Time Dancer (8 page)

The door burst open and her father flew in. Jana gasped. How young he looked! And his eyes. There was no patch shielding his blinded eye. Both were clear blue and open wide, filled with fear. No white threaded his bright copper hair but a worried furrow wrinkled his forehead. He knelt by the bedside and clutched at her hand. “I’m here, Kat.”

Jana gaped at the birthing woman. “That’s my mother.”

“You shouldn’t be in here, milord,” scolded the old woman.

“Something’s wrong.” Her mother gasped, fisting his tunic.

Her father’s mouth worked but no sound came. He darted a glance at the old woman then stroked her mother’s cheek. “It’s all right.”

“No, I feel it. Something’s wrong.”

A mutter jerked Papa’s head toward the old woman. “What? What is it?”

“A foot. The child comes backward.” The midwife grabbed her father’s arm, tugging his hand down to the top swell of her mother’s abdomen. “Push now, milady and don’t stop. You push with her, milord. This babe needs born this minute.”

“Oh shit,” he swore then swallowed. Her mother never turned loose his tunic but her face took on a rigid strength. The midwife dipped a shoulder, as if reaching inside, and her mother winced.

“Push now!”

She bore down, Papa pressed his palm and the midwife shifted. Jana’s nails bit into Darach’s hand. Hard thumps of her heart racked her ribs. The cycle repeated three times and then her mother screamed. Her head fell back between her shoulders and her body went limp. A fragile sniffle then a weak cry filled the room.

“A daughter!” The midwife crowed.

Papa blew out a short laugh. “A girl?”

“Most daughters are girls, milord,” the midwife said, chuckling. She wrapped the baby in a toweling cloth then handed it up into his arms. “Here, take her to Olma while I tend to your wife.”

Papa turned to her mother and dropped a quick kiss to her forehead. “Love you.”

“Bring her back to me.”

“That’s me,” Jana breathed as her father accepted the squirming infant.

The marvel shining on his face made her breath hard to find. He walked across the chamber to a skinny girl Jana hadn’t noticed. The girl was familiar to Jana, though no wrinkles had set in and her hair was glossy brown. Olma was now the castle midwife, gray-haired and time-aged. She took the baby from her father and laid it on the wash table, quickly wiping the blood and mucus away. Her brisk rubbing pinkened the baby’s skin and increased her crying.

“Crying is good for her, milord, never worry. It’ll make her lungs strong. How will you call her?”

“Jana. Jana Karet. It means sweetest joy.”

“A good name.” She handed the now diapered and swaddled baby to her father.

His hands shook and tears slid down his cheeks. He kissed the tiny bald head. “Hello, Jana.” Jana’s throat clenched watching her father greet her as an infant. “I’m your papa. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Maybe the newborn yawned, Jana couldn’t see, but her father’s face broke into a wide smile. “Tired? I suppose being born is an ordeal. And you did it backward. Choosing your own path already? I’m going to have to be on my toes to keep care of you, young lady.”

The elderly midwife was just straightening the blankets when he crossed to the bed. Her mother’s face shone with exhausted happiness as he put the baby in her arms. He gingerly sat beside her, a tease plain in his voice. “Meet the young lady who has been causing your heartburn.”

“Oh, Bryton.” Her voice was filled with awe. “She’s beautiful.”

Tears blinded Jana and she used her free hand to wipe her eyes. The love on her mother’s face astounded her. Her mother dropped kisses along the baby’s head then pulled one thin arm from the blanket and kissed a small, fisted hand.

“You’re both beautiful,” Papa whispered, stroking her hair.

“Are you sorry it’s not a boy?”

“A boy?” Papa scoffed. “Who wants a boy? There are too many boys in the castle already. This little one knew exactly what we needed.” He traced one finger down the baby’s cheek. “A girl who already has the High Captain wrapped around her tiny little finger.”

“Oh, we are in trouble then.” Her mother laughed.

The sound fell on Jana like petals from a cherry tree, light and soft. Her parents cuddled on the bed, a tender moment she should have felt guilty for intruding on but Jana couldn’t tear her gaze from her mother’s face. She could see herself in the curve of her jaw and the shape of her lips. The painting Papa had kept did not do her justice.

“That’s my mother,” she whispered again.

“Yes,” Darach said. “This is part of your bloodline, your thread through history. This stop is a good beginning but you could go back further, see your mother born, her mother, her mother’s mother.”

“So I can see the birth of anyone in my bloodline?”

“Not just a birth. At all points in a human life, a mark is made, an impression in time that can be explored.”

The rustling of the midwives cleaning up sounded behind them but Jana kept her gaze on her parents. “So how do I see the beginning of the heartmate bonds?”

“That cannot be seen through your blood unless a member of your line was there at its creation. We must use royal blood for that journey.”

Olma strode straight through Darach, her body never even slowing. Jana jumped. “She walked through you!”

“Here we have no solid form. We cannot be seen. We’re only observers in this time. Nothing can touch you, nothing but me. I hold you, Jana. You are not alone. Can you feel me holding you?”

She tightened her grip on his hand. “Yes.”

“My hand, guiding you on this journey, is all you will feel.”

Jana turned her eyes back to the bed, to the new parents getting to know their infant. “You’re wrong. I feel so much more. Her voice. I knew it, somehow. And look at her. She loves me, Darach. Papa always said she did, and I believed him, but now...now I see it.”

“Love,” Darach murmured. His face softened as he studied the tableau of a forming family. “I think now I understand. This room overflows with it. I feel it surging from you and it echoes, even through time. A powerful force, this love.”

Papa had his arm around her mother, their newborn nestled between them. “Papa looks so happy. I don’t remember him before he lost his eye. I’ve often wondered... No wonder Mama fell in love with him. And my mother...” Emotion cracked her voice. She blinked her damp eyes and faced him. “Thank you, Darach. This is the best gift I’ve even been given.”

His brows rose. “I did nothing. You see by your own power.”

The scene began to fade and Jana tried to cram as much as she could into her mind. Her mother was tired and spent but a radiant beauty shone from her face. The look she bestowed on the infant was full of wonder, amazement and absolute joy. Jana clutched at it, held it tight to her heart.

The impression remained as the black swallowed the bedchamber. Stifling a whimper, Jana pressed her free hand to her mouth. Her palm felt the smile that ached along her cheeks.

“I wish I could have stayed longer.”

“Your purpose was met. The sights you see answer a question. You must have wondered about your birth, and those questions lingered in your mind.”

“I did. Papa’s told me the story but I’ve always wondered about my mother.”

“This dance brought you joy.”

Jana nodded. “More than you will ever know.”

The darkness and voices came again, loud, overpowering, daunting. Jana gripped Darach’s hand. “Now where?”

“Is one voice louder than the others?”

Closing her eyes, Jana shut out the magic illuminating them and listened. A man’s laughter rang out and she nodded. “Yes, I hear one.”

To an unheard tune, they danced, he leading and she following. Her eyes remained closed, trusting him to guide her. His steps were sure and steady as he directed her toward the voice that grew in intensity. Something in that laugh made her stomach lurch. She opened her eyes and stared directly into the face of a two-footed snake.

Anic Muscon’s dazzling display of white teeth and dimples had once made her heart flutter. Now it just left an itch on her skin like dried soap. Her muscles stiffened, her lips pressing tight. She’d thought she loved him. She’d been very wrong and paid the price with her reputation.

She met his eye with steely calm but he walked right through her. Knowing exactly what was happening, Jana turned slowly, reluctant to relive the humiliation again, reluctant for Darach to see her disgrace.

“I don’t want to be here.”

Darach’s gaze held only curiosity. “Why? You were drawn to this moment. There must be something here you should learn.”

“Nothing, there’s nothing here I want to—”

“Hello, Jana.”

The mocking welcome silenced her as she faced Anic and the memory of herself.

“Anic.” The weakness in that greeting shamed her and her spine straightened.

“You’re looking well.” His lusty gaze tripped from curl to hem, lingering on her breasts. “Why don’t you let me walk you back to the library?”

“I don’t need your company.” She brushed past him, schoolbooks clutched to her chest and her eyes glistening with tears she’d refused to shed. A group of underclassmen, all male, stood outside the library doors and erupted into snickers when she tried to wedge through.

“Hey, Jana,” one chuckled. “Want to take a walk in the woods? I can protect you from any wild animals that may be around.”

Another shoved at his shoulder. “She’s not interested in a boy like you. I hear she likes a real man, like me.”

A third dared reach out and touch her cheek. “So what’s it take to fuck the High Captain’s daughter? My mother has some old jewelry she wouldn’t mind me giving away.”

“Go away.” The younger Jana’s chin quivered with bitten-back tears as she knocked his hand away.

They grabbed at her skirts, pinched her breasts, tossed her back and forth. Their hands were everywhere. They said lewd and filthy things, laughing at how they’d make her scream with pleasure. Her dress tore, exposing her shift and half a breast. One caught her, pressing her against the wall and crushing her mouth beneath his. She kneed him in the crotch.

“Leave me alone!”

Gripping his balls, the young man sneered. “I’m not good enough for you? You’ll lift your skirts for everyone else, why not me?”

“Gentlemen.” Anic’s sing-song was laced with cruelty barely hidden under chivalry. “Show the lady some manners. After all, she
is
better than a common whore. I didn’t have to pay her.”

She sucked in a fast breath. “How dare you?”

“I dare, Jana, because I remember it.” A pink tongue darted to his upper lip. “Fondly.”

“Bastard!”

Anic’s smile took a darker edge. “No, I made sure there were none of those.”

“Get away, all of you!” Warric snarled, coming up behind Anic. The three others vanished like jackrabbits in front of a wolf. Before Anic could flee, Warric slammed him against the wall.

“Apologize, now.”

“For what? Giving her what she asked for? She begged for it.”

Fire flashed in Warric’s eyes. None at the Academy had the same magical force Warric did. His temper was also a legend. The two combined could be deadly. “Don’t make me repeat myself or you’ll regret it.”

Red erupted on Aric’s cheeks, shining bright beneath his golden hair. “I’ll report you to the headmaster.”

Warric laughed, a pitiless sound. “Do it. Who do you think they’ll believe? A prince of Eldwyn or some second-rate sack of shit?”

Anic forced his jaw forward. “Fine. I’m sorry, Jana.” His dimple disappeared with his smirk. “You weren’t that good anyway.”

Her younger self lunged but Warric blocked her. “Get inside.”

Months-ago-Jana dashed indoors, leaving her books on the ground. Salty tears pooled on the current Jana’s lips and she licked them away. It still hurt as badly now as it had that day. She wished the invisible black floor would open and swallow her whole. But it hadn’t then and didn’t now.

The past-image of Warric fixed his gaze on Anic’s face and an eerie silvered glow sparked in his eyes. The whispered chant from Warric’s lips was too low to hear but an icy breath stole down Jana’s back at the force of his power even in this recollected scene.

Anic’s tongue swelled until it turned purple and stuck out from his lips. Boils erupted on his face, bright pink pustules covering nearly every inch. Whimpering in pain, he clutched his crotch.

Warric leaned close to his ear. “You aren’t worth killing but if you say one more thing about Jana, if you even whisper her name in the dark, I’ll know. Not even my father’s hounds will be able to find where I bury your gutted carcass. Her chamberpot is worth ten of you, you son of a bitch.” His fist burst six boils along Anic’s jaw before the blackness erased them from her sight.

Breath was hard to find and her chest heaved. Warric had used illegal magic and brute force to defend her honor. He’d never said anything. Anic had left school that day, supposedly because of an illness in his family. The open taunting had stopped but the looks, the whispers that died about when she entered a room, had continued. She’d left before the end of term, never knowing she had Warric to thank for the small bits of peace she’d found.

“I never knew...” She lifted her eyes to Darach’s. “Anic said he loved me. I believed him.”

“He lied. Even I can tell that maggot knows nothing of the love you have shown to me. Should I seek him out and kill him?”

Her gasp stuck in her throat. “You’d kill for me?”

“In a breath. I belong to you, and you, Jana, belong to me.”

Jana shuddered at the possessive grumble in his tone. Summoned spells couldn’t lie to their charges. “I belong to Argot.”

“When I no longer walk this Earth, then you will belong to Argot. For now, you are mine.”

There wasn’t breath enough in the blackness to speak, to correct him. In her soul, she admitted that she didn’t wish to correct him. “Now where?”

He studied her face. “You wish to try another dance?’

“Yes. I have to master this. What do I do?”

“Very well, close your eyes and let us see if you can go further back. Open your mind and think of any story of your family. Try one before your birth, perhaps even before your parents’ birth. Go back as far as you can.”