by Lisa Kumar
They were both content to sit thus until questions filtered into her consciousness. “But I died. How am I here? Or for that matter, how was I even on Earth, alive? The fey cannot raise the dead any more than humans can.”
“No, we cannot.” A slow smile spread over his face. “But we can manipulate the portal between here and Earth.”
A frown creased her forehead. “But only the first time when establishing contact. You already have a link, so you shouldn’t be able to manipulate the backward flow of time.”
“I couldn’t.” When she opened her mouth, he laid a finger over her lips. “But Aiya hadn’t ever visited Earth. Until some forty years ago.”
Natalie drew back. “She is too young. She couldn’t have established the link, let alone gone by herself.”
“You’re wrong on the first account, but her extreme youth and inexperience caused her to go back to a time before you were born. Hence, the waiting for forty years—you had to be of the same age you first were when coming to TirAnn. But neither I nor the older children could go with her, as we already had links and could not go backward in time.”
“So who would volunteer and link themselves to a time and place not of their choosing?”
“My family. My younger sister, to be exact.” A lop-sided grin lifted one corner of his mouth. “After me, she was next in line to be a rebel, it seems.”
“She made that sacrifice for us?”
“Mari already had a link, and as she’d last visited Earth many centuries before your birth, she could easily accompany Aiya.”
“Why couldn’t she just go by herself then?”
“Normally, she could have but for the extenuating circumstances. To ensure you would be brought back and your memories restored, the presence of one of your loved ones was needed to amplify and release the spell. Aiya was needed as a conduit of sorts.”
“She must have been so scared.”
“Aiya knew of the seriousness of the matter, but she thought it a great adventure to undertake with her new aunt. Since she was starved for the attention of a mother, she took to my sister with astonishing ease. They are still quite close.”
Jealously sprang up at his words. While the knowledge comforted her that Aiya had someone to lavish her affections on, the feeling that another had taken her place sprang up.
Her expression must have alerted him to her feelings. “Aiya never forgot about you, my love. You were always her mother.”
“She acts so reticent around me at times.”
“She fears you will leave. We all do, to some extent, though we are determined to keep you. And I think she harbors some guilt over your death.”
Natalie stared at him, surprised. Surely he did not think she would leave now? But then, what had changed so much in the last few hours? To him, probably not much because he hadn’t known she had all but decided to stay. For the children, she had told herself. She’d known even then she fooled herself by thinking they were the only reason. And what did he mean by Aiya harboring some guilt over her death? It hadn’t been her fault. Natalie’s remembrance of that time was sketchy, but she was sure Aiya had no part in her death.
“I sent the children to you one-by-one, hoping their presence would stir some remembrance, though I knew it was too soon. Pushing too rapidly was not a good idea due to the nature of the spell that brought you through the portal. But I couldn’t keep my impatience stemmed. We could only keep you here with us for three weeks before the spell would return you to Earth, if you wished it.” His tone lowered, and his limbs tensed under her, as if expecting a blow. “If you wish it still.”
“I’m not going anywhere right now.” Some of the tautness seeped out of his body. “So that was all the talk about it not being time?”
He nodded. “The mind is a fragile thing. Reintegrating memories is no easy task. Since you’ve not truly lived the events from your past in your present life, it made for an even more delicate undertaking.”
Her eyes glazed over. “Uh, okay. That makes my head hurt just thinking about it.”
“Don’t think too hard. Your mind is still recovering, and you should not stress it. You already fainted once from the overload.”
Eyeing him suspiciously, she couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or not. His impassive face told her nothing. “You all went through so much to secure my return.”
“We would do it again.” He shot her a chastising look. “But we better not have to.”
She ignored that last part, singling in on a previous question she’d had. “Why does Aiya blame herself?”
“Just what do you remember of your death?”
“Not much.”
His face relaxed. “I much prefer it that way.”
“Why? Was it so bad?”
“It was not pleasant.” He gazed at her searchingly, and she nodded. “You took a knife through the heart, and Aiya was there.”
The blood drained from her face. “Was she hurt?”
“No, just traumatized. She had been the one who wanted to go flower picking in the forest. You did not take your guards with you, but then, you probably thought you had nothing to fear. Normally, you would’ve been correct but for the poacher in the forest.” He stared down at their clasped hands while he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “You and Aiya walked too close to his traps. He was not in his right mind. You ensured Aiya got away safely, but paid with your life.”
“The poor child. She made it out of the forest without incident?”
“It used to be one of her favorite places—though she now refuses to set foot there—so she had no trouble finding her way home, even in her hysteria.”
“The poacher—he was caught?”
He shook his head. “Killed. He attacked the guards when we came to retrieve you. His mind was too far gone to allow anything else. When a fey becomes insane, death is often the kindest mercy, given the nature of our long lives.”
She buried her face against his chest, having heard enough. His heart, beating strong and steady, calmed and focused her on the present. “I want to stay.”
His breath tickled her temple. “Are you sure?” The hope in his voice could not be disguised.
She knew Lorh wanted her to stay but held himself in check to make sure it was her decision. Oh, without a doubt, he would have used everything he had within his vast arsenal of seduction and shared memories to keep her here. Fortunately, he would need none of them.
“Yes.” Natalie didn’t have to think about it twice. Her life back on Earth paled in comparison, and she could always use her link to visit family and friends.
Lorh’s lips traveled down her cheek before capturing her lips. Her arms slipped about his neck, seeking a stronger hold on him. His tongue gently probed the seam of her lips, searching for entrance, which she gladly granted. Their leisurely kisses soon turned more passionate until they finally broke apart, breathing heavily and grinning at each other.
Another thought intruded, and her happiness dimmed. “Are we still married—bonded?”
Lorh stroked her cheek. “Our bond is still intact, but we can perform a renewal ceremony if you wish.”
“I would like that.” She snuggled into him. “What now?”
His infectious smile rivaled the spring sunshine. “The children.”
She didn’t have to be told what he was thinking. “Yes, let’s tell them.”
He set her away from him, only to lean over and kiss the side of her neck. “We’ll have to finish this later.”
At his wicked whisper, a hot flush ran down her body. He took her hand in his, and they exited the chamber, picking up the lost threads of their life together.
About the Author
Lisa Kumar is a wife, mother, and romance writer who grew up in small-town Indiana. She now resides in the suburbs of Chicago with her husband and son, who are used to sharing her attention with her not-so-trusty computer. When not spinning tales of romance and fantasy, she can be found with her nose buried in a boo
k, or more accurately, her e-reader. Her scholastic background is in psychology, which enabled her to get low-paying jobs in the human services sector. Needless to say, she's now writing full-time.
If you enjoyed Through the Rabbit Hole by Lisa Kumar, read an excerpt below from Bri Clark’s The Familial Witch.
Lucien watched her move comfortably around her one room dwelling. It was simple, yet homey. There were numerous shelves of books, vials, and dried herbs, reaffirming his assumption of witchcraft. Dried flowers filled several dishes on the shelves, giving the dwelling a soft, petaled fragrance. The pain in his arm throbbed again and pleasantries weren’t something he had for witches anyway, much less when he was hurt. A witch’s help came with conditions, and Lucien knew he needed her, but wanted to know at what cost up front.
“So, what will you ask of me in exchange for your help, witch?” He growled. Perhaps if he could frighten her, she would help him and then send him on his way. He began to unbutton his shirt, eager to get started. She suddenly dropped something and turned—her green eyes were wide as they assessed him.
“What did you call me?” she asked. Her voice was meek, and the tone as light as a moth’s flight. Guilt enveloped him as if he was drowning. His lungs constricted, stopping his breath. He immediately regretted his abruptness.
“I entreat your pardon, again, Madame. I saw all your plants and your many vials and assumed you were a witch.”
She smiled, and his pain suddenly stopped and breathing was a distant memory, as if he was under a spell. She had to be a witch to accomplish such a feat with just a smile…perhaps an enchantress.
“You’re correct, sir. I’m a witch. I just haven’t been called that in so long it was shocking to hear.” Her manner was as gentle as her tone. She turned and picked up the dropped bottle. “If I must have a title, I prefer healer, or perhaps my name even, which is Aisleen.”
“Aisleen,” he said aloud. Her name was one from ancient times. He’d only encountered one type of being whose members carried that name and she couldn’t be from them. They were long gone...forever. Before guilt could overtake him again, he introduced himself.
“I’m known as Lucien,” he began…
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