Knight of Pentacles (Knights of the Tarot Book 3)

by Nina Mason

  Axel broke out of Jenna’s thoughts—and the kiss. Taking her by the hand, he led her to the sofa and pulled her down beside him. Capturing her face between his hands, he stared into her eyes. “You must not do what you contemplate. It is far too dangerous for both of us.”

  She blinked at him as if awakened from a deep sleep. “What are you talking about?”

  “You cannot keep things from me, Jenna.” He held her gaze. “I know what you are planning. I do not, however, know where or how you learned of the Wild Ride—or what possessed you to devise a scheme as mad as the one you contemplate.”

  Her eyes, anxious and searching, darted back and forth between his. “From a book of folktales I found at the library. Several of the stories told of people winning back their loved ones who’d been abducted by the faeries.”

  “Those were just stories, Jenna,” he said in earnest. “What is to stop Queen Morgan from killing us both the instant you show yourself? My powers are no match for hers, as I have told you—and yours are still latent. We stand no chance against her sorcery.”

  “I know it seems that way, Axel, but what if you’re wrong? What if our love makes us stronger together than we are apart? What if it makes us more powerful than she is?”

  Her words slammed his heart like a battering ram. What she was describing was the essence of Gebo, the rune he drew just before he met her; the rune he had carved into the ring on her finger. Gebo contained the secrets of transcendence through partnership—the joining of two beings to create something greater than the sum of their separate parts.

  Was that the rune’s message? Could they break his bonds through the magic of love?

  Maybe, but if they were wrong, they would pay for the error with their lives. “If you fail, Queen Morgan will avenge herself upon us both by the cruelest means possible.”

  “I know that,” she said. “And I’m afraid for us both. But there’s no other way to win your freedom.”

  He let his hands fall to her shoulders. “Freedom is a state of mind, Jenna. Every mystic worth his salt knows that. Depending on your level of awareness, a prison cell can be a hermitage and a mountaintop a prison.”

  “That might have been true when it was only you.” She held his gaze with blazing eyes. “But you have me now. And a prison that separates us is no utopia.”

  “We could simply go on as we are…”

  “Until she learns of our secret—or you fail in your quest.”

  Insult lashed his pride and creased his brow. “I shall not fail.”

  “I might share your confidence if I knew the nature of your mission.”

  He looked away from her gaze. “It is better if you do not know.”

  “I still want to.”

  Turning back to her, he saw determination in the hard set of her jaw. “Even if knowing might turn you against me?”

  Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Do you really have so little faith in me?”

  What was he supposed to say to that? He closed his eyes, hung his head, and withdrew from her. “Very well. Though it rubs against the grain of my better judgment, I will tell you the nature of my assignment.” He licked his lips and lifted his gaze, avoiding hers. “First, I should probably provide a preamble.”

  “A preamble?”

  “Her reasons for giving me, in particular, this task,” he clarified.

  “I get the feeling I’m going to need a drink.” She got to her feet. “Should I pour you one, too?”

  “Please do.”

  Over the back of the sofa, he watched her fill two glasses from the bottle. Though he dreaded telling her what his quest would entail, he wanted to be as open and honest with her as possible. If he was not, their relationship would become imbalanced scales. And he had not waited seven centuries for that kind of partnership. He wanted what his parents had—a marriage of equals who cherished and respected one another.

  Returning to the sofa, she handed him his glass and reclaimed her seat. They sipped their drinks in silence while he worked out how much to disclose. Should he tell her about the queen’s order to kill Sir Leith’s wife and unborn child? If he did divulge that bit, how might she react? Would she understand his dilemma or throw him out on his ear?

  There was only one way to find out. He took a drink of whisky and fingered the rim of the glass. “A few weeks back, Sir Leith came to the glen and asked me to speak to the queen on his behalf. Having fallen in love, he wanted to beg her to reverse the curse to spare the lass’s life. In exchange for this favor, he planned to offer himself as the tithe.”

  Axel made Jenna wait as he took a sip of whisky to moisten his mouth and steel his courage. “Believing him to be sincere, I persuaded the queen to grant him an audience. From what I’ve been able to deduce, he made his proposal, but, rather than lift the curse, Queen Morgan locked him in her dungeon. In the meantime, his lover snuck into Avalon through another route, freed Sir Leith, and stole the queen’s Cup of Truth. Leith and his lady then escaped to Brocaliande, where, with the aid of the druids, they broke the curse and were married.”

  “Where to begin?” She gulped her drink. “How about the Cup of Truth? Tell me about that first, and then the druids.”

  “The Cup of Truth is a chalice over which no falsehood can be spoken,” he explained as simply as he could.

  “What happens if someone tells a lie over this cup?”

  “The chalice breaks into pieces.” With shaking hands, he took another sip of his drink.

  “And this is the stolen item she wants you to retrieve?”

  “Aye, along with Sir Leith, so she can offer him to Lord Morfryn come Samhain.”

  “But—he has a wife.”

  He looked down at his glass. “That is the problematic part of my mission.”

  “Because you will make her a widow?”

  “No,” he said miserably. “Because I must kill her—and bring the queen her heart to prove the deed is done.”

  “Oh, Axel,” she cried. “You can’t. You mustn’t.”

  He lifted his gaze to hers. “Would you rather I refuse the mission and offer myself as the tithe?”

  “No.” Her tone was emphatic. “I’d rather you refuse the mission and let me try to free you.”

  His heart reared in protest. What she suggested was too dangerous. “Even if it costs both of us our lives?”

  “I am almost sure that won’t happen.”

  “Almost sure?” He cleared his throat and finger-raked his hair. “That falls a wee bit short in its persuasive powers.”

  She held his gaze defiantly. “You would rather kill a woman than take a chance on freedom? I can’t imagine that is the choice you would have made back when you fought alongside Robert the Bruce.”

  Her words cut him deeply. She was right. Back then, he was full of hatred and rage. He had joined the fight after English soldiers butchered his mother during a raid on their village. After avenging her death, he became a fugitive. After months of living in the wild, he met up with Robert the Bruce on the road to the Abbey of Scone, where the rebel leader proclaimed himself King of the Scots upon the Stone of Destiny, which turned out to be an imposter.

  What became of the real stone, which cried out if the rightful king was being crowned, nobody knew.

  Jenna’s touch brought Axel back to the sofa. Her eyes were dewy and penitent. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say something so heartless. I’m sure you believe you are doing what is right.”

  He swallowed hard and shook his head. “What is right is not always as clear as the north star in a cloudless night sky. If I refuse, she will only send her vampires to complete the task, and their methods, I can promise you, will be far less humane than my own.”

  * * * *

  Jenna gaped at Axel in astonishment. Had she heard him right? “Are you telling me vampires—real honest-to-God, Dracula-variety vampires—live in the Thitherworld, too?”

  “Aye.” His face was a study in wretchedness. “But, unlike me, they were taken after the l
ife force had left their bodies—and baptized in blood to bring about their rebirth.”

  She blinked at him, still trying to wrap her mind around this newly presented reality. “Did Morgan take them, too?”

  “No.” His Nordic wolf gaze was trained on her as if she were the prey he was hunting. “They were taken by the Emperor of Sangpagne. Most vampires are vile creatures despised by the other occupants of the Thitherworld, though some, like Queen Morgan, hire them to do their bidding. Because they have no souls, and therefore no conscience, they can be relied upon to be coldblooded in every sense of the word.”

  Jenna shuddered. “Is there not some way around killing Leith’s wife? Maybe a trick you could use to fool the queen into believing you’d carried out her orders.”

  “What sort of trick do you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know.” She searched her mind for ideas. “Maybe, like in the story of Snow White, you could substitute the heart of a wild boar or pig. Apparently, human and pig hearts aren’t all that different.”

  Axel pressed a kiss to her lips, surprising but not displeasing her.

  “Tell me the story.” His voice was thin. “So I will know precisely how it was done.”

  “Well, there are several versions of the story, but, in the original, Snow White’s stepmother was an evil sorceress who gained the throne by marrying, and then murdering, Snow White’s father. The queen decides her stepdaughter must die after her Magic Mirror reveals the girl will one day be the fairest of them all. The stepmother then orders a huntsman to take Snow White into the woods to kill her—and to bring back the girl’s lungs and liver as proof he has competed the task. In the woods, Snow White tearfully pleads for her life, promising to disappear into the forest if he allows her to live. The huntsman, sure the innocent girl will be killed soon enough by wild animals, leaves her behind and brings the queen the lungs and liver of a young wild boar, which is prepared by the cook and eaten by the queen.”

  Axel’s mouth fell open, giving her hope. “So, the organs of the boar fooled the queen?”

  “In this original version, yes.” Dropping her gaze, she gingerly touched the sleeve of his tunic. “But in other versions, the magic mirror sees through the trick and the queen, enraged at being deceived, rips out the huntsman’s heart with her bare hands.”

  He picked up his whisky and took a gulp. “That seems the more likely outcome—only, instead of ripping out my heart, Queen Morgan will curse me the way she cursed Sir Leith, whereupon you would die, leaving me to live on alone with my guilt and grief.”

  Frustration throbbed in her temples. Why could he not see reason? “There is another option.”

  “Is there?”

  “Yes. The one I’ve mentioned before.” She wanted to shake him. “Refuse the quest, offer yourself as the tithe, and let me free you from your bonds during the Wild Ride.”

  His eyes turned as hard and dark as lapis lazuli. “Refusing the quest goes against every maxim I live by. Honesty, integrity, and, of course, the most important of all—fealty to the monarch I’ve sworn to serve and protect. The vow I took at the knighting ceremony was not conditional. It did not say ‘I promise to be true to my queen as long as she is good and I agree with her’; it said, ‘So long as I shall live, I will not forsake my queen; neither for gold nor for any other reward in the world, will I abandon her.’”

  “Did you make that vow of your own free will?”

  Biting his lip, he glanced away. “I confess, my pledge was compelled by magic—but I must nevertheless be true to my word. For what is a man without his integrity?”

  She touched his face, bringing his gaze back to hers. “You are her sex slave, Axel. Where is the integrity in that?”

  “Au ruda thig gu dona fabhaidh e leis a ghaoith.” He spat the words as though they were bitter bits of tobacco.

  “There’s just one problem with that logic,” she said, unswayed. “Enslavement is not something you have to put up with. Not anymore. Not when I’ve found a way to set you free.”

  “A way that puts both our lives in jeopardy,” he returned hotly. “And even if we should succeed, we will be fugitives. Evermore on the run, evermore afraid, evermore looking over our shoulders, wondering when Morgan’s vampires will find us. There is no peace in the life of an outlaw, Jenna. And I want peace of mind more than I want a brand of freedom that is far more imprisoning than the life I have now.”

  She bit her lip, frustrated by his obstructionist arguments. “I was under the impression faeries couldn’t cross the vale except on Halloween.”

  “Faeries can’t, but those who once were human can unless prevented from doing so by sorcery. And that includes vampires, Jenna. Would you really rather run from those coldblooded creatures for the rest of your days than live as we are now? Is the life we discussed really so repellant to you?”

  Jenna let him go and sat back. She obviously needed to give this more thought. In the story, after Janet won her knight, the faery queen simply rode away, singing a song begrudging her knight’s betrayal. Had she honestly expected Morgan to let him go so easily?

  Even if the queen did let him go, how would they survive? Axel had lived among the faeries for hundreds of years. It wasn’t as if he could go out and get a job. She would have to support him—and any children they might have—on the salary of a part-time library assistant, at least until she could find something better. Maybe he was right. Maybe keeping things as they were was the better plan.

  As for his quest and killing Lady MacQuill, maybe that was a much bigger deal to her than it was to him. He’d lived through brutal times, was raised in a culture reputed for its savagery, and had fought alongside Robert the Bruce—a pioneer in guerilla warfare. She really had no idea how barbaric he could be or how many people he’d killed. Just because she’d only seen his gentle side didn’t mean he wasn’t still a Viking warrior, too.

  “Fine.” Looking down, she took him loosely by the wrists before offering him a conciliatory smile. “Have it your way. Go on your quest. Do what you must. And I will say no more about breaking your bonds—unless you fail. In which case, I will do what I must to keep you from being tithed. But, before you go, I would like to put a sian over you—to shield you from harm while you are away.”

  He kissed her and set his forehead against hers. “I appreciate your laying down of arms. And happily agree to your terms.”

  Jenna was content for now. Their situation might not be ideal, but it was much better than being married to someone who didn’t like who she was. She refused to treat Axel the way William had treated her. She was not going to blackmail him into giving up an important part of himself by withholding her acceptance. They would shape each other, of course, as all couples did, but that was hardly the same as setting out with the goal of changing him.

  No relationship was perfect. She mustn’t discount the positives by dwelling on the negatives. Axel made her feel desired and valued—more so than anyone else she’d ever met.

  So, they couldn’t have a “normal” marriage—whatever that was supposed to be. The occasional royal booty call wasn’t the end of the world. At least he didn’t cheat by choice or behind her back.

  Amid the buzz of competing thoughts in her head, only one thing was clear. Giving him up was not an option. Everything else she could deal with, but not a future devoid of him. The mere idea of it threatened to break her heart into pieces.

  She pressed her lips to his, needful of contact. He gathered her to him and held her fiercely as he deepened the kiss. His tongue tasted of whisky and the promise of secret wishes fulfilled. It felt so good to be in his arms. To know, at long last, the wonderful feeling of being cherished by a man she adored. The radiant feeling was so powerful and overwhelming, she wanted to cry.

  As they devoured each other, she raked her fingers through his hair. He rubbed her back before moving his hands around to her breasts. Cupping their fullness through her sweater, he kneaded lightly. His touch was so tender and caring, it w
as hard to reconcile this gentle knight with the fierce warrior he also must be.

  Could she love both parts of him equally? Her heart responded with a resounding yes.

  His hands traveled lower, to the ribbed hem of her sweater. She drew back and lifted her arms to allow him to pull it off her. Afterward, he smoothed her hair before capturing her face between his hands.

  “Jenna,” he whispered, gazing intently into her eyes. “I love you so much and never want to lose you. Will you handfast with me?”

  It took a moment for the meaning of his question to penetrate her scrambled mind. Handfasting was an old Scottish custom that allowed a couple to try out being married before exchanging their vows before a priest.

  Her mouth went dry and her heart overflowed. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Aye. In the only way I can. If you’ll have me.”

  Her first impulse was to say yes—to shout it to the rafters—but the underlying realities stopped her. He was an immortal faery, the drone of a cruel queen, while she was a mortal human. They could never live together as man and wife—not unless she stole him back on Halloween. Yes, they could cobble together a relationship in his present circumstances, providing his queen remained ignorant of their secret.

  Unfortunately, there was another problem. As the years passed, he would stay young and handsome while she slowly withered with age.

  “I want to say yes. Because I love you and want to be with you. More than anything. But I don’t see how this can work long-term.” She put her hand on his face and gazed into his eyes. “You need to let me free you, Axel. So we can grow old together.”

  “I am a faery now, Jenna.” Sadness glimmered in his eyes. “Freeing me will not make me mortal again.”

  Chapter 11

  Axel stared at Jenna in slack-jawed surprise as the barb of her rejection pricked his heart. He thought he had convinced her to accept things as they were, but clearly, he was mistaken.

  Was he being selfish? All things considered, he thought not. If they went forward as things were, they could spend their days on their own pursuits and their nights in each other’s arms. If she tried to free him, they would either die in the attempt or spend the rest of their lives on the lam.