Time Dancer

by Inez Kelley

  “Hey, Jana,” one chuckled. “Want to take a walk in the woods? I can protect you from any wild animals that may be around.”

  Another shoved at his shoulder. “She’s not interested in a boy like you. I hear she likes a real man, like me.”

  A third dared reach out and touch her cheek. “So what’s it take to fuck the High Captain’s daughter? My mother has some old jewelry she wouldn’t mind me giving away.”

  “Go away.” The younger Jana’s chin quivered with bitten-back tears as she knocked his hand away.

  They grabbed at her skirts, pinched her breasts, tossed her back and forth. Their hands were everywhere. They said lewd and filthy things, laughing at how they’d make her scream with pleasure. Her dress tore, exposing her shift and half a breast. One caught her, pressing her against the wall and crushing her mouth beneath his. She kneed him in the crotch.

  “Leave me alone!”

  Gripping his balls, the young man sneered. “I’m not good enough for you? You’ll lift your skirts for everyone else, why not me?”

  “Gentlemen.” Anic’s sing-song was laced with cruelty barely hidden under chivalry. “Show the lady some manners. After all, she is better than a common whore. I didn’t have to pay her.”

  She sucked in a fast breath. “How dare you?”

  “I dare, Jana, because I remember it.” A pink tongue darted to his upper lip. “Fondly.”

  “Bastard!”

  Anic’s smile took a darker edge. “No, I made sure there were none of those.”

  “Get away, all of you!” Warric snarled, coming up behind Anic. The three others vanished like jackrabbits in front of a wolf. Before Anic could flee, Warric slammed him against the wall.

  “Apologize, now.”

  “For what? Giving her what she asked for? She begged for it.”

  Fire flashed in Warric’s eyes. None at the Academy had the same magical force Warric did. His temper was also a legend. The two combined could be deadly. “Don’t make me repeat myself or you’ll regret it.”

  Red erupted on Aric’s cheeks, shining bright beneath his golden hair. “I’ll report you to the headmaster.”

  Warric laughed, a pitiless sound. “Do it. Who do you think they’ll believe? A prince of Eldwyn or some second-rate sack of shit?”

  Anic forced his jaw forward. “Fine. I’m sorry, Jana.” His dimple disappeared with his smirk. “You weren’t that good anyway.”

  Her younger self lunged but Warric blocked her. “Get inside.”

  Months-ago-Jana dashed indoors, leaving her books on the ground. Salty tears pooled on the current Jana’s lips and she licked them away. It still hurt as badly now as it had that day. She wished the invisible black floor would open and swallow her whole. But it hadn’t then and didn’t now.

  The past-image of Warric fixed his gaze on Anic’s face and an eerie silvered glow sparked in his eyes. The whispered chant from Warric’s lips was too low to hear but an icy breath stole down Jana’s back at the force of his power even in this recollected scene.

  Anic’s tongue swelled until it turned purple and stuck out from his lips. Boils erupted on his face, bright pink pustules covering nearly every inch. Whimpering in pain, he clutched his crotch.

  Warric leaned close to his ear. “You aren’t worth killing but if you say one more thing about Jana, if you even whisper her name in the dark, I’ll know. Not even my father’s hounds will be able to find where I bury your gutted carcass. Her chamberpot is worth ten of you, you son of a bitch.” His fist burst six boils along Anic’s jaw before the blackness erased them from her sight.

  Breath was hard to find and her chest heaved. Warric had used illegal magic and brute force to defend her honor. He’d never said anything. Anic had left school that day, supposedly because of an illness in his family. The open taunting had stopped but the looks, the whispers that died about when she entered a room, had continued. She’d left before the end of term, never knowing she had Warric to thank for the small bits of peace she’d found.

  “I never knew...” She lifted her eyes to Darach’s. “Anic said he loved me. I believed him.”

  “He lied. Even I can tell that maggot knows nothing of the love you have shown to me. Should I seek him out and kill him?”

  Her gasp stuck in her throat. “You’d kill for me?”

  “In a breath. I belong to you, and you, Jana, belong to me.”

  Jana shuddered at the possessive grumble in his tone. Summoned spells couldn’t lie to their charges. “I belong to Argot.”

  “When I no longer walk this Earth, then you will belong to Argot. For now, you are mine.”

  There wasn’t breath enough in the blackness to speak, to correct him. In her soul, she admitted that she didn’t wish to correct him. “Now where?”

  He studied her face. “You wish to try another dance?’

  “Yes. I have to master this. What do I do?”

  “Very well, close your eyes and let us see if you can go further back. Open your mind and think of any story of your family. Try one before your birth, perhaps even before your parents’ birth. Go back as far as you can.”

  Jana took a long moment to gather her calm. Shuffling through her memories, one rose to the top. “My grandfather, he told me a story once when I was a little girl. He said his fath—”

  “Do not tell me. Show me. Take me there, Jana, and let us see.”

  She opened her mind. A shifting washed through her, as if she were spinning too fast, but Darach’s hand never let go. The voices came again, one over the other, thousands in a chaotic swirl. One began to grow in strength until it reached above the others. “I hear one.”

  Darach gently led her forward, each step guided by his hand.

  “It’s growing louder.”

  “Good. Open your eyes, nayeli.”

  She wondered about that foreign word, the husky breath of it stealing into her veins. She opened her eyes and screamed. A huge wolf crouched, prepared to leap. Bared fangs dripped white foam and a wild madness glistened in its eyes.

  A forest glen bled into a dense spread of trees. The fading sunlight turned the grass to a rippling gray sea. A small boy cowered at the base of the largest oak, his terrified face locked on the growling animal. It was late spring, the fragrance of tilled earth and foliage wafting thick on the fierce wind, but the scent of fear cut through the heavy air.

  Jana tried to run but Darach held her fast.

  “No, nayeli.”

  “We have to save him!” Jana pulled and tugged, trying to break free of Darach’s grasp.

  He squeezed her hand tighter. “Stop! Never, ever let go. You are a time dancer but you are untrained. If I am not with you to anchor you, you become one with the past. Do you understand, Jana? You will be lost in memory forever and not even I could find you. Never let go of my hand.”

  The wolf lunged. Its body passed through them both, aimed toward the child.

  “But you don’t understand! The wolf is—”

  “Nothing but air to us. We cannot interfere. We can cause no good or harm. We are merely watchers.”

  “But...” She spun, holding her breath as the wolf barreled toward the little boy. Her heart pounded.

  A huge man charged from the woods carrying a torch, his mouth opened in a bellow. Sparks flew and the scorched smell of hair exploded as he clubbed the wolf away from the child. The wolf yelped, then turned as if to charge again. The man widened his stance and jabbed with the fire. The animal shied away but circled, looking for a new opening.

  Its haunches quivered with the need to attack. It feinted left. Huge and brawny, the man moved with the grace of a stag. He swiveled on one foot and swung the flaming stick again, this time catching the animal on the muzzle. A yelp bled to a whine and the wolf sped away.

  The man rushed to the child. He held the torch high, jerked the boy to a stand and frantically searched him for wounds. “Mactog, are you all right? How many times have I told you not to wander from the field? You could’ve
been killed!”

  “Sorry, Papa.” The boy sobbed and crawled deeper into his father’s embrace. He could be no more than five.

  Jana’s breath escaped with a whoosh. “That’s my grandfather.”

  “The man?”

  “The little boy.” She watched in amazement as the man, her great-grandfather, wiped his son’s face with his sleeve. “He told me his father once beat off a rabid wolf with a torch. He was an old man when he told me the tale. It was so hard to imagine him as a child.”

  Little Mactog clung to his father’s thick neck as he was carried into the forest. Jana thought hard. “My great-grandfather died when Papa was just a boy. Am I really seeing him?”

  “Yes, Jana. You have breached your lifespan and danced backward through your blood.”

  They watched until the trees swallowed father and child. Black formed around the edges of the woods, shrinking until it existed only in a pinpoint. She closed her eyes as exhaustion seeped into her muscles.

  “I’m tired.”

  “You did well. To dance to three specific places in one dream is...magnificent. I’m very proud of you, my charge.”

  The praise touched some still trembling part inside her. She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I tried to run away.”

  “You wanted to aid the child but, Jana, you must believe me. Letting go is dangerous. It’d mean your very death.”

  “I understand. I’ll never let go, I promise.”

  “Nor shall I, nayeli.”

  A whirling fluttered her stomach, like when her father would hold her hands and spin her as a little girl. When the spinning slowed, Jana opened her eyes and all she saw was Darach’s face.

  They were back in her chamber, his hand wrapped tight around hers. Not even the thrill of having moved through time could keep her body from sinking into slumber, and a yawn tickled her throat. Despite the now bright morning, sleep called to her.

  “Was that real?”

  “Very real.” His voice husked deep and low, like falling night. “Sleep now. No other dreams’ll come, except those which may bring you joy.”

  He made as if to move and she gripped his hand. “Stay.”

  “If it pleases you.” He sat beside her on the mattress. His weight dipped the stuffing so that her body rolled slightly toward his. It felt comforting and intimate.

  “Something’s different. You’re talking differently, using shorter words.”

  “You’ve stolen all the cadence from me.”

  “Papa said that means a spell is truly bonding with you.”

  His hair trickled in a soft fall along the mattress, pooling in a dark puddle as he bent and pressed his lips to her hand. “Sleep, nayeli.”

  Sleep claimed her before she could ask what that strange word meant.

  Chapter Five

  “Wait a minute.” Papa held up his hand. “No one is shedding any royal blood.”

  Darach ignored him. “The Segur blood must come from you, Your Majesty. Your sons’ blood is... The queen’s feline essence is very strong in them. It may lure Jana away from the call.”

  The king nodded. “Then you’ll have it. How much do you need?”

  Leather whispered on silk as Darach slid his right hand into his glove. Her father fisted his dagger hilt but stood firm behind the king’s chair. Jana pulled the soft white cloth from behind her and held it out to Darach. He took it, his fingers grazing hers. Their eyes met. They’d not spoken of the gentle press of his lips to her hand but a private smile inched along his mouth as he knelt before the king and pierced his palm with one sharp claw.

  Today Darach was back to the costume of his home realm, the open vest baring his broad chest, the green breeches molding to his ass. His loose hair slid from his shoulder as he leaned forward to press the cloth to the wound dripping from King Taric’s hand.

  Instead of her normal squeamish reaction, something in her core vibrated at the scarlet growing on the cloth. Something in a voice she couldn’t yet hear, but reached out to her through time and air. The wonder of going backward through her bloodline, seeing things that occurred before her birth, seemed almost a dream in the bright light of early afternoon.

  She’d wanted to dance through time again immediately upon waking but Darach wouldn’t allow it. Passing through the waves of time took strength and endurance. He felt it was too early but his concern grated on her. She wasn’t as weak or as fragile as he seemed to think.

  “Batu told me of the bonds but I do have questions.” Darach lifted the cloth, glanced at the still welling blood and replaced it, squeezing tightly. “The mark only appears on males. What if a daughter is born?”

  “No mark.” King Taric used his free hand to lift his wineglass. “Still, she can’t bear children unless her heartmate is found, and the insanity threat is always present. So the curse is the same, just without scarring.”

  Darach frowned. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Women never get the mark, men do.”

  “Strange.” Darach angled his head in thought. “If your heir had been female, would her heartmate then become king?”

  “No. Inheritance is foremost. My wife’s title is officially Queen Consort, as she married me, but I rule. If a woman inherits the crown, she becomes queen and her husband is called the Prince Consort, though she may take his name. Not all queens do. She is queen first, wife second, and no man has authority over her, not even a husband.”

  “Before a Segur ruled, what name carried the crown?”

  A slow breath raised the king’s chest, then he shook his head. “History isn’t my strong point, I don’t remember.”

  “Ooman,” Papa snickered. “Cator Ooman was the king before the first Segur. I love it that I know more about the royal lines than you do.”

  King Taric glared. “Stop being a smartass.”

  Jana turned to the bookshelf, hiding her smile. Her father and the king squabbled like boys over the smallest things but they were closer than brothers.

  “The bondmark, Batu said it is a line above his heart. Yours is the same?” Darach asked.

  The king shifted in his seat, as regally as if sitting in his throne. “Yes, as was my father’s. It’s just a scar. If a bondmate dies, it turns black.”

  “May I see it?”

  He nodded and Jana slid toward the door, wishing to give the king some privacy. “I think I’ll go to the gardens, check on Feena. She managed some tea and toast. Argot and Batu took her to get some fresh air.”

  Darach whipped his head around. The feral possession in his gaze stuttered her heartbeat but she gave all the men a sunny smile and slipped out of the study.

  The garden entrance was small, only a single door that opened without sound. Whistling wind blew as Jana cracked it and she paused, wondering if she should take time to grab a mantle. But she’d only be a few minutes so she wrapped her arms tight to ward off the frigid air. A curl of dark gold fluttered across her eyes and she tucked it behind her ear while dodging around a group of topiary. The air grew louder, filled with a strange broken hiss. She looked up and froze.

  The hisses came from arrows raining down from the top of the kirk, hurtling from the northern sky. One tore through the skirt of her gown. She instinctively crouched low, making the smallest possible target. Another whizzed by her ear. Twenty feet ahead, flat on the ground, Batu shielded Feena, lying atop her. At least one arrow protruded from his back.

  Argot crouched on all fours, hovering over the couple. Multiple fletchings sticking out of his body quivered. He raised his bleeding face.

  “Sound the alarm! Attack!”

  Another arrow sank into his thigh and he jerked. She ran. A singing arrow flew past her, clipping the top edge of her ear. Fright erased all pain. She thrust open the heavy door. Inside each outer doorway was a rope snaking through the walls unseen to a set of master bells. The raw hemp burned her hands as she tugged, screaming for help.

  Thunder filled the hall as soldiers flooded in. Three darted down the short
stone steps, then fell, cut down before they made it into the garden. One man grasped his pierced throat, blood spurting into the air for two high arcs. Then it ceased, oozing slower into the ground and his hands fell away.

  The Master Sergeant shoved Jana out of the way. “Shields! Turtle formation! Alpha crew, to the kirk top!”

  Soldiers scattered as her father slid into the hall. “Report.”

  “Don’t know,” the sergeant spat. “Three down and arrows are pissing from the sky like rain. All from the north.”

  “Feena!” Jana cried. Her father whirled to her. “By the benches across from the daylily bed. Batu’s hit. Argot, too.”

  “Stay down,” he yelled, pushing her into the corner. She dared not move. She’d rarely seen her father like this, all grit and seasoned warrior. He called for the portcullis to be dropped, all doors barred and the halls emptied. Every soul snapped to follow his commands. The castle was on wartime lockdown.

  Her chest ached under the force of her heartbeat, and she shrank as small as she could to stay out of the way of stomping boots and weapons being assembled. Darach appeared at her side. He cupped her ear then drew his hand away to glare at the blood. “You’re injured. Why did you not call for me?”

  “I’m fine. Feena’s out there. Batu and Argot are hurt.”

  An untamed ember brewed in his gaze. “Do not leave this spot, nayeli.”

  Power endued his muscles, firming them with a primitive grace. With one swipe of his massive hand, he shoved the Master Sergeant aside and stepped outside.

  “Darach!” She leaped to her feet. Her father’s arm snaked around her waist. “Papa, stop him!”

  “Look, Jana.”

  The leather of Darach’s boot sole hit the first step. An enormous clawed paw hit the last. The grizzly charged, a growl bellowing from a widespread snout. Sharp teeth glistened in the sunlight. Muscles bunched and stretched as he ran into the garden. Missiles sailed to the ground, burying into the earth, ricocheting off statues, snagging in hedges. An arrow sank deep in Darach’s shoulder but he never slowed. One lunge propelled him over the huddled group.