Rayne's Return (Hearts of ICARUS Book 3)

by Laura Jo Phillips

  Landor reached out to help her into a sitting position. “Not safe from what?” he asked, keeping his voice low and, he hoped, gentle.

  “From them,” she replied with a hard shudder that would have knocked her flat if not for Landor’s support. “Can you take me to my parents without anyone else seeing me? That’s very important. No one else can know I’m here.”

  The very thought of letting Rayne out of their sight on top of their shock at her poor physical state, and the scent of her fear, nearly sent all three of them into a blood rage. But it was those same factors, combined with their instinctive need to care for and protect her that allowed them to maintain an outward appearance of calm.

  “We could request transport to the Ugaztun,” Landor said, “but we could not do so without others seeing you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears that she swiped at impatiently with a shaking hand. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know where to go, or who to trust.”

  Landor brushed her cheek lightly with his fingertips, a gesture filled with such warmth and tenderness that she blinked up at him in surprise. “You can trust us, Rayne. We’ll take you to the Armadura, and we’ll keep your presence a secret, on that you have our word. Once you’re safe, warm, and comfortable, we can discuss what to do next.”

  Rayne knew very little about the Bearen-Hirus. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d seen them. But something inside of her urged her to trust them. “All right,” she whispered, relief washing through her the moment she agreed. “Thank you.”

  Landor was so relieved by her agreement that he felt a little light headed. He slipped one arm beneath her legs and the other around her back, then rose to his feet, lifting her with exquisite care. She was so thin, so wounded and fragile in his arms that it nearly brought tears to his eyes. “Con, go to the ship, clear the transport room, then bring us up.”

  Con nodded, slowly reached out toward Rayne, then let his hand fall back to his side without touching her. “Thank you for trusting us,” he said softly. He pressed the transport key on his wrist band and, a few seconds later, vanished.

  “We should take you to the infirmary,” Ari said, moving close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body against her side.

  “No one else can know I’m here,” she whispered tensely, looking up at Landor. “You promised.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “We will do nothing without your agreement.”

  “We could summon Tani,” Ari suggested.

  “If this is her wedding day, it’s also her wedding night,” she whispered. “Food. That would help. Can I have some food, please?” The hopeful note in her voice put a lump in Ari’s throat, and made Landor want to roar.

  “Of course,” Ari replied. “You can have anything you want.”

  “Broth and green tea?”

  “Of course. As soon as we get to the ship I’ll get it for you.”

  “Hold on, Rayne,” Landor warned. “We’re transporting up now.” She gave him a barely perceptible nod and checked her shield, stiffening when she realized it was all the way down. She raised it enough to hide her fear, then closed her eyes just as the disorienting sensation of transportation hit all three of them. A moment later they were in the transport room of the Armadura. Landor looked around, relieved to find the room empty except for Con.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” he said to Rayne. “We’re going to move really fast now.”

  Another tiny nod was her only response. He took off with Con right in front of them, moving quickly enough that they were no more than a blur to anyone who might see them, making it impossible for anyone to spot Rayne let alone recognize her. A minute later they stopped in front of Landor’s stateroom door. Con opened it and Landor carried Rayne straight to his bed where he laid her down with as much care as he’d used in picking her up.

  “Where’s Ari?” Con asked.

  “He went to get her broth and tea from the cafeteria,” Landor said as he studied the ugly gray shift that she wore. Sleeveless and shapeless, it hung on her small frame like a coarse, stained sack reeking of fear and desperation. He hated it. “Rayne,” he said softly. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Would you mind changing into one of my shirts? That thing you’re wearing is…it can’t be comfortable.”

  She glanced down at herself and grimaced. She couldn’t remember why she was wearing the rough gray garment, but she certainly had no objections to being rid of it. “Not at all,” she said, then stilled. “Wait, there’s something…,” she trailed off, her forehead wrinkled in thought. “Don’t throw it away,” she said finally, unable to grasp the memory that had flitted through her mind.

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t remember,” she whispered.

  At first, Landor had thought she was whispering out of exhaustion, or fear, or both. He now realized that there was something wrong with her voice. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her about it, but he held back, deciding to tackle one thing at a time.

  “We will not dispose of it,” he promised, even though he wanted to set fire to the thing, watch it burn, then blow the ashes out the airlock. He crossed the room to a dresser built into the wall and opened a drawer. A moment later he returned with a clean white t-shirt and shook it out. “If you prefer, we can try to find something else for you to wear.”

  “No, that’s fine. Will you help me sit up, please?”

  “Of course,” he replied, placing the shirt on the bed. He reached for her, sliding his hands carefully beneath her shoulders. She was so small and so weak that he could have snapped her bones with a simple twist of one hand, a thought that literally made him queasy. When she was sitting up he released her slowly, half afraid that she’d topple over without support.

  When he was sure she was steady, he reached for the hem of the rough, scratchy gray shift, promising himself that if he had anything to say about it, nothing like it would ever touch her skin again. “Ready?”

  Rayne started to nod, then realized that she was sitting on a bed in a room with two men she barely knew, and was about to let one of them take off the only article of clothing she wore. “I should do this myself,” she said. “In private.”

  Landor was startled that he hadn’t even considered her modesty. He wondered why he hadn’t felt her embarrassment before she’d said anything, and automatically reached for her emotions. All he sensed was the same calm contentment they’d always felt from her, which was confusing since she was anything but content. It was then that he realized he could no longer smell her. He started to wonder when she’d done that, and why, then gave his head a little shake as he set those questions aside for later.

  He took a moment to study her facial expression and body language, and found what he was looking for. She was exhausted, confused, and definitely embarrassed. He debated with himself for a moment, then made the only decision he could since leaving her alone was not even remotely an option.

  “Con, please turn around,” he said. Then, in a low voice, he added, “I will not look.” She gave him another one of those barely perceptible nods, but she remained tense.

  Deciding to get it over with quickly, he removed the shift and dropped it on the floor before reaching for the t-shirt. He slipped the neck hole of the t-shirt over her head while keeping his eyes averted partly for her sake, and partly for his own. He’d seen enough wounds, scabs, bruises, and scars on her already. If he saw much more he was afraid he’d go into a blood rage, and that wasn’t something Rayne needed to deal with at the moment. She was their berezi, and her needs came first even though she either didn’t remember that fact, or she hadn’t overheard them on the mesa as they’d suspected.

  Once the t-shirt was over her head, Rayne raised her arms and slipped them into the sleeves which hung past her elbows. She pulled the shirt down, sighing as she ran her trembling hands over the thick, soft cotton.

  They all heard the door knob turn and, in a flash, Con and Landor stood crouched at the foot of the bed, glari
ng at the door. Only when they saw that it was Ari did they relax.

  While Ari carried a tray to the bed, Con locked the door behind him. Landor piled pillows behind Rayne, and Con got an extra blanket from the closet to cover her legs. Ari then put the tray over her lap and lifted the cover off of a steaming bowl of broth. Landor poured her a cup of tea from a porcelain pot, and Con offered her a small bowl containing various sweeteners, his brows raised in question.

  “No, thank you,” she whispered, staring at the three of them with wide eyes, shocked by their attentiveness. It took a few moments to remember that their behavior was no different from what she’d expect from any Clan Jasani male-set in the same situation. But it felt…alien…to her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been a very long time since she’d been treated so kindly.

  She turned her attention to the steaming broth on the tray in front of her, her stomach cramping just from the aroma. She picked up the spoon lying on the tray beside the bowl and dipped it into the broth, but her hand shook too much for her to carry it to her mouth without spilling it all over herself and the soft, clean t-shirt she now wore. She put the spoon down with a regretful sigh. Maybe one of them would pour it into a cup for her.

  Before she could ask, Landor pulled a chair up close to the side of the bed and picked up the spoon. She watched silently as he dipped it into the broth and carried it to her mouth. Feeling both grateful and embarrassed at the same time, she opened her mouth, needing the nutrition too badly to even consider declining it.

  She ate about a third of the bowl before signaling that she needed to stop. She leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to keep the hot liquid in her stomach. When she was sure it would stay there, she opened her eyes and reached for the cup of tea. Con lifted the cup from the tray for her and placed it in her hands. She savored the warmth of the cup against her palms, the simple sensation so amazingly good that it made her eyes sting, though she didn’t understand why. She raised the cup to her lips and sipped, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat along with the tea.

  “That’s a big cut on your arm, and it looks fresh,” Con said. “We don’t have enough Water magic to heal, but we have enough to take some of the pain away. It should be cleaned and bandaged, too.”

  Rayne frowned, not knowing what he was talking about. She followed his gaze to her left arm but she didn’t feel any pain there. She returned the cup to the tray, then turned her left arm until she could see the long cut on the back of it that ran from her wrist almost to her elbow. There was dried blood on her skin, but it wasn’t bleeding and it didn’t look deep. She stilled as that same memory tickled her mind again. Instead of chasing it, she relaxed and waited for it to come to her. “The shift,” she said, looking up at Landor. “Where is it?”

  Landor reached down to the floor where he’d dropped it and picked it up, holding it gingerly between two fingers. “Inside,” she whispered. He frowned, but turned the stiff garment inside out and immediately saw that there was writing on the fabric. It wasn’t very neat, the letters uneven and thick, obviously written with something other than a conventional writing instrument. He stared at the dark rusty red letters, then raised the garment to his nose and sniffed.

  “This is written in blood,” he said, his eyes going to the wound on her arm. “Your blood.”

  Rayne nodded as once again a fragment of a memory slipped through her mind too quickly for her to grasp. “What does it say?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No,” she whispered, her brow furrowed in thought. “I know that I was sent back in time one year, that memory loss is a temporary side effect, and that my presence here, in this time, must be kept secret. And I think I remember less now than I did when I first…arrived.”

  “So, you used your own blood to jot down a few reminders?” he asked stiffly, his jaw clenched so hard he could barely speak.

  “Apparently,” she replied, frowning at him before putting his tension down to typical male Clan Jasani protectiveness. “Can you read it?”

  “The first line says Buhell III C 8 days, need BS,” he said, then looked up at his brothers. Ari shook his head, but Con had a thoughtful expression on his face.

  “The first part of that is familiar, but I’m not sure why,” he said. “Give me a minute.”

  Landor nodded, then looked back at the garment. “The second line says CTRL #57.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Ari said.

  “Why not?” Rayne asked.

  “CTRL is an abbreviation for Control,” he replied. “I suspect that note refers to people who’ve been implanted with Controllers, something we’ve been seeing a bit too much of lately. Maybe there are fifty seven of them, or maybe the fifty seventh one is important in some way. Something along those lines.”

  “When we found you, you asked to be taken to your parents,” Landor said to Rayne. “Do you think that there might be someone with a Controller on the Ugaztun?”

  “I’m sorry, but I just don’t remember,” she said, tensing at the thought of her parents in danger.

  “Don’t worry, Rayne,” he assured her quickly. “If there’s a spy on the Ugaztun, the Dracon Princes are more than capable of defending themselves. I’ll go over there in the morning and discuss all of this with them while you remain here where no one can see you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, easing back against the pillows. “Is that all it says?”

  “No, there’s a third line. I’m not sure, but I think it says Doffle. That doesn’t mean anything to me.” Ari and Con both shook their heads, but this time it was Rayne who frowned.

  “May I see it?” Landor held the shift up and turned it so that she could see the letters clearly.

  “It’s not Doffle,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry. “It’s Doftle. I don’t know what it means, but I feel like I should. And it frightens me.”

  “It took a lot of blood to write all this,” Landor said, carefully folding the garment which had gone from an object of disgust to one of significance in the space of a few moments. “I’d say that means these bits of information are very important.”

  “I just wish I could remember what they mean. It doesn’t do much good to leave myself reminders that I can’t understand.”

  “Since you knew ahead of time that your memory would be impaired, maybe the notes were meant to be understood by others,” Landor said. “Not you.”

  “But you don’t understand them either,” Rayne whispered.

  “We have a few ideas,” Con said. “We’ll do some research and see where it takes us.”

  “You don’t have any idea who took you, or where you’ve been?” Ari asked.

  “Aside from what I’ve already told you, my last clear memory is of going to bed the night before Tani’s wedding,” she said. “I don’t remember the wedding itself, or anything about that day. Was I here for that?”

  “Yes, you were,” Landor said. “In fact, no more than three minutes before you arrived on the mesa, we saw you transport away from the same exact spot. We assumed you were going up to the Ugaztun, but apparently that wasn’t the case.”

  “I wonder why I can’t remember that day?” she murmured, then shook her head. “I don’t suppose it matters.”

  “If it does, I’m sure you’ll remember it in time,” Landor said soothingly, alarmed by how pale she’d gotten while trying to remember. He searched for a way to change the subject. “Would you like more soup?”

  “I think I can do this myself now,” she said, reaching for the spoon. She dipped it into the broth and carried it slowly to her mouth, then smiled at her success.

  Landor returned her smile, but inwardly he was fighting to keep tight leashes on his tongue and his temper. The sight of Rayne in such horrific shape after seeing her healthy and well just an hour or two earlier had him nearly wild with fear and worry. Not knowing who took her, why they’d done it, how they’d done it, or how she’d been returned, mad
e him feel off balance and uncertain. For all he knew, she could be snatched away again at any moment. The helplessness of that thought nearly caused him to shift involuntarily into his bearenca alter-form, something he hadn’t done since he was a toddler.

  “Why can’t you speak above a whisper?” Ari asked.

  She stiffened, one hand going to a thin scar on her throat even as she shook her head. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize, please,” Landor said, his heart twisting in his chest at the lost expression on her face. “I think not remembering everything right away is a blessing, all things considered.”

  Rayne nodded though she wasn’t sure if she agreed or not. She set her spoon down a moment later, too full for even one more swallow.

  Landor frowned, wishing she’d eaten more, but this was not the time to badger her. “If you’re done eating, I think you should try to rest now.”

  “Yes, I’m very tired,” she said, then yawned. “Where will I sleep?”

  “Right where you are,” Landor said.

  “But, this is your room, isn’t it?”

  “It is. How did you know?”

  “Because you took your t-shirt out of a drawer over there,” she replied, dropping her eyes as she double checked her shield to be sure her true emotions were hidden. She hadn’t lied, but she hadn’t told the whole truth, either. She didn’t want to admit that the room, the bed, even the t-shirt she wore, all smelled like him, like oak and fresh lime, or that the scent comforted her. There was something going on here that she was too tired and too confused to grasp at the moment.

  “There is no reason to move you now that you’re settled and comfortable,” Landor said. He read the hesitation in her eyes. “Besides, no one on this ship save the three of us would dare enter this room for any reason without a direct invitation from me.”

  “All right, you convinced me,” she said, unable to argue with that. She started to reach for the stack of pillows behind her but Con got there first, rearranging them for her while Ari removed the tray from the bed. She laid down and Landor straightened the covers over her. The thought of being left alone caused her heart to race, but she had plenty of experience in hiding the outward signs of her true feelings. It required little effort to keep her expression stoic, and her shield firmly in place.