“That’s all I rate? Mm Hm?” a voice said from behind Rebekah. Rebekah jumped reflexively to her feet, not expecting company. Jennifer strode out from behind a tree, her dress and her hair a picture of phony perfection. Rebekah scowled, tightening her fist, wishing Jennifer Burton was a monster. She could hit a monster.
“What’re you doing here?” Rebekah asked with a biting tone. Jennifer didn’t even look at her, waving a dismissive hand.
“What’re you doing dating my fiancé?” Rebekah took a quick glance and saw the engagement ring on her finger. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears. The gall!
Jennifer stepped past Strebor’s Rock and stood right next to Marcus. Rebekah could see him tense visibly. Marcus didn’t turn. He’d had a feeling that Jennifer would follow them. Inside, he wished he’d chosen a different place to talk.
“Hey.” Marcus didn’t respond. He barely moved. Jennifer looked right at him, but Marcus would not look at her. She stepped right in front of him, but he didn’t budge. Marcus's eyes remained fixed on the horizon.
“Aren’t you going to say Hi?” Marcus closed his eyes. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
“Should I be?” he said finally. Rebekah smirked a little at that, but saw that Jennifer was unruffled by the response.
“I think so. I figured you’d be glad to have the love of your life back.” Rebekah felt her blood go cold. The audacity this girl had was unreal. But she kept her cool, making sure not to approach. This wasn’t something she needed to get directly involved in.
“You kinda took me by surprise Jen,” Marcus said stoically. “After the way we left things, I don’t think it’s fair for you to just show up and start upending my life.” Jennifer took up a shy posture, staring down at the sand as she rearranged it with her toes.
“I know. I should’ve called ahead. But I think that makes us even, don’t you?” Marcus shook his head.
“You had the ability to call.” Marcus’s tone was filled with accusation. He wasn’t hiding his frustration and anger. Jennifer looked a little perturbed, but still didn’t make any moves that said she was giving up.
“Look Marcus. I wanted to see if we could pick up where we left off.” Marcus took a deep breath and finally looked at her. Jenny met his eyes and tried to match his gaze. But Rebekah could see something in Marcus’s look that troubled her. He wasn’t looking at Jennifer with longing or loathing. He was looking for something else.
“Fine. Then I’ll leave this time.” Marcus turned slowly and walked off. Jennifer began to take a step to tail him. “Don’t follow me!” Marcus barked. Jennifer stopped, looking confused. Rebekah wasn’t sure she understood what had just happened, but she knew she didn’t like that shade of upset on her man. Marcus disappeared into the trees, and Rebekah turned toward the starlet.
“Good timing,” she said. “I was having a pretty good night until you showed up.” Jennifer turned only slightly, barely acknowledging the young princess.
“What does that mean?” Rebekah folded her arms.
“Just that from all things told, you have a real knack for messing up his life at exactly the wrong time.” The girl smirked a little. Rebekah made no attempt to approach her. Jennifer, however, turned herself toward the sea and gave her hair a neat flip. She made sure that the engagement ring sparkled in the moonlight.
“I do want us to be friends Rebekah. But you’ll never get an invitation to the wedding with that attitude.” Jennifer smirked up at the princess. “Marcus is, and always will be mine.” Rebekah wasn’t about to take that bait. She stepped down carefully from Strebor’s Rock and started after Marcus. After a second, she stopped herself and turned.
“Just for the record, I don’t like you. Stay away from him and stay away from me.” Rebekah turned to leave, satisfied that she had made her point. But as she walked, she felt the strangest sensation pass through her. She knew that Jennifer was looking at her as she walked away. And for some reason she couldn’t identify, it made her skin crawl.
When Marcus finally arrived in his quarters, he let out an audible groan. This wasn’t right. He knew somehow that what had just happened was wrong in so many ways. It had been just like the dream. Almost in every detail. Jennifer had arrived, and she had wanted to dance. He’d seen it so clearly in his nightmares, and now it was already a piece of history.
After standing with his brain occupied by confusion for several moments, Marcus went about pulling himself out of his dress finery and prepared for sleep. The bed stared back at him, almost mockingly. Marcus could almost see the nightmare happening again if he set himself down in the bunk. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted that. But to see it again might shed some light on things. He needed to figure out what it meant. He needed Jacob to sound off of.
After a long moment of pondering, Marcus knelt beside the bed instead. It took him a moment to quiet his mind, but after a time, he had his thoughts in an order that suited him. He bowed his head quietly and began to pray.
“I need to know what to do next,” he said aloud. The air was calm in the small quarters, and Marcus waited for thought to come to him.
“I don’t understand the dream,” he admitted somberly. It wasn’t much of an admission, but he needed to say it. He needed Deity to hear it. His prayer for help would be incomplete without admitting to it. Marcus grew silent as though listening for something. In the quiet of his quarters, the answer came softly, and Marcus nodded.
His next choice would be simple. After a long moment, Marcus turned to his desk and picked up the leather-bound journal. He needed to think of something else. His father’s words might be of some use.
“I haven’t written in weeks. Marina came home today. The broken arm is healing nicely, and her head is fine. Nothing like having my wife back in the house, taking care of us. But then, we’re doing most of the work right now. I feel funny making breakfast in the morning. Cooking never was one of my strong suits. But Marcus thinks it’s fun.
“The strangest thing though. Marina doesn’t want to talk all that much. She seems fine most of the time, but she isn’t terribly happy to see me or Marcus lately. I hope she doesn’t blame me for what happened. I’ve got this funny feeling that she’s not telling me something. Or maybe she’s still suffering from that blow to the head. Either way, I’m sticking to her like glue until she’s better. I love my wife, even if she does blame me.”
Chapter 11
Tears of the Dreamer
Marcus awoke to a knock at his bedroom door. He looked up and realized that the journal was lying across his chest. He’d fallen asleep last night reading. He hadn’t dreamed and he hadn’t known that he’d been asleep. But the sunlight beaming through the window was evidence enough. It was morning.
After a quick once over at the mirror, Marcus figured whoever it was would have to be able to deal with him in his pajamas. He didn’t have a case of bed hair that was too awful. And since Marcus wasn’t terribly self-conscious about such things, he decided that he could deal with it.
“Come on in.” The door opened coyly and Rebekah looked in, her face one of concern. Marcus sighed inwardly. He was glad it was her. The thought of who it could have been had thankfully not come to pass.
“Hey you,” she said in a small voice. "Was I supposed to where my PJs? Cuz I can go back and get them.” Marcus didn’t laugh. “Casual Saturday, huh?" Marcus motioned her to come in as he returned to the basin to throw some water on his face. Rebekah walked in with a newspaper under her arm. She sat herself down in a chair and tried her best not to be pensive. Marcus hadn’t ended the night before very well. Not that she expected things to have gone much better than that after Jennifer showed up. It was one of those nights where nobody wins.
“Did you get home all right?” Marcus asked through his hands. Rebekah shrugged.
“I got a lot of questions back at the dorm.” Marcus chuckled a little.
“I’ll bet. I’m sure the press was wondering where we went.” Rebekah thought back fo
r a moment. The paparazzi had been camped out on the dorm steps, hoping that they hadn’t missed Rebekah and Marcus’s finale. They all seemed a little confused when Rebekah strolled up, without a paladin on her arm.
“Actually, they seemed more worried about where YOU went. And what we did after we left. And what you and Burton were doing after I left. One of them had the temerity to ask how good you were. I almost caved in his nose.” Marcus frowned. That inference was something he didn’t need.
With a quick snap, Rebekah flipped open the newspaper she’d brought with her and showed Marcus the front page. He took it as he toweled off. The picture was not quite what Marcus had expected. “They, of course, have their own take on things.”
“Was my mouth THAT wide open?” Rebekah nodded. Marcus started reading, and found himself reliving the evening over again. The sounds and smells all came back to him.
“So was mine, I guess,” Rebekah said after a moment. “But like the print says, they think we’re some kind of weird love triangle. And if you read it carefully, you’ll find that they had someone listening in at the beach. There’s even a poll asking which one of us you should choose.” Marcus frowned. “So why do you get to choose? Why can’t I choose?”
“Because everyone knows you already chose me. That’s not a story. Nobody knows what I’m thinking.” Rebekah chortled a little.
“I don’t think they could publish what you’re thinking about all this.” Marcus had to laugh at that. He continued skimming over the paper. The poll in question was a fifty-one/forty-nine split in favor of Jennifer Burton. Marcus had a feeling the numbers were less than accurate. The headline, splashed at a strange angle across the top of the picture, said it all.
“Battle of the Starlets?” Marcus said aloud. “Since when are you a starlet?” He looked at the byline. It was just what he’d expected. “Simon Houghton. Of course.” Rebekah nodded again. There really wasn’t much to say about it all. This was the thing they had tried so hard to avoid. This was the scenario they hadn’t wanted.
“Well, at least they’ve got you at a dead heat with Jennifer,” Marcus mused, looking at the poll numbers. Rebekah didn’t bother to address that.
“I figured you ought to know what was going on before we get started today. Vince has ordered the press off campus for the time being, but you know how slippery those creeps are.” Marcus knew all too well. The press could be very tricky, and dealing with this would make it doubly troublesome.
“I wish we were off campus,” Marcus said finally, setting the rag aside and slumping into a chair next to Rebekah. She took his hand and smiled.
“A honeymoon perhaps?” she said shyly. Marcus grinned.
“Come on Trouble,” he said flatly. Rebekah let it go. No sense in pushing things farther or faster than was necessary.
“So what then?” Marcus gave her hand a slight squeeze and stood up. He pulled her to him and looked her in the eyes, making sure she knew he was serious.
“We keep going like it’s business as usual. I’m not putting my life on hold for them.” Rebekah smiled as Marcus held her in that moment. “Or her.” He was giving her his reassuring hug. She took it gladly, knowing it was all he was willing to give at the moment. Marcus pulled away and moved Rebekah toward the door. In that moment, she saw something on his face that she hadn’t noticed before. His eyes betrayed a concern that was new.
“You’re not telling me something.” Marcus stopped for a moment and frowned. “What is it?” He considered telling her about the nightmare. But he stopped himself. It didn’t feel right.
“Later, I promise.” Rebekah watched him put on a fake smile. After a second, she acquiesced. “But right now, since we aren’t married, this isn’t a honeymoon. And this isn’t a honeymoon suite, so you need to leave.” Rebekah smirked as she walked out the door, turning to face him. Marcus smirked back.
“You don’t want any help in the shower?” she asked, her eyebrows dancing. Marcus gave her a little more help out the door and started to close it.
“We’re not married Trouble. And as such, you will not be seeing this Honey’s Moon.” Rebekah felt her jaw drop as the door closed.
High Master Troius sat on the floor in a meditative position, his eyes barely visible beneath his aging brow. His face was a mix of serenity and concentration as he brought himself through the Dragoon centering exercise. He was willing his mind and his body to focus as one. It was the deepest lesson that he had to teach, and not one of his students had yet mastered it.
Norik had not changed since The Highmaster was a very young man. He had been in the service of the Norik Royal family for nearly seventy years. And he had been the Highmaster for forty of those same years. In that time, he had seen many trends in the world. But the world was full of wonders and infinite possibilities. The events unfolding outside the castle walls now were well beyond his reckoning.
After a moment, Nilikahn Troius felt that his meditations were sufficient, and he opened his eyes. His quarters were spartan and small, but he preferred them that way. He would have no extraneous things around him. Nothing but a picture of his late wife, and another of his two finest students; Rebekah Norik and Darius March.
It had been a while since he’d seen either of them. Rebekah was holed up in Littlefield, not allowed to leave because of some undisclosed business. She had written once a few months before, but the letter had not given him any specifics. Still, according to what the papers had to say, Rebekah and her old-now-new beau Marcus still had a knack for trouble. The Highmaster had some idea what the fuss over Rebekah was all about. But she’d been well trained. She’d be all right.
Darius, however, hadn’t been heard from in a few years. Not since the argument. The party line was that Darius and Nilikahn had had a disagreement about something philosophical. And most people accepted that, without questioning what the actual subject was. Nilikahn knew better. He and Darius had not just come to a difference of opinion. They had come to a moral impasse.
But Nilikahn would not tell anyone what that argument had revealed. Darius was stubborn and driven. The Highmaster knew that with time, Darius would see that his argument was false, and he would return better than when he had left. Still, with as stubborn as the man was, it could be several more years before he was ready to give it another try. Nilikahn just hoped he’d be alive for the moment.
The hollow sound of a knock at the door filled the room. Nilikahn took up his cane, which doubled for his lancet, and answered it. The door pulled away slowly, and Nilikahn couldn’t help but smile.
“You, I did not expect,” he said, inviting the person in. "We cannot fight if that is why you have come. It's against our laws. Besides, you do not possess the proper spirit to battle me with honor."
"There will be no honor in this, Old Man,” the stranger rumbled. “It's not a fight,” the person said flatly. “It's an assassination."
Uther opened his eyes and looked around. The classroom was empty and the lights were low, but he could sense a presence approaching. He waited a moment, allowing his telepathic abilities to feel the impressions from the mind of the person. A pleased sigh escaped his lips.
The door opened and Marcus flipped on the lights. He looked around and saw Uther sitting cross-legged on the floor and nodded to him. Uther returned the nod as Marcus set his notes on the podium. He did a quick mental exercise, and felt something odd from the elder paladin.
“Good morning,” Marcus said simply. Uther tilted his head a little. “You’re here a little early, aren’t you?”
“I prefer quiet moments.” Marcus accepted that.
“So do I lately. The press is doing their best to get into the Holodrome.” Uther pulled himself up from the floor and into a chair. He didn’t sense anyone else approaching, and figured it was safe to talk. "I had to come in through the emergency service entrance. A very long climb down to the classrooms."
“You afraid of heights?” Marcus asked. Uther shook his head.
“Just f
alling.” Marcus let out a deflating sigh and slumped into his chair. Uther couldn't help noticing.
“Something is bothering you.” Uther meant it as a statement. Marcus looked up and shrugged.
“Other than the press?” Uther nodded. “Can’t fool an empath, huh?” Uther shook his head only slightly. “My ex-fiancé just walked into my life again.” Uther didn’t really react to that. He didn’t know exactly what had happened the night before, having been caught away in his meditations. He’d heard all the commotion, but he hadn’t been paying enough attention to discern it all.
“That explains all the chatter in the Roach Motel.” Marcus grimaced. The story was taking off already.
“It’s not something I want to talk about really.” Uther knit his brow together. He didn’t sense that at all.
“But it is important somehow.” Marcus stopped shuffling his notes, staring at the wooden pulpit for a moment. Uther was trying to get him to talk about it. It wasn’t something that Marcus felt all that comfortable discussing. After a moment, he allowed his resolve to sag.
“Uther, your people are entitled to prophecy in some form, yes?” Uther nodded.
“Each his own, yes.” Marcus nodded, rubbing his hands together and trying to figure what he should actually say.
“I’m . . . I’ve been privy to the same, except I receive it as I need it. Usually, I’m not aware of what it means until it’s right on top of me. I haven’t been granted the gift of discernment for my revelations. I usually need an interpreter.” Uther nodded slightly. That wasn’t uncommon among his people.
“I am no interpreter, Sir Kasidyne.” Marcus knew that already.
“But you might be able to give me an insight. Besides, I think it’s only fair that you hear it.” And Marcus began to rehearse the nightmare for him, laying out every detail he could remember. Uther listened quietly, doing his best to really hear what Marcus was saying. It all seemed a bit abstract.
The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade Page 22
