Lost Princess

by Dani-Lyn Alexander

  “Where are my teammates?” The man’s expression hardened. No sign of mockery remained in the scowl he now wore.

  “They are still in the dungeon. I will speak with each of you individually and explain your situation.” Jackson shrugged. “I figured it best to start with you, since we’ve already…” Already what? Tried to kill each other? His father had made this look so easy. “All right. Here’s the deal. You are now a…resident…of Cymmera. That is not negotiable, but your role here is. At the moment, you are a prisoner. That can change. If you agree to join the Cymmeran Guard and fight for our kingdom, you will be given not only your freedom, but all the respect and honor due a warrior. Do you have any questions?”

  The prisoner laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I’m afraid not. Can you give me your name at least?”

  He pursed his lips, and Jackson thought he would refuse to answer, but he finally did. “Noah. Noah White.”

  “All right, Noah. Ask away.” Jackson waved a hand and sat back.

  “Where exactly is Cymmera? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s another realm.”

  Noah looked around the chamber, but his gaze shot back to Jackson. “Explain.”

  “Cymmera is a kingdom in another realm. You were transferred here because we need soldiers. Our prophet had a vision in which your team existed here, so a team of Death Dealers was dispatched to…uh…acquire you.”

  A grin lit Noah’s face. It erupted into full blown laughter. “This is…is…some sort of joke. Right?”

  Jackson kept his expression somber. He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

  “So…you’re saying you’ve taken us prisoner.”

  “Sort of.”

  “What do you mean sort of? Can we return home or not?”

  “You cannot.”

  “Why not?”

  Ahh…the part he’d been hoping to avoid explaining. Oh well. So be it. Better to have it out in the open. “Do you remember the battle which claimed your life?”

  Noah stiffened. His eyes widened but studied Jackson’s intently. A frown creased his forehead.

  Prisoners often couldn’t remember their final moments until they’d been gently reminded. Of course, the real King Maynard had been much better at softening the news. Who knew? Maybe Jackson would get better with time. And maybe he hadn’t tried to soften the blow for Noah…Ryleigh’s friend.

  Noah lunged for Jackson. He gave no warning, simply launched himself toward the throne, a look of pure hatred marring his—unfortunately handsome—features. The chains secured to the ring in the floor brought him up short. They held fast no matter how violently he fought against them. “I’ll kill you, you bastard.” Spittle sprayed from his mouth.

  “I see you remember.” Jackson remained seated. No sense further provoking the man. He obviously wasn’t ready to surrender to Jackson’s demands.

  “When I get my hands on you, you are a dead man.”

  “Yeah…about that. I should explain that Cymmerans are infinitely stronger and faster than humans. We are also…difficult to kill.” Jackson shrugged. There was no reason to explain that Cymmerans were pretty close to immortal. He’d figure it out on his own soon enough. Or someone would tell him. He grinned. “But you are certainly welcome to give it your best shot.”

  “You think you’re funny?” Noah stopped struggling against his bonds. “Release me, and we’ll see who has the last laugh.”

  “I can see you’re not yet ready to accept my terms. Therefore, you will be returned to the dungeon until such time as you change your mind.” In a way, Jackson was relieved the soldier hadn’t given up so easily. It showed the strength of character Jackson had expected. He reached for a rope, which hung beside the throne, but the grin that spread across the other man’s face stilled his hand.

  “What about Ryleigh? Is she a prisoner as well? Did she give in to your demands to keep from being imprisoned for the rest of her life?”

  Jackson curled his hand into a fist. He allowed it to hover an inch from the rope that would sound a bell calling the guards to return the prisoner to his cell. Blind rage seared his brain, clouding his thoughts. He stood and let his fist fall to his side, descended the two steps in front of the throne, and crossed the short distance to the prisoner. He stood toe to toe with the other man and lifted a finger to point in his face. “Don’t you ever mention Ryleigh’s name in my presence. Do you understand me? You leave her out of—”

  Noah moved with the speed of lightning, opening his mouth and grabbing Jackson’s finger between his teeth, grinding down.

  Without thinking, Jackson punched him in the temple.

  Noah’s jaw loosened, releasing its hold on Jackson’s finger as he fell unconscious to the ground and smacked his head against the stone floor.

  Well…that could have gone better.

  He strode to the rope, rang for the guards to remove the prisoner, and studied the wound on his finger. Not that it hurt—having already begun to heal—but he couldn’t believe the other man had bested him. Jackson was a Death Dealer. He’d trained for hundreds of years to achieve that calling. Yet he’d been attacked by a human, because he’d gotten too close, had allowed his emotions to get the best of him because of…

  Ryleigh—she was going to be the death of him…one way or another.

  Chapter 4

  “So…What are you going to do now?” Mia tilted her head, concern settling in her eyes.

  Ryleigh shook her head. How much should she even tell Mia? She’d given her a condensed version of events, only because she didn’t want her to hear it from someone else. Gossip seemed to run as rampant in Cymmera as it did in her own realm. “I really don’t know.” She shrugged. “I suppose we’ll talk about it and work things out when he calms down.”

  Jackson had been so angry last time she’d seen him. The look he’d given her had been filled with…hatred? Did he hate her? Would he ever talk to her again? Pain lanced her heart.

  “Are you going to apologize?”

  “For what?”

  Mia’s answering grin was a gentle reminder she had stood her ground because she firmly believed she was right.

  It warmed Ryleigh’s heart but did nothing to ease the ache that had settled there. “I didn’t do anything to him.” She couldn’t help sulking.

  Laughter filled the room. “Then what’s he mad at you for?”

  Hmmm…She hadn’t thought about it that way before. Why was he angry with her? She tried to run through the sequence of events, but the memories were nothing but a haze of hurt and anger. Unable to bring any of them into focus, she pushed the thoughts away for later.

  “I’m starving. Want to go to the kitchen with me and get something to eat?” Mia smoothed her hair back and tied it with a band from her wrist as she stood from the couch.

  Ryleigh grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “Nah. I’m not hungry. You go ahead.” Thoughts of Jackson tumbled through her mind.

  Mia made no move to go, and Ryleigh glanced up at her. “What’s up? Are you okay to go by yourself?”

  “Sure.” Mia’s cheeks colored. “Actually, Dakota is meeting me in the kitchen. It’s just…well…Do we have to leave in a few days?” She picked at a thread hanging from the sleeve of her sweatshirt, avoiding any chance of making eye contact.

  “We’ve been over this before, Mia. I start my new job on Monday, and I can’t leave Mr. Jacobs stuck after he was nice enough, not only to give me the job, but to take us in as well. I have to go back.”

  “What’s the big deal about getting a job? Jackson already said he’d pay for a new house and everything. Why do you have to work?” The defiance in Mia’s scowl brought a jolt of surprise.

  “That’s enough, Mia. I’m not taking Jackson’s money. I’m responsible for you, and I’m going to work and support us.”

  Mia’s posture stiffened.

  Ryleigh held up a hand to halt any
further protest. “I said, that’s enough.”

  The hurt in Mia’s eyes forced her to soften her tone.

  “Once you’re able to survive in Cymmera we can talk about it. Okay? Just not right now. Please. I can only handle one battle at a time.”

  Mia opened her mouth as if to argue, but then snapped it closed. She bent and hugged Ryleigh. “Sorry.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mia had always been petite, fragile, delicate. But now…something had changed. She appeared stronger, less vulnerable than she had in the past. Maybe she was simply growing up. Or maybe Cymmera was having an effect on her.

  “But you promise we’ll talk about it once I can survive here?”

  Ryleigh forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Sure.”

  “Love you, big sis.”

  “Love you too, little sis.”

  Mia crossed the room and headed out into the hallway.

  Once the door slammed shut, Ryleigh pulled her knees to her chest, laid the pillow on her knees, and leaned over, resting her head on the pillow.

  Tears pooled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. Tears solved nothing. Somehow she had to convince Jackson his ways were wrong. The Death Dealers couldn’t simply wander between realms snatching whoever caught the interest of their prophet. Elijah’s visions had been wrong before. If she could just—

  Wait a minute. Visions. All of her problems with Jackson stemmed from the prophet’s visions. But she could also have visions…or so it seemed. Twice now, she’d been gifted with knowledge of the future. What had Elijah said? The stone offered guidance? Wasn’t that exactly what she needed right now?

  Ryleigh flung the pillow aside. If she was being forced to accept this whole bizarre situation, she might as well make the best of it. She jumped to her feet, feeling a little foolish as she purposefully crossed the room to her bedroom door. Of course, both of the visions she’d seen in the stone so far had come unbidden. She had no real clue how it worked.

  Well, she’d just have to figure it out.

  She pushed through the door, intent on finding a way to make the stone guide her down some other path than the one they currently followed. There had to be a better way, if she could only find it.

  Even in the dim light, she could tell something was wrong. The stone usually sat upon the pedestal shifting through a variety of colors. At least, it had on the two occasions she’d seen it. She approached tentatively, searching the room for intruders as she moved closer to the darkened pedestal.

  No glow reflected from the glass surface. The etchings were not visible in the dim light cast by the single lantern hanging from the wall. She strained to listen for even the slightest sound. Tomblike silence surrounded her.

  She lifted the lantern from the hook on the wall. Lowered it toward the pedestal. The stone was gone. She lowered the lantern toward the floor. Had the stone fallen off? Had she dropped it when she’d gone to return it to its proper place? No. She clearly remem—

  A bat lay propped against the pedestal.

  Grabbing the bat—the same bat that had disappeared from the Jacobs’ hallway—Ryleigh spun and pressed her back to the wall. The darkness only increased her terror. The light she held did nothing to dispel the suffocating blackness. There was another lantern on the stand beside the bed. A bigger lantern that would push back the encroaching shadows.

  She held her breath and inched along the wall, keeping a firm grip on the weapon. Straining to listen for the most elusive sound, she crossed the space between the pedestal and the nightstand. Her gaze jumped from one spot to the next, sweeping the chamber constantly for the slightest hint of movement.

  She felt along the top of the stand, not daring to lower her guard for even the briefest instant. When her fingers touched the pack of matches, she finally blew out a shaky breath. She put the small lantern she held down on the stand, willing herself to breathe deeply, praying to avoid an ambush. Her hands trembled so badly, it took her three tries to light the bigger lantern.

  She lifted the light and looked around the—thankfully—empty room. She tossed the bat onto the bed and grabbed the sword Jackson had given her. She’d forgotten she dropped it there after her argument with Jackson.

  She quickly worked the leather belt over her shoulder and around her waist, no easy task with the sword still clutched tightly in her hand. She fumbled the buckle as she tried to secure it. Jackson had made it look so easy. She adjusted the belt across her chest and sheathed the sword, then grabbed the bat and headed for the door.

  The tattoo on her arm—the one that had appeared on its own and branded her as a princess and the future Queen of Cymmera—burned. A slow, steady burn followed the path of the tribal design around her bicep. She had to find Elijah. She jogged down the hallway toward his chambers. She had to find out if he took the stone and if he’d put it in her room in the first place.

  Curious glances followed her down the corridor, but she ignored them in her haste to reach the prophet.

  “Ryleigh? Is everything all ri—” The slightest hint of color tinged Kiara Hunt’s almost translucent cheeks. She pressed a hand to her mouth to cover the small gasp that escaped anyway. “Forgive me, Your Highness.” Kiara lifted the bottom of her flowing gown and started to lower herself to her knee.

  Ryleigh stopped her with a hand to her arm. “Please, Kiara. Don’t bow, and don’t call me your highness.” Heat stole across the back of her neck. “I owe you a great debt for taking care of Mia, plus…” Ryleigh shrugged, unable to stop the heat spreading across her cheeks. “I consider you a friend. Please, just call me Ryleigh.”

  Kiara smiled. “All right then, Ryleigh. I’ve been looking for you.”

  The need to flee hammered her, but she stood her ground, the sting lancing her arm a reminder of her duties to this kingdom. “Is something wrong?” Not that she could handle anything else.

  “No. But…” Kiara frowned, staring at the baseball bat as if noticing it for the first time. “Ummm…I just wanted to update you on how Hannah is doing.”

  Ryleigh resisted the urge to blow the other woman off…barely. It wasn’t lack of interest in the little girl who was the sole-survivor of a savage attack on her village. Quite the opposite. She had asked Kiara to keep her updated on the child’s status. She tamped down the increasing sense of impending danger. “Is she all right?” Hurry, hurry, hurry.

  “She spoke for the first time last evening.”

  “Does she remember?” Ryleigh held her breath, hoping the poor thing didn’t remember the carnage that had left her all alone and running for her life.

  Kiara shook her head, her dark eyes clouding over. “I don’t know. She didn’t mention it. She said only, My Queen.”

  Ryleigh frowned. “Why? Do you know who she was referring to?”

  “I have no idea. We were walking through the rotunda, and she looked up at me and said simply, My Queen. Then she looked forward and continued on her way with Sadie.” Kiara shrugged. “Perhaps you could sit with her for a bit? See if she’ll tell you anything?”

  Hopefulness filled Kiara’s eyes, and Ryleigh hated to disappoint her, but the growing sense of looming danger wouldn’t allow the detour. “I’m sorry, Kiara. I will sit with her, but I can’t do it right this minute. I have to find Elijah first. Have you seen him?”

  “Of course. Whenever you have time would be appreciated. Thank you.” The hope dimmed, and Ryleigh kicked herself for not being more tactful. She was used to caring for Mia, but trying to balance everything else threatened to topple the precarious hold she had on her patience.

  “I believe Elijah is in the Library.”

  “Thank you.” She started forward but turned back for a second. “I’ll talk to Hannah as soon as I can. Promise.” She forced a smile before she took off running. Luckily, she knew where the Library was, and it wasn’t far.

  Panic gripped her throat, squeezed. Her heart ached with the need to find the missing stone. She shoved
through the Library door without slowing and called out for Elijah. A couple sitting on a long bench with a book open on the table in front of them glanced up. When they saw Ryleigh, their scowls transformed into wide-eyed stares. She blew the hair up off her forehead. She would never get used to the way people stared at her here. Of course, she didn’t exactly act like a princess, or a queen.

  The man pointed toward a room in the back, and Ryleigh thanked him before moving on. A little less frantically this time. No sense making the whole kingdom think she was some sort of raving, bat-wielding lunatic.

  She pushed the door open and poked her head in. “Elijah?”

  The seer looked up from a large book, and lurched to his feet. “My…Miss Ryleigh? Is something wrong?”

  “Yes. Well…I think so.” She frowned, unsure where to start. The musty air choked her.

  “Sit.” He rounded the table and pulled out a chair for her, then turned the seat beside hers to face her and sat down. “Tell me what’s happened.”

  “Okay.” She pushed her hair back out of her face. “Did you put the pedestal with the stone in my room?”

  “The Divination Stone?”

  “I guess. I don’t know. You never told me what it was called.” Frustration shortened her tone. “The one that changes color and tells me things.”

  A small smirk played at the corner of Elijah’s mouth. He was smart enough to keep it from fully forming. “Yes. I put the pedestal and the stone in your room, as they rightfully belong to you.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” She waved him off, ignoring the increasing grin, and continued. “It’s gone.”

  “What?” All of the playfulness fled his expression. His crystal blue eyes hardened to ice.

  “It’s missing. I found it earlier and saw the vision of Jackson bringing Noah back. Then, a few minutes ago, I was thinking…” She waved the thought aside. “Whatever, that doesn’t matter. I went to look for the stone, and it was gone.” She lifted the baseball bat. “This was propped against the pedestal. It was stolen from me at the Jacobs’ house earlier tonight. Or whenever it was I came here.” This whole time difference had her completely baffled. Time didn’t move in Cymmera the same as it did in her realm, yet she couldn’t help but measure it as if it did.