lips followed. He turned and took her mouth as if his existence depended on it. Perhaps it did. His heart only beat because of her.

Something was different. This kiss was different. It held an offering he didn’t know how to claim. He forced his hands to remain on the bench, flattening his palms and stretching his fingers until they hurt.

“Tomorrow I’ll be a time dancer and you my guide. For tonight, love with me, Darach. Give me one night in your arms.”

The mimicked words of a long-dead princess rattled through him with tsunami strength.

She caught his lower lip and sucked it into her mouth. “Touch me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

Permission tasted sweet, like honeysuckle in the air. He pried his hand from the bench but it hung in the air, unsure where to land. Jana reached out and brought his hand to her breast. His fingers curved until the heavy flesh cradled in his palm.

He had only a rudimentary knowledge of what to do. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t... Show me.”

“I’ve only done this twice.”

“Twice more than I.”

How he loved her laugh. Low and throaty, it traipsed along his skin. She pulled her towel away. The cotton puddled to the floor and he feasted on the sight of her. Jana brought his hand back to her breast. He explored every inch—the bottom-heavy swells that filled his palm, the gentle slope along the sides, the freckled valley that ran between them, the berry-pink of her nipples. Those peaks stood taller under his thumbs’ strokes. Cupping with both hands, he deepened the valley. Her head fell back, thrusting into his hold.

The flavor of her kiss was sweet. Did her breasts taste differently? He had to know. He captured one nipple, sucking it deep, learning the texture against his tongue. His arm curled around her waist, bringing her breast deeper into his mouth. She arched, her hands shooting into his hair.

Forces shifted inside him, pressures building. Her hand fell to his thigh and his body surged, that staff between his legs wanting her touch. Something very male, very human, in him needed to feel her weight. The damp skin smoothed under his palm as he stroked down her body to her hip.

Jana moved, knowing far better than he what he craved. She straddled him. His staff caught between them, straining at the towel. One quick flick of her wrist stripped his towel away. A groan pealed from his throat.

Hot, wet, womanly flesh cradled the hardest part of him. He never imagined anything could be so soft. Cautiously, he let his fingers glide across her hip, down toward that buttery heat. How opposite and yet perfectly matched was male and female. The hard throb of him ached for the soft melting of her.

Sharp teeth nibbled a line down his neck. He wanted her to bite more, to mark him, to brand him as hers. Her hand slid between them. Everything vanished except for her fingers curled around him. A slow rhythm built as she stroked and his head fell back.

“
Nayeli
.”

“Shh.” Her tongue dipped into his mouth. “Let me.”

He was hers to command. Sensations layered atop him—the supple press of her breasts on his chest, the clench of her thighs around his, the erotic rise and fall of her hand. He thrust into her hold, needing more, wanting more, hungering for more.

Jana lifted her body above him, stroked the wide head of his staff against her cleft then lowered. Darach’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened. With a feminine moan, she dropped her head to his shoulders until she’d taken every bit of him.

He couldn’t move. Wonder washed through him. “Inside you?”

“Inside me,” she whispered.

He’d been told but this joining, this union, the fusion of him to her astounded him. She rose up and slid down. Ancient urges lifted his hips in answer. He cradled her behind in his hands, moving with her. She was so tight, so warm. Nothing he knew compared with the feel of her wrapped around him. Delicious pressure grew until a crack threatened.

Each line in his body went taut. Panic and confusion ricocheted in his mind. He jerked, catching her hips in his hands and holding her still. “
Nayeli
, stop. I...something is...”

Her kiss licked across his cheek until her lips pressed to his ear. “Let it go. Don’t fight it. Fly with me.”

His body obeyed her as metal succumbs to a magnet. Head thrown back, he melted into the primal impulse with a roar and let his control shatter into a million pieces. His fingers bit into the tender flesh of her behind as he surged within her. The stone walls around them shook and the floor beneath his feet shuddered as Darach lost himself in release.

Aftershocks racked him and his ragged breath rushed overly loud in the quiet. Jana held him tight, clinging to his shoulders. She stroked his hair, his face, kissed his lips as he calmed. He wrapped his arms around her. They were melded together now. Certainty filled the weakening spaces in his body. There was no way he could leave her.

Chapter Nine

Did his father have to shout so loud? Warric bit back a curse, reversed his path and trudged to his father’s study. He was half-frozen and his head was killing him. His blood churned with the need to get to Kya’s cottage but he was sopping wet, starving and needed supplies. Ten minutes, ten little minutes inside the castle was all he needed. But the instant his boots had hit the foyer, the king had bellowed.

“You called for me, Papa?”

The king started to speak then raked his glare over Warric. “You look terrible. Warric, you’ve got to stop the drinking and whoring.”

A sarcastic snort blew out before Warric could catch it. Of course, his father thought the worst. He always did. Warric hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in days and Kya was no whore. He’d been with no other woman in almost two summers.

“Right, I’ll take that under advisement. Did you want something? Because I really nee—”

“Sit.” King Taric pointed at the chair before his desk.

Like a well-heeled puppy, Warric dropped his frame into the seat. Lecture time. God, how he hated this reprimanding-the-schoolboy shit. He had no time for this. The pain in his head thumped and turned his mood sour. At least he didn’t have to think overly much. He’d heard all the lectures a dozen times. All that was required of him was that he nod and make placating mumbles at the proper moments. Rubbing his temples, he mentally made a list of what he needed to grab from his chambers.

“I asked you not to leave the grounds.”

Shit, he was in for it now. “I forgot. Sorry.”

“I received a visit from one of your conquests.”

Warric scowled. “What?”

“She came to the wicket and asked about you. The guards brought her to me. Very pretty girl named Kya.”

“Kya came here?” His chest began to heave. Shit, he told her he’d come back. Of course, that was sometime last evening and it was already nearly twenty-four hours later. Had she told his father about his bond? He wasn’t ready for that, not yet, not when things were so uncertain. He needed to be free, to get a handle on the channeling power away from his family, away from those the chaotic evil wanted to hurt.

“Yes.” The king returned a ledger to the shelf then turned with a carefully blank face. “She said she was worried about you, that you were supposed to return last night and never did. She mentioned you’ve been having headaches.”

“Sometimes,” Warric mumbled, studying the ornate pattern in the rug at his feet. “I’m sorry, Papa. I never thought she’d come here.”

Not
without
me
to
introduce
her
properly
. Warric closed his eyes. He wanted to gown her in silk and make her his princess, proudly introduce her to his parents. That would have to wait. He couldn’t risk staying here, and the instant his father learned of his bond, he’d insist, to the point of locking them in. Still, hiding his feelings for Kya was difficult.

Dark-brown-clad knees stepped into his gaze. “She’s very beautiful, Warric, and very gracious.”

“She is,” Warric whispered. Those knees moved aside and he sucked in a shaky breath. “Did she say anything else?”

“No, but I got the impression she cares for you a great deal. Do I want to know why you didn’t return after telling her you would?”

Warric mentally begged Kya’s forgiveness and twisted the truth. “I was with another woman and essentially passed out afterward.”

A disgusted sigh slapped at him. “You need to grow up and stop this skirt-chasing nonsense. Tell me you didn’t promise Kya anything.”

“No promises except those I’ll keep. She likes a brand of soap I send to her from Endicort.”

“Soap,” King Taric muttered. “I’d hoped she meant something to you. She was...she carries herself like a princess, with a sense of self-worth and dignity. You could do far worse than falling for Kya.”

I
fell
,
Papa
,
I
fell
hard
.
She’s
the
only
thing
that
can
save
me
.
I
love
her
. He fought the smile that wanted to break free. His father liked her. That meant so much to him, more than he realized it would.

“What’s going on with you?” King Taric didn’t take his customary seat behind the desk. It was the first hint that this discussion was different. Instead, he leaned his ass on the desk edge and crossed his ankles. The second hint was more subtle. He waited.

Warric cautiously looked up. There was no anger, no condemnation on the king’s face, just concern. That look knocked Warric off balance. A sudden urge boiled—the need to spill everything out, to lay it on the table and share every dark secret scorched his mouth.

“The headaches concern me. Have you seen a healer?”

“Papa, I...” He floundered and his father did nothing. He didn’t pounce with a listing of shortcomings, a diatribe of responsibilities, with codes of honor and dignity. He just waited. Warric looked away. “I’ve seen a few. It’s just tension. There’s a lot going on with me magically and I’m trying to work through it.”

“Can I help? Tell me what you need and I’ll do anything I can.”

Something softened in Warric’s stomach. He’d never wanted for anything but even as a child, his parents had been careful not to spoil him. He’d labored alongside stable boys and pages, learning the value of hard work. He’d been told no and not gotten every flippant wish and want. But if he needed something, his father had always given it. In sudden realization, Warric knew if there was a solution he could give to this channeling madness, King Taric would provide it, even if it meant his own life.

But not even the crown could fix this.

“I just need time and to be left alone.”

“Bryton wants you to have a guard.”

Warric bolted straight in his chair but the king held out his hand.

“I’m being open with you, so listen. I know you don’t want one. He thinks... Warric, do you remember the stories of when I was a child? Of when my uncle kidnapped me early in the Marchen war?”

An hourglass turned over, the sand slipping downward at a too-fast trickle. Trepidation crept into Warric’s exhausted muscles. The High Captain might not know the whys of it, but he was on the right trek. His interference would speed the collision, not prevent it.

“He thinks I’m trying to kill Batu.”

“Are you?”

Holding his father’s stare made him shake. He forced his chin to lift and refused to blink. “I want my brother alive. I don’t want the crown.”

The king studied him for a long moment. “All right. I’ll deny the request. But I don’t want you leaving the castle for a while. And that is an order.”

“Am I under arrest?” No answer followed and Warric’s breath hissed out. “I am, aren’t I? Maybe not in the cells but my shackles are just invisible.”

Each line of the king’s body went motionless. “Someone is trying to kill your brother. They nearly killed Feena. They
did
kill Argot and three other guards. With magic, Warric. I can’t deny that and you can’t deny you have more power than anyone else here, except your mother. If you choose to think of staying inside these walls as being arrested, that’s your choice. I’d prefer to think of it as removing yourself from question.”

“May I go now?”

King Taric’s mouth opened but he shut it hard, thinned his lips and nodded.

Warric thrust from the chair. His boots smacked against the stairs as he barreled to his chambers. If he stayed here, he would remove himself as an assassination suspect. But if he stayed, he’d black out again and his magic would run free. He might succeed in becoming the assassin he feared. If he left, he could control the surges, learn to direct them and remove the threat. But he’d be viewed as running away in guilt. It was a two-edged sword.

It was no choice at all.

There was no time to light a fire. He’d be gone before it erased the chill anyway. He dug a travel bag out of the wardrobe and hastily shoved clothing inside. Ripping off the damp borrowed shirt, Warric shivered until he found his warmest breeches and tunic. He dressed quickly, shoving the jeweled dagger in his boot. He never carried any weapons, had no need to, but he wanted this one close for some reason.

Pushing boxes aside haphazardly, he pawed through his Endicort things, salvaging several purses with herbs, a pestle and mortar, and three slim volumes on spellcraft. The
History
of
Magic
still lay in the center of his bed. He tucked that in his bag as well.

“Are you going away, too?”

The small voice jerked his head over his shoulder. Jana’s youngest sister, Solian, peeked in his door. He must not have closed it completely in his haste. The stupid mistake slammed into him. He couldn’t afford such forgetfulness.

He forced a smile to his mouth. “Hey, sunshine. What are you doing here? Isn’t it your lesson time?”

Solian curled her lip. “I don’t feel like doing arithmetic now. Can I hide in here?”

He chuckled, a genuine laugh that lifted his spirits. “Sure. Close the door though. Old Mistress Huba isn’t going to rap my knuckles again. I had enough of that long ago.”

She climbed onto his bed, propped her chin in her hand and looked into his duffel. “Batu, Feena and Jana are all gone. All the grown-ups are tense. The doors are locked and guards are all over, one even stands in the schoolroom. Now you’re leaving. Nobody tells me anything but something bad is happening, isn’t it?”

Warric crouched before her. “Yeah, it is. But you just listen and nothing bad will happen to you.”

“Where are you going?” She fidgeted with her braids, her face pinched with worry. “Is Papa sending you somewhere? He said I’m to stay in our suite. It’s boring there.”

The only place the High Captain would send him was to the cells. “I’ve got something that might make your captivity more fun. Want to see it?”

Childish excitement enlivened her face. It took him a few minutes’ worth of digging but he found the storybook he’d planned to give her for her birthday buried under a stack of herbal texts. “A fellow I know works his magic through ink. He can’t utter a spell to make a cat sneeze but he can do this.”

He opened the binding and her mouth dropped open. The fantasy pictures moved on the page. The unicorn galloped through a garden, the dragon blew smoke that wafted from the parchment, and the lovely young ladies smiled, batting eyelashes drawn overly long.

“Oh, I love it!”

God, he loved this child. She’d been like a living doll to him from the moment she was born. Everyone knew her birth had been an accident but Salome called her a gift. Warric silently agreed.

Fear rushed in and stole his joy. If he failed, she would be hurt, would lose the innocent wonder in her eyes. For one moment, she
was
all of Eldwyn, and her survival rested on his shoulders. A silent vow thickened his tongue. He would not fail her.

He fixed his gaze on the hearth and flames burst in the kindling. “That should keep you warm. You can hide in here all you want. Just don’t tell anyone you saw me leave.”

Solian frowned. “Where are you going?”

He started to lie. But she looked at him, all purity and sweetness in big gray eyes, and his heart twinged. He wanted to shout from the rooftop that he’d found his love. He wanted to show Kya off, lead her on his arm with pride, but he couldn’t. Hiding that love from his father had been torture but he wanted someone to know, to be happy for him. He couldn’t risk telling anyone with authority. Solian had none but she could understand.

“I’ll tell you a secret if you promise to keep it.”

She spit in her hand and held it out to him. He’d taught her that when she was three. Her mother had nearly singed his ears for that move. Spitting a small spot in his palm, he grabbed her little hand and squeezed. Their shared secrets were safe. He leaned close with a whisper. “I found my heartmate.”

Glee squealed from her before she remembered the secrecy, then she bit her lips and clapped her hands. “Really? Will you marry her? Can I be the wheat bearer? I had a new blue gown for Feena’s wedding but I don’t know if she’ll have another now.”

“I will marry her.” He prayed he got the chance. “And yes, you can carry the wheat.”

“What’s her name?”

“Kya.”

“Oh, that’s pretty. Is she pretty?”

“Beautiful. Her hair is dark brown, very dark, like black oak. Her eyes are dark, too. I’m going to go stay with her for a little while.”

Solian looked at him with a half-hidden smile. “You’re supposed to wait until after the wedding to stay with your lady.”

“You sound more like your father every day.” He grunted and tugged her braid. “I better go. Wish me luck hiding from the guards. Be good, sunshine.”

He smacked a short, loud kiss to her forehead then slung his pack over his shoulder. The soft catch of his door closing sounded like a death knell. Something foreboding slithered along his spine and he wondered if it were the last time he’d ever see that room or Solian again.

The sight of a scabbarded sword hanging on a guard’s hip outside the hall stopped him. The private wing was under watch. He was under watch. There was no way he could simply walk out. Without a moment’s hesitation, he slipped into an empty room.

The unoccupied space had pink walls with tiny painted roses. Maybe at some time a female royal family member had claimed it but it had never been used in his lifetime except as an escape hatch. More than once, he and his brother had used the southern-facing window to slip out unnoticed. No one shimmied down faster than Batu, even if he was carrying a jar full of salamanders to torment the schoolgirls, but Warric managed just fine.

Brisk wind pelted his face as he tottered along the outside lip of the upper story. A quick slide down a sloped roof landed him on his ass above the maids’ quarters. Some industrious, or no doubt amorous, soul had notched handholds in the stone walls long ago. The worn rock facing bit into his hands climbing down but, once on the armory roof, he was within leaping distance to the ground. His ankles protested the landing but he sprinted toward the postern gate...which was surrounded by guards.