"What's that?” Regan asked.
Kelsey tossed it to her. “It's a chemise."
"It's awfully sheer,” Regan said, holding it up to the light.
"It's better than nothing."
Regan pulled the chemise over her head and down across her breasts. The neckline was rounded and low. “I hope the neck on that dress is pretty high,” she said, glancing down at the revealed swell of flesh.
"Afraid not. You'll just have to keep your shoulders back."
* * * *
Her back hugging the wall and her eyes measuring each step, Regan held her skirt up above her knees with both hands and followed Kelsey down the winding narrow stairs. Reaching the bottom she let out a loud sigh and let the skirt fall to the floor.
Kelsey glanced in her direction and grinned. “It's something else you get used to."
"Right, like a sore tooth,” Regan said.
Turning left, Kelsey led the way down a wide hall. Floating globes hovering above lit before them, then winked out as they passed.
Kelsey stopped before a dark wood door and knocked. “This is Queen Tessa's private solar."
"Come in.” A lilting voice filtered through the door and Kelsey twisted the knob.
Peter and a small woman Regan recognized from Kelsey's earlier shared memories stood in front of a fireplace. The woman smiled as they entered and beckoned them forward.
Regan swallowed and walked toward the woman. “Your Majesty,” she said, still not sure if she should curtsey.
Queen Tessa reached out and grabbed Regan's hands. “At last we meet,” she smiled. “Kelsey has told me so much about you in the last seven years. I just wish it were under better circumstances. Come, sit down. Peter, get the ladies a glass of wine."
Regan seated herself on a deep cushioned chair and covertly examined Daradawn's queen.
Queen Tessa De'Amberville was tiny with a cloud of brown hair and gold-flecked brown eyes. She had an upturned nose liberally sprinkled with freckles and a wide mouth. She wore the same style of gown as they, with nothing to brand her a queen, not even a crown. Regan looked up and met the queen's amused smile.
"I do not look much like a storybook queen, do I?"
Regan's mouth fell open. “I'm sorry..."
"It is quite all right. I have always been a bit unconventional."
Peter stopped in front of Regan with a glass of wine, glanced down, then gasped.
Tessa's gaze flew to him. “Are you okay?” she asked, then saw where his eyes lingered. “I see you are just fine.” Her smile broadened into a grin.
Regan lifted her hand to rest against her bare neckline. “The gown was made for Kelsey,” she murmured.
"Never apologize for God's gifts,” Queen Tessa said. “Peter, put your eyes back in your head and sit down. One would think you had never seen a lady's bosom before."
Peter handed Regan the glass of wine and their fingertips touched. A tingling shock traveled up her arm to her shoulder and she quickly dropped her gaze. She heard Peter gulp before he moved on to Kelsey and handed her a glass.
"So what have you decided?” Kelsey asked.
Queen Tessa fixed Regan with a piercing look. “It seems Regan is our secret weapon, now that Thomas believes she has no power."
Regan looked from Peter to the queen. “But what...?"
"Your book of power spells...” Peter cut in.
"But I told you. They're advertising slogans and they'll be of no use here."
"But if you wrote those, then you can write more,” Tessa said. “Ones that will work here."
Regan mulled that over for a moment before replying. “I suppose I could, but what would they need to do?"
"Stop Dirkk,” Tessa said shortly.
"I'll need some time and a quiet place to work,” Regan said.
"The quiet place I can give you,” Tessa said. “Time, I'm afraid, is limited."
Peter looked at her. “You have had news?"
Tessa nodded. “Only moments ago. Dirkk has called all the Ru'taha and Black Vipers to him at Castle Crag. I fear he's planning his final assault."
Kelsey stood and walked to the fireplace. “Then we must be ready for him."
Peter turned to Regan. “I sense whatever your power spells do, I must be a part of it."
Regan stared at him. “What do you mean?"
"Separate we can be overcome, but together we are invincible."
"How do you know?” Regan said.
"It is not what I know. It is what I feel,” he said.
"I'd be happy for any help. We can work on it tonight. How about in..."
The door swung open and crashed against the wall, cutting off Regan's words. Kelsey flung herself in front of Tessa, a knife appearing out of nowhere in her hand. Peter spun to face the door, arms held high, and Regan felt the sudden tingle of the Power being summoned.
"Your Highness,” a trembling young page cried, turning ashen at the sight of Kelsey's blade. “The merchants are in the throne room. They've heard the latest rumor of Dirkk, and are demanding that Kelsey's sister address them."
The queen stood. “I was afraid of that. Then we must give them what they want."
Regan paled and sank deeper into the chair.
"What is wrong?” Tessa asked, seeing Regan's white, stricken face. “You only have to say a few words."
"It is not possible.” Peter said. “I will talk to them."
Tessa shook her head. “It has to be Regan, for they know of my hopes."
"Regan cannot..."
"I will,” Regan interrupted Peter.
"Are you sure?” Kelsey asked.
Regan stood. “I can do it."
Tessa looked from Regan to Kelsey. “Good,” she said, “Come with me."
Chapter 17
REGAN FOLLOWED QUEEN Tessa down a hallway tiled with squares of ivory marble. “I can do this,” she murmured. “How many merchants can there be? Ten, maybe twelve."
"What?” Kelsey asked.
Regan turned her head and smiled half-heartedly at her sister. “Nothing, just talking to myself."
Kelsey's tense face made Regan's heart start to thud. She doesn't think I can do it. Well, even if I can't, what's the big deal? I'll just let Kelsey step in.
The queen turned left into another hall that ended before an arched door of polished wood.
"She's no more than a child herself,” a shrill voice said from the other side of the door. “What can she do against Dirkk?"
Regan's hands began to tremble. She closed her eyes and pressed her palms against her thighs.
"You don't have to do this,” Kelsey said. “We can find another way."
From beside her, Regan heard Tessa's quick intake of breath. “I can do it. It's just another sales presentation, but this time I'm selling myself.” Squaring her shoulders, she turned to the queen. “What are we waiting for?"
Peter stepped forward and pushed the doors open.
The buzz of conversation stopped. At least forty heads head swiveled their way.
Oh God.
Tessa, her head held high and a confident smile on her lips, entered the room. Regan's feet refused to move.
"What's wrong?” Peter asked.
"There's so many of them. I thought with such a small town..."
Kelsey poked Regan in the back. “Move. Just look at Tessa, no one else. You can't back out now."
Regan shook her head. “I can't talk to them. I can't."
Peter hooked his arm through Regan's. “Lean on me. I will get you through them. We will worry about you speaking once we get to the throne."
Tessa glanced back over her shoulder and saw Regan had not moved. She faced forward again, took a few more steps, then halted, and shook a portly lady's hand. Regan fastened her gaze on the small erect figure and started forward.
Merchants bowed or curtsied as she passed, and she saw mixtures of hope and cynicism on their faces. Sweat broke out on her forehead and trickled into her eyes. She blinked, ignor
ing the sting. Looking down at her feet, she concentrated on making them continue forward.
Peter tugged on her arm and she looked up. Over Tessa's shoulder she saw a polished wood throne. Patterned swirls embedded with gold decorated the throne's arms and back. Tessa turned, met Regan's gaze, and smiled encouragingly. Regan just stared at her, and the queen's brows drew together in a troubled vee. A hand pushed gently into the middle of Regan's back.
The queen turned to the merchants. Regan took a deep breath and turned also. Her stomach immediately twisted with nausea. The faces before her blurred into one pale mass. Dimly she felt Kelsey and Peter take their places beside her. She jerked her gaze from the crowd and fastened it on Tessa's face.
The queen inclined her head to the crowd, then seated herself on the throne's red velvet cushion. She looked lost in the throne, like a child sitting in her father's chair.
Tessa's first words dispelled the child-like illusion with rapid clarity. “I have heard your concerns about Dirkk's latest foolishness.” Her tone held mockery. “It frightened me so much I took time to enjoy a glass of wine with my special guest before coming to you."
The rustle of restless feet filled the room. The queen leaned forward. Her voice changed, becoming terse and commanding. “The hour is late. Tell me of your concerns."
A short round man dressed in scarlet and aglitter with jewels took a step forward. He looked familiar to Regan, then she remembered. He was the man from the marketplace. Rastley. The one who had been charged to guard the gate.
Rastley bent from his non-existent waist, a bow so low the gathered lace on his shirt cuffs brushed the floor. “Your Majesty, we know the hopes you've pinned on the Queen's-Commander's sister and you know we've always supported you..."
"As you did my father before me."
The pudgy little peacock bobbed again. “Yes, as we did your father, but the danger is more now than when your father ruled. Then Dirkk was just a minor irritation. Now he threatens our very lives daily!” He swept his arm in a broad flourish to indicate the crowd. Murmured agreement followed the movement.
"Again I ask. Tell me what you wish,” Queen Tessa said.
The merchant took a deep breath. “We know of your plans. We wish to hear them from the woman you've named our deliverer.” He finished in a gush of words.
Deliverer? The word lashed at Regan. I'm no deliverer. What do they expect from me?
"But of course,” Queen Tessa said. “Merchants of Raya, let me introduce to you Queen's-Commander Kelsey's sister, Regan."
The weight of a roomful of eyes fixed on Regan. Her heart pounded in her ears. She darted a glance at Kelsey, and then turned and looked at Peter. He frowned and reached toward her. She slowly shook her head, then pushed his hand aside and ran. Around her she heard gasps and then cries of outrage. Tears flooded her eyes.
Through the doors and down the hall she fled. Behind her she heard pursuing footsteps and Kelsey's voice, calling for her to stop.
She saw the Queen's solar and bolted inside. Her gaze scanned the room, then jerked back to a door almost hidden by a tapestry. She ran to it, yanked it open, and slammed it behind her.
Her heart danced a flamenco against her rib cage. Her trembling legs refused to support her, and she dropped to the ground and drew her knees to her chest. Pressing her forehead against them, she shuddered. How could she have been so stupid? She should have asked how many merchants there were. What must the queen think of her now? She was probably drawing up her terms of surrender. Damn. What was she doing here? She and Kelsey. They should be on their way home. She pressed her lips tightly together. And they would be, just as soon as her legs stopped trembling and she could stand.
* * * *
Regan lifted her head from her knees. Before her was a world of green: spring-green grass, yellow-green bushes, and black-green trees that thrust upward toward open blue sky. This must be Tessa's private forest, where the unicorn was slain.
She climbed to her feet and, like a sailor answering a sweet siren's call, entered the greenness. She wandered among the trees. Stopping to touch a moisture-slick leaf, or bury her nose in spikes of fragrant trumpet-shaped blossoms every color of the rainbow, she moved forward until she found her way blocked by a high brick wall. Trailing a hand along its rough coolness, she followed it. The tropical forest ended at a wide, sun-filled meadow.
Shading her eyes against the brightness, she saw the wall joined another at the far side of the meadow. Regan looked down at the lush grass, then back toward where she guessed the door to be. They would be looking for her. Well, let them look. She couldn't face them, not yet. She kicked her feet free of her slippers. She laughed as the blades of grass tickled the curve of her instep. Bending, she picked up her slippers. Swinging them at her side, she walked to where the walls connected, then pushed her backbone into their sun-baked junction.
She closed her eyes, and again saw Peter's reaching hand. Thoughts flooded her mind. How can I ever face him? He and Kelsey gave me every way out, but I didn't take it. I believed what they said, that because I had some kind of magical power, things would be different here. What a joke. I'm an ad exec with a weird birthmark, nothing more. What about the dragon and the mind-speaking? a voice in her head questioned. She shook her head. It didn't happen. I imagined it. None of this is happening. I'm sick. Probably at home, in bed, running a high temperature.
She opened her eyes and stared at a tall thicket. The thicket's leaves and branches rustled and she wondered with detached curiosity what animal hid there. Maybe it will eat me, and I will not have to face any of them again, she thought, laughing out loud at the absurdity of it all. Then, from the green-leafed wall, a spiraled gold horn emerged. Regan's eyes widened. She blinked and leaned forward, but it was still there.
"Are you well?” a warm thought questioned her. The rest of the unicorn, a male, emerged from the thicket and approached. Regan reached a hand to touch his luminous white mane, then drew her fingers back. The unicorn stepped closer and she stared into his sapphire eyes.
"I'm dreaming."
"No, you are not. I am real. You are real. Daradawn is real."
"Are you well?” he asked again.
"I am well,” she sent.
"But your heart is troubled."
Regan's gaze dropped. “I've let my friends down."
The unicorn snorted in derision, and she looked up at him. He tossed his head. “If they are true friends, they will forgive you."
"I don't know how I can face them again."
"You will find a way.” He tipped his golden horn in her direction. “I am Da'kar."
"I am Regan."
"There is magic in your soul, Regan, magic and purity."
She grimaced. “I don't know about that."
The unicorn shook his mane again. “I do. You will give us our world back."
Regan shook her head and laughed. “Me? I can't even talk to a group of people!"
"It is within you—Thea."
She drew back in surprise. “Thea? How did you know? I don't even know for sure. Maybe it was just a dream."
"Your dreams are not dreams. They are memories. You know it is so, and it is time you acknowledged your gifts. You will be Dirkk's undoing.” Da'kar looked beyond her. “You and Desmond."
"Desmond? What do you mean?"
"He is here, and will explain."
"Who's here?” Regan asked, turning around. Peter stepped from the dense greenness into the sun. Regan watched in silence as he approached, then turned her back to him. “How did you find me?"
"Kelsey saw you enter the queen's room. There was only one place you could be."
"Why didn't she come? Wait, don't answer that. I know why. She didn't want to see her spineless sister.” Regan laughed bitterly.
Peter shook his head and said softly. “I asked her to let me find you."
"Why?"
Peter ignored her question, his eyes on the motionless unicorn. “You were speaking to him?"
> Regan dug her toes into the grass. “Yes."
"Your mind-link was not just with Zara?"
"No."
"How many animals can you bespeak?"
"All."
Peter turned to face her, their gazes locked. “All?"
Regan clasped her hands in front of her, then nodded. “Both magic and mortal."
She saw Peter's lips tighten at her response. “How long have you known?"
"Since leaving Darrian. Angus suspected and asked me to try mind-linking with Gilda."
"When were you going to tell me ... You were going to tell me?"
"I think so."
Peter's eyebrows drew together. “You think so?"
Regan looked in the direction of the unicorn. “He's Desmond? Are you sure?"
"He is the one."
"What are you saying to him?” Peter asked, his voice rising with irritation.
Regan frowned at the interruption. “He says you're Desmond."
Peter's face paled. “I've never told anyone of my dream."
Regan stared into his eyes. “Do you dream of Thea and Dahlabar and a dragon..."
"Tell him who you are, Thea,” Da'kar said.
Regan turned and answered the unicorn aloud. “I don't know if I should tell him."
"Tell me what?” Peter said.
"Tell him!"
"All right!” She turned to face Peter. “About a dream.” The unicorn snorted and she frowned. “Okay, not a dream, a memory. I was—no, I am—Thea.” Peter stared at her in silence. “I know it's hard to believe, but do you also dream of Mina, Cassius and the Royal Companions?"
Peter turned his back to her. “Your appearance is different, but my heart recognized you when we first met. I tried to tell myself it could not be true.” He turned to face her. “But it is. You have haunted my dreams. And always, at the end, you plead with me to search—to find you."
He took a step toward her, raised a trembling hand, then stopped. “Have I found you? This time you are not a dream?"
"I don't think so.” Regan pinched herself, and winced. “I wanted to believe I was dreaming, or hallucinating, but I'm not. You're real.” She waved her hand. “All this is real."
"Daradawn's need has called and Thea has returned,” Peter said. “Zara remembers you from before. Is Dahlabar once again returned to Daradawn?"
The Blue Flame [Book 1 of the Daradawn Series] Page 19
