Reluctant Prince (8 page)

“She walked across the field that surrounded the wall and met the army commander. She spoke to him for a few minutes as the invaders moved into position, surrounded her. She waited until she stood in the center of the enemy army.” He paused, forced back the scream begging for release. She’d stood with her chin held high. Her defiance and pride had mocked the invading mass.

“Make a right here, and pull into that driveway.” Ryleigh gestured toward a small house.

He pulled into the driveway, put the car into park, folded his hands on the steering wheel, and rested his chin on them.

“She removed her crown.” He’d known then what she would do. Even then, he’d known. “Took two stones from it, replaced it atop her head, and lifted the stones high into the air. When she smashed them together over her head, they exploded. She felled an entire army that day, except for Daygan, and saved the city and its inhabitants. She sacrificed herself to save her kingdom.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Tears flowed unchecked down Ryleigh’s cheeks, but she stayed quiet and waited for him to compose himself and continue.

“The entire kingdom died with her. The lush green grass of the fields turned brown and brittle, the trees and flowers wilted and died, a cover of haze fell over the land. Darkness and shadow overtook spaces that were once filled with sunlight and color.” The memory of what Cymmera had once been was more distant, elusive, more difficult to envision.

“What happened to Daygan? Why didn’t he die with them?” She spoke quietly, affording him respect and reverence he didn’t deserve.

“He’s a powerful sorcerer, and his prophet is always at his side. His seer must have known what she had planned. Maybe they’d staged the whole thing to eliminate the queen. Who knows? But an instant before the stones crashed together, they both vanished.” It still tortured him.

If Queen Dara had realized the two of them would disappear, would she have stopped? Probably not. She had a kingdom to defend, children to protect. Taking Daygan with her would have been a bonus, but she still had to eliminate the immediate threat.

Would he have the courage to sacrifice himself to save the people of Cymmera? He thought he would, or he would never have trained as a warrior, wouldn’t be next in line to inherit the throne. He shifted in his seat.

“What happened after that?” Mia leaned forward between the seats.

He had no doubt he would sacrifice his life to protect this child. “When King Maynard returned—”

“Maynard? Are you a descendent of the king?” Ryleigh twisted her fingers together. Nerves? Or was she having a hard time believing him?

“Yes.” How much to tell her? “A direct descendent of the King and Queen.” Not a lie. He held Ryleigh’s gaze.

“What happened when he came back and found out what the queen had done?” Mia’s rapt interest saved him from answering the further questions he sensed Ryleigh had.

“We sent—”

Ryleigh sucked in a breath.

Oops
—”a rider to inform him.”

Mia remained still, though, and Ryleigh didn’t call him on it, so he continued.

“He was heartbroken…more than that.”

His father had been inconsolable.

Queen Dara had been the light to his dark, the kindness to his ferocity. Her sensitivity had balanced his strength and power. Without her, he became a dark, brooding figure who ruled with an iron fist and a heavy heart.

“He sent out a team of assassins to kill Daygan, but the sorcerer eluded them every time. The inability to send an army to Argonas to punish Daygan ate at King Maynard, caused him to become even more bitter, more angry. But his hands were tied. No less than an army would make it past Daygan’s savages, yet he couldn’t send all of his warriors and leave Cymmera unprotected. His bitterness festered. Until one day…” He blew out a breath. Would they hate him? Hate his father, his king? Could they understand?

Jackson took a moment, opened his senses, searched for any sign of danger. Nothing, but without his extra senses he couldn’t be sure. They seemed safe enough for now.

Ah, well. “Cymmera’s seer, Elijah, approached King Maynard. He relayed a vision he’d seen in which humans fought alongside Cymmeran warriors. Not just any humans, specially trained men who were experts in the art of battle. The King wasted no time assembling a team of Death Dealers to retrieve the humans from the vision. And so it began. Each time Elijah had a vision of who was needed, the Death Dealer squad was sent to acquire them. Humans can’t be transferred to Cymmera alive, so the team was aptly named. Once the humans were reborn in Cymmera, they had no hope of returning to your realm. They were all given a choice.”
Some choice.
“They could survive eternity as slaves, or fight for Cymmera and receive all the glory due a warrior. The Cymmerans are good people.” He silently pleaded with Ryleigh to believe that. “All of the humans eventually joined us, even the ones who initially held out.”

That was the worst of it, well almost anyway. “Come on, let’s get Mia inside, and I’ll tell you the rest.” He needed a break, if only for a few minutes, a little time to collect his thoughts, reign in his grief, prepare himself for her rejection.

Neither of the girls argued. They probably needed time to digest it all as well.

His protective instincts ratcheted up as they crossed the pitch black of the front lawn and climbed the stairs to the porch.

“I need a shower.” Ryleigh unlocked the front door, opened it, and stepped aside to allow Mia to enter first.

“Me too, but I’m so tired.” Mia rarely whined.

Tonight Ryleigh understood. Hell, if she didn’t get off her feet soon, she’d start whining. She flipped the switch beside the door, bathing the small, comfortable living room in light, bringing instant warmth. “You’ll feel better once you’ve had a shower. You can go first, use extra conditioner and comb it through your hair while you’re in there.”

Mia nodded and trudged toward the bathroom. She stopped before entering the hallway and turned back to Jackson. “Wait for me before you tell Ryleigh the rest of the story, please?”

“Sure, you bet.”

They both watched her go.

“She’s a strong young lady.” Jackson’s eyes filled with admiration as he looked after Mia.

A surge of pride rushed through Ryleigh.

Mia possessed incredible strength for such a young girl, though most of it came from necessity. Mia had suffered far too much pain and worry for a girl her age.

Sorrow joined the pride. Ryleigh turned on more lights as she limped through the living room toward the back of the house. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure.” He followed her to the kitchen.

A pang of grief struck her as she entered the cozy room. She missed her parents, her grandmother. Her parents had been gone for so long, but their touch still remained in the home they’d created. The yellow paint she’d helped roll on the walls, the curtains her mother had sewn on the machine and allowed Ryleigh to help her hang. She fingered the white lace, now yellowed with age, and looked out the window into the darkness of the small back yard.

The lamp by the door cast only a small circle of light, but she didn’t need light to see the layout. The swing set her dad had built still occupied the same corner, though she and Mia had long since outgrown it. The picnic table and the barbeque, which hadn’t been used since her father had grilled hot dogs the night before that tragic day, all still as they’d been.

She’d only been in kindergarten when it happened, but she’d known something was terribly wrong. Her teachers, Miss Karen and Miss Lacey, were usually so happy, but on that particular day their eyes had been filled with tears, and they both carried crumpled tissues around all day.

Grandma had come to pick her up with Mia in the stroller. Grandma’s eyes were filled with tears as well, and they had spilled over when she explained to Ryleigh that Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t be coming home.

Not wanting to uproot the girls, her grandmother had moved into the small house and taken care of them. Recently, as her grandmother’s illness had progressed and Ryleigh took over the responsibilities of the house, she found out the house was in foreclosure. Everything her parents had worked so hard for would go to the bank if Ryleigh couldn’t find a way to save it.

She swiped angrily at the tears pouring down her cheeks. This wasn’t the time for self-pity. She had to figure out what was going on and make sure Mia stayed safe.

She swallowed a sob. How had her life turned so upside down in less than a week? Not yet ready to face Jackson, she turned on the cold water, scooped some onto her face and dried off with a dishtowel from the drawer. When she lifted her head, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window and cringed. The mess that stared back at her mirrored the chaos her life had become.

Shaking off the depression threatening to overwhelm her, she crossed the room, pulled a pitcher of ice water from the refrigerator, and poured three glasses. She handed one to Jackson, set another aside for Mia, and took a long drink. The cold soothed her throat, and she drank too quickly, sending a sharp pain through her head. “Ow.”

“Are you all right?” His tender caress against her shoulder warmed her.

“Yeah, just brain freeze.” And more stress than she could handle, but she didn’t add that.

“Here, sit.” He guided her to a chair and helped her sit. He turned a second chair toward her. “Put your feet up.”

She did as he suggested. Oh man, that felt so good. She dropped her head back against the chair. What would it be like to just cast all of her tension aside, forget about all of her problems?

Jackson moved behind her and pressed his hands against the sides of her head.

His touch sent a rush of heat pouring through her. She jerked upright.

“Relax. Close your eyes.” He guided her head back down and massaged her temples, his warm, gentle touch easing some of the strain the day had brought.

“Thank you.” She closed her eyes, tried to relax, tried to let go of the stress plaguing her. She wanted so badly to trust him, but his story was too far-fetched. If she hadn’t had that small glimpse into something beyond the world she knew, she’d have dumped him somewhere already.

“Are we in danger?” She had to protect Mia at all costs. If something threatened her…well, she’d keep an open mind.

His hands lowered to her neck.

They were magic, working the knots out, soothing the taut muscles, bringing her a much needed sense of tranquility.

“I’m not sure. There’s so much to tell you about, so many decisions to be made.”

She opened her eyes in time to see him shake his head. “What?”

He blew out a breath. “There’s something we should talk about before Mia comes back.”

She sat up, lowered her feet, and turned to him. “Is Mia in danger?”

“Actually, I’m not sure where Mia figures into all of this. As far as I can tell, she doesn’t, and yet…she must.” He grabbed a chair, turned it around, straddled it, and shoved his hands back through his hair.

How could he look so good? She’d seen him in the burning building, yet he wasn’t covered in soot as she and Mia were. He’d fought…something…but he wasn’t disheveled as she’d have expected. Blood matted the back of his hair, but other than that he was surprisingly unmarked. His dark eyes remained alert, clear, dangerous.

He pulled a crumpled ball of paper from a satchel at his waist, opened it, and smoothed it on the table. He turned it toward her.

Her breath caught. She tried to tell herself there was a reasonable explanation. Some perfectly valid excuse why he would have a picture of her she’d never seen crumpled in a ball in his bag.

“I’m a Death Dealer.” He paused, searched her expression. “At least, I would have been.” He heaved a sigh, winced.

She remained quiet, allowed him the space to share his story in his own time, his own way.

“I was to be ordained a Death Dealer and take my place as advisor to the king. Technically, I’m next in line to ascend the throne if anything happens to my father.” His laugh held no humor. “At this moment, I should be second in command. And yet…”

He stared at her picture, repeatedly tracing the outline of her hair with his finger.

“And yet what?” She held her breath. Would he answer? Did she want him to?

“My final test was to retrieve the human Elijah had seen in his most recent vision. A young girl, who should have given me no trouble at all.”

“Retrieve?” She swallowed hard.

“Kill, Ryleigh.” His eyes met hers, held them. “I was sent to kill you and transfer you to Cymmera so you could take your place in our realm and fulfill the prophecy.”

Her blood ran cold.

His self-deprecating smile did little to warm her.

“What about Mia?”

He must have realized her discomfort, because he sat up straighter. “Don’t worry. Mia’s perfectly safe. So are you actually.” He shrugged. “From me anyway.”

“Why me?” Confusion battered her. Questions ricocheted through her head, increased the throbbing pain that bombarded her.

“In the vision, Elijah saw you surrounded by light, which is unusual. It’s never happened that way before. Then again, he’s never
seen
a woman before. In the past, it’s always been warriors we’ve been sent to collect.” He started to reach toward her but thought better of the idea and folded his arms on the back of the chair. Resting his chin on his arms, he studied her. “There must be something special about you, something unique, besides the obvious of course.”

His smile stilled the erratic drumming of her heart.

He sat up, rested his elbows on the chair back, and folded his hands. “But, whatever the difference, I couldn’t take you. I saw you beneath the chair and froze. Some deep, primal instinct prevented me from killing you. So, there you have it.” He shrugged. “I’m a failure.”

She grinned at him. “I certainly don’t see it that way.”

He laughed, shook his head. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

She had to change the subject, had to think of something else while her mind tried to process the fact that this stranger, who she felt some inexplicable connection to, had been sent to kill her. Had in fact tried to kill her.