The Golden Key Chronicles_A Time Travel Romance

by AJ Nuest

  “So sayeth the king.” Braedric retreated toward the door, lips curled in a sneer. “Then remove myself, I shall. Yet bide my words well, brother. You cannot win. You rule a kingdom with no army. Your loyal guard belongs to me.” A pivot for the threshold, and he paused. “I shall meet you on the battlefield, where your duty will be bestowed on the steel of my blade.”

  Striding into the king’s receiving room, he laughed again and disappeared.

  Caedmon stared at the empty doorway. A moment passed before he internally cursed. For all his bluster, Braedric did not exaggerate. The odds were decidedly grim.

  His hashishans would assuredly follow as he marched to join Seviere. Ten thousand strong or more. A vast army the likes of which Caedmon had never seen.

  Yet all was not lost. He tightened his arm around Rowena. As long as his love was kept well and safely outside Castle Seviere.

  “Go a search out Denmar.” Expelling a breath, he lifted a brow at Fandorn. “Make it known to all those loyal we unleash the hounds of war.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “You were escorted here by a legion of what?” Denmar snapped upright from his hunch over the tattered map stretched across the long wooden table in the armory. His thighs bumped the edge and several war figurines were knocked off their feet.

  Biting her lip, Rowena plucked a knight off the map and placed him back with the rest of his blue-painted friends. Though she hadn’t expected Denmar to slough off her comment, out of respect for Reddeck, she couldn’t ignore the advantage the Dreggs would bring to the fight. “Dreggs.”

  Denmar shifted the full weight of his steely blue shock onto Caedmon. “And you approved of this, my bo—Sire?”

  Caedmon’s eyebrows shot up and he crossed his arms. Clearing her throat, Rowena did her best to stifle a smile. Apparently, she already knew him well enough, she didn’t need to be psychic to pick up on what he was thinking.

  What good would it do to argue with her? Approval or not, she did whatever the hell she wanted.

  “Aye, she is a stubborn lass when it so pleases her.” Glancing between them, Denmar stroked his pointy goatee. “A noble quality in a queen.”

  Oh. She slumped. Yeah, that.

  In less than two weeks, she’d gone from a warrior, to a fugitive, to a wife, to a sorceress, and now a queen. Geez, and things in her world supposedly moved fast.

  Denmar refocused on her. “Can they be trusted?”

  “I think so, yes.” The hinges creaked behind her and she glanced over her shoulder as Eibel angled his significant bulk through the door. “But it’s not like we’ve got any choice. According to their leader, a band of rogue Dreggs has also joined forces with Braedric. I have no idea how many he’s got and I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

  “My liege.” Chain mail jangled against the floor as Eibel dropped to one knee at Caedmon’s feet. “The seasoned guard is returning as ordered, yet some travel a distance of three days. At last count, our numbers were still greatly diminished. I fear most may not arrive before we march north.”

  An impatient sigh heaved Caedmon’s shoulders, though Rowena highly doubted his frustration was with the returning guard. Given the way things had turned out, they needed as many of their brothers as they could get.

  Of those who had jumped on Braedric’s bandwagon, she and Caedmon had offered them a choice—either head out with the rest of Braedric’s hashishans or disband.

  Most of them had opted to return to their families. Forgotten soldiers, retired and disowned, rather than fight for a king they couldn’t trust and would never respect.

  But she couldn’t imagine their disillusionment as they rode from the castle, the only home they had ever known.

  “On your feet, Eibel.” Caedmon clasped the guard’s upper arms and lifted until he stared Eibel straight in the eye. “Do you recall the time you smeared horse dung inside my chest plate? ʼTwas before my first run of the Gantlet. Do you remember?”

  Eibel’s face went eighteen shades of white. “I deeply regret any offense—”

  “We’ve been sparring since the day I enlisted in the guard.” Armor rattled as Caedmon shook his friend’s shoulders. “I no more expect you to kneel in my presence than I require the persistent coddling of the servants.” He offered Eibel his sword arm. “Now take my hand and let us stand united against our enemies. Brother to brother, riding shoulder to arms, so we may rage against all those who oppose us and greet them in battle upon the mighty steel of an Austiere sword.”

  Eibel searched Caedmon’s face a moment before he grinned and seized Caedmon’s forearm in a hearty handshake.

  Wow. Nicely done. Rowena smiled even as the immeasurable respect she had for Caedmon nearly topped out at max cap.

  There was no denying the shock of finding themselves ruling an entire country had been hard, if not harder, on him. Especially after coming on the heels of his father’s death…and his brother’s desertion.

  Yet not once since Braedric had led his hashishans through the portcullis had Caedmon been anything but humble. Going out of his way to remind everyone who dropped to their knees and swore their undying allegiance he was no better than them. Insisting everyone treat him as an equal despite his new rank and title.

  With his experience living inside Braedric’s shadow, he had first-hand knowledge of what it meant to be judged as less than merely because of the color of his skin. No one in the entire county could argue this made him the ideal choice as their king.

  Eibel turned toward Denmar and they began reviewing the incoming reports on when the rest of the guard was expected to trickle in. Running her palm down Caedmon’s arm, Rowena slipped her hand past his wrist to his fingers.

  Every time she turned around, she fell deeper in love with the man. Lifting her hand, he absently kissed her knuckles as if it’d become a total habit before joining Denmar and Eibel’s conversation. And now here they were, trying to work out a plan. Not a single clue what was waiting outside the gates or the trouble they were about to face.

  Dear God, what was she doing?

  Pivoting toward the three men, she tried to pay attention to everything they were saying. Not that her efforts amounted to anything but a whole lot of zilch. If what Violet said was true, Caedmon would eventually win the day and take his place on the throne…and the chair beside him where she was supposed to sit would be empty.

  Rowena locked her knees against the bone-deep shiver of someone skipping over her grave. Maybe this was what came of messing with things that weren’t normal. Hopping back and forth through time. Using a magic portal to alter events that had happened centuries ago.

  But she honestly didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t let the record of some misinformed chronicler get in her head. For God’s sake, hadn’t their final moments with the king proven how easily the facts could get twisted?

  Out of everyone involved in this mess, she was the one Gaelleod was after. The white Sorceress of the Veil and Keeper of the Key. How was she supposed to let everyone she loved risk their lives without doing everything in her power to defend them right back?

  No. She wasn’t gonna stick her head in the sand. Pretend as if the whole reason the troops were being rallied was because of her. If Seviere wanted her dead, then maybe that was exactly what she should give him.

  She glanced toward the door. Now if she could just get a few minutes alone with Fandorn, hopefully, he’d help her lock in the few details she had left in her plan.

  “Our scouts report that Seviere’s forces have advanced thus far.” Denmar slid a wall of red figurines across the map, stopping them just north of the forest bordering the southern-most edge of Seviere’s kingdom. “Braedric’s legions rode north, so instinct dictates the two armies will converge here, utilizing the cover of trees to mask their numbers while they design their plan of attack.” He swept a line of black figurines near the southern rim of that same forest, until the little soldiers met and decorated the dividing line between the two kingdom
s.

  “Hold on a second.” Rounding the table, Rowena studied the map. The evening after her escape from Castle Austiere, she’d made camp in those same trees, only to be discovered by Caedmon a few hours later.

  She placed her finger on the shadowed blob slightly north and to the west. “I take it this is the Black Forest. Does Seviere really have the balls to camp his entire army that close the Dreggs?”

  Caedmon scowled and pinched his bottom lip. “Mayhap he believes there is nothing to fear, given Braedric’s alliance with the rogue Dreggs.”

  “Maybe…” Scratching her head, Rowena frowned. And yet, something about that comment wasn’t adding up. “But why risk it? Seviere must know by now we have our own Dreggs. They were the ones who rescued us from Gaelleod’s domed chamber.”

  Eibel cleared his throat. “Our Dreggs?”

  Tapping the border between the two nations, she tried to get everything to fit. From the moment she’d met him, Caedmon’s older half-brother had done nothing but rant and rave about his birthright. Blah, blah, blah…constantly whining how the title of Rescinder and the Austiere crown had always been his.

  For him to gather his troops and leave the castle without so much as a backward glance seemed odd behavior for a man who believed the world was his oyster. If anything, he should have squatted, stayed put and waited for Seviere’s army to show up. Then his plan to overthrow the throne would’ve been as simple as tossing her and Caedmon out on their keisters…or having them executed on the spot.

  Continuing around the table, she traced the line of the forest southeast, skimming the wide arc along the outskirts of Austiere land until her fingertip met the shoreline. A short distance down the coast and her finger arrived at the same area the royal court had assembled that first day Caedmon had returned home.

  Farther on, the land continued its southward descent until it met the western shore at the peninsula and port city of Albion. “Eibel, did any of the scouts actually follow Braedric into the forest?”

  “No, my lady. They feared discovery should Braedric’s hashishans have doubled back. In the fading light, those buggers blend well with the trees.”

  Right, right, the hashishans. She squinted. Before she and Caedmon had snuck into the castle to meet with his dad, several groups had ridden from the gates, sent out at regular intervals. And the same when it came to the other groups who eventually rode back inside the keep.

  At the time, she’d assumed they’d been sent out to search for her and Caedmon, but what if all their riding back and forth was actually Braedric and King Seviere passing notes like two kids in school? The three days she and Caedmon had been gone would’ve given them plenty of time to devise a Plan B. They didn’t have to congregate in the forest for their little tea party. Not if they’d taken into consideration King Austiere might hand Caedmon the throne.

  “Do me a favor.” She tapped the coastline. “Send a scout to the eastern shore, but tell him to keep it on the down low. I’d place bets Braedric is waiting right here.”

  A deep rut formed between Caedmon’s brows. “What are you thinking, my love? It seems unlikely Braedric would risk a battle on such treacherous ground.”

  “He’s not. It’s the old bait and switch.” Rowena scooped up the blue knights and placed them on open ground, sweeping them north toward the black and red pieces lining the forest. “We gather every able-bodied man in the kingdom and march north, thinking we’re about to engage Braedric and Seviere in battle near the forest.” She slid Braedric’s black pieces along the semi-circle of the trees down to the coast. “Except when we get there, the only army waiting is Seviere’s. The minute we’re gone the castle is left undefended.” She moved Braedric’s black pieces up the cliffs and toward the castle, left a few there and brought the rest up from the rear, trapping the blue soldiers between the black and red. “With us gone, Braedric could easily retake the castle and surround us from behind before the fight even begins.”

  Caedmon snapped his focus to Eibel. “Well, why do you dally? Your queen just issued a command.”

  He jerked into action and strode straight for the door, but that didn’t stop a glow of appreciation from warming Rowena from the inside out.

  “If we change course and ride for Braedric’s legions, that would certainly give us the upper hand.” Denmar pushed Braedric’s black soldiers back to the shore and advanced the blue to the cliffs. “Our army would be on higher ground.”

  “And Braedric’s men would be sitting ducks.” Rowena ran her fingertip along the water. “Trapped by the sea.”

  “Yet Seviere’s legions would still advance.” Caedmon brought the red pieces forward from the forest. “Attacking our forces from the rear. With their numbers they could force us down the cliffs, as well. We would flounder and join Braedric’s men in a watery death.”

  “Not necessarily.” She wagged her finger. “Seviere expects us to ride north tomorrow morning so we can meet him in battle. He assumes Braedric’s hashishans will invade the castle and chase us straight into his waiting arms.” She shoved Seviere’s red pieces back into the forest. “No telling how long that will take, so he may wait. And personally, I think it would be incredibly rude to spoil his plan.

  “If I’m right and Braedric is at the cliffs, we could use the element of surprise in our favor. What if we take however many archers we have left and sneak in right before sunrise? If we use a coordinated strike, we could thin out Braedric’s numbers and weaken their defenses without raising the alarm.” Using the side of her hand, Rowena swept half the black pieces off the table and set them aside. “And even if they catch wind of what we’re doing, by then it’ll be too late. In order for Braedric to hold up his end of the bargain, come the full light of morning, he’ll still need to advance toward the castle regardless of how many men he has left. When he shows up at the door, we can take out the rest and then ride north to engage Seviere. The king would be none the wiser that Braedric’s troops aren’t actually behind us.”

  “Hmmm…” Denmar ran his palm along the raised scar on his jaw. “It’s a dangerous risk, treading so near the cliffs in the dim light. We may lose several men to the terrain…and even more during the retreat and ensuing skirmish with Braedric’s hashishans at the castle.”

  “But by then most of the guard should be back.” Rowena added a few additional blue knights to the table.

  “Aye, and we’ll need them if we withstand one chance at defeating Seviere.” Denmar slid the blue knights toward open ground and Seviere’s army. “It’s unfortunate we do not have additional forces to guard the castle. We could send a small garrison to attack at the cliffs, they could lead the hashishans back to the castle while we ride directly toward Seviere. The walls are designed to prevent invasion. With little aid, a small battalion could hold them off until reinforcements arrive.”

  “And keep them occupied while we engage Seviere.” Caedmon chewed the inside of his cheek.

  Silence stretched as the three of them paced around the map. Though Rowena couldn’t deny Denmar was right. Ideally, they should send a small garrison over to the cliffs, let them deplete Braedric’s numbers and purposely lead the hashishans back to the castle. Those guards who weren’t injured could hold off Braedric’s army, making them think they fought all of Caedmon’s forces, while meanwhile the majority of the Austiere guard rode north to fight Seviere.

  “What of your Dregg legions?” The captain glanced at Rowena. “Could they be persuaded to such a task?”

  She shook her head. “They got this weird thing about going inside any manmade structures. I think it might be against their religion.”

  Caedmon sighed. “And leaving them outside would merely alert Braedric to our plan.”

  “Besides, I’d rather have them attack from behind.” Rowena pointed at the rear of Seviere’s red knights. “If they invade from the Black Forest, then Seviere’s army would be the ones who are trapped, not us.”

  “Rightly so.” Denmar nodded.

&nbs
p; Planting her elbow on the table, Rowena set her cheek in her palm. So, what other options did that leave them? Handing out swords to the women was a dumb idea…and something she planned to change if she ever made it back in one piece.

  But without any training on their part, she couldn’t ask them to take on a bunch of hashishans. In fact, the smarter move would be using their stitch witchery to sew up the injured men.

  If only they knew someone good at misdirection. She drummed her fingernails along the map. A group loyal to Caedmon who would love the chance to hide within Austiere walls and throw the remaining hashishans completely off guard.

  He snapped his fingers and she quickly straightened.

  “We may have an advantage Braedric has not yet considered.” He narrowed his eyes at Denmar. “Send word to the gypsies. Tell them the son of Isadora requires their aid.”

  Chapter Thirty

  His gut churned with the same disquiet which festered in the encroaching bank of thunder clouds amassing above the sea. Tightening his grip on the reins, Caedmon squinted into the mist hovering along the horizon. If their plan had worked, any moment Syme and his archers would crest the ridge…and the sole reason for Caedmon’s heart to continue beating would be forever lost to him.

  His saddle creaked in the edgy silence as his loyal steed danced to the side. “Steady now, Zephyrus. ʼTis nearly time.”

  Filling his lungs, he slowly exhaled, fighting to relax the painful tension in his jaw. The deep draw of frigid air did nothing to ease his worries. He glanced down the row of Austiere guards at his left. Nor did the hard mask of determination worn by the glowing beauty seated atop her white horse several feet away.

  Thunder grumbled across the sky, rife with his same misery, and Caedmon shook his head. If only he held the power to go back in time, mayhap he could undo the cross words that had passed between them. Yet no reversal of days would change his mind…or the stubborn refusal with which his lady had met his plea.