by Inez Kelley
The corrupt force ricocheted through him, haloing everything in a pulsing dark violet. A drugging sense of command taunted him that he could reduce this field to rubble in a blink. With a little effort, he could crack Thistlemount’s stone walls like an egg.
A roar ripped from his gut and another tree fell victim to the gluttony of magic. His name was called behind him but he refused to turn. Sweat rolled down his temple as he battled the urge to turn, to look at her, to bring her into the path of such a wicked presence.
It knew.
She’s mine as well.
“Like hell,” he spat.
Love provided the fortitude and he jerked the power away, jamming it under his heart. The lick of freedom had whetted the chaos’s appetite and it shoved back. Every muscle in his body clenched, trying to wrestle control of the magic away from the chaos. His fragile control slipped. His gut twisted with pain, and agony bounced in his head. He was losing control.
Kya’s arms wrapped around his waist and brought the fragrance of lemons to his nose. “Stay strong, my love.”
Kya.
Her touch coaxed his balance back into play. Her embrace gave him the strength to seal the turbulence away. A mental door slammed shut in his mind as the chaos screamed in futility. His knees quaked with sudden cold and weak muscles.
“You did it!” Her cheer was a sweet sound.
“No, we did it. I almost lost control until you touched me.”
The tremor of fatigue spread up his knees, spilling into his belly. Kya looped her arms around his neck and shared his mantle with him. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
He tucked her under his chin and pressed her to his bonded mark. The chaos wouldn’t overtake him as long as Kya held fast. Fear twisted low in his gut. Chaos coveted everything in its destructive path...including her. He’d slit his own throat before he let that evil touch Kya.
“Come on, let’s go home.”
Kya nodded and slid under his arm, supporting him while sparing his pride. The move was so Kya-like, gentle strength. A scratching began at the iron door of his consciousness. The fading daylight smelled of the burning wood in the distance. It was a stark reminder that his control was fleeting.
* * *
Jana’s eyes were gritty with unspilled salt. Tears were beyond her. She was too weak. Far too much time had been spent in the Segur past and her strength was nonexistent. Tangled hair spilled over her shoulder. She’d lost her braid tie somewhere during her search. She’d never find it now. No one ever would. No one would ever find her. Exhaustion weighted her eyelids and death traced her skin.
She gasped as if someone had plunged her into an icy stream. Her lungs burned. A painful energy welled inside her, and static crackled along her bones. What was happening? She stood and glanced in the mirror. Nothing had changed. She was still trapped as a shadow in another time but was no longer weary. Had her body died freeing her soul?
A screech jerked her around. Rycca ran, skirt fisted above her knees, slippers slapping at the floor. Jana wiped her nose on her sleeve then followed.
Near the far bailey wall, a bloody Dyal was being led out of the grounds. Iron links scuffed in the dirt with an eerie chink-swoop that brought gooseflesh to Jana’s arms. She might be a ghost but Dyal bore the chains. Blood ran down the side of his face from a gash above his right eye. His blue tunic had been stripped from him and the white undergown was torn and stained with whip marks and crimson lines. Despite the abuse his body showed, his jaw was firm and his eyes dry.
The stable master prodded four stout horses toward the portcullis. Rope coiled and looped around four guards’ shoulders. Their haggard faces didn’t turn toward Dyal, the man who only hours ago had commanded them. Distaste hardened their expressions. They had no joy in this duty. They were to be his executioners, to ride in four different directions, ripping his body apart.
Jana picked up her pace, running alongside the princess. Rycca cried, “Stop!”
Atop a cream stallion, King Cator whirled. “Keep her away!”
A brawny guard planted himself in her path. “Princess, no. Let him go. Give him his dignity in death.”
Rycca kneed his crotch. He fell to his knees and she bolted around him. Jana ran through him.
“Father, please.” She clutched her father’s leg, being dragged a few steps as the horse pranced in impatience. “He didn’t do anything wrong. This is my fault, punish me, not him.”
“This is your punishment.” The grave-cold of his voice stilled her fingers on his boot. “Be glad you’re dear to me, daughter, and that you aren’t in chains as well.”
“Please don’t do this. I—I’ll marry Mergot. Just let Dyal live.”
“Oh, your wedding will still occur. That bastard in your belly will have Shawton’s name. This changes nothing.”
Madness seeped into Rycca’s eyes. A slither of apprehension skated down Jana’s spine. Rycca moved, a disjointed wobbling path that aimed her toward Dyal. The king’s captain increased his stride, pulling the chain taut. Dyal stumbled to keep up and bloody footprints marked his path. Jana grimaced at his bare feet. They’d taken his boots. On top of everything, it seemed a needless insult.
Guards veered out of her way. Most turned their heads, unwilling to view her torment. Rycca stopped in front of Dyal.
Love you. His lips moved but no sound stirred the air.
Love you more, her mouth answered.
A sizzle of magic danced on Jana’s skin, drawing her near the couple. She stood so close she could see the golden brush of whiskers forming along Dyal’s bruised jaw, the spiked wetness of Rycca’s lashes. She didn’t see the flash of a dagger.
“She has my boot knife!” the king shouted.
Dyal’s eyes went wide as that silver blade pulled back in a slender feminine hand and aimed...at her own throat. “No!”
His hands bound in shackles and weighted by a chain, Dyal still did his duty. He protected Rycca even from herself. He lunged, grabbing at the hilt, forcing her swing down and away. The blade sank into his thigh.
Rycca went mad, pushing at his capturing arms. “Let me die with you. I’m as guilty as you are.”
“Kill him now! Get her away from him!” The king shouted orders, his stallion rearing in the confusion. The horses, fed by activity in the air, squealed and pulled, pawing at the dirt. Dust kicked up in a pale cloud. Guards scrambled, circling Dyal and Rycca. A whip cracked. Dyal hunched, covering Rycca with his body. A fresh line of scarlet bloomed on his undertunic. Her veil slid away, dripping down her back like water over stones. It trampled beneath Dyal’s bloody feet as he struggled to hold the wet knife away.
Jana saw it coming. She shouted a warning but no one could hear her. A guard steadied his stance and let his dagger fly, aimed at Dyal. It flew straight. Dyal had Rycca’s arms but she fought him, trying to free her hand, free the blade she wanted. She twisted into another dagger’s path.
The strike was soft. Steel made no whisper as it pierced the flesh and bone above her heart. A gentle exhale was Rycca’s only response.
“No!” the king cried.
Dark iron links tangled in her skirt as Dyal caught her. They sank to the ground, disbelief paling his face, impending death paling hers.
“Damn you, don’t you dare die.” Tears slipped over Dyal’s cheeks. The dagger had entered at an angle. He jerked the blade from her chest and pressed his hand to her wound. Red seeped between his fingers.
Rycca’s stained fingers lifted to his cheek but fell to her side. “I’m cold.”
“Someone call a healer!” Dyal pleaded. No one moved. It was a useless cry for no healer could raise the dead. Heads hung in sympathy.
The king slid from his saddle. “Him, you idiots, not her. Who let loose that dagger? Who killed my daughter?”
Dyal locked his glare on the king with a murderous rage. “You killed her.” He leaped. Chains jerked him back but he fought the hold. “You did this. How pure is that blood now, Cator, t
hat you drive your own daughter to her death?”
The king took a step back. Guards scurried to protect him, forming a wall of bodies between them as Dyal fought on, spewing worthless curses and pain-driven threats. The thick manacles chewed into his wrists, and blood dripped down his arms.
“You call yourself a king? You have to be human to be a king. Animals eat their young, Cator, not men.”
Cator fell to his knees, weeping. His archaic beliefs had lethally cut two lives short, stopped one before it began. It essentially snuffed out his reign. No one walked from this a winner, all lost. Pity tasted foul and coated Jana’s tongue.
She knelt by Rycca’s body. Blood trickled with every beat of her heart. The princess stared at the sky, her unfocused gaze drifting, her lips moving. Jana leaned close. Rycca was singing a lullaby.
A hush fell over the courtyard. Jana scanned it, looking for what changed. Magic shimmered around the fountain. A stream of sparkling water shot into the air. It fell but didn’t strike the ground. It collected, shifted, formed with a swirl of lilac into a majestic stag.
A ten-point buck with widespread horns as spectral white as its coat stood proud at the fountain edge. Every guard and servant gaped. Dyal ceased his fight. Only the king seemed unsurprised.
The stag walked with authority, without fear, with complete supernatural awareness straight to Rycca and Jana. The wide chest rippled with movement. It glowed, a faintly silver light emanating from the snowy hide. Its nose was even white, not black as other deer, not pink as in some stories Jana had heard. White. Pristine, unblemished white. That nose dipped, lowered by a great horned head. Black eyes stared at the princess then turned and looked directly at Jana. She gasped. The deer could see her.
She reached out and her hand didn’t pass through it. It met warm, velvety fur over dense neck muscles. With a snort, the deer turned and strode to Cator. A lilac cloud circled and the stag became a man. The royal advisor stood tall, white hair shining in the waning sun, his robes flowing around his knees.
“Oh, Cator, didn’t I warn you that your stubbornness would lead you to heartache?”
“She wasn’t supposed to die!” the king cried. He fisted Ranier’s robes. “Fix this, Ranier. I beg you, give me my child back.”
Ranier shook his head. “I was called to advise the monarchy, guide it toward longevity. I have no power over death.”
“Please,” the king begged. “I’ll give anything. Don’t let her die because of me.”
Ranier bowed his head then crossed to Dyal. Elegance and power exuded from him with a calming strength. “Hurry, you have little time. Would you bind your blood, your very soul, to hers?”
Dyal furrowed his brow. “Of course I would, I love her.”
“You didn’t know she carried?” Ranier tapped his finger against his chin.
“No, she never told me.”
“She would bear your child in pain. Would you bear her mark?”
“Her mark?” Dyal squinted in confusion then shook his head. “I’ll trade my life if I must.”
“Not trade, share.” A refined hand stretched out, touching his shackles. The iron fell away. “Go to her. Take her in your arms and open your heart but use care with your words. Speak only the truth, for from this moment on, destiny is in your hands.”
Dyal rushed to Rycca. A shallow gurgle barely lifted her chest. Cradling her, his lips touched her ear. Jana shamelessly listened.
“Please, Rycca. Don’t leave me or I’ll go mad. I’m not whole without you. I need you. I need you like roses need the rain. Not one of your glass flowers—a living rose, full blooming with a perfume sweeter than wine. I need you. Today and tomorrow and for a hundred generations. You’re my rose, Rycca. I love you.”
Jana bit her lips at the stripped-bare honesty of a simple man. He reduced all the love poems and all the lovers’ ballads to basic emotion, raw and unvarnished.
Ranier stared. His dark eyes swirled then shimmered with an illuminated glow. A wave of his hand encapsulated Dyal and Rycca in pale purple smoke speckled with glitter. His voice tremored with enchantment.
“Ancient magic of death and life, come now in this hour of strife.
Love of heart, breath of soul, two halves meld to make a whole.
Love scores a blazing brand, ’til a hundred set walk the land,
She the soil, he the seed, bond their souls I do implead.”
Wind swept down from the east with a wail. Rycca arched and Dyal’s head jerked back. The lilac haze that surrounded them pulsed with life. Ranier lifted both hands and a white mist rose from the embracing couple. He pressed his palms together. Two white vapors coiled around each other, blending and merging until they were one. The cloud sank, fading into Dyal and Rycca.
Ranier strode into the magic fog. He knelt and placed his hand over Rycca’s wound. The other jammed against Dyal’s chest with force. The luminous glow of his eyes magnified until they pierced the miasma.
Red stained his hands as he pulled away. Rycca’s wound was gone. A scar formed above Dyal’s heart, visible at the torn neck of his undertunic. Ranier scooped a handful of dirt, cupping it in his bloody palm, laying the other atop it. A flash of light shot from between his fingers—pink, purple and every pale shade in between.
With unerring precision, he looked into Jana’s eyes and winked. Shock bolted through her. Her lips parted to speak but he arched a brow in warning. She swallowed her questions.
The magic faded away like a sigh, dissipating bit by bit until everything was as before. Rycca’s arms shot around Dyal’s neck, her laughing sobs shaking her shoulders. He blinked, then his eyes pinched closed as he squeezed.
Ranier walked to Cator and lifted the king from his knees. “Come, my friend. Rise up. Your daughter lives though her life and the crown is forever changed.”
“What did you do?”
The advisor sighed. “This is not a gift I would have given by choice, for this rose has thorns that will pluck at each generation. From this minute on, your bloodline is fated. Each soul shall have but one match, one heartmate.”
His benevolent gaze settled on the princess. She and Dyal had stood but still clung to each other. His soft speech was meant only for the monarch’s ears but Jana heard.
“Princess Rycca can have no other mate but Dyal. She will find that one mate and one mate only can be as dangerous a thing as forcing a loveless match.”
Cator’s shoulders slumped and he turned his eyes to his daughter. Dyal feathered kisses along Rycca’s forehead. “He does love her, doesn’t he?”
“He does, as she loves him.” A breath raised Ranier’s chest. “Let go, Cator. Love is the most potent magic. Set it free.”
Cator’s spine straightened. Pure majesty rang in his voice. “I hold you all as witness. These two are pardoned.”
Both Dyal and Rycca gaped at him.
Cator whispered, “Children are the true treasure of Eldwyn. I place my daughter in your hands, Dyal Segur, so love her well.”
“I will, Your Majesty.”
Segur. Jana had her answers. She laughed but the laugh fizzled on her tongue. She knew how the bond was formed but how did she break it?
Ranier put the clump of bloodied dirt into Cator’s hand, squeezing it tight. “Keep this safe, for when the time is right—” Ranier lifted his eyes to Jana, “—the bond must be broken. I vowed to see the Eldwyn crown live and flourish, to aid in its endurance. Sometimes change is needed to ensure a secure future. A hard lesson learned, Cator, but all I can teach you.”
“You’re leaving then?”
The advisor nodded. “My duty is done and I hear my home calling. Guard well this stone for it holds your legacy, my friend.”
Magic flashed from Ranier’s hand. Jana’s heart battered her ribs and her breath stuck in her throat. Cator opened his hand. A ruby the size of a chicken egg caught the sunset and cast a bloody glow in his palm.
Black circled her vision. Jana jerked her fading gaze to Ranier’s. A me
rry twinkle shone bright in his eyes and his head angled in farewell.
“Thank you,” she called as the tableau began to die away. She never knew if he heard but somehow, she thought he might have.
The time of Dyal and Rycca faded. Jana could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing. Thoughts whirled in her mind. She had to talk to Batu. That stone, that blood-red ruby, was the key. He would know where such a gem would be kept.
Silence wrapped around her. She was alone.
“I call Darach, my guide and my heart. Come to me...Darach?”
Not even an echo came to her.
Her father had taken her hunting several time as a girl, taught her the basics of woodland safety. When lost, you don’t search for a way out. You hunker down and stay put, let others find you.
Jana tucked her gown under her knees and sat in the darkness. Darach was rock steady and stone solid. He’d never leave her alone. This ocean-wide stretch of nothingness wouldn’t keep them apart. Would it?
Chapter Twelve
“Would you ever sell the White Stag?”
Kya jerked her eyes up from her mending. “What? Why?”
Warric marked his place, taking his time to smooth his fingers along the page before closing the book. The night had been quiet, comfortable, just the two of them sharing the fire. He read, she mended, and contentment stretched like a lazy cat. But something preyed on his mind, disturbing his peace.
“I fought the chaos, with your help, but there are too many people around here. I need to get away. We could travel, maybe find some quiet place in the south where I can work on controlling this stuff.”
He held his breath for seven stitches. She snapped the thread with her teeth then folded the shift on her lap. It joined the basket of his tunics, her stockings and toweling cloth at her feet. “When would you want to leave?”
“Soon, as soon as we can.”
Her slender throat bobbed. “My family has owned the White Stag for seven generations.”
