Time Dancer (21 page)

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.”

“Then forget selling it. Name a caretaker and we’ll keep in touch by rider. Please, Kya.”

Firelight streaked her ebony hair with red highlights. She raked her fingers through it then twisted it into a rope and tossed it over her shoulder. “Can you even walk away from Thistlemount? You’re a prince. If the people of Eldwyn reject a princess married in secret, they will look to you. As Batu’s only remaining blood relation, you’re second in line.”

“I should be first. I will be once that bastard is dead.” The angry, gruff voice that spilled from his mouth stunned him. Black exploded in his vision, peppering the sight of her. The chaos in him leaped forward, snatching control. It laughed in his mind, reveling in its power.

“Warric?”

The timidity in her voice thrilled him. Everyone needed to fear him, revere him. Kya. Her name meant
beauty
and she was that, full-busted and curvy, with a slant to her eye that sped lust through his veins. Rising from his seat, he moved close and leaned over her. Her fright excited him. “What?”

“Are you...feeling all right?”

“I feel fine.” He stroked her cheek with one finger. She shuddered. “You feel...amazing. Kya. Such a pretty name. Sweet, sweet Kya.”

He bent his head to kiss her. A sharp slap snapped his face to the side. “Let go of him!”

“Bitch!” He jerked her from the chair and slammed her back against the stone wall. “Shall we play rough? I’d like to see you beg.”

Her gown tore down the front, spilling golden mounds tipped with cinnamon nipples. He squeezed one, delighting in her cry and feasting on her alarm. Her nails dug into his shoulders, pushing him away, but he was too strong for her. Too strong for them all. No one would stop him.

The zest of her vitality lay buried beneath her revulsion as he took her mouth, forcing her lips open and plunging his tongue inside. Salt leaked from her eyes into his kiss.
So
sweet
.
So
soft
. This one would be a delicacy, and he would take his time until she writhed beneath him, begging for him.

Her kiss turned welcoming. Those fighting hands let go, dove into his hair and pulled him closer. Her teeth nibbled at his lip as her legs wrapped around his waist. “Warric, I love you. Fight this. Feel me in your arms. Don’t let the darkness win.”

That weakling soul inside him clutched at his hold but he snarled, shoving it away. He ground his erection into her belly. Her mouth slid to his jaw, nipping with a stinging bite. A heated plea feathered in his ear. “I’m here, Warric. Fight for me, my love, fight.”

More power than he could imagine ripped control away, tossed him into a black void and barred the iron door. Futility tore from him with a howl.

Warric sagged in Kya’s embrace, his chest heaving with exertion, his bones rattling in fear. The chaos had almost taken over completely, had taken control for a few terrifying moments.

“Oh my God, Kya, I’m so sorry.” He tried to move away, to put some safe distance between them, but she clung tighter.

“Damn it, Kya!” He thrust her hands away. He couldn’t peel his gaze from her disheveled hair, the bodice of her dress gaping wide, the swollen pink of her mouth. He’d done this to her. He scrambled backward. “I have to get out of here.”

His duffel sat beneath the wall pegs and he lunged for it. He had to get away from her before something he could never forgive himself for happened. Pain raged in his chest, his heart breaking. Beneath it, the iron door shook as the chaos demanded escape.

Hands made strong from daily washing and mending, kneading and toiling, gripped his arm. “Stop. Look at me. Everything is all right.”

“All right? I nearly raped you!”

Determination flared on her face, the flush bringing roses to her cheeks. “No, you would never let that happen.
You
kept me safe from that...that thing inside you. You won.”

“Barely.”

“Our love will win, Warric. Trust in me, trust in us. We can get through this. Together. Don’t leave.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Water swam across his eyes. His hands shook pulling the torn edges of her gown closed. He tugged her into his arms, breathing in the fresh lemon scent of her hair. “I’d die if anything happened to you.”

She shushed him, stroking his back with her nose nuzzling his neck. “Nothing is going to happen, my love.”

Deep in his core, the door shook.

* * *

The deepest memories were all Darach could reach, ones so old and buried she’d forgotten them. Jana’s toddler thoughts were simple. Jam. She liked jam and wanted it spread on bread. A story would follow before bed. Jana hated bed. Bed meant dark and dark meant dreams. Dreams were scary. She wanted her little rose-light to make the dark go away.

He used those childhood memories as a path, speeding forward in her timeline, ignoring the shearing pain as he broke through barriers no spell should ever traverse. He had to find her adult consciousness, the realization of her time-dancing power. That was his doorway.

Colors whipped by with lightning speed. The smears of reminiscence faded and he paused, watching as he came to her the first time in the tower workroom. The call was potent and even outside that time his bones quaked with force.

He watched himself in memory as he took her hand wrapped with a cloth stained with royal blood. Now. He must leap now. Her memory’s eyelids fluttered and he dove, driving into her magic core like a nail through wood.

Her remembered voice rose out of the darkness. “
I
call
Darach
,
my
tracker
.
Come
and
lead
me
on
my
journey
.”

He drilled into that first call, bypassing himself in time. The laws of Nature resisted but he gritted his jaw through the pain and held fast to his resolve. With a leap of pure faith forged with tears, he leaped from her bloodline and landed in the Segur path.

Darach searched through black time. Panic would chip away at his power but he refused to consider failure. He was blind, the darkness completely enveloping him. No voices could come to him without her. His nose became his guide as he ran, phantom boots smacking a ground he could not see. Her name tore from his throat with no echo.

An invisible maze lay before him. Instinct borrowed from his bear funneled through his magic. He searched through ages, for ages. Days or eons, it mattered little to him. He would find her. A tiny piece of her lingered in his heart, so deeply embedded it became part of him.

His stride slammed to a halt. He craned his neck, drawing air in through his mouth as well as his nose. A bouquet of clear-brook purity wafted over him.
Jana
. He charged.

A heated wave knocked him back, his ass hitting the cold invisible floor. Thanks to his mind-mining power, he could feel every emotion running through her soul. What he felt humbled him. For several precious breaths, he sat, just feeling how much she loved him. The gift was immeasurable and terrible. He now knew how badly he was going to break her heart.

Unwilling to think of that heartache to come, he forced his boots under him and set off. He made a wrong turn, her scent lessening, and backtracked, found it again. The search stretched forever but his determination never flagged.

Then, out of the empty space, something appeared.

Jana lay on her back, surrounded by a soft glow. She sang a sleepy loop of words.

“Come to me, my guide...not in the dark to hide... Time can’t break, the love we make... Come to me, my guide...”

“
Nayeli
.”

The song stopped as she sat up, her face serene. “I knew you’d come.”

“I didn’t mean to let go.” His voice cracked, and she leaped into his arms. He crushed her to his chest, hands buried in her hair. The ache he’d refused to think about melted away, leaving only the feel of her in his arms.

“I knew if I just stayed here, you’d come and you did.” She angled her head back and cupped his cheek. “I wasn’t afraid of the dark. I believed in you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He wanted to tell her he would always be there but he couldn’t set the false words loose. He would leave her, had no choice now. To find her, he’d lost her.

Something buried in the most basic level of his essence screamed. Pinching his eyes tight, he pushed it away. They had now, this moment in the depths of time. It was all they could have. It had to be enough. He’d tell her what he’d done when they were back in Myrtlewood, when she was rested and safe.

“Let’s go back,” he whispered into her hair. “You must be tired.”

“Actually, I’m fine. I’m not the least bit fatigued.”

The Old Ones had kept their promise. His hand tightened round hers. “Come then. You are experienced enough to learn how to find your own way. Let me teach you how.”

Never letting go of her hand, he showed her how to find her way home, to her blood, to her time. Their time. The only thing they could claim together. She learned quickly and grasped everything he said. Pride swelled inside him as he watched her come alive in the dark, grabbing hold of her power completely, fully, in total command of her magic. A touch of sadness fell realizing Jana didn’t need him in the dark anymore. She had fulfilled one aspect of her destiny. She was a time dancer.

They returned to her realm and her bloodline. A bright glare pierced through his eyelids and he slowly peeled them open. Winter sunshine filled the room. The bed was warm, Jana nestled close to his side, her cloth-wrapped hand entwined with his.

Batu jerked his head from his hands, a dark growth along his jaw narrowing Darach’s gaze. Time had continued its forward march while he searched.

“How long?” His voice croaked and he licked his dry lips.

“Almost a week,” Batu whispered. “You found her?”

Darach nodded. Exhaustion sapped him. He needed to rest. His hand faded from hers in a mist of lilac. Hungry for one last touch, he licked along her mouth, tasting sleep and love, drawing both inside him as he sank into her necklace. His last conscious thought was her name.

* * *

He was drowning in black. Warric spun, searching for a source of light, but found nothing. A sense of immense space surrounded him yet he couldn’t see the end of his nose. He called for light, but none came despite his using seven different charms. Not only was there no light, there was no heat. Gooseflesh erupted on his skin and his teeth began to chatter. God, he’d never felt such cold. It reached deep into his bones and froze his blood.

Footsteps echoed in the darkness, growing ever closer, but still he was blind. A haunting moan sped his heartbeat. “Who’s there? I can’t see you.”

Light sprang around a tall figure with dark shorn hair. It highlighted the blue-tinged skin and sunken, shadowed eyes. Accusation angled his jaw.

“Argot?” Terror sent Warric backward.

The figure that in life had been Argot said nothing. The light grew around him. Dozens of arrows stuck out from his body, and fresh blood pumped from each wound. Warric hadn’t seen Argot’s injuries, had no idea how many arrows had struck him or which had taken his life. He only knew that he deserved the condemnation pulsating toward him.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. My magic...I can’t contr—”

Argot’s meaty fist smashed into his chin. Warric slammed to a freezing floor he couldn’t see. Copper-flavored blood coated the inside of his mouth. It too was ice cold. He started to push himself up when a cackling screech spun him around.

Argot stood, a ghostly sentinel daring him to rise. Visible in the glow around him, blood-red wraiths with no solid form swirled. They darted toward him. Warric scrambled as a razor-sharp talon reached for him.

His mind shuddered as he processed what was happening. He had to be in the Abyss. Somehow he’d died and now he faced eternity alone and in torture. Pushing off one knee, he ran away from Argot, terrified the wraiths would hunt him. He could see nothing before him so he simply ran into the void. A sudden glow pulled him up short.

Feena, gaunt and haggard, stood in a pool of frosty illumination. The death-pale shade of her skin seemed to glow against her fiery red hair. Had Feena been injured? Had he killed her as well?

“Why?” Her voice rang with hollowness.

“Feena, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

Her teeth bared in a snarl and she attacked, raking her nails down his cheek. The red wraiths swarmed from the black and bit, each tiny fanged mouth latching on to him like a tick. Wetness streamed down his opened cheek as he beat at them, tried to pull them off. Their venom burned in his blood.

Feena faded into the darkness and he was alone with his tormentors. Pain ricocheted through him, and his screams were swallowed by the void. From the corner of his vision, he saw a light. Pain exploded in his thundering heart, knowing who was in that glow. The wraiths chomped harder, tearing through his muscles, as Batu stepped into the light. Not even their poisonous fangs hurt as much as the blame in his brother’s eyes.