“You’re insane. I'm outta here.” She turned to leave.
He closed the gap with three long strides and snatched her back by the upper arm. “I have not dismissed you, milady.”
She whirled around, fury contorting her lips. “Dismissed me? Are you fucking serious? Dude, I know we're currently living in a castle due to the end of the world thing, but seriously? Dismiss me? The Dark Ages have passed, and I highly doubt they're coming back.” She jerked her arm free. “And this whole I am the master of blah blah blah isn't working either.”
Her rant fell on deaf ears. Jalomar couldn’t help but stare at her bright red locks—her link to the prophesy. Beautiful. Vibrant. Tempting. Unnatural.
Majikal…just like the lights surrounding her arrival. He let out a deep growl. How could he not have seen it before? Damn her. He’d let her comely face distract him from seeing the truth of her real identity. He clenched his fists and inhaled deeply. “Labelle sent you. You’re Labelle’s spy!”
Ramona threw her arms into the air. “Who’s Labelle?”
“Don’t continue to lie to me, woman,” he snarled. “You are Labelle’s spy. Did you think a little dark majik to change your hair color would fool everyone for long?”
“My hair makes me a spy? You’re nuts. It’s hair dye. Women use it all the time to alter their natural color.”
He snorted. Nonsense. Who would purposefully discolor their hair for no reason? “Labelle sent you. Admit it, and I may be inclined to show leniency.”
“Fuck you.”
Jalomar raised his hand as if to strike her, but instead grabbed the loose hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her fully into him. She tried to collapse, but he held her firmly, ignoring the look of fear in her beguiling emerald orbs. Every part of him wanted to punish her for her deceit, but the idea of causing her pain turned his stomach into knots. His mouth rested a hairsbreadth from hers, he couldn’t resist brushing his lips against hers. “I will not hit a woman, spy or not. But be warned, milady. There are many among my men who will. I advise you to choose your words carefully while in the dungeons. Some may even take your choice phrases as an offer.”
“You wouldn’t? Let me go!” She lifted her leg in an attempt to clip his genitals, but he prevented the blow by catching her foot between his thighs. After several more attempts, she gave up and stood motionless against him.
“I’ll let you go if you promise to remain calm.”
She said nothing. He hoped for a denial, proof of innocence. He’d much rather lock the comely wench in his bedchamber than a dark and damp prison. The feel of her curves pressed against his body excited all of his senses. She remained close-lipped, breathing heavily in her guilt.
Jalomar released her, unable to concentrate with her so close. He returned to the desk, and snatched up the book containing the Fiery Maiden’s legend. He flipped through the pages without really looking. Since ascending the throne, he’d never had to imprison a woman. But what was he to do with her? She couldn’t be freed with the knowledge she’d gained of his defenses. By the Vespa. His only option was taking her into custody. He continued to peruse the pages in an effort to find another solution. He froze several pages over. “This cannot be,” he whispered. “Nay…it’s all wrong.”
“What can’t be?” she demanded from across the room. “What’s going on in this place? And for the love of God, what and where is this place? Goddammit! Answer me!”
He placed the book on the desk and motioned her closer. Humility silenced his anger. His fingers pointed to the passage he'd just read. “Read this here.”
Ramona crept to the desk; untrusting eyes watched him. She shook her head in denial as she read the text. “That’s absurd! You’re stupid to think I’ll believe this!” She fell to her knees. “It’s stupid…absurd…a joke, right?”
Jalomar stiffened. If only it were a jest.
He patiently waited for her to turn the page.
Chapter Nine
Ramona fell to the stone floor with book in hand. She fingered through the pages. The neatly handwritten entries dated back to the year 2017A.D, and ended in the year 1030 A.A. According to the text, A.A referred to After Abaddon. “This is a hoax,” she whispered furiously as she spotted a Da Vinci lookalike painting of herself.
Jalomar extended a hand. “On your feet, milady. The floor is no place for you.”
Ramona reluctantly took his hand and stood. “This is absurd,” she reiterated. “Are you trying to tell me this is a history book, and it is now 1030 A.A.? That over one thousand years have passed since the day Abaddon hit? No fucking way. Where are the cameras? I’m not playing this game.”
“Nay, Maiden. It is 1120 A.A. The book in your hand merely ends at 1030.”
Maiden. Her least favorite word as of now. “Of course. Silly me!” She threw her head back and laughed hysterically. This all had to be some sort of cruel joke. Or experiment. “How much are they paying you? Tell me, Lord Jalomar.”
“I don't understand your implications.”
Her entire body shook. “Of course not. You’re a good soldier, aren’t you?” Soldier… Ramona dropped the book on the table, scrutinizing his damn near perfect Olympic physique. His demeanor screamed military. “I bet you are. You’re big and strong, a giant. No wonder they chose you to be the leader. Admit it. This is some government experiment, isn’t it?”
Jalomar stiffened, but said nothing. So busted. “Why don’t you whip out your little walkie-talkie thingy and tell your boss it’s over. I will not play anymore. Was the asteroid impact even real? Or was that a government thing, too?” Each survivor's face rushed her mind. She snorted, waving her fists angrily. “Because if so, there’s a very scared little girl in this hellhole with a newborn sister, who are now both motherless. Just a casualty—”
Jalomar clenched his jaw. “Silence, Maiden. Prophesy or not, you will respect me in my home. I am the lord of this castle and these people. The Supreme Ruler of the Western Hemisphere. You will venerate that.”
Ramona refused to cower, wondering into which ear his commander gave him the order to keep the charade going. “And if I don’t?”
“Then I will just have to teach you to.”
Teach me to? She rolled her eyes and stomped toward the closed door. “You don’t have a choice. Rot in hell, Lord Jackass. I’m collecting my group, and we are out of here in the morning. If there's one survivors camp, there is surely another nearby.”
He blocked her exit by standing in front of the door. “I cannot let you do that, Maiden.”
“You cannot stop me,” she hissed, poking his chest with her forefinger. “Move. Or I'll…just move!”
“Nay. You will sit, and we will discuss this matter further.”
“I don't want to. And you can't make me.”
He rubbed a hand over the light stubble on his chin, sighing deeply. A slight grin tilted his lips. “Nay? I cannot make you listen to me? I thought you a grown woman, not a child.”
“Nay, you cannot,” she mocked, choosing to ignore his insult.
He picked her up and flung her over a shoulder without warning. “Then I will take you to someone you will have no choice but to hear out.”
Ramona kicked and screamed as Jalomar carried her through the castle and outside through the courtyard. The smell of horse manure hung thick in the air as they grew closer to the stables. He chuckled when he placed her on her feet before him. “Now, if you will be silent for a moment, I can explain to you this new world as we journey a few hours south, where you will receive explicit proof.”
“Proof of your insanity?”
He acknowledged her sarcasm with a grin. “Perhaps.”
Ramona gestured for him to lead the way. As soon as he was far enough, she'd run.
A freckle-faced teen ran toward them and bowed. “Lord Jalomar! What honor might I do for you?”
Jalomar ruffled the youth's disheveled blond hair. “I'll take Lacaux. And for the lady, find a small mare that's easy to h
andle. Also Gus, don't wait up for our return. It will a late night, and perhaps not until morning light.”
Gus eagerly ran off into the magnificently large stable, disappearing behind the painted white gate and several large piles of straw. She waited for Jalomar to follow, cursing beneath her breath when he didn’t budge. So much for running. Ramona waited until the boy was out of sight before she tapped Jalomar on the shoulder. “Too late to wait up? I’m not going anywhere”
“Aye. You are.”
She mouthed the word nope. “And I'm not riding one of those beasts either.” No sooner than she finished her sentence, Gus rounded the corner with a saddled mare. He smiled as he handed her the reins and disappeared back into the stable before she could refuse.
Jalomar's lips twitched. “Why wouldn’t you? However did you go about business at home?”
“We had a car.”
“Car? Must be what your world called a goat.”
Ramona sighed. “I know what a goat is. And I am even surer you know what a car is.”
An exasperated Gus appeared with a ginormous saddled beast moments later. The stallion was overly large, much like his owner, and dark as night. Pure muscle moved beneath his fur. Jalomar lifted himself into the saddle without effort and waved for Ramona to do the same.
She shook her head no.
“Do you need help?” he asked.
Ramona crossed her arms. “I am not riding that creature.”
Jalomar reined his mount to stand beside her. “Suit yourself.” With one sweeping motion, he hauled her up and sat her before him.
“Put me down! You can't keep picking me up whenever you feel like it, you ass!”
He wrapped his arms around her upper body in a bear hug. “Woman, cease before you fall us both!”
The heat from his body seared into hers, welcoming and unnerving at the same time. She felt herself slipping into submissions as he pulled her farther into his engulfing embrace, as if she’d always sat this way before him. The urge to let him take control calmed her struggles.
His warm breath caressed the side of her face as he leaned over and whispered into her ear. “There, my petite. Allow the animal to move beneath you. Simply let it happen.”
She shivered as his lips brushed against her cheek. Just let him happen…
Whoa! Ramona stiffened instantly. She had to get away from him…from his dominating presence, and dare she admit it, arousing touch? Nope. Not gonna happen. She had to be suffering from some whacked out psychological effect. Some kind of Knight in Shining Armor syndrome. He did, after all, dig her out of a death hole.
Jalomar tightened his hold when he felt her jerk forward. “It is merely a horse, milady. Allow me to take the reins, and I will show you it is safe.”
“I’m not allowing you to do anything!” She attempted to leap from the saddle, but he held her securely. Out of desperation, she reeled her head back, delivering a furious, and painful backward head-butt.
He released her, and she fell to the ground, her chin hitting dirt first. Jalomar was instantly at her side to inspect the damage, but she turned her back to him. “Go to hell!” she spat, trying to hide the tears of pain.
“You did it to yourself,” he told her firmly. “Had you listened to—”
“Listened to you? Perhaps, had you listened to me in the first place, you freaking barbarian! Let me tell you something, Lord High and Mighty. You can't bully people into listening to you. Sometimes they fight back!”
Jalomar stood and brushed the dirt from his knees. He laughed as he stared down at her and winked. “Look how well that worked for you.”
Chapter Ten
Commander Sandread controlled his pace with precision through the unkempt fortress of Dika. Not too close, not too far, as Queen Labelle rampaged. Her red and black gown and cloak kicked up a flurry of dust behind her. A witness to Labelle's fits in the past, Sandread wisely remained quiet as he followed her frantic steps through the maze of corridors. The unlucky few caught in her vision were struck down to nothing more than a pile of ash with a snap of a finger.
“Can you believe this, Sandread?” She threw her arms in the air as she stomped on. “The Fiery Maiden is here…here!”
Sandread bit back a smile. He couldn’t have been more delighted by the prospect of the maiden's arrival, but he wasn't fool enough to tell the shrieking sorceress so. “Nay, My Queen. I am utterly in the darkness on the matter.”
She spared a backward glance. “Of course you are, you savage man. That little warrior brain cannot comprehend the tremendous power the maiden possesses.”
“Of course not, My Queen.” He stifled a chuckle. One day, his underestimated keenness would gain him everything he'd been denied—his birthright of both Dilseacht and Dika.
They entered the final hall leading to the throne room. “Give me your hand,” she ordered.
Sandread grunted his disapproval, but obliged. A million prickles stung his body as he momentarily faded from existence and rematerialized outside the throne room door a breath later. He shook his tingling limbs. It wasn’t the brief pain that disturbed him, but the act itself. Disappearing and reappearing at will was unnatural—majikal. Thankfully, Labelle could only travel short distances at a time, and he was never in limbo too long.
Labelle thrust open the warped wooden doors to the dilapidated room with a mere thought. “Where is Cynthe? I want her summoned now!”
“No need to fetch me. I heard you screaming my name. I think all of Dika heard you, sister.” Cynthe turned around to greet Labelle with a serene smile. The daylight streamed in from the uncovered window, highlighting the halo of golden streaks in her hair.
Sandread wasn’t surprised to find the princess in waiting. It was no secret she possessed the second sight.
Labelle whirled around, her cheeks as red as the scarlet ensemble she wore. “Did you see it, Cynthe? Did you know she would come in our time?”
Sandread held his breath. Say nay, woman. He hoped just once the gentle lady would lie. Not that he cared for the woman personally. He simply didn’t abide by hurting an innocent. And the enchantress before him was the most innocent of all creatures—a step above a newborn babe.
Cynthe curtsied. “Aye, I did.
Sandread exhaled. There was nothing he could do to aid her now.
Labelle sneered; the blue veins in her slender neck strained against pale skin. “How could you not tell me this? We could have prevented her discovery.”
“Forgive me, but you know I could not tell you.”
The queen traversed the distance between them with a flick of a wrist. Her open palm cracked across Cynthe’s cheek, felling her to the floor. The pointed tip of Labelle's boot stabbed Cynthe's ribs with repeated kicks as blood spots soaked through the pink silk of her dress. “Your oath means nothing to me! You owe me! I took you in, sheltered you, and clothed you while I provided the nourishment you used to live. Now you dare to say you cannot tell me?”
Cynthe curled into a ball. “Azer,” she whispered ever so softly.
“Azer?” Labelle threw her head back and laughed until she gasped for air. “Do you really believe the Vespa will save you? Nay, dearest sister. We are below them. They despise our mother for breeding with a human man. Salvation at their hands will not come.”
Labelle resumed kicking. “How pathetic you are. Crying for your lover. The same lover that has taken the same vows as you.” Labelle ceased the assault. “He can interfere no more than you can. There is no one to save you, my dearest sister. Perhaps you should beg for mercy?”
Sandread resisted the urge to help the fragile princess to her feet when she dared to look up, pride and defiance resonating from mystical sapphire eyes. She tilted her chin stubbornly. He silently applauded her bravery. Most men would be in tears by now at the queen's feet, begging for leniency.
“Guards!” Labelle screamed.
Two guards came in and pulled Cynthe from the floor, their punishing hold instantly bruising the tender
skin of her upper arms. Labelle snickered as she wiped a trickle of blood from Cynthe’s nose, and then clamped a golden choker around her neck. “There! That will ensure you do not blink away and use your majik against me.” She turned to the guards. “Take her to the dungeon. Strip her clothes and give her neither food nor drink. If she refuses to aid me in my time of need, then I will no longer be extending my hospitality. One less burden.”
The older of the armored guards raised his arm for recognition. Labelle nodded her permission. “Do you wish any specific measures to restrain the prisoner?”
Labelle smirked. “Whatever you see fit, Gerrin. As long as she remains alive for the next three days, you can do whatever you please to the traitor.” She turned to face Cynthe. “Did you hear that? You have three days to decide if your vow is worth your life. Three days.”
“And at the end of those three days, sister?”
Labelle's chest heaved. She ripped away Cynthe's gown, leaving her clad in only a thin shift and hose. “Then you die. Another unfortunate victim of the war Lord Jalomar has started.”
Cynthe shook her head as she stared up at the ceiling. “It was never Jalomar's war, Labelle. It has always been yours. By the end of three days, you may take my life as you've planned for many years, but I will leave you with only one warning. Too much knowledge and power is self-annihilation.”
Labelle smacked Cynthe’s discolored cheek. “The only annihilation upon us is yours and that wretched Jalomar you try to protect so failingly. Did you think I really did not know it was you who placed that wretched protection spell on Dilseacht all those years ago?” Scarlet lips twisted into a snarl. “Perhaps with your death, it shall be lifted and I can strike the whole kingdom down with one blow as a warning to the rest of the continent.” She waved her hand in a shooing motion. “Take her from my sight now.”
Sandread nodded at the guardsmen, giving them leave. He bowed to Labelle. “If you've no further need of my assistance, Your Majesty, may I be excused to see to other matters?”
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