Duality (25 page)

Dara again began humming in an eerie minor key. She drew the blade across her palm and picked up the torque with the injured hand. Her blood flowed across the sleeping stone, swirling around it…and abruptly within. “
I am Dara Kahn Androcles shena Sheena Kahn Androcles shena Lena Kahn Androcles
.”

The stone glowed red with the infusion of fresh draconian blood, a willing sacrifice and offering to power. With the true-name a new queen was made and bound. Still entranced, Dara drew up the torque. Of its own volition, the gold wound itself around her neck and fused solid and seamless. The stone flared with the beat of Dara’s heart and then stilled, its eerie glow fading.

The voices hit her all at once, a chorus of chaos and madness. Images of times long gone, of countries once visited, of faces of those long dead. Gold eyes, red hair and flames. They were her. She was them. A never-ending circle. An unbroken chain. “
Hear usss, know usss.
” Too much, too sudden, it ripped Dara from the here-and-now, and she spun away in a maelstrom not of her own making. She struggled to breathe, to focus, to remember who she was…

A sharp white light glowed in the back of her mind. “Dara, hear me.” The male voice was calm, but Dara sensed the urgency beneath his tone, the effort it took for him—Loren—to reach her through the voices. “I am here. Focus on me. Take my hand. Here.” A glowing white hand appeared. Desperate, she reached out to grasp it with her mind.

The voices faded, enough to regain her grip on herself. “Loren?”

His physical hands tightened around hers. “Hang on, Dara. Stay with me. Focus on
my
voice,
my
hands. You are stronger than they are, warrior. Focus. Send them back into the stone.”

Dara focused her will into erecting a barrier betwixt herself and the voices. They twisted, protesting, resisting. As they faded away, her strength grew. Anger blazed bright and brittle. “You have no control over me. Back down. Sleep.”

Surprise. Silence. Grudging respect. Peace
.

Dara swayed and blinked, like a sleepwalker awakening. She opened her hand, the injured one.

There was no cut, not even a scar.

“Dara?” Loren broke in. “Are you all right?”

She focused on his worried eyes. Those beautiful green eyes, like the first new leaves of spring. “It’s awaited me.” The heat swirled around the edges of her consciousness, just out of reach. Like a vivid dream after waking, fading and elusive in the details.

Footsteps sounded behind them. Dara turned to face Cedric, Pari and Lorelei. Lorelei spoke first. “I felt the breaking of the wards. Thou hast been accepted by the blood torque into the royal draconian house. Thou art now bound to the purpose of the stone, as its power is now bound to thee.”

Dara trembled, leaning into Loren as he wrapped his arms around her. “It chose me.”

Cedric nodded. “The blood of thy ancestresses. Blood magic in its purest, and one of its more benign, forms. Mystria, Vanna, Rala, Ilya, Lena, Sheena, and now thee—bound in an unbroken bloodline to the stone. Each is able to draw on the power of the stone and the memories of the others because of the blood. The stone can bond with all through the line of blood because each of thee is a part of the same whole.”

“To what point and purpose, my lord? It is alive. It senses. It feels. It thinks.” Dara frowned, troubled, as her fingers caressed the stone. “It knows me.”

“Thou canst summon them by name,” Lorelei assured her. “They possess vast knowledge and great power, and canst help thee. Thou hast the strength and discipline to make them do thy bidding. Thou shalt not lose control again.”

Pari spoke up. “If thou hast any doubts as to thy heritage, come with me.” He led her to a mirror. “Be not afraid. See what thou art.”

Dara gasped and started to tremble. Her eyes were their normal gold, but more slanted and glowing. It was the change in her pupils she noticed most. They were no longer round, no longer human. Slit, but not vertically like a cat’s or an elf’s. Horizontally, like a dragon’s. Her golden skin gleamed in the lamplight, but she saw the faint patterns of not-quite-scales. She gulped, and her eyes filled with tears. “I’m a monster.”

The voices protested with savage indignation. “
Thou art beautiful and unique. The bessst of both.”

Loren put an arm about her waist and met her gaze in the mirror. “You are special, Dara. We are one, remember? I know you—your strength, your compassion. I am here for you. I shall help you through this. They are your family. Do not fear them, and they shall respect you.”

“What was that of memories?” Dara asked. “Can I learn of my father from my mother’s memories?”

“Just those memories made prior to binding with the stone,” Cedric said. “Sheena bound to the stone afore she left for mortal lands. I am sorry.”

Her shoulders slumped, then she regrouped. “Well, half is better than naught.” ’Twas more than she’d had afore she entered this room. “I think I’ll return to my rooms.”

“Thou wished to learn of thy mother’s family,” Pari said. “Now is thy chance. Get to know them.”

“Are you certain you do not want company?” Loren asked.

Dara shook her head and stared at the bloody knife in her hand. She didn’t want to be alone, and yet she was. For all Loren’s support, she was alone. The last of her kind. “For this, I want to be alone.”

Her head and heart ached. There was no denying the visible proof. She was not human. How did she begin to come to grips with the fact her whole life was one big lie? What kind of future could they have, she and Loren, when everything about them was a continuous circle of omissions, half-truths and outright falsehoods? Relationships needed trust for a solid foundation to grow upon.

If only it were a dream. All she’d have to do was wake up.

Chapter Eleven

It had been a long, sleepless night with the voices and visions in her head. She missed Loren. If only she’d said aye. To be alone was exhausting. Why couldn’t they have been two ordinary people? Prince and peasant, elf and dragon, immortal and mortal—what did they have in common asides a demon and a mission? Bleary-eyed, Dara looked around Justice Hall and sighed, tucking her knees under her chin. She’d fished a verdant green tunic of twice-combed wool and hose of finely spun undyed wool from the back of her wardrobe. Almost familiar, yet softer, finer. Too perfect. Verdeen had somehow missed them among all the dresses. Dara’s head ached. How had she sunk so low, so fast, hiding from her maid?

She shuddered. Royalty. How could anyone live like this? No privacy? All the demands, the conflicts? Having to always put the interests of others afore your own? Not unlike what Loren had described as a guardian-mentality. Maybe they did have something in common, after all. Not enough, but something. What did Cedric do for fun? Why in the Lady’s name would anyone
want
the job? She knew why Loren spent so little time here. She’d no idea why Deane found it appealing.

“Power
.
Look at Jalad. Face the darknesss of Loren’sss truth and learn from it. Tegan chose darknesss.”

She still wasn’t used to their presence. “Nay—”

“Thou knowsss thisss to be true.”

“Get out of my mind
.” She was so tired, but she couldn’t sleep. Dara sat in one of the wingchairs under a giant portrait of king somebody-or-other. She couldn’t keep them all straight. The chairs were straight-backed and armless and should have been uncomfortable. But the cushions were covered in a velvety purple and seemed to mold themselves to the sitter so they oozed comfort. Like the clothing she wore, like everything else in the elven realm, too perfect to be real.

This land, this palace swallowed her soul until she didn’t know who she was anymore. She had to get away. She had to go home.

Footsteps sounded on the marble tile. Dara looked up to see Alani striding toward her. Well, make that almost everything perfect. “What do you want?”

Alani stopped in front of her. “You. Gone.”

“Thou asssked.
” Their ire rose at the presence of a rival.

“I’m not a rival
.” Dara flushed and bristled. She wasn’t up to dealing with would-be princesses right now. “Now’s not a good time.”

Alani’s chin rose and she stared down her long, aristocratic nose. “Fact outdoes rumor. You
are
a filthy half-breed, mortal.”

Dara’s blood boiled at the slur. Fanny’s distant childhood warning, “’
Tis but words, ignore them
” was drowned out by a newfound fury, swifter and stronger than any she’d ever known. “I am the daughter of queens. Tell me, what are you?”

“Loren was pledged to me in childhood by our fathers.”

Dara bared her teeth. Alani didn’t deserve Loren. “Mistakes happen. That was afore Loren met me,” she said. “Loren bound himself to me by life’s blood and Lady’s vows.” Her skin heated with a rage not entirely her own. “You’re too late. Where I come from, we don’t share.”

“You think to hold him with your whorish stench, mortal?
Sensuri
?” Alani edged closer. “We shall be producing heirs for this kingdom long after your rotting corpse returns to the dust of your pathetic and savage world.”

She was sick and tired of being called a whore, in any language. “That’s Paulette’s job. Deane is the heir, not Loren.” Sadness for Loren mixed with anger. Alani had grown up with him, but she didn’t know him at all. How could Alani think he would ever be happy with her? “If all you want is to marry a king, then you waste your time. That’s the last thing Loren wants.”

“What do you know of what he wants?” Alani swung her hand. “He does not even know what he wants.”

Quicker than thought, Dara blocked the blow. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” She leaped from the chair and shoved past her attacker to give herself some room. “I know more of him after a week than you’ve learned in a lifetime. Loren’s already given himself to me, and I keep what’s mine.”

No sooner had she spoken than she knew how Alani was bound to interpret that. No surprise then Alani screeched and launched herself at Dara. But she tripped on her own skirts and all she got was a handful of red hair.

“A little overdressed for a brawl, aren’t we?” A red haze threatened to obscure Dara’s vision and she fought it down. ‘
Never attack in anger
,’ Rufus’ spirit—or whatever—counseled. Too late. Although, to be honest, she hadn’t attacked. Alani had started it.

“Man’s clothes, man’s body.”

“You wish.”

“Ahem.” A familiar male voice made both women freeze. “A bit early in the day for a taproom brawl,
ladies
.” Cedric’s eyes were leagues beyond frosty. “Alani, I shalt speak to Raun on this matter. Fighting with an honored guest?”

Alani’s face fell. Her body drooped as she slunk off.

“As for thee…” He turned the full weight of his gaze on Dara.

Her chin rose. The fire in her blood burned away his censure. “That colorless cow started it. You’re a fool to tie Loren to that—”

“Enough.” Cedric’s glare froze the very thought from her mind. “Now. Thou saved the hide of my overadventurous second son. For this, thou hast my gratitude.”

“You’re welcome,” Dara gritted out through clenched teeth. The voices roared in her mind. She tried to force her body to move, but remained frozen in place. Her mortal human blood was no match for his ancient elven will.

“I welcome thee as a daughter into my home and this is how thou repayest my hospitality?” Cedric raised a hand, and her voice failed. Her true helplessness afore the high king of the elves penetrated the green cloud of jealousy. All protest died at the ice in his eyes.

Cedric lowered his hand and raised an eyebrow. “What to do with thee?” He sighed.

“I’m not a child.”

“Thou acts afore thinking. That is the nature of a youngling.”

His too-reasonable tone rankled. The voices howled their indignation.

“Thou speaks afore thinking. That is the trait of a fool.”

Her hand lashed out. He parried her blow, capturing her hand in an unbreakable grip. They stood that way for long moments. Cedric’s eyes were unfathomable. “Thou reacts instead of acts.”

Dara jerked away. “So, what will you do with me? To the dungeon with bread and water? Without bread and water? Throw me from the highest watchtower? Drag me behind a fast horse by my ankles?”

“Wash thy mouth out with vinegar, put thee over my knee for a solid whipping and send thee to thy room without any supper like the insolent youngling thou art.” Cedric stated it so levelly Dara believed him.

She drew herself up, trying to focus through the red haze. She didn’t know where all this fury was coming from. Just one more thing… She had to get away afore she snapped. “If you’ll excuse me…” She stalked off to her rooms. Inside, she threw herself on the bed. “I defend myself and
I’m
the one sent to my room?”

A fist hit the other side of the adjoining door. Dara leaped off the bed as Loren marched in without awaiting an invitation. “What in the seven goblin hells were you thinking?” He grabbed her arms. “You attacked Alani? She said she was walking through the hall looking at the family portraits when you attacked her. She did not lie.”