Evermine: Daughters of Askara, Book 2 (13 page)

Harper’s pulse cooled to think of sealing his oath with crafter’s blood, but he took the knife and made his cut. Aldrich gouged a finger in the slit and clasped their forearms.

“I swear, if you free us, I’ll take you from here.” Consequences flickered through Harper’s mind, but he crushed those.

Magic shimmered in contaminated glee. It was as if Aldrich’s blood sank poisonous talons in Harper’s wound, clawing him raw. Gritting his teeth, he waited until the searing ache subsided.

“It is done,” Aldrich said with a toothy smile. “Now you can
see
.”

His insane laughter rang out as Harper’s eyes shot wide open.

The walls crinkled, caving in on one another. Glitter filled the air, trailing sparkling dust motes, and the cell collapsed. Lunging toward the cot, Harper threw his body across Dillon.

Harper squeezed his eyes shut, braced for impact, expecting tumbling rock to crush them.

Silence rang in his ears. There was no sound. No noise as Aldrich brought the castle down around them. Comforting darkness embraced him. Maybe this was death, blank and empty.

His eyes opened on a lush bedroom.

Grateful breaths filled his lungs with promise. He gaped when he spotted Aldrich, still ancient, but clean. Harper touched his forehead and felt smooth skin. Only the gash in his arm remained. “It was all an illusion.” If he’d doubted Aldrich was Sereian, then he had experienced the proof of his heritage firsthand. His glamour had worked magic Harper barely conceived of.

Aldrich shrugged, as if he conjured dungeons daily. “It’s real, if you believe it so.”

He rolled off Dillon, who grunted, leaving him curled on his side on the low bed.

“Roland will come soon.” Aldrich fidgeted. “We should leave. Now.”

“I’m not leaving without Emma.” Harper brushed past him, casting Dillon a final glance.

“No. That wasn’t part of our deal.” The crafter trailed him. “You said you put your colony first. Returning to lead them is best.” He huffed. “You would have lost her anyway.”

“You’re right.” Harper’s hand closed over the doorknob. “I would have. Now I don’t have to.” He sighed. “I promised to take you from this place, and I will, but not without her.”

“Foolish queenmaker,” Aldrich grumbled. “Go.” He gave Dillon a measuring glance. “At least she can be put to use, unlike that one. Are you sure we can’t…?”

“No one gets left behind.” Harper opened the door.

“Stop it. Stop that.” Aldrich closed it on a quiet
snick
. “Stay to the walls. Understand?”

A tapestry in the far corner caught Harper’s eye. Tables and mishmash furniture butted into walls and crowded the floor. Beneath the faded banner lay the only section of bare wall.

“Does this intersect the queen’s tunnels?” He had learned every twisting turn as a child, committing the passages to memory for the day Maddie’s safety became his responsibility.

A stone archway hidden in the garden slid aside for easy access to the tunnels. He would have used that entrance, but this would be simpler. He approached the wall. Aldrich switched a hidden latch and a tunnel’s gaping maw stretched deep and fathomless beyond the lit room.

He snatched a miniature hourglass and turned it upside down. “You have until the sand runs out. If you haven’t returned, I will summon the guards.” His face pinched. “Please, hurry.”

With a nod, Harper stepped into darkness. The panel slid shut behind him, trapping him in the walls. Claustrophobia learned from too many years in too tight a space made his palms sweat where he ran them along the walls to keep his balance. Several yards ahead, he spotted moonlight through one of the narrow windows dotting the secret maze. He stopped long enough to glance through the glass at the courtyard below. Triumph curved his lips. Stone benches dappled a crushed shale walkway. Aldrich’s room neighbored the gardens, which meant…

He broke into a quiet run, stopping when a familiar indention teased his fingers.

Please let him have left her here.
Applying pressure to the rough edges, Harper eased the stone aside and stepped into a bedroom he’d thought he’d never see again. His heart slammed into his ribs when he saw golden curls littered across the petal pink of Maddie’s ornate pillows.

His knees hit mattress before his brain registered the required steps to reach her. Careful, as if she were made of glass, he scooped Emma against him. “Thank God you’re all right.”

She hit his chest and knocked him backwards. He skidded across the floor with a soft crunch of glamour-encased wings.

“Who are you?” Emma stood, barefoot and rumpled at the bedside. “What do you want?”

Her brow wrinkled. She hadn’t screamed. She catalogued him as if she knew him, but couldn’t place him. Dull pain thrummed in his chest as she rubbed her temples, her face pale.

He should have protected her from Sereians and their twisted use of glamour when he had the chance. Instead of learning concealment, as the Evanti had in order to blend into Askaran society, Sereians focused their magic outward. Their specialty lay in mind manipulation, as Aldrich had illustrated. They loved their potions and powders, extensions of their mind games, and Roland had used enough in combination to trigger magical withdrawal symptoms in Emma.

Sereian glamour left tendrils of suggestion embedded in their victims, and it was difficult convincing the afflicted they had been violated because their memories had been tampered with.

Given time, another few days or a week for those suggestions to fade, Harper could have explained to a lucid Emma instead of one fresh from a meeting with Roland. He could have forced her to listen, locked her in her room until she saw reason or her higher metabolism burned through Roland’s influence. But there hadn’t been time. Harper had made his choice and now he had to live with the consequences.

He’d gambled with her safety for the sake of his colony and almost lost them both.

Harper stood slowly. If she craved a hit from Roland’s magic, he must be due to visit soon. He wouldn’t dare let the effect wear off. She would kill him for what he’d done to her.

Dragging a tired hand down his face, Harper spied Maddie’s old silver brush on the bed.

He pointed. “Do you know who that belongs to?” Her hostile glare said she didn’t. “It belongs to Madelyn DeGray. You remember Maddie, don’t you? Your
vinda koosh
?”

“I have a little sister?” Hope lent her voice a soft edge. Her shoulders relaxed a bit as she bent down, lifted the brush. “Maddie,” she said as if testing the name. “I can’t remember…”

“It’s okay.” He held out his hands to show her he meant no harm. “I’ll help you remember.” He glanced toward the door. “But we have to leave. Now. If we don’t, Roland—”

Her jaw set, knuckles turning white around the handle. “Roland is my friend.”

“No.” Harper kept his tone firm. “He wants you to forget Maddie. If he was your friend, he wouldn’t want you to forget your family. What about Nesvia? Do you know her? What about your friends? Your job? Do you remember any of your life before you met Roland?” He took a step closer, but she retreated. “He wants you to forget everything. He wants you to forget
me
.”

Her blank stare carved out his heart. “Who
are
you?”

I blurted the words and his expression shattered. Something about the curve of his cheek, the cut of his jaw, seemed so familiar. His eyes, though, they should be darker. Or perhaps his skin… Something about him was wrong. My earlier panic struck a second blow, just as hard.

Heart racing, I sat on the bed before I toppled onto the floor. Warm metal filled my palm, comforting. I lifted it and saw my reflection in the smooth back. The blue of my eyes reminded me of someone. Was it Maddie? Why couldn’t I remember a thing as basic as having a sister?

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” My chest tightened. “Please.”

“I can’t.” I didn’t doubt him for a moment. “Not without you.”

“
I don’t know you
.” At least, I didn’t think I did. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go with you.”

“Then I’ll wait here.” He sat in the delicate vanity chair, crossing his legs. “For Roland.”

A bitter taste filled my mouth. I swallowed hard and struggled to find my voice. “You cannot.” His blue-gray eyes stared back at me. “He won’t— Things won’t end well if you stay.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “You sound concerned.”

“If he finds another male in my chambers, he will be quite upset.” I glanced toward the door, tempted to pluck this stubborn male from his seat and shove him back through the wall. He knew better than to use the tunnels. I lifted a hand to my head where a steady pulse beat behind my right eye. “How did you know about the queen’s tunnels? Their use is forbidden.”

He tilted his head to one side. “How would you know?”

“I don’t know.” Impatience nipped at my heels. “Please. Go.
Now
.”

He shook his head, slowly, mournfully, and my heart twisted before he spoke.

“If there’s an existence where you don’t know me, where I have no chance, no hope of ever…then let Roland come.” His form blurred. “I want no part of a life without you in it.”

Warmth trickled down my cheeks. I blinked, but his outline wavered. Pale skin faded to darkest ebony. His eyes glinted coal black and lovely. A sob caught in my throat as wings almost equal to his height fanned a warm breeze as they stretched behind him. “I know you, don’t I?”

“You’ve always known me.” His features softened as he stood.

I should have screamed for Roland, for guards or anyone else within hearing distance.

I didn’t.

“Who are you?” His carmine wings sagged with what I interpreted as sorrow. The clawed hooks clenched tight fists to match his hands. Every ounce of resolve I held softened.

“I’m the friend who held you when you were frightened.” He indicated the two of us and an absent third. “When we were both scared, for ourselves, for Maddie.” He sighed. “I’m the male who leapt from the castle wall when I was ten and sure I was immortal.” His cheeks turned ruddy. “I snagged my wing on Maddie’s planter box, ripped it down the middle. You bandaged me up, like always.” He shrugged. “And the stunt was worth it, because it impressed you.”

“Why would you do that?” I smiled through his memories, as if I saw them for myself.

“I did it because you’re mine, Emma.” He met my gaze, challenging me to believe him or not, I wasn’t sure which. “I’ve never wanted anything as much I want you, not even freedom.”

And then I knew. “You’re Harper.” This darker, hungrier face clicked his name in place. Fragile warmth seeped into my heart. He gauged my response with each step he took nearer.

“I am.” He grinned at me. “And I am yours, lady. I always have been.”

Bittersweet agony split my head open and poured life in, filling the foggy crags where Roland had buried his compulsions. Nausea chased every drop of information until I sloshed with the volume of my knowledge. Maddie, Nesvia, my diner, Earth, Feriana, it flooded me.

For one sparkling moment, I found clarity. I knew what I wanted. To sleep curled up behind Harper, hold him close to the heart he owned and breathe him in at night. Be at peace.

Fingernails tore, and the sharp pain grounded me to the fact I’d sank my claws in the heavy bedpost at my elbow. Shock radiated through me, amazed to learn I wanted those things.

I wanted this dark-skinned male who once tucked me against his chest at night while we stared into open skies at twin moons. I wanted the male who called me Emma-mine and made me believe I was his. The male I’d mortally wounded by saying I didn’t belong to him when I should have clarified I didn’t
deserve
to be his. Tears brimmed in my eyes. I wanted Harper.

He was still mine. He’d said so. My heart fluttered as if there had never been any doubt.

Harper stopped when our chests met, pried my fingers from the post and held my hands. His head lowered, lips brushing my cheek, whispering promise over my jaw. He nipped my chin, and I ducked, impatient, claiming his mouth and squeezing his hands until our bones scraped.

Behind us metal groaned.

I fisted Harper’s shirt. “He’s coming.”

Roland’s voice drifted down the hall, muffled as it filtered through the sliver of door.

“Hide,” I hissed and shoved Harper behind the bed. It was all I could think to do.

“Did you say something, lovely?” Roland’s smile widened as he latched the door closed.

Delicious anger sparkled through my glamour, revealing the evidence of who I had been.

“Only that I missed you.” I smiled as he swaggered up to me as if he owned me. In his addled, royal brain, he no doubt thought he did. That I was no longer a slave, no longer beholden to his kind, meant nothing. He had raped my mind as surely as he would have my body. The fact he made me want it carved my stomach hollow and set my temper ablaze.

Chapter Thirteen

Roland kept his distance, fondling one coat pocket, of which I could guess the contents. Heavy brocade fabric hung undone at his neck, exposing his white undershirt and starched collar.

“I must apologize.” He executed a mock bow, careful to keep my gaze, and I seethed at how he taunted me with his mirage of civility. “I regret my business liaison ruined our evening.”

“I’ve only just awakened.” In more ways than one. “Has the dance ended?”

“I’m afraid so.” He gestured toward his state of undress. “I passed the last revelers on my way to your door.” His lips crooked to one side. “While the cat’s away, the mice will play.”

“You did say the queen was away.” I kept the concern from my voice. Aaron said she had closed her court, not that she wouldn’t arrive in Rihos at all. But his information had come from Rideal, which meant Roland must have overheard while waiting for my courier. “Where is she?”

His eyes narrowed, and I bit my tongue.
You might as well tell him you’ve broken his thrall.
“I mean, you mentioned her earlier.” I smiled prettily, and I widened my eyes, hoping I projected all things docile and oblivious. “I would have liked to see her. She must be lovely.”