Time Dancer (26 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Jana shook the hair from her eyes. The thick fragrance of roses and the lazy buzz of bees filled the air as she bent to clip another bloom, adding it to the basket at her feet. The garden had become her refuge. Rycca’s rosebushes had become a tie to a past that was all too real to her.

She turned her face to the sunshine, counting the hours until sunset. Summer days stretched too long. She was no longer afraid of the dark. She craved the dark. Her fingers would twine around the length of braided hair and she would dream and dance. She always danced to the same memories, the same place in time.

Darach was in the darkness. He waited, every night. Those replayed memories kept him close when he was so far from her reach. She held him in the dark as she couldn’t in the sunshine.

The basket was full but held so very little weight. Her slippers made no noise on the plush grass as she strolled on her daily walk, always to the same destination. Soldiers and tradesmen nodded to her but none stopped her. It was as if her grief was a leper’s shroud keeping everyone at bay.

The headstones gleamed as if welcoming her. Jana divided her bounty, tucking pink flowers beneath her mother’s name. She now had a memory of Katina, one that was more precious than gold. She had Darach to thank for that.

A few steps away, she lined the red and white roses along the double headstone. Warric and Kya had been laid to rest together, embracing in a single casket. The single headstone bore two names and a simple inscription—
Love
never
dies
.

At the base of Argot’s stone, Jana tucked the yellow blooms. His marker was as simple, as elegant, bearing his name and a line from his captain’s oath—
The
sacrifice
of
my
blood
so
that
Eldwyn
should
never
fall
.

Her finger snagged a thorn on the last yellow flower and she yanked her hand back. A droplet of scarlet fell on Argot’s stone. Her eyes cemented to that drop, her pulse tripping hard in her neck. Blood no longer made her sick. That squeamishness had been burned out of her nearly seven months ago. But its falling against the backdrop of his oath churned a storm in her stomach.

Argot had taken his vows, never shying from his duty or regretting his choices. Jana hadn’t either but she carried a wound that refused to heal. Within a week of Darach’s departure, in the middle of national grieving and funeral processions, she had quietly buried a private dream. She wasn’t carrying Darach’s child.

Time slowly healed the royal family. The king and queen began to smile again. Batu and Feena married in public, with all the pomp and ceremony befitting the Heir Apparent. His wounds healed, although his left hand still wouldn’t grip a quill well enough to write. Feena doubled in size and joyous plans for a new birth ran rampant through the castle.

Jana simply waited.

Footsteps behind her forced her to look up. Her father stared down at her, at Argot’s gravestone. After a brief moment, he bent, took one red bloom from her basket and placed it on her mother’s stone. He stood in silence for several moments before his spine stiffened.

“You do know I loved your mother, that I still love her, don’t you?”

“Of course, Papa, I’ve never doubted that.”

The black patch over his eye forced him to angle his body to look into her face. “But I love Salome as well. Katina will always be with me but Salome’s who I chose to live my life with.”

“I know that.” Some warning in his tone prickled her skin. She fidgeted with the flowers, wiped the tiny red smear from the marble.

“Argot is gone, Jana. You have to move on.”

Surprise jerked her face up. “He was a friend, a good and decent man who I’d have been proud to marry, but I didn’t love him like that.”

“Then why do you come here every day?”

The sounds of daily life at Thistlemount filled her silence. She felt good here, surrounded by the quiet presence of stones who’d witnessed her heart shattering. This was where Darach had left her, where she’d fulfilled her destiny and made a choice that saved everything for everyone except for her.

His lips thinned, turning down at the corners and grooving the lines around his mouth into slash marks. “Darach. I should have guessed. It was he you loved.”

“I still love him,” she whispered.

“He returned, Jana. He won’t come back.”

Her cheeks flushed hot and spots swam in her vision. “You’re wrong. He found me in time when I was lost. It took him almost a week but he fou—”

“It’s been seven months.” Papa raked his hands through his hair. “You’re not dead. You’re not alive. You’re waiting, waiting for something that’s not going to happen.”

“I love him!”

“Then don’t stop loving him.” Her father gripped her arms, lifting her to her feet and giving her a slight shake. “But you’ve got to stop lying to yourself. You have to let him go.”

She threw his hands off. Stuttering breath sailed into her lungs. She clung to the thinnest thread of faith. Nothing and no one would break that thread. She believed in Darach. She had to. The alternative was too painful to think about.

“You had to let Mama go because she died. Darach didn’t. He’s alive. He loves me. He’s coming back for me.”

“Then where is he?” A cold wash of determination blanked his face. He lifted the pendant from her chest. A trickle of fear darted into her but she wasn’t fast enough to react. The chain snapped with a soft pop and he fisted the stone.

The dam inside her broke and every fear, every trepidation, every treacherous doubt she’d held tight for seven months rushed out. She beat her fists on his chest, screaming her denial. He tried to hug her, but she didn’t want to be consoled. She wanted Darach.

Sobs ripped from her throat and she shoved her father away. Tears blinded her as she sped from the cemetery. She raced around the castle, flying past soldiers and servants, guards and tradesmen. The pity on their faces sliced at her. She had no destination, no goal, no end mapped out. Misery was her only guide now. It brought her to the aged oak at the far corner of the quadrangle.

The Claiming Tree stretched high leafy arms skyward, casting a full shade to the soft ground below. She pressed her face into the rough bark, letting the salt on her cheeks soak into the wood. Her nails gouged into the tree. A carving under her thumb scratched and she peeled open her heavy lids. The miller’s son had claimed his bride only a few days ago and the marks were fresh, still showing the pale raw wood.

Her gaze jerked from this name to that, this pairing to another. So many names, so many loves, so many couples. Her name wasn’t there. Her love was as real as each of those markings but she had no one to hold, to hold her. She sank to her behind, arms wrapped around the trunk.

“Why?” The ancient tree absorbed her pain, taking her secrets deep into its heartwood. “We did everything we were destined to do. We danced through time to find answers and found each other. We saved Eldwyn. We saved Warric as best as anyone could. We broke the blood curse. Why do you keep him from me?”

She traced a carved heart, the edges weathered to smoothness. Time had not softened her broken heart. It had sharpened it to a dagger.

“Darach hated it here. I understand that because now I hate you. You’re supposed to be pure peace, pure love, paradise. You’re not. You’re cruel and spiteful.”

Her teeth gritted tight. Matched only by the strength of her love, hate cramped her body. She hated, oh how she hated, those faceless, voiceless masters of magic that reigned in his world.

“Maybe we mere humans are beneath you, maybe we have these terrible faults that don’t exist in your realm, but you’re not so perfect. You’re hypocrites. You’re no better than Cator was with his pure-blood nonsense.”

Her only answer was the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

“How are you better than the whore who tossed young Argot aside? She gave him life then turned her back on him. You sent Darach to me then took him away. Does it make you feel powerful to play with our lives? That’s not powerful, it’s pathetic. You’re nothing but a bunch of two-faced, sadistic bastards who delight in harming their children.”

From a pristine sky, pink lightning split the air. It knocked her to her ass. Apparently they were listening and she’d insulted them.

“Please.” Her wish fell from dry lips. “We chose each other.”

The sky was silent.

Pulling her knees up, she buried her face in her arms. Propriety dictated she should be with her sister, seeing to her needs as her lady-in-waiting. An ironic curl lifted her lips. She was a lady-in-waiting, waiting for a fantasy.

Warm summer breezes carried the rose fragrance from the garden. She’d danced in time so many nights that shadows showed beneath her eyes and lethargy crept into her muscles. She’d never stop dancing, not as long as her memories of Darach called to her. Without intention, she closed her stinging eyes and sleep slithered in.

The blackness surrounded her. Her heart began to pound as she called the light. The small pond of illumination surrounded her and she waited for the voices, for one voice, for
his
voice. For the first time, nothing came to her.

Prickles began on her skin, her heartbeat speeding to a gallop. Something lurked in the dark. She felt it, the presence of conscious thought, of power, of a solid form. Hope fluttered. “Darach?”

No answer echoed and fear surged along her bones. Steel shot into her spine. No. She would not be afraid in this spectral dream world of time. Darach had showed her that she commanded the darkness. On this plane, she was master.

Jana stepped toward the presence. “Who are you?”

Something sang to her, not a voice, not a call but a melody she heard in her blood. Both soothing and invigorating, its lure was impossible to resist. She moved through time, her skirt swaying in the unseen waters of ages past.

The pale light of her summoned charm caught the first shadow. Then a glimmer touched a snowy white hide. The widespread antlers topped the deer’s head like a mighty crown and his black eyes reflected the endless stretch behind her. Her heart slammed to a stop.

“Ranier?”

The stag bowed his great head once then a swirl of lilac vapor spun around him. He still wore the long purple robes of an advisor of long ago. His white hair sparkled in the low light, like a solitary star in the heavens. Wisdom and astute understanding softened his face.

“How are you here, in my dream?”

“Did Darach not tell you time flows as a river? I am born of water. My magic to yours, I’m able to reach your consciousness. We have much to discuss, you and I.”

“Who are you?”

One snowy eyebrow cocked high. “I think you know, in your heart.”

“You’re one of the Old Ones.”

His regal nod tightened the cold air around her. Had he come to punish her for her outburst? Had she walked into a trap within her own mind? He motioned with his hand to walk with him. Despite her knocking knees, she joined him, her guard creeping high.

“Does Darach know you’re an...”

“Old One?” His soft chuckle loosened her tense muscles. “I find no insult in the name for we are very old, older than human history. It wasn’t until we became bored with ourselves that we thought to create others like us. Each one is precious to us. As for Darach’s knowledge, he knows me but not that this form is my mortal body. Had he known, he would have recognized me in Cator’s audience hall when you first danced there.”

“I thought you could see us.”

“I must admit I was surprised to see a time dancer appear. Your kind is very rare.”

They strolled, as if meandering through a garden rather than sightless black. “Night after night, you dance and dream while your heart bleeds with loneliness. Such despair causes us great concern. You search for dreams that are best left to rest, child.”

“They’re my dreams,” she said. “That’s my choice to make, not yours.”

“Ah yes, choice.” He paused and gave her a sly grin. “Do you mind if I use a bit of my own magic in your time? This darkness is dreary.”

Before she answered, sunlight banished the dark. Jana’s breath caught. A beautiful garden stretched around her as far as she could see. Every flower, every vine, every tree and plant burst with color and life. The scents of roses, freesia and gardenia mixed with spruce, hickory and oak.

She reached out and her fingers didn’t pass through a bloom but touched satiny petals. “How are you doing this?”

His laugh rolled like a waterfall. “My power is far greater than yours, Jana. Come, sit with me.”

He led her to a fountain, larger than the one in Rycca’s garden. The tinkle of trickling water was soothing, playing a natural song. The marble basin was wide enough to use as a bench and he sat, folding his robes with elegant grace. Jana joined him, dipping her fingers into the clear water. It was icy cold but soft, like snow.

“Does your kind, Darach’s kind, have a name?”

Ranier chuckled softly. “Nothing you could pronounce. We simply are.”

“So if you are an Old One, does that make you like rulers there?”

“Rulers?” Looking at the clear sky, he seemed to ponder her question. “Perhaps the term
teachers
would be better.”

“You, the Old Ones, you kept me alive. Why?”

His lips pursed, as if filtering the words in his mouth. “Darach asked us to, traded his freedom of choice and his right to a human life as payment. Such devotion was not lost to us. We honored his request in our...affection for him.”

An unseen bird began a song nearby. The twittering grated on her stretched-taut nerves. “If you love him, then why won’t you let him come back to me?”

He sighed, a heavy exhale that carried an immense burden. “Balance in life, all life, is difficult and fragile. You may think we’re cruel for requiring such, but without it, chaos would destroy both realms.”

“You took Warric in.”

“Yes.” His eyes filled with tears. “Throughout human history, we allowed our offspring to be drawn to a magic summons out of curiosity and philanthropy. Many wish to stay but most cannot walk from our home realm. When one of our most powerful pleaded to stay with her charge, we allowed it. In this world, she wears a crown.”