Time Dancer (5 page)

There was no placard with a name, no title inscribed in the corner. Instead, a ribbon had been painted on the bottom of her gown with a phrase in a language Jana couldn’t read.

“I have no idea who this is. I can read the name Segur but nothing else.”

“She is the beginning,” Darach murmured.

“Papa is the hundredth generation of unbroken Segur royalty.” Batu strolled toward them carrying a jug of ale from the storeroom. Jana braced herself but no magic song drifted toward her. The blood was gone from his lip. She glanced back at the painting and could have sworn a new twinkle existed in the queen’s eye.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.” Batu’s curious look washed over Darach’s arm around her.

She stepped away, her cheeks warming. Gesturing toward the portrait, Jana ignored the hidden introduction request. “Tu, who is this?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some great-grandmother or something, I guess. You’d have to ask Papa, although he’s worse in history than I am. I might be able to look it up tomorrow but so many of the old records were lost in a fire that I really doubt we’ll ever know for sure.”

“What does this banner say?”

He leaned forward and squinted. “Oh, that’s part of the coronation ceremony. ‘From bonded blood, strength did rise but only broken blood will ensure it survives.’ It really makes no sense but it’s tradition, I suppose.”

More blood. Jana worried her lip. If that was a clue, it was lost to her.

Batu hefted the jug with a raised eyebrow. “You coming up, Jana? I just need to unwind a bit or I’ll never sleep. Your friend’s welcome to join us.”

“After I see if Papa and Salome need any help, I’ll slip over for a bit. But Darach should go with you now.” Her spell jerked his chin and glared at her, but her voice held firm. “No one can tell you more about the Segur bloodline than Batu can.”

“I will not leave you.” The conviction in his voice was rock solid.

“I’m fine. Earth beneath my feet, remember?”

“Did I miss a wedding notice?” Batu teased.

Jana jerked as if slapped. The only wedding notice he would hear of was hers to Argot. “You’ve missed
something
important.”

* * *

The prince’s chamber was spacious and suited him well, Darach thought. The bed swags were deep blue, matching the ornate patterned rug preventing a chill seeping from the floor. A roaring fire in a large fireplace dispelled the darkness. Darach lowered into the chair Batu motioned him to, aware he was being scrutinized. The prince had accepted his presence and Jana’s explanation without question but unease lurked in his eyes.

“I feel like I should thank you.”

Darach shook his head. “There is no need. This duty was a choice, not a burden.”

The door opened and Argot entered carrying a clear bottle. His stride was unhurried and he flopped on a small couch with a deep groan. He set the bottle on the table with several small glasses. Now six drinking containers filled the table. Darach wondered if others were to join this small group.

“If the king asks who raided his prize stash, I know nothing.”

Dark brown liquid chugged from the earthenware pitcher and filled each of the three stout mugs. Batu handed one each to Darach and Argot, then reached for the bottle, splashing a small amount in each glass.

“Who’s this?” Argot asked, bringing the mug to his mouth.

Darach looked to Batu, unsure how much he wished his guard to know. Batu studied his cup as if searching for answers in the liquid. The rich scent of grain teased Darach’s nose. He took a cautious taste. Fermented barley washed over his tongue with the bitterness of hops. It wasn’t an unpleasant blend and he took another sip.

Batu took a small drink and sighed. “You know the stories about my mother and Salome?” Argot nodded. Batu glanced at Darach and raised his brows.

Argot paled. “You mean he’s...?”

“Yep. I guess that makes him like my uncle.”

“Uncle?” Darach recoiled. “No. There is no familial branding in my world. We are. There are the Old Ones and us, that is all.”

“Old Ones?”

“Yes, those who create us.”

“So parents, right? Wouldn’t that make you all like brothers and sisters? And since my mother is from there...hello, Uncle Darach.”

Darach snarled. “I am not your uncle. Nor is your mother my sister. The Old Ones are many, though fewer than the rest. We are...I am... The queen was of my world but not of my kind.”

“What do you mean, your kind?”

Darach’s lip curled. “Your Highness, you reek of cat. Your mother was a jaguar.”

An affronted look furrowed Argot’s brow as he kicked his boots up to rest on the low table. “He’s a shithead but he doesn’t stink, you prick.”

“I meant no offense, simply an observation. The queen called for a tracker, the keenest nose in all realms. Do not berate me now for that which she summoned.”

Batu snorted. “I’ll let the insult slide. So what are you?”

“Ursine.”

“Ursine?” The future king frowned at him. “What is that?”

“You would call it a bear, a grizzly. But I am not your uncle.”

“Fine.” Batu shook his head with a laugh. “We’ll call you a cousin then. Which might be better since we’re closer in age than you and Mama.”

“Age? I have no age. I was called this morn, created in this form this day.”

Argot’s face went stony. “Wait. The queen was called to protect King Taric. Salome called to bring peace to Captain Haruk. What were you called to track?”

“The threat to the crown.”

His glass slammed against the table. “What the fuck am I, a court jester?”

“You guard the prince. I seek to unearth the threat and help Jana to eliminate it.”

“That’s the part I don’t understand.” The prince shifted closer and lowered his voice. “She’s just a reminiscent seer. How can she help?”

“There is more power in the past than mere memory, Your Highness.”

Batu sighed. “Magic. I’ve lived with it all my life and I still don’t understand it. But I’ve learned to trust it.”

“I don’t need to trust shit. You’re in danger, that’s all I have to know.” Argot refilled his mug, then pointed to Batu. “And you don’t even think about going anywhere without me. You don’t fart unless I know it, got it?”

“Yes, dear,” Batu sneered, reaching for his small clear cup. He downed the drink with one swallow. “I’m not stupid.”

“Better to be stupid and alive than brave and dead.” Argot cracked his knuckles. “Speaking of stupid, where’s your little brother? He really shouldn’t be out without a guard either.”

“Warric doesn’t need a guard, he’s got enough magic to defend himself.” Batu rubbed his forehead then looked at Darach. “Have you met Warric?”

“Not formally,” Darach said. He’d sensed Warric’s presence in the tower room moments after he’d been called to this world, felt his power and his strength. “He inherited your mother’s magic?”

Batu nodded. “Yeah. He’s normally at the Academy for advanced training but...he sort of got in trouble.”

Argot snickered. “What did the little shit do this time? Turn more frogs loose in the kitchens? Or did he make all the furniture in the headmaster’s chambers disappear again?”

“He got expelled.” The prince lowered his tone. “Don’t say anything. Papa doesn’t know yet.”

Wariness spread through Darach as Argot’s spine went stiff and his chin rose. “They expelled a royal prince? Then it’s bad.”

A long pull drained Batu’s mug. He refilled the small glass and tossed it back before settling deeper into his chair. Darach’s eyes narrowed, taking in his slouched body, his worried brow, his tensed jaw.

“They called it ‘improper use of magic with cruelty’ but I agree with Warric. It was more like justice.” His eyes shifted to Darach. “Apparently someone at the school was giving Jana a hard time. Warric stopped it before she dropped out but the guy was a dick and kept running his mouth. Warric snapped.”

Argot’s fist clenched around his mug. “What’d he do?”

“I don’t know exactly, just that whatever it was took a couple of the Grand Masters to undo. My brother has a short fuse behind that magic of his but he’s not cruel. Whatever he did was justified in his mind. That’s good enough for me.”

“Where is he now?” Argot rolled his cup around his hands. “I’m not going to let anyone get to you but if... He’s second in line.”

Batu’s lip angled up in a half laugh he tried to hide. “Warric as king? He’d rather eat snail shit. And he’s too arrogant to think a mere man can kill him. He’s at Kya’s.”

Argot snorted. “Lucky him. He’s getting laid while you’re stuck pacing the halls at night with a burning gut.”

A bright flush arced across Batu’s cheeks and Darach frowned in confusion. The prince had no flames on his stomach.

“Shut up, Argot.” Batu looked at Darach. “Segur men sometimes have a burning in their belly. It just means I need...I want Feena and a family, that’s all. Makes the nights damn long knowing she’s asleep only a few rooms away.”

Argot leaned heavily on the couch arm and wiggled his brows. “I might be joining you on your midnight strolls sometime.”

“Oh yeah?” Batu asked. “Who’s caught your eye?”

“More than caught my eye, agreed to be my wife.”

The prince’s jaw swung wide. “What? Who?”

“Jana. I signed the contract with Captain Haruk this evening.”

The prince’s congratulations faded beneath the sudden pounding in Darach’s ears. His blood pumped with a speed that forced heat into his face. His knuckles grew white on the mug. Argot was not Jana’s husband yet. For now, she belonged to him.

“You dog.” The prince punched his bodyguard in the arm. “Have you been sneaking off with her behind my back?”

Under his skin, deep within his core, Darach’s bear bristled in defiance.

Argot laughed. “No, of course not. The captain’d have my balls on a pike. I did it the honorable way and asked his permission first. I’ve been waiting to ask for...forever it seems. I’ve loved her since I first saw her.”

“I’m blind.” Batu scratched his head. “I never suspected anything.”

“You’re too wrapped up in Feena to see anything. It’s not like we’re bonded like you.”

In his chest, Darach’s temporal heart began to pound. He could see no shackles around the prince’s wrists. “Bonded? Explain.”

“Segurs have to find their heartmates.” Batu stretched his legs out, propping his boots beside Argot’s on the table. “Once we’re bonded, there is no other mate possible.”

Darach’s breath caught. Heartmates were powerful and ancient magic, nearly forgotten in his realm. If the Segur family was enchanted with that blood magic, then Jana’s reminiscent gift could be invaluable. Emotion pumped wildly through him. Heartmates changed everything. Of course, the Segur blood called to Jana. That spell was a blessing when given but always turned to a curse, destroying the line eventually. Whoever cast the original spell had been supremely powerful. His world had learned that, in the human realm, all magic had limits. If the spell wasn’t broken at the correct moment, it wiped the bloodline from existence.

Was that what was occurring now? Tilting his head back, Darach breathed deep, inhaling the scents around him—of fire and crackling wood, yeasty hops and spicy soap.

Heartmates. Blood magic. It didn’t answer why someone wished Batu dead but something in Darach’s soul, in his magic core, knew the two were tied. He just had to discover why and how. Jana’s untapped power was the perfect solution.

“Is Warric bonded to this Kya?”

Argot burst out laughing, a deep rolling sound. “Their kind of magic isn’t so uncommon.”

Batu chuckled. “She and Warric have a thing.”

“A thing?” Darach tilted his head. Though he absorbed every sensation, every conversation, every action of those around him while resting in Jana’s pendant stone, some things remained beyond his understanding. This world seemed filled with unspoken rules and hidden meanings he could not discern. “What is
a
thing
?”

“They’re lovers.” Argot belched. “Sometimes.”

“Every time he’s home. Can you name another lover of his? I can’t.” Batu stretched his arms above his head with a groan. “No, there’s something there but I don’t know what. He never talks about her.”

“Warric doesn’t talk about anything except magic.” Argot stared into his empty cup. “Hit me again, Tu.”

As Batu was refilling the mug, Jana entered with a soft knock. Heavy shadows colored beneath her eyes but the smile she sent them was sweet. “If you guys are just drinking whiskey, I’m going to go to bed.”

Argot hopped off the couch and strode toward her. “No, there’s ale too. Come on, for a little while anyway.”

Jana took Argot’s offered arm and allowed him to lead her to the small seat where he made sure she was settled before lowering his frame beside hers. Batu handed her his mug half-filled with frothy ale then raised his whiskey high.

“A toast—to Jana and Argot. May your marriage be long and happy.”

Darach followed when the others raised their glasses but his eyes were fixed on Jana. Her smile wobbled at Batu’s words but she hid it quickly behind her cup. After a sip, she beamed a bright grin at the man beside her. Darach angled his head. Could Argot not see her happiness was forced?

She answered inquiries about Feena while Darach stayed silent, studying her profile. She was truly lovely, with high set cheeks and bright, intelligent eyes. The firelight tripped over her face, pulling pink from her skin and gilding her hair to a noontime sun. Darach’s nostrils flared, catching the scent of heat, damp soil and dew, the fragrances of nature colliding. The smell grew richer as her fingers slid along the couch edge. Inside he made a low growl of contentment.

She glanced at Darach and her mouth rounded. “You’re drinking ale?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Darach blinked. “I was given the cup. I drank.”

Argot seemed to be amused and handed him the shorter, clear cup. “Drink that.”

“Argot, stop,” Batu warned. “He’s never had whiskey.”

Darach took the glass and did as he’d seen Batu do, tossing the contents back with a single swallow. Liquid fire warmed his belly. He thrust the cup back to Argot. “Thank you.”