Timeless (Maiden Of Time Book 3)

by Crystal Collier

  Alexia would forever regret it.

  Mae waved from the far end of the lane and stepped around the corner. She had made significant progress in their recent training. She could now direct her siphoning within a controlled scope. Most of the time. Even so, Alexia didn’t like them being separated like this. If something happened, she would have no way to reach her friend—unless she was miraculously able to jump back in time. She had attempted it in camp after speaking with Velia, trying to undo the scar and Kiren’s flight, but she’d encountered that same inky barrier. The enemy. Outside of time.

  Men called behind her and wagons rattled, what seemed like an unusual amount of movement for this small town. She closed her eyes to block them out and listened to her heart, hoping it would direct her toward Kiren.

  An iron slapped around her wrist.

  She jerked out of her calm.

  Someone yanked her around and she stumbled to a halt. Two soldiers grabbed her arms, forcing her to face the man in blue robes before her.

  “As you can see, men, her countenance is far superior to the ilk of this town.”

  She swallowed a gasp.

  A nobleman in this small town? And not just any nobleman.

  Velia’s captor.

  A battalion of soldiers marched up the street, aimed toward camp.

  Rage curled up inside. Velia was taking her revenge by placing Alexia and the rest of them in the enemy’s hands.

  Mae screamed. Alexia twisted, but her friend was obscured by buildings. Soldiers filtered between storefronts and peasants, weapons at the ready.

  Velia had spurred them on a fool’s errand, leaving the Passionate vulnerable!

  But Alexia would not give in easily. She felt for the timeline and stifled a smile. No tar wall blocked her. She almost laughed at the fetter around her wrist.

  “What is my crime, my lord?” she asked, pretending terror.

  “You see how she feigns innocence. They are built for deceit.”

  Alexia laughed. He was out of his depth, but seeing the man face to face, she knew one thing for certain: they would be hunted forever. Best that they fled this land for the other world.

  “Carry her to the wagon and secure her bonds.”

  Alexia closed her eyes and stretched back through time—relieved it worked. She had worried the tar wall was because of her pregnancy, but it must be as Grandfather said: her enemy had blocked the way. Well, it wasn’t here now. Even so, she couldn’t go too far or she’d be left alone and exposed in this town while her friends were traveling. The last time she’d jumped, hours had been too much. But ten minutes, that should be safe. It would be enough. It had to be.

  She reached into the timeline, finding a moment ten minutes back like picking up a shiny pebble. Something cracked. Alexia gasped, pain shooting up her back as the world blacked to nothing, time resetting.

  She collapsed to her knees in the street, blinded by the misery racing out to every joint.

  Scuffling feet.

  Agony.

  Wetness down her leg.

  Forty-Two

  Flight

  A woman’s shout came from the far end of town. Kiren homed in on it, unable to stop the panic suddenly pumping through his veins. He was running before he realized it.

  Alexia lay in the middle of the road, blood pooling around her skirt.

  She was here.

  She was here and she was in trouble.

  He reached her in two strides, felt for a heartbeat, and placed a hand on her womb. Her pulse was weakening, as was the child’s. He closed his eyes and listened deeper to the flow of blood, escaping from where the baby’s sac had prematurely detached. Blood pooled inside Alexia, trickling free.

  He pressed his fingers to the bare skin at her collarbone, as close to her heart as he could.

  Slow, he commanded her heart. Delving deeper, he focused, following the arteries down to where they merged with the womb, where it had torn free. Fuse. The cells reached for one another and knit back together, suturing the tear, but blood still welled in her womb. Too much blood. Strength poured through his fingers, wringing him out until he was a dry rag, filling her need.

  Kiren sat back, panting hard with Alexia cradled in his arms. Even his healing may not be enough. The guiltiest part of him didn’t care if she lost the child, but he needed her to live. She had to survive.

  Dark mist exploded down the lane as Amos appeared behind him, mouth set grimly. His eyes widened when they landed on Kiren’s cheek.

  Kiren brushed the hair back from Alexia’s face to show that she still breathed. Regin stepped through the cloud, tugging on gloves, and covered his nose, half-turning away. Mae shadowed him, hands flying to her mouth.

  “What have you done to her?” Amos’s voice thrummed with a cool rage.

  Kiren twisted to him. “Me? I stopped her from dying.”

  “So much blood,” Mae whispered, but her gaze was fixed on Kiren’s face instead of the pool.

  That is right. Look now. Get it over with. Soon you will avoid eye contact for fear of offering offense.

  Alexia’s hand flattened over Kiren’s, pressing it to her cheek, eyes burning into his. Give me strength. An inner sob. I cannot lose this baby.

  Kiren drew from the pendant and gave her more. Her back arched, lips smashed together in pain.

  ***

  Alexia blinked her eyes open, her ear cushioned by skin and cloth, fingers cupping her cheek. Oaken honey wafted over her, tinged in sweat. Her eyes flickered open, and she caught a glimpse of his chin and jagged skin. Her Kiren. She was home. Did she dream him? She would happily stay here in his dream arms forever.

  “Alexia is too fragile to travel. Where is Velia?” Kiren’s voice rumbled against her ear.

  “She is detained in the camp,” Amos replied. “She is the traitor.”

  Her limbs felt like noodles, her womb aching as if it had been scraped from the inside. Then she recalled what had happened, how she’d crumbled to the ground, and suddenly Kiren was here, talking to Amos?

  He wasn’t her Kiren.

  She swallowed the disappointment and gathered her strength. Back in camp, Velia had accused Kiren of murder and revealed her own betrayal—which made her case against Kiren stronger. She’d been bound, which meant she must have already told the nobleman where they resided.

  Alexia gasped. She tugged Kiren’s sleeve. “He is here,” she rasped. “Our enemy…”

  Silence.

  “Is she of a fit mind?” Regin questioned.

  Kiren tilted her head back, his thumbs cradling her jaw, and he met her eyes. His had darkened, the night sky right before a storm. The storm was coming. She placed a hand against his torn cheek and forced the memory into him, Lord Ulric, his soldiers, more of them on the horizon.

  “We are trapped.” Kiren’s head jerked up. “The soldiers will be here any moment, so many of them. They are headed to our camp. We must detain them and warn the others.”

  Everyone stared at him.

  “Ask Alexia!” he shouted.

  They looked at her. She nodded.

  Kiren spoke through his teeth, “Mae, we need a diversion. Amos, you can shelter us all in your haze while I carry Alexia from this place, then obscure Mae and escape. Regin, you must run now and warn the camp. Move them right away. When they are safe, send someone to find us.” Before anyone could argue, he hefted Alexia up. “I will keep her whole until then.”

  She tried to get her feet beneath her in protest, but he slid her hands around his neck, looping his arms around her knees and back. She stiffened.

  “Relax and trust me,” he whispered in her ear.

  She told her body to loosen, but the knot in her stomach tightened, squeezing away her will. She tucked her face into his shoulder and balled her fists, venting the agony into her fingers.

  “How do we know you have not brought this enemy down on us?” Amos asked.

  Kiren paused. His voice darkened. “You do not.” He set off between buildin
gs and into the shadows. His even strides jarred her as Amos’s scowl disappeared into the haze. Alexia didn’t like it, but with Mae on the offensive, they would be well…she hoped.

  I am not supposed to be weak. I am supposed to protect them!

  Shouts erupted behind them. Alexia cringed, focusing on the rhythm of Kiren’s breathing, each flex of a muscle turning into a stab of pain as he raced for freedom.

  Mae, protect them. Amos, keep Mae from going too far…

  ***

  Kiren sprinted as fast as he dared, holding Alexia firmly against him. No matter how even his paces, her body tensed with every footfall. He hoped that any additional damage to her might be easily mended. He’d already given her more than ever offered before, siphoning strength from his necklace—a resource he couldn’t spare. Still, her life meant more than the preservation of his reserves. He only prayed they would replenish before he needed them.

  No place in the township would be safe—unless he could pass them off as human. But with her glow, it was never going to happen. There was a church just over the rise, a haven he had visited before as a friar when he’d healed the priest’s crippled hand. The priest would provide sanctuary.

  Shouts carried behind him, growing more distant. He tilted his head, listening for what he dreaded. His senses zoomed backward, to the conflict, creating a net around the heart of the confusion and muffling its noise. Footfalls reverberated off the walls of two alley buildings, growing in volume. Labored breathing—men who must be lugging weapons or armor.

  He listened closer. Two sets of feet, one significantly heavier than the other, neither with a gait he recognized.

  Pursuers.

  Kiren silenced his footfalls and slipped between buildings, carefully cradling Alexia’s head to him. The brick church appeared between houses. He sprinted up the steps and into the chapel.

  The priest whirled around, back pressed to the altar. His eyes widened at the blood staining Alexia’s skirt and now Kiren’s robes.

  “Brother Arik?” he asked.

  Kiren nodded, cringing inwardly at the false name.

  “What happened to your face? Who is this?”

  He lifted Alexia, who had lost consciousness. “I need sanctuary, and space to heal this woman.”

  The priest’s mouth worked, his eyes traveling up and down the two of them. “She will defile the sanctuary.”

  “There is nothing more holy than a woman with child, nor the preservation of life.” He stepped forward. “I will not deceive you, there are men chasing her for their liege, and should she fall into their hands, she and the child will die.”

  The priest straightened, fear in his eyes. “Why do they pursue this woman?”

  Kiren stepped closer. “You know me.”

  The man stilled, looking at him, eyes flickering away from his scar.

  “I would not protect her without great reason. I am asking for your assistance. Help me.”

  Lines crinkled around his eyes. “Brother Arik, I know you are not entirely of this Earth, and if you are on God’s holy mission, of course I cannot refuse.”

  Shouts carried from outside.

  “The rectory hideaway,” Kiren insisted.

  The priest waved them forward. “Come.”

  ***

  Dust shook free from the rafters overhead as soldiers stomped about the church. Kiren crouched in the cellar hideaway, his shoulders grazing the ceiling. He shaded the candle next to Alexia with his hand, praying the light wasn’t noticeable through the floorboards.

  Alexia’s bleeding had stopped, but she was unconscious on a blanket. Sweat glistened in the candle’s flame, beading her forehead and nose. A glimmer of light reflected off the chain links about her neck, drawing his notice to the steady rise and fall of her chest. To distract himself, he dipped a rag into the basin the priest had provided and wrung it out very near the surface, minimizing any noise. It didn’t matter. The men stomping around were busy shouting.

  “Sirs, this is a holy place,” Priest Eli countered. “Lower your voices and be away, lest your actions be construed as sacrilege.”

  The church quieted. One man cussed under his breath. “The blood trail dried up not far back. We will try a different direction, but if we learn they came this way, Lord Ulric will not be pleased.”

  “And if the holy pope hears about this, your lord will have his own answers to supply,” the priest replied.

  “What’d Ulric do to the last man ter cross ’im?” The second soldier asked as they clomped toward the exit.

  “Had him strangled, drowned, and hung. Publicly.”

  Door hinges squealed.

  Kiren pressed a hand to Alexia’s neck and focused on her inner workings, attuning his senses directly to her womb. The graft held, but a bubble of blood had been trapped against the inner wall. He asked the fibers to pull apart, just enough to discharge the trapped liquids. They loosened, releasing the blood. It seeped into Alexia’s skirt.

  Kiren sopped the rag again and began cleaning her bloodied feet and ankles. Priest Eli lifted the trap door and peered down into the murk, a clean robe clutched in one hand. He half turned away, gaze stuck on the exposed skin Kiren was cleaning.

  “I thought you might be needing this.” Eli offered the robe.

  Kiren thanked him and took hold of the clothing, but the priest didn’t release it. Kiren met his stare.

  …not right, a man and a woman who are not married being holed up together, touching so intimately. Especially in a church. Not right.

  He flinched at the priest’s thoughts. If their places were reversed, he would agree. What he must do to save Alexia and her child went beyond any laws of propriety—made worse by the fact he was a man of the cloth. And a man who possessed a wild attraction to her.

  But what was the other option? Let her die? Call a midwife who would report their location? Marry Alexia to appease the priest?

  He laughed inwardly at the last thought.

  He tugged the wool out of the priest’s hand and went back to work, but Eli remained, watching him.

  He scowled and debated asking the priest to fetch a woman to assist if he was so worried. But bringing anyone here was unwise. The more people who knew of Alexia’s presence, the more likely they were to be discovered—and he knew how noblemen worked in this corner of the world. That rat would offer incentives enough to win loyalty from the peasants. A washwoman coming and going with bloody garments would definitely raise a few eyebrows.

  No. No one else could know.

  He pressed his fingers to Alexia’s neck once more, testing her pulse and listening deeper. She was steady.

  For all he knew, she was already married and forcibly separated from her husband, or had run from an unspeakable union. Perhaps she’d refused his advances, insinuating it was to protect him, because she was already bonded? If she was, he didn’t want her. Couldn’t want her. That would be wrong, wouldn’t it?

  And why was he thinking about this? Being bound to her wasn’t an option. He had his father’s throne to obtain, and no woman in this world could possibly understand the burden he would place on her shoulders by taking her to wife. It was cruel. And dangerous. For her.

  And for himself if he was being honest. Being bonded to another meant opening himself to the possibility of dying if his bondmate met her demise. Placing his life in the hands of another, it terrified him as much as Alexia’s death.

  As much as.

  Not more.

  Kiren growled.

  Eli jumped in his periphery. “Is something wrong with her? Something I can, um, assist with?”

  “Have you ever played the physician, my brother?”

  The man’s face reddened. “It is not for men of the cloth.”

  “No, indeed.” And yet it was Kiren’s gift. “But Christ himself healed the infirm.”

  The priest retreated into his own thoughts, hands writhing over top one another.

  Kiren turned back to Alexia. Marriage was not the path of
the priesthood either, and yet the idea of a woman belonging to him, it was intriguing. The thought of Alexia being his set his pulse racing, his mouth salivating.

  She was different. Always had been—and not merely because she possessed the blood. Or because he desired her, although that helped. His senses were keener when she was near, even if his mind was constantly clouded by thoughts of her. She focused him on what mattered. The memory of her taunted him when apart. She understood who he would become, and she was talented. A woman who could travel through time would prove an asset beyond reckoning to a king.

  He stopped himself. Could he even think of using her so callously?

  “We need more water here.” He turned to Eli. “If it pleases you to assist.”

  The man nodded, but his eyes were troubled.

  The trap door closed, leaving them to a candle’s flicker that painted her face in mysterious shadows as deep as the secrets she harbored from him.

  “Take me into your confidence.” Kiren brushed the hair from Alexia’s face and begged her to wake, calling for adrenaline through his touch.

  Her eyes fluttered.

  His heart pounded. After the last day, he knew what she meant to him. Could she see it?

  Lush eyes met his. “You came back.”

  Her voice was so weak, a stab to his heart. Had he arrived mere moments later she would not be alive, gazing up at him. But she lived. He’d saved her. A smile puckered his cheeks, unbidden but sincere.

  “How did you find us?” she asked. “How did you know?”

  “I did not.” He wanted to touch her, an intimate graze of fingers that would communicate the tenderness he felt for her, but he stopped himself. “It was luck or fate that saved your life.”

  She smiled warmly. That single expression flooded his soul with sunlight. He wanted her to be happy, to see her smile like this every day. To make her smile like this every day.