“Have ye come to heal me?” the man on the ground below Kiren asked.
Below him?
Kiren hadn’t realized he’d stood back up, or that both fists were clenched. He shook his hands loose and forced himself to kneel, although it was like bending ironwood.
“Unless ye have somewhere else to be?” the man asked.
“Let me see your wound.” Kiren turned the man’s head. This was another unfamiliar face. In the five years he’d been away, the Lost Ones had doubled in number. “How long have you been with the group?” Small talk. Something to keep the wounded distracted through the pain of healing.
“Four days. Terrible timing, ay? I am Hammond. Glad to meet ye.”
Kiren hesitated. It always gave him a twinge of guilt offering a false name, but to stay safe, he had little choice. “Arik. You were attacked?”
“Them crusaders. Knights. Like we are demons right out of hell.”
He studied Hammond’s eyes, sinking into the memory within:
Flying debris. Children screaming. A ship on the horizon. Men dressed in red crosses charging across the beach with raised swords.
Kiren pulled free. He closed his mind against equally horrific scenes that scarred his conscience and weighed every waking moment. “I am sorry.”
“Why should you be, mate? You didn’t send them monsters after us.”
No, but he should be the one leading them to safety, protecting them under his family’s banner. He shrugged the idea off.
“This is going to hurt.”
Eleven
Descent
Leofrik signaled his men to stop and slid from his horse, landing in spongy moss. Smoke in the distance marked his destination like a lighthouse over troubled waters. He’d spent a few days gathering his force—reluctant men, grubby farmers, and fortune-hungry mercenaries. He didn’t particularly care for this lot, but Ulric’s directives didn’t allow him to travel across the seas and retrieve the men he’d most prefer to have by his side.
His back ached from riding half the day, and his legs desperately needed stretching. He walked a circle, waving the men inward to hear him. If he were a more impulsive man, he’d charge now and get this over with, but experience had taught him the wisdom of being prepared. “If you need refreshment, take it now—but quietly and no fire. We march soon.”
Men collapsed into heaps, drawing on waterskins or chewing dried fish.
Leofrik stopped two young men crossing his path. “Not you. I need you two to scout the camp and report back their numbers. Quietly. Give us away and I will have your heads.”
Twelve
Slides
Alexia’s head ached from deciphering the ridiculous print, and from poor sleep. In the last two days, she’d rested as needed and pored through the curly script, attempting to ignore the suspicious way Kiren stared at her or how he’d attempted to corner her regularly. Regin usually came to her aid. She had said too much again, and now he was even more curious. She couldn’t crush him. The future hadn’t happened and wouldn’t necessarily play out as it had. She needed to stay away from him.
On to the traitor.
The only thing she knew for sure from the scrolls was that a Lord of Dorset had commissioned the knights to attack the island home she and the Passionate had inhabited. The men were instructed to capture, not kill, locking their enemies in irons, branding them with a special mark, and returning them to his prison. They were to attack at night, and the defector would alert them by means of light signals when the enemy was vulnerable. The missive further warned that the group possessed unique talents, wielding magic of a most terrifying nature. The men were to exercise extreme caution. Each scroll contained orders to visit a new location: a lush valley in France, the desert, the mountain caves, a remote island…
Whoever had been reporting on them had done so since before she’d joined the Passionate. She’d never seen any sign of a traitor. Figuring out this person’s identity was going to prove difficult.
Alexia reported to Amos, and he assured her he would puzzle this out.
***
Kiren had disappeared. Alexia had overheard chatter about him leaving. He specially requested to be removed as soon as he was finished healing people, according to Regin. As of this afternoon, all were healed. He was gone. She suppressed her disappointment—it was for the best—and focused on Amos who stood before their bonfire to give his usual end-of-the-day remarks. Tonight, he complimented them for holding up under hardship and expressed his pride in this brotherhood who’d banded together when the enemy attacked.
“But it is not enough,” he said. “They come and they come again. It is determined we have a traitor in our midst.”
Gasps rang through the crowd.
“We know you are among us,” he continued, “but whatever the enemy holds over you, we are ready to fight for you. Come forward of your own, in private if you lack the courage, and we will go to war for you.”
Silence reigned, broken only by the crackle of fire.
“You are all my brothers and sisters. I would bleed for any of you,” Amos vowed.
“As would I.” Remus stood.
“And I.” Mae rose.
Alexia lifted an arm. “Me as well.”
The pledge continued around the gathering. Tears and fierce determination mingled together in an oath of love so complete, Alexia knew for the first time in ages, she was home. Here was her family.
With or without Kiren.
She pressed a hand to her chest, missing him with all her soul.
Amos lifted both arms. “If you are afraid, do not be. We may have discovered a way to escape the enemy forever. Deamus?”
Her awkward friend scrambled to his feet, straightening his tunic with exaggerated tugs. He brushed the hair back from his face, turned to the crowd, and went snow white.
Alexia shifted onto her knees, grabbing his attention with her movement, and gave him an encouraging smile.
“Um, it is not a…there are some…” He took a deep breath, meeting her stare. His jaw clenched, shoulders squared. “Some of you have heard of the other world and um, a great gathering of our kind who left…this world…for that one.”
A couple heads bobbed. Most watched him curiously.
He licked his lips and lifted both hands right in front of his chest, pulled them back as if rethinking what he was about to do, then extended them again.
A window of light appeared above the fire. Alexia gasped. Energy drained from her fingertips, a tingle of strength that bled into the projection. People backed away, startled by the manifestation and resultant sapping. The brilliance of the window dimmed, and a landmass appeared through the ring, lush and green against a sapphire ocean. The view zoomed inward on a shore, a forest, roads and merchant carts, great mountains, waterfalls, and finally the gates of a bustling city. Inside, people of various shapes and sizes meandered through the streets. One woman was bending wood into a spinning wheel with her bare hands for an eager customer. Children laughed at a puppet show presented in the streets—but no, not puppets. Flickers of light that took on a life of their own, pixie-like essences. A smithy pounded away with his hammer, only to present his customer with a bouquet of tulips that glittered when stroked.
Deamus lifted his arms, and the window faded like smoke.
Alexia reattached her jaw. If that was where he came from, it was little wonder he yearned to go back. She wanted to see it for herself.
“The other world,” Deamus finished, turning as if to regain his seat.
Regin stood. “Beautiful though it be, what of the dark corners? The terrors? If the punches of life taught me anythin’, it’s that every light has a dark. Every joy has sadness.”
Deamus halted with a lifted foot and twisted back around, stumbling off kilter and regaining his balance. “Um, yes. The bad…” His eyes flicked across his audience like a rabbit facing a pack of wolves. Alexia tapped her nose. His gaze snapped to her, his chest lifting with a measure of rest
ored confidence. “There are places where terrifying…things…dwell, but they are behind a barrier, a fence of, of magic. It protects everyone.” He tugged at the edge of his sleeve. “The terrifying and the benign.”
The words settled over them.
“Is there a reason for showing us this other world?” Sarlic spoke up, a man Alexia hadn’t spent much time coming to know. His arms were as wide around as his neck and he’d been branded upon the brow with a cross just over his left eye. She knew that his gift was to inflict pain on others, something that had saved many of the Passionate from capture.
Deamus’s hands dropped to his sides. He closed his eyes and stilled. “Soon the stars will align…enough. I can maybe open the gateway, but I need your strength.” His head lifted, and he looked each person directly in the eye.
Nervous gestures and hesitant whispers filled the assembly.
“Is there any chance it will not work?”
Heads turned. Kiren stood at the edge of the camp, arms crossed and jaw locked as he stared directly at Deamus.
Alexia’s heart stuttered.
He hadn’t gone after all. She closed her eyes briefly, so filled with gratitude she could cry, but he wasn’t hers—and she needed to keep away from him.
Some of the crowd averted their gazes from Kiren, others glared, one or two covered their faces. Amos’s grimace softened, and Regin scratched at the back of his head.
What had Kiren done to earn so strong a reaction from the Passionate?
“I am locating where the gateway will open, and I—” Deamus straightened up, cheeks lifting with the hopeful hint of a smile. “I am going.”
Alexia gauged people’s responses. The boy, Willem looked to be salivating. Amos stood back, nodding with an optimistic frown. Mae poised in the shadows, fingers cutting into her crossed arms. Alexia could almost hear her thoughts—no matter where she went, she’d be just as cursed. She would be one of those locked behind the barrier to protect the others.
What about herself? This world was where she’d discovered love. If she joined Deamus, she might never return to her Kiren in the future.
The babe kicked. Then again, she might die before she could enter that world, or shortly after reaching it, and Kiren would never know his daughter. Which might be better.
What came next? Would she find peace in the next life, or would she remain a captive outside of time until another heir of time took up the mantle? She hoped not.
Deamus’s shoulders drooped, his gaze falling from people’s faces to their feet.
“How do you know of this place?” she asked, encouraging him to continue.
His cheeks lifted in a grin that bordered on childlike. “It is my home.”
Kiren’s eyes narrowed. Alexia looked between the two, wondering what Kiren was thinking. She might be able to discover, but it would require playing the seductress and exposing her heart to discovery.
He cleared his throat. “It is my home as well. It cannot be done.”
Thirteen
Blocked
His home. A different world, his home.
How many lies had Kiren fed her?
Breaths escaped her in rapid succession. She pounded the ground with a fist. How dare he rip hope away from everyone and humiliate Deamus in such a public manner? How dare he lie to her while professing the truest love?
She stood. “It can be done. Lucian saw this world in our future. It will be done.” She turned to the crowd. “Deamus asks only for your permission to try. For those who dare, prepare yourselves for this new world, but if you choose to remain, that is your decision. We cannot help you further.” She stormed away into the trees.
***
Kiren wanted to lift his hands in surrender and shout, What do you want from me? It was the truth. They couldn’t reach that world—he’d tried. Instead of voicing his frustration, he watched Alexia storm away and ignored the loud debate ensuing around the campfire.
He had done his best to discover her history the last two days. She had been in this company for nearly half a year. Men and women alike uttered her name with reverence, citing her goodness, her compassion, and the speed with which she moved when exercising her gift. She laughed easily and cried without shame. Her heart seemed pure, and other than the periodic touch or flirtation with this Deamus, she showed only appropriate affection.
So what was Kiren to her? They would meet in a time to come, true, but she’d kissed him. Was that how they greeted one another in a coming age? Was that how she greeted all the Lost Ones when they first entered camp? He doubted it. Perhaps they had been paramours, but that didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t initiate a relationship. He wouldn’t. And he would never impregnate a woman or care for one who’d allow herself to enter that state. Not in this world. Not in any world to come. It was not that he didn’t like children—they were grand and all that—but he would never father one only to make their life a potential bargaining piece in a political game. As had been the case with his parents.
Not that anyone would target him or his future child anymore. He had given up any claim to his father’s throne and any pretense of becoming a leader. Still, there were enemies in the other world who didn’t know that. Anyone attached to him was in danger if one of his foes were to somehow successfully cross over.
Could Alexia be such an enemy? Seeking something from him? Perhaps hoping to enthrall him so fully that he’d have to claim her child and proffer it all the protection his father’s throne had to offer?
He had to know why she’d kissed him.
He stalked after Alexia into the darkness.
***
Alexia stomped through the underbrush, furious.
That was his home. Kiren’s home. This other world. A hundred conversations they’d had finally clicked into place. He’d said he couldn’t reach his home, that it was elsewhere, that it may not even exist anymore.
Kiren was not from Earth. His kingdom was on another planet, his family’s duties in another land beyond the stars. How did that even make sense? How had he come to be here? And why hadn’t he told her?
Her mind reeled another direction.
He’d never returned to the land of his birth. This gateway couldn’t work because Kiren was still on Earth in her time—unless they’d never met in the past before. Or he’d chosen to remain. Perhaps even to find her again? But that was wishful thinking. Still, her child had been born in this age, but it was possible Kiren never knew the child was his until centuries later. All of this was new territory, and she could so easily destroy what should have been. Was she rewriting history?
Alexia collapsed against a tree.
She couldn’t undo this, but perhaps she could fix it. Perhaps she could help Kiren return to his home, become the king as was foreordained, and lead the Passionate in the world of his birth.
It would mean they’d never meet in the future.
Perhaps that didn’t matter. It had happened, and now she was here. Perhaps here and now was all that mattered.
***
Kiren halted several steps behind Alexia. “It is true.” He crossed his arms. “It is cruel to give them false hope of this other world.”
“I suppose that is something you know all about,” she hissed back at him.
“It is, in fact.” If only she knew how much. He’d sought a way back to the Neitherlands after his twin sister suddenly disappeared in the night, assuming she had been swept there. She never would have left him willingly. His search of the world since had solidified the belief that she’d been transported home miraculously. Upon her vanishing, he’d begged his medallion to open the portal between worlds, even given it all his strength, but he was convinced it could only be opened from the other side—a failsafe and protection instituted at that world’s conception. Still, the hope had carried him for years, until that defining moment when he’d learned how terrible a leader he would be.
Kiren lifted his head and met her gaze. Her mouth pleated in compassion, shoulders l
eaning toward him as if she wished to approach. A chain around her neck caught the light, disappearing beneath her bodice in a V.
“Why are you still here?” she asked.
He snapped his thoughts away from her bosom. Why indeed. Because his mind had been on fire since the moment she pressed those pastel lips to his. He’d healed everyone that had been injured, and Zeph had been casually nudging him to go, around hazardous flirtations with Silivia. Kiren sensed his friend didn’t really wish to leave, but he would without question.
Kiren had tried to go this morning. He’d walked as far as the spring where he saw Alexia filling her goatskin. Standing behind her, even out of sight, his heart warmed. He felt like he was standing in the sun, absorbing its rays. Then thoughts started in: the Lost Ones had been attacked. People had been injured, killed. Alexia and her baby could have been among them. This probably wouldn’t be the last attack, and what if she was injured and he might have saved her, but he’d decided some sheriff’s daughter in a human township was more deserving of his gifts?
Why am I still here? He waved her off. “How is it you know about my past and gifts, but I cannot access even your thoughts from your eyes?” It was always best to answer a question with a question—take control of the conversation.
She leaned back. “I shield my thoughts.”
He advanced, fascinated. “There is a way to shield thoughts?”
She nodded.
“How?” This close to her, electricity buzzed, two opposites needing to touch, driven to be connected. He forced his hands to remain at his sides rather than cupping her face.
Timeless (Maiden Of Time Book 3) Page 6
