Time Dancer (19 page)

Show
me
the
birth
of
the
heartmate
curse
.”

High above the others, Rycca’s voice rose in strength as the others faded away. Darach led her into the black. With every step they took, the air grew brighter, lighter, more filled with color.

A long expanse of a table held few people, all clustered at one end. It should have been an intimate setting but stiffness sang out from the entire affair. A pristine white tablecloth held plates of heavy gold, platters of silver and jewel-decked goblets. Servants and guards lined the walls.

Jana spotted Dyal standing tall behind Rycca, his long hair shining in the golden light, his face a blank mask of honor. The king’s captain was an older man with thick wrists and meaty fists. He wore the same expression. The inquisitive eyes of the advisor, Ranier, darted from father to daughter.

“You did not tell me Princess Rycca was opposed to this union, Cator.” A handsome man to the king’s left patted his lips with a napkin cloth. “It does make things awkward.”

The king didn’t spare a glance in her direction. “No matter, Mergot. As I grew to love her mother, she’ll grow to love you and you her.”

“You’ve spoiled her.” Mergot laughed. “Women are like small dogs. If you give them too much freedom, you’re likely to find they’ve piddled in your slippers while they wait for a pat on the head.”

“Even small dogs have teeth, milord,” Rycca whispered.

Mergot gave her a condescending smile. “They do, Your Highness. A swat on the nose teaches them to be wary of using those teeth.”

An instant dislike curled Jana’s lip. Another outdated idea she was glad the world had left behind. Women did still struggle for freedoms but they weren’t viewed as cattle anymore and beaten into submission. They held offices and land, titles and position. Even her father, with his strict beliefs on propriety, had opened the soldiers’ ranks to any female who wished to join, providing they could handle the physical requirements. He now had twelve female warriors-in-training.

Cator’s fingers tightened on his fork. “She will be your queen foremost, your wife second. You will treat her as such, with respect and care.”

Instantly, Mergot realized his blunder. “Of course, Your Majesty. I was speaking of generalities.”

“Rycca’s a fine daughter and will be a fine wife to you. She knows her duty.”

Princess Rycca glared at the untouched meal on her plate as if it were a bleeding rat. “I do, Father. I know my duty to Eldwyn. That’s why I won’t go through with the wedding.”

The king’s fist banged on the table, the crack making the plates leap and two goblets spill a blood-red stain along the tablecloth. Jana jumped. Darach tightened his grip on her hand.

Rycca rose to her feet with every grace a princess could ever hope to have. “My duty is to give Eldwyn another heir, one to take my place on her throne when I pass. I’ve done that.” The veil on Rycca’s head was a pale green, like new spring leaves. It caught the light as she tilted her face toward her father. “I carry Eldwyn’s next crown within me.”

Behind her, Dyal’s eyes widened. The blank mask dropped to stunned horror then snapped back into place. Only his throat working convulsively showed his shock.

Darach’s warm breath caressed Jana’s ear. “You were correct, my charge. She does carry his child.”

“But who does she marry?” Jana murmured, watching Dyal. The Eldwyn crest on his chest heaved. “Mergot is not a Segur. Dyal didn’t know she carries his child. Batu said all Segur men know when their first born is created.”

King Cator thrust back his chair and leaned on the table, blistering fury glazing his eyes. “Everyone out!”

Servants scattered and guards filed out, all except the two captains behind the royal family. The guests offered quick bows, then fled. Ranier didn’t move.

When dining hall doors closed, Cator turned his anger loose. “Who? I want his name.”

“What matters is the life that grows inside me isn’t tainted with inbreeding and defects. It’s strong.” Rycca’s fingers rested on the table before her, barely touching, but it seemed she needed the grounding. She stared directly at her father. “I need no husband to rule, only an heir.”

“No bastard can hold the throne!”

Rycca laughed. The sound skittered down Jana’s spine. It was a hollow sound, full of more hate than humor. “I too know the law. No bastard of a
king
may hold the throne. Any child of a ruling
queen
may. It’s all about bloodlines and progeny. I can name any man as father but this babe can have only one mother. I can’t falsify that.”

Cator whirled to Ranier with livid ire. The advisor leaned back and nodded to the princess as if she’d found a hidden answer to a riddle. “That’s true. Men throughout time can and have questioned paternity but none can question maternity. The law states any child of a ruling queen, without regards to marital status, may claim the throne.”

The sides of Jana’s throat stuck firm when Cator lunged from his seat and grabbed Rycca’s arm. Dyal started but held back. He couldn’t strike the king and, in fact, would have to stand and watch her being beaten. His eyes jerked to the older captain behind the king. That man shook his head. Dyal’s lips tightened but he remained in his spot.

“I want his name.” Cator fumed. “I’ll have him drawn and quartered.”

Rycca yanked her arm away, a hint of fear creeping into her face. “I’ll never name him.”

“Tell me you were forced.” The stuttering breath raging from the king fanned Rycca’s hair. He jammed a finger in her face. “Tell me you fought him. Tell me you did not do this of your own will.”

“I demanded it.” The princess’s tone rang with iron determination. “I bade him come to me and I writhed beneath his touch.”

The king slapped her. Dyal’s jaw turned to stone.

“I’ll have the name of every man you ever spoke with before this night is out. Your maids, your guards, your nurse if needed, I’ll question them all. I’ll find him.” Cator glared at her flat belly. “Common blood. Where is this salt of the earth, this better-than-noble-purity man? He leaves you alone to deal with this...this...abomination.”

“I never told him of the child.”

Cator seethed. His gaze ripped from Rycca and focused on Dyal behind her. “You! You’re with her all the time. How dare you leave her alone with some underling and allow this to happen.”

“Dyal knew nothing about it,” Rycca insisted.

Ranier’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Then he is guilty of misconduct and indolence in his responsibility.”

Jana cringed. The worst insult to a captain was to question his honor or his attention to duty. “Oh no,” she whispered.

Dyal snapped straight and locked his eyes on Rycca. Her veil shimmied as she shook her head but he stepped forward, every line in his body rigid. “The child is mine.”

Cator froze. Not one muscle moved until he growled, “Kill him.”

The king’s captain hesitated but palmed his dagger.

Rycca screamed, lunging in front of Dyal. “He lies. He tries to protect me as always.”

“No, my heart.” Dyal’s voice was gentle. He cupped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I won’t hide any longer. Why didn’t you tell me about the child?”

“Because you’d do this, you stupid ass! Damn your honor.” Silver tears coursed down her cheeks. “You just stepped into your death.”

“I said kill him!” Cator yelled.

“Sire.” The King’s captain spoke low and soothing, as if coaxing a wild stallion to calm. “There has been no trial.”

“I am the final word in Eldwyn. My word is law.” Disgust dripped from the king’s every word. “He’s guilty of miscegenation.”

“As is the princess,” the elder captain answered softly. “Shall they both die?”

“He’ll be drawn and quartered. I’ll deal with her my own way,” Cator sneered. Wrapping a huge hand around Rycca’s arm, Cator jerked her from Dyal’s hold. “I want him bloodied and outside the bailey walls in an hour, his entrails in each corner of Eldwyn Proper by sunset.”

Jana covered her mouth in revulsion as Ranier slipped from the dining hall as silent as a star. Miscegenation, a person of common birth having relations with anyone of a higher class, had been a criminal offense with the sentence of death. Jana only knew of it through her history lessons as a child. She’d thought it barbaric then and now found it just as cruel.

The elder captain groaned. “Boy, you fucked up good this time. I can’t save you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Dyal handed his sword and dagger over with no fight. “I am guilty. I broke the law, a law that’s unjust and discriminatory.”

“Cold comfort when you’re in a couple pieces bouncing behind a horse. Hope she was worth it.”

“I’d die a hundred times over if I could have the night again.” He speared the older man with a fierce look. “What will he do to her?”

“Eh.” The old captain shrugged. “She’s pure blood. He won’t shed that. He’s pissed now but he loves her. He won’t hurt her. You? You’re a dead man.”

“No.” Dyal smiled. “I’m a father.”

The hand in hers tightened then began to slip away. Jana gripped but Darach’s fingers melted from her. She spun, heart racing in her chest, as he faded to nothing.

“Darach?”

She felt the air in front of her but he wasn’t there. Jana raced through the halls of long-ago-Thistlemount. Darach had left her. She was alone. She was lost.

Around her, daily life went on, servants whispering about the shocking midday meal interruption and speculating on Dyal’s crime. Jana was a ghost, a terrified phantom haunting the chambers with a cry that didn’t echo. From the parapets to the underchambers, she called for Darach, begged him to come, pleaded with him. No one heard her screams.

A stitch shot through her side and she paused, holding it tight, doubled over. Her lungs burned and her throat was raw. A tall mirror at the base of the grand stairs reflected the sunshine. Jana reached out to the intricate swirls of gold in the frame.

Smooth clear glass was mere smoke under her hand. She could see everything—the gleaming stair treads, the red threads in the hanging tapestry, the dust motes floating in a river of sunlight. But she couldn’t see herself. She brought her mouth close to the mirror and blew. No foggy circle bloomed. She didn’t exist. She wasn’t real, at least not here.

Exhaustion pressed down like an anvil, dropping her to her knees under the gilded frame. She couldn’t muster the strength to go on. She was tired. She was scared. She was dying. She was alone in time.

“Darach!”

Chapter Eleven

A tremendous clatter ripped Darach from sleep. On instinct, he leaped over Jana’s body, guarding her with a growl. At the end of the bed, a maid backed away. Broken pottery crunched under her heel.

“Forgive me, milord. I thought the room was empty. There was purple smoke all around you and...I’m sor—”

“Get out!”

She scrambled, tripping over her wheeled cart of supplies. She ran headfirst into Batu and Paron rushing in. Batu thrust the maid at the elderly lord and looked to Darach. “What happened?”

“She woke me,” Darach snarled.

“He was smoking, I tell you. Weird smoke, all purple and swirling.”

Paron hushed the hysterical maid. He looked knowingly at Darach then nodded to Batu. “I’ll see you’re not disturbed.”

The door shut behind him and Batu advanced toward the bed. In dawning horror, Darach looked to his hands gripping the footboard. Both hands.

“I let go.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Darach jerked from the bed, his stomach heaving with nausea. From the instant he’d accepted this duty, he’d felt Jana in his essence. She wound tighter into his core every breath until he couldn’t help but fall in love with her. He was willing to forsake his own world to be with her.

He’d let go. She was forever trapped in the black ocean of time, and her body would perish. All because he’d let go of her hand. That was too cruel a fate to swallow.

“I failed her. I failed.”

“It’s a bad thing,” Batu confirmed. “Tell me, what’s wrong?”

“I let go!” Darach yelled. “I was the anchor. She’s lost in time.”

The prince’s frame snapped taut. He pointed to Jana, sleeping serenely on the bed. “Get your furry ass back in the bed and get her out of there!”

“I can’t.” Darach wrapped his hands around his skull and squeezed. “I can’t enter her dreams unless she calls for me.”

“She will, right? You can do your magic thing and go after her?”

“No. Jana isn’t here, isn’t in this time. Her body is but her spirit’s in the past, the Segur past. Even if she calls, I can’t hear her. I can’t answer her and go to her.”

A noisy exhale jerked both men’s attentions to the bed. Jana was growing paler with each second. Her lips lost their rosy pinkness and turned blue at the edges. In his chest, Darach’s bond with her thinned to a near breaking point.

“Her body is dying.”

“You fix this now. I want her back!” Majestic authority steeled Batu’s frame.

Darach clenched his jaw and tried to think. His thoughts were mired with thick sludge. He’d ripped the heart from her attacker, plunging his hand into warmth and tearing it free. The same invisible wound now wept in him. Having Jana torn from him was excruciating.

A trumpet blast sounded in his head.

“No!”

Pale purple light encased him, streaming from above, cutting through the slate roof and upper chambers. A chorus of thousands sang, beckoning him home. Jana’s absence nullified his vow. “No! I can’t leave her!”

Darach’s feet left the floor. His senses began to dim as the song of his realm grew in volume. His body became weightless, his essence succumbing to the music of peace, of tranquility, of absolute beauty. His heart screamed in denial.

A pleading rhythm filled him, half his language, half hers. “Please...
kimta
...I need her...
Wazanna
...
Oka
‘itiumu
,
oka
ehnita
,
oka
muurícha
... She’s my sun, my moon, my water...
oka
‘atupáma
... She’s my smile...
Oka
chol
,
oka
no’ol
,
oka
nayeli
... She’s my song, my woman, my everything.”

His world paused, listening to his cry. He filled his dimming sight with Jana’s face. Paling skin and shallow breaths whispered that death approached to claim her soul.

Iron will tightened his muscles. He had to find her, to save her. If it took a millennium, then it did. He’d use his mind-mining power, delve into her psyche and sift through human history page by page if he had to. Time meant nothing to him as an immortal. He’d do anything, give anything, to have the chance. Even break her heart.

“Please, help me. You know my heart, that I want to stay with her. I’ll forfeit my choice, my right to choose a life for myself. Just keep her alive long enough for me to find her. I will never stop searching for her soul. Please...
kimta
...
Konoronkhwua
... I love her.”

Acceptance rang like a gong. His feet touched the carpet and the light faded from above. The scent of incense lingered, and one last invisible hand stroked his cheek. The Old Ones would keep her alive. His sacrifice had bought precious time, he would not squander it. Darach swallowed his fate and turned to the ash-gray prince still silent with shock.

“Batu, I must go to the Earth, to natural rock.”

The prince blinked. “Go. Whatever you have to do, do it. I’ll stay with her.”

His tight stream of enchanted smoke shattered the window glass as he speared toward the ground. Straight into the Earth he drove like a knight’s lance. Dirt, rock and ice exploded upward. Agony sheared everything away, leaving nothing but pure pulsating magic. Pressure built.

He used the great plates, slid along the edges where they rubbed and groaned, swallowing valleys, spitting up mountains. Buried waterways that fed the land became his trail. Minerals rich and salty flavored his dive. Heat grew. Darach spiraled deeper. Rock turned to granite.

Jana was out there in the vast and fluid river of time and he’d let go. Fury at himself paled only next to the fear of never seeing her, never touching her again. Jana was as vital to him as the vibration of magic. Jana was his. He was hers.

Rock boiled, churning with sun-hot fire in the darkest chasm. He plunged into the heart of Earth. Primordial power mixed and rolled, fed on itself, then gave birth to the same. He opened to the raw natural forces.

Strength born of ancient creation, of prehistoric elemental power, flooded his essence. The scald washed through him with a numbing hum. He became nothing but his task. He surged upward, up to sky, up to air. The ground groaned at his speed. Rock flew high as he burst from the Earth’s crust.

Batu paced, dagger clenched in his good hand, standing guard over Jana. Darach took the barest shape needed, holding tight to every drop of power he could. Ash fell from his skin, flakes of dirty gray that stained the floor as his feet took solid form.

Batu stepped back, away from the bed. “Darach, you’re glowing.”

Melted stone and melded love fueled his body and imbued his essence. He spared no glance at the prince, climbing to the bed. The blankets smoldered where his hands touched. The skin on her hand pinkened when he gripped it tight, as if trying to forge with his. He held fast. He would find her. Or they both would be lost for eternity, trapped inside the darkest regions of human nothingness—time past.

He took her mouth, not to give her the kiss of sleep but to soothe his raging heart. Drunk with borrowed magic, he tunneled into her psyche, delving into that most personal inner sanctum of her mind.

* * *

“Tell me again why we’re out here?”

Kya shivered, drawing her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Wind whipped through the branches of the empty west field. Warric frowned. He needed to get her a heavier mantle, one lined with thick fur. Fox, he thought. The red would bring out the chestnut in her hair. He dropped a light kiss on her frozen nose and bundled his cloak around her.

“I don’t want to burn the cottage down by accident or hurt someone.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

“I’ll be fine. My magic is fire-based so I get hot fast. Stay here. I’m just going to put a little distance between us to make sure you’re safe.”

She nodded, love simmering in her dark eyes. “Don’t go too far.”

He only went about twenty paces. A fierce gale bit into his face and snapped at his hair but he turned into it. The chill gliding along his skin felt good, bringing a brisk awareness of his surroundings. In the vast empty grassland, he was small. He needed that reminder.

This could be a huge mistake. It could fracture the delicate hold he had on his sanity. But it might also give him a chance to live some semblance of a normal life with Kya. It could keep his brother alive, could prevent the country from turning on itself. Between harness and madness, he had no choice but to try and master the chaotic chasm in his magic and save everything he knew.

One tree on the edge of the forest trembled in the gusts. It listed to the side, rot eating away at its base. His hand shook as he raised it. Deep in the well of his magic, the chaos surged. Pain crashed into his skull and he winced but did not shy away. For the first time, he opened to it.

A force pumped through his veins and sucked the air out of his lungs.
So
strong
. He narrowed his gaze at the tree. A crackle formed along his arm. Fire flew from his fingertips and the tree exploded in flames. Air scorched and the tingling scent of ash stung his nose. Destruction ran rampant through his bones, charging them with strength. His fingers snapped shut and the fire fizzled, leaving a smoking wood skeleton reaching toward the sky.

Drunk with magic, Warric laughed. It echoed back to him with a deeper, darker menace.
Free
. He was invincible. Nothing could stand in his way. Throwing open his hand, he called the fire once more, licking up the blackened bark. He flung out his other hand and a second tree shattered, wood peppering the sky with a thunderous boom.

More
.

A soft gasp behind him reminded him that Kya watched. Somewhere under the flood of magic, a warning flashed into his mind. He had to protect Kya. The muscles in his thighs clenched as he braced and tried to pull back. Magic clung to him.

Mine
.
This
power
is
mine
.
This
land
is
mine
.
Everything
is
mine
.
More
.
I
want
more
.

“No.” The wind snatched the whisper from his lips. The blindness began, pinpointing his sight. He didn’t want to black out and give the chaos control so he stopped pushing it away.

The corrupt force ricocheted through him, haloing everything in a pulsing dark violet. A drugging sense of command taunted him that he could reduce this field to rubble in a blink. With a little effort, he could crack Thistlemount’s stone walls like an egg.

A roar ripped from his gut and another tree fell victim to the gluttony of magic. His name was called behind him but he refused to turn. Sweat rolled down his temple as he battled the urge to turn, to look at her, to bring her into the path of such a wicked presence.

It knew.

She’s
mine
as
well
.

“Like hell,” he spat.

Love provided the fortitude and he jerked the power away, jamming it under his heart. The lick of freedom had whetted the chaos’s appetite and it shoved back. Every muscle in his body clenched, trying to wrestle control of the magic away from the chaos. His fragile control slipped. His gut twisted with pain, and agony bounced in his head. He was losing control.

Kya’s arms wrapped around his waist and brought the fragrance of lemons to his nose. “Stay strong, my love.”

Kya
.

Her touch coaxed his balance back into play. Her embrace gave him the strength to seal the turbulence away. A mental door slammed shut in his mind as the chaos screamed in futility. His knees quaked with sudden cold and weak muscles.

“You did it!” Her cheer was a sweet sound.

“No, we did it. I almost lost control until you touched me.”

The tremor of fatigue spread up his knees, spilling into his belly. Kya looped her arms around his neck and shared his mantle with him. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He tucked her under his chin and pressed her to his bonded mark. The chaos wouldn’t overtake him as long as Kya held fast. Fear twisted low in his gut. Chaos coveted everything in its destructive path...including her. He’d slit his own throat before he let that evil touch Kya.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

Kya nodded and slid under his arm, supporting him while sparing his pride. The move was so Kya-like, gentle strength. A scratching began at the iron door of his consciousness. The fading daylight smelled of the burning wood in the distance. It was a stark reminder that his control was fleeting.

* * *

Jana’s eyes were gritty with unspilled salt. Tears were beyond her. She was too weak. Far too much time had been spent in the Segur past and her strength was nonexistent. Tangled hair spilled over her shoulder. She’d lost her braid tie somewhere during her search. She’d never find it now. No one ever would. No one would ever find her. Exhaustion weighted her eyelids and death traced her skin.

She gasped as if someone had plunged her into an icy stream. Her lungs burned. A painful energy welled inside her, and static crackled along her bones. What was happening? She stood and glanced in the mirror. Nothing had changed. She was still trapped as a shadow in another time but was no longer weary. Had her body died freeing her soul?

A screech jerked her around. Rycca ran, skirt fisted above her knees, slippers slapping at the floor. Jana wiped her nose on her sleeve then followed.

Near the far bailey wall, a bloody Dyal was being led out of the grounds. Iron links scuffed in the dirt with an eerie
chink
-
swoop
that brought gooseflesh to Jana’s arms. She might be a ghost but Dyal bore the chains. Blood ran down the side of his face from a gash above his right eye. His blue tunic had been stripped from him and the white undergown was torn and stained with whip marks and crimson lines. Despite the abuse his body showed, his jaw was firm and his eyes dry.