Queen of Jastain (9 page)

A warm smile lit Avant’s face, and his eyes sparkled.
“Welcome to my fief, Domentus Ventium.”

As they approached the manor, several workers waved to Avant. Still feeling vulnerable after the previous night’s close call, she peered down to the ground, embarrassed by her appearance.

Avant picked up the pace and she hustled to keep up.

This whole place was his? Massive and beautiful, the bright fields spanned as far in the distance as she could see. She swept her gaze over him. He must be the catch of the county. “
You were not clear on the size of your farm. It is a bit bigger than I expected.”
She smirked accusingly.

“
My apologies. I do hope you will find it comfortable and welcoming.”
He dipped his head with cordial formality.

“I’m sure I will.”
She held the graceful flower to her nose again. Its soft floral scent filled her, and her heart melted like ice cream in the Texas sun.

They walked the long drive to the mammoth house and entered through a side door. A huge fireplace with built-in structures that held various copper pots and pans dominated the cozy kitchen. A small pig cooked on a spit over the fire, and the smell of slow roasting meat made Abby’s mouth water. A busy, little cook prepared some kind of dough on a long wooden table.

When she saw Avant, the squat woman's hands paused. “Dominus Avant, ha vetrie il siat.”

He answered back, allowing Abby into the conversation by speaking into her mind.
“Yes, thank you, Helean. It has been a long journey, and we are both in need of a hot meal and a bath as soon as possible.”
He gestured toward her.
“This is Abigail, a guest who will be staying with us for a while. Please let Master Petra know we have returned.”

The sturdy woman eyed Abby up and down, her shock evident. She looked back to Avant, curtsied then hastily departed.

Abby crinkled her forehead. She realized Avant wasn’t just any Joe Shmoe. But a curtsy? Really? To top it off, Avant's eyes twinkled with amusement.

Leading her upstairs, he showed her the restroom, which was basically a hole covered by a wooden seat. The gaping darkness of the drop resembled the pit of despair, and the smell confirmed the belief. He left her there, saying he wanted to check on something he’d requested. She shook her head in distaste, and it crossed her mind that she might prefer the outdoors.

After using the facilities, she returned downstairs. Wandering to the front of the manor, Abby inspected each room as she passed. The main entrance of the house encompassed a large room with several doors leading to smaller adjacent rooms. Fine quality furnishings made of rich woods and jacquard fabric decorated the beautiful slate-stone house. She ran her fingers across the satiny purple fabric of a settee.

One door led to a cozy parlor where she picked up a handwritten leather-bound book and thumbed through the pages. The colorful drawings adorned in gold ink seemed to lose none of their detail due to size.

The clap of leather on the stone floor sounded behind her. Avant had returned to get her. She turned to greet him, but gasped. Her heart caught in her throat. It wasn’t Avant, but a chillingly familiar face.

“Chad?” She blinked her eyes and shook her head.

The man's hair was longer and his shoulders broader, but the eyes were the same. He seemed just as stunned by her, and they stood there, gawking at each other.

He raised a tentative hand in greeting. “Geta, san ty Petra.”

This
was Petra? “I'm sorry. I don’t speak Jastainian.” She couldn’t tear her eyes from his face.

He flushed crimson, but his gaze stayed fixed on her. The awkward silence engulfed them but neither could shake it.

Avant strode into the room and abruptly came to a halt. She never broke her gaze from Chad’s mirror image.

“Petra, this is Abigail, our guest.”
Avant’s voice rang in the room and her mind.

Though they both heard, neither she nor Petra acknowledged him. Avant cleared his throat. Abby finally closed her eyes and turned her head, which seemed to release Petra from the spell. He greeted Avant but kept glancing over at her. Her hands trembled, and she tried to steady her breath.

“Abigail, this is Petra. He is the Bailiff of my lands. He can get you anything of which you have need, if I am…not…around.”
Avant regarded her through narrowed eyes that held an emotion she couldn’t quite describe, but it wasn’t happy.
“Is something wrong?”

The sharp edge of his tone startled her, and she shook her head.
“No, nothing.”
How could she tell him his bailiff looked exactly like the guy she was zapped away from, the same jerk who'd broken her heart?

Abby, deep in thought, barely heard as Avant thanked Petra.

How could two people in different worlds look so much alike?

Petra's voice jerked her out of her thoughts. He asked Avant a question. Avant laughed uncomfortably and said,
“No.”
The young man made a slight bow and left the room. Her gaze followed him until he was out of sight.

Avant stared at her for a long moment running his index finger over his lips, his face unreadable.
“It seems my young Landmaster is somewhat besotted with you. He is not one to be led by his emotions, and yet you obviously affected him.”
He straightened his stance with feet apart and hands clasped behind his back.
“What did you say to him?”

Abby threw up her palms and rolled her eyes.
“I didn’t say anything. I don't speak Jastanian, and I can’t imagine what there is to be besotted about. I’m sure I look and smell like hell.”

As if he realized the accusatory tone of his question, he quickly said,
“Of course, you didn’t. I was surprised by his reaction to you.”
His features smoothed and he spoke softly, reverently,
“You do, however, underestimate yourself, Abigail. Even likened to hell you are quite beautiful.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she averted her gaze.
“Thanks.”

Avant had her emotions in a tailspin. His hot and cold reactions confounded her.

“
Come. Your bathwater will be getting cold.”

* * * *

She soaked for a long while and scrubbed her filthy flesh with the washcloth and the little carved soap. The water soothed her sore muscles, especially her feet. A firm belief settled in her bones—strappy sandals were of the devil. She sighed and sunk deeper into the tub.

Petra had apparently rounded up a linen sheath and wool socks for her to wear until they could cover her with “proper attire.” She shot a dubious look to the plain dress.

Who was this Petra? How could two people look so much alike and not be related? He’d reacted strongly to her too. There had to be a connection with his reaction and his resemblance to Chad. But what?

The Chosen One
. Abby scrubbed her face. What was Avant smoking? Find the missing prophecy and restore the mysterious Crown of Light? Ha! Good luck with that. She couldn’t find the match to at least ten pairs of earrings and even more socks. How was she going to find his crown?

In all other ways, Avant seemed sane and balanced, if not a little formal. It didn't make sense that he put so much faith in this Light stuff. How did he know with such conviction? What caused him to believe? It was obvious that paranormal activity was a way of life in Jastain. She’d seen things she never thought possible. But how did that automatically translate to her being The One?

After her bath, Helean, the house manager and cook, ushered her to the table where the men waited. Her gaze immediately locked with the eyes of her enigmatic host, who stood as she approached.

Avant was clean and freshly shaven. His dark hair waved around his handsome face and made his eyes look an even deeper shade of blue. Dressed in fine brown pants and a midnight-blue linen tunic with rich silk embroidery, he looked every bit the part of Lord Ventium. She frowned, disconcerted with the change. Was this the same man who tapped his foot to music and sheltered overnight in caves eating wild rodents? He looked more like the pushy commander who pissed her off.

Clearly, Avant had said something to Chad…uh, Petra because he scarcely glanced at her and quickly averted his eyes when she did happen to catch him looking.

She took a seat at the large table, and the men sat. Helean served the delicious food on simple metal plates. A fork-spoon cross-utensil and a very sharp knife lay in front of her. She picked it up and studied the spork. KFC was the only place she'd ever seen one.

“Abigail, was your bath satisfactory? And the clothing?”
Avant spoke out loud and in her mind to include Petra.

She smiled and nodded.
“The bath was great and the clothes are…nice.”

Avant laughed out loud.

Taking a bite of the delicately roasted pork with turnips and carrots, she closed her eyes and moaned in delight. Avant watched her with amused interest and seemed pleased she enjoyed the food at his table. She devoured the mouth-watering bread slathered with honey butter. But the best part of the meal was the mead, an alcoholic drink made with honey and clove spices. She drained three full glasses before she realized it.

Her eyes conspicuously roamed around the room not landing on either man. Because of the difficulty of communicating with anyone other than Avant, the silence lengthened uncomfortably between them. Abby was anxious to engage Petra in conversation, but it seemed he was unable to communicate using his Implanting.

After the meal, Avant led her back to the small living room. He walked to the window and stared out into the evening.
“I am certain the events of today were a little overwhelming, but sometimes the Light will speak to us in the simplest matters. For me, revelation comes in the form of dreams.”

At this, the blood drained from her face as her dream from the night before played in her mind.
“How do you know your dreams are inspired?”

“They have never failed me. I have learned by difficult paths not to ignore them. My dreams have been the one true constant in my life. The one thing on which I could always depend.”

She walked and stood behind him. “
Last night I dreamed I was in darkness, alone and afraid. But a small light shined, and I wasn’t afraid anymore. Then more lights came and the darkness dwindled until four others joined me, shining different-colored lights.”

Avant turned from the window to face her. His eyes sparked with interest.

“Finally, a voice spoke, but it wasn’t the people with me, it was someone else. Someone familiar, but I can’t place who, and it said, ‘
Seek the way in the land of your father’s father, and there will you learn to return Light to the kingdom.’  Do you know what that means?”

An excitement danced over his features.
“How many lights including the first shone in the room?”

“Nine. Everyone but me had two colored lights, but my light was just white.”
She stared at him and pictured the final scene of the dream.
“Like this. Does it mean anything to you?”

His brow relaxed and he looked past her, tapping his finger on his chin.
“This dream is our starting point to find the jewels. There are nine jewels in the crown. Two stones are amethysts, then two rubies, two emeralds, two sapphires, and the Stone of Light the center.”

Her heartbeat raced.
“The colors of the lights in my dream correspond to the colors of the stones.”

He paced in front of her.
“Indeed they do. When Jo-naphen, the scribe, took the Crown, he removed the stones and hid them for safekeeping with several devout followers of the Light. I have two of them in my own keeping.”

The sapphires on his sword? She still had doubts about her role, but Avant seemed so sure of her involvement and possibly this dream correlated to the Crown.
“Where are the other stones?”

“That is something I hoped you would know. Do you recognize the place of your dream? The picture you presented appeared hazy.”

She shook her head.
“It's like a song I know all the words to but can't remember how it starts. If someone could give me the first line, I could sing the whole thing. But, as it stands, I can't remember.”

“When the time is right you will.”

He guided her upstairs into a nice-sized room. A cozy fire flickered from the fireplace. The warmth removed the chill as night crept in. Sweeping windows opened to the east, and a stunning view of the mountains spanned the horizon. The late evening sun danced off the snowy peaks Avant had called the Great High Places. A simple four-poster bed made of dark wood took up most of the space. She smoothed her palm over crisp ivory linens and a fluffy down comforter that appeared to be brand new. A delicate table sat by the bed next to a straight-backed chair with a crimson velvet cushion. Someone had placed her first aid bag on top of the spindle-legged two-drawer dresser. Simple but clean, the room was a welcome change from the cave floor.

“Fair lady, do these accommodations meet with your approval?”
Avant cocked his head and eyed her.

Abby smiled.
“Yes, these are the finest accommodations I have seen in your great land.”

His eyes narrowed though a smile played at the corners of his mouth.
“Hmmm, I am not certain that is a compliment.”

Her heart fluttered at his tease. A wisp of his wavy hair fell across his forehead, and his strong lips met in a perfect line over his slightly cleft chin. It should be against the law for a man to be so sexy. She stepped closer and took a deep breath, breathing in his clean, woodsy scent. Feeling the mild effects of the wine from dinner, she twirled her hair with a finger, remembering how it felt to be wrapped in his arms with her head against his chest.
“I slept very soundly in the accommodations provided last night.”

He cleared his throat.
“Yes, well…get a good night’s rest, and we will start working on our plans in the morning.”