Knight of Pentacles (Knights of the Tarot Book 3) (14 page)

Her words cut him deeply. She was right. Back then, he was full of hatred and rage. He had joined the fight after English soldiers butchered his mother during a raid on their village. After avenging her death, he became a fugitive. After months of living in the wild, he met up with Robert the Bruce on the road to the Abbey of Scone, where the rebel leader proclaimed himself King of the Scots upon the Stone of Destiny, which turned out to be an imposter.

What became of the real stone, which cried out if the rightful king was being crowned, nobody knew.

Jenna’s touch brought Axel back to the sofa. Her eyes were dewy and penitent. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to say something so heartless. I’m sure you believe you are doing what is right.”

He swallowed hard and shook his head. “What is right is not always as clear as the north star in a cloudless night sky. If I refuse, she will only send her vampires to complete the task, and their methods, I can promise you, will be far less humane than my own.”

* * * *

Jenna gaped at Axel in astonishment. Had she heard him right? “Are you telling me vampires—real honest-to-God, Dracula-variety vampires—live in the Thitherworld, too?”

“Aye.” His face was a study in wretchedness. “But, unlike me, they were taken after the life force had left their bodies—and baptized in blood to bring about their rebirth.”

She blinked at him, still trying to wrap her mind around this newly presented reality. “Did Morgan take them, too?”

“No.” His Nordic wolf gaze was trained on her as if she were the prey he was hunting. “They were taken by the Emperor of Sangpagne. Most vampires are vile creatures despised by the other occupants of the Thitherworld, though some, like Queen Morgan, hire them to do their bidding. Because they have no souls, and therefore no conscience, they can be relied upon to be coldblooded in every sense of the word.”

Jenna shuddered. “Is there not some way around killing Leith’s wife? Maybe a trick you could use to fool the queen into believing you’d carried out her orders.”

“What sort of
trick
do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know.” She searched her mind for ideas. “Maybe, like in the story of
Snow White
, you could substitute the heart of a wild boar or pig. Apparently, human and pig hearts aren’t all that different.”

Axel pressed a kiss to her lips, surprising but not displeasing her.

“Tell me the story.” His voice was thin. “So I will know precisely how it was done.”

“Well, there are several versions of the story, but, in the original, Snow White’s stepmother was an evil sorceress who gained the throne by marrying, and then murdering, Snow White’s father. The queen decides her stepdaughter must die after her Magic Mirror reveals the girl will one day be the fairest of them all. The stepmother then orders a huntsman to take Snow White into the woods to kill her—and to bring back the girl’s lungs and liver as proof he has competed the task. In the woods, Snow White tearfully pleads for her life, promising to disappear into the forest if he allows her to live. The huntsman, sure the innocent girl will be killed soon enough by wild animals, leaves her behind and brings the queen the lungs and liver of a young wild boar, which is prepared by the cook and eaten by the queen.”

Axel’s mouth fell open, giving her hope. “So, the organs of the boar fooled the queen?”

“In this original version, yes.” Dropping her gaze, she gingerly touched the sleeve of his tunic. “But in other versions, the magic mirror sees through the trick and the queen, enraged at being deceived, rips out the huntsman’s heart with her bare hands.”

He picked up his whisky and took a gulp. “That seems the more likely outcome—only, instead of ripping out my heart, Queen Morgan will curse me the way she cursed Sir Leith, whereupon you would die, leaving me to live on alone with my guilt and grief.”

Frustration throbbed in her temples. Why could he not see reason? “There is another option.”

“Is there?”

“Yes. The one I’ve mentioned before.” She wanted to shake him. “Refuse the quest, offer yourself as the tithe, and let me free you from your bonds during the Wild Ride.”

His eyes turned as hard and dark as lapis lazuli. “Refusing the quest goes against every maxim I live by. Honesty, integrity, and, of course, the most important of all—fealty to the monarch I’ve sworn to serve and protect. The vow I took at the knighting ceremony was not conditional. It did not say ‘I promise to be true to my queen as long as she is good and I agree with her’; it said, ‘So long as I shall live, I will not forsake my queen; neither for gold nor for any other reward in the world, will I abandon her.’”

“Did you make that vow of your own free will?”

Biting his lip, he glanced away. “I confess, my pledge was compelled by magic—but I must nevertheless be true to my word. For what is a man without his integrity?”

She touched his face, bringing his gaze back to hers. “You are her sex slave, Axel. Where is the integrity in that?”

“Au ruda thig gu dona fabhaidh e leis a ghaoith.”
He spat the words as though they were bitter bits of tobacco.

“There’s just one problem with that logic,” she said, unswayed. “Enslavement is not something you have to put up with. Not anymore. Not when I’ve found a way to set you free.”

“A way that puts both our lives in jeopardy,” he returned hotly. “And even if we should succeed, we will be fugitives. Evermore on the run, evermore afraid, evermore looking over our shoulders, wondering when Morgan’s vampires will find us. There is no peace in the life of an outlaw, Jenna. And I want peace of mind more than I want a brand of freedom that is far more imprisoning than the life I have now.”

She bit her lip, frustrated by his obstructionist arguments. “I was under the impression faeries couldn’t cross the vale except on Halloween.”

“Faeries can’t, but those who once were human can unless prevented from doing so by sorcery. And that includes vampires, Jenna. Would you really rather run from those coldblooded creatures for the rest of your days than live as we are now? Is the life we discussed really so repellant to you?”

Jenna let him go and sat back. She obviously needed to give this more thought. In the story, after Janet won her knight, the faery queen simply rode away, singing a song begrudging her knight’s betrayal. Had she honestly expected Morgan to let him go so easily?

Even if the queen did let him go, how would they survive? Axel had lived among the faeries for hundreds of years. It wasn’t as if he could go out and get a job. She would have to support him—and any children they might have—on the salary of a part-time library assistant, at least until she could find something better. Maybe he was right. Maybe keeping things as they were was the better plan.

As for his quest and killing Lady MacQuill, maybe that was a much bigger deal to her than it was to him. He’d lived through brutal times, was raised in a culture reputed for its savagery, and had fought alongside Robert the Bruce—a pioneer in guerilla warfare. She really had no idea how barbaric he could be or how many people he’d killed. Just because she’d only seen his gentle side didn’t mean he wasn’t still a Viking warrior, too.

“Fine.” Looking down, she took him loosely by the wrists before offering him a conciliatory smile. “Have it your way. Go on your quest. Do what you must. And I will say no more about breaking your bonds—unless you fail. In which case, I will do what I must to keep you from being tithed. But, before you go, I would like to put a
sian
over you—to shield you from harm while you are away.”

He kissed her and set his forehead against hers. “I appreciate your laying down of arms. And happily agree to your terms.”

Jenna was content for now. Their situation might not be ideal, but it was much better than being married to someone who didn’t like who she was. She refused to treat Axel the way William had treated her. She was not going to blackmail him into giving up an important part of himself by withholding her acceptance. They would shape each other, of course, as all couples did, but that was hardly the same as setting out with the goal of changing him.

No relationship was perfect. She mustn’t discount the positives by dwelling on the negatives. Axel made her feel desired and valued—more so than anyone else she’d ever met.

So, they couldn’t have a “normal” marriage—whatever that was supposed to be. The occasional royal booty call wasn’t the end of the world. At least he didn’t cheat by choice or behind her back.

Amid the buzz of competing thoughts in her head, only one thing was clear. Giving him up was not an option. Everything else she could deal with, but not a future devoid of him. The mere idea of it threatened to break her heart into pieces.

She pressed her lips to his, needful of contact. He gathered her to him and held her fiercely as he deepened the kiss. His tongue tasted of whisky and the promise of secret wishes fulfilled. It felt so good to be in his arms. To know, at long last, the wonderful feeling of being cherished by a man she adored. The radiant feeling was so powerful and overwhelming, she wanted to cry.

As they devoured each other, she raked her fingers through his hair. He rubbed her back before moving his hands around to her breasts. Cupping their fullness through her sweater, he kneaded lightly. His touch was so tender and caring, it was hard to reconcile this gentle knight with the fierce warrior he also must be.

Could she love both parts of him equally? Her heart responded with a resounding
yes
.

His hands traveled lower, to the ribbed hem of her sweater. She drew back and lifted her arms to allow him to pull it off her. Afterward, he smoothed her hair before capturing her face between his hands.

“Jenna,” he whispered, gazing intently into her eyes. “I love you so much and never want to lose you. Will you handfast with me?”

It took a moment for the meaning of his question to penetrate her scrambled mind. Handfasting was an old Scottish custom that allowed a couple to try out being married before exchanging their vows before a priest.

Her mouth went dry and her heart overflowed. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Aye. In the only way I can. If you’ll have me.”

Her first impulse was to say yes—to shout it to the rafters—but the underlying realities stopped her. He was an immortal faery, the drone of a cruel queen, while she was a mortal human. They could never live together as man and wife—not unless she stole him back on Halloween. Yes, they could cobble together a relationship in his present circumstances, providing his queen remained ignorant of their secret.

Unfortunately, there was another problem. As the years passed, he would stay young and handsome while she slowly withered with age.

“I want to say yes. Because I love you and want to be with you. More than anything. But I don’t see how this can work long-term.” She put her hand on his face and gazed into his eyes. “You need to let me free you, Axel. So we can grow old together.”

“I am a faery now, Jenna.” Sadness glimmered in his eyes. “Freeing me will not make me mortal again.”

Chapter 11

Axel stared at Jenna in slack-jawed surprise as the barb of her rejection pricked his heart. He thought he had convinced her to accept things as they were, but clearly, he was mistaken.

Was he being selfish? All things considered, he thought not. If they went forward as things were, they could spend their days on their own pursuits and their nights in each other’s arms. If she tried to free him, they would either die in the attempt or spend the rest of their lives on the lam.

He had been there. Always moving from place to place, always looking over his shoulder, never sure where he would lay his head from one night to the next. It was a life of uncertainty; of fear and distrust; of deception and desperation. Much as he wanted to make her his wife, he could not agree to going forward as fugitives.

She started to rise from the couch. Catching her by the arms, he pulled her against him and buried his nose in her hair, which smelled as sweet as freedom once had. He had fought for it, yearned for it, made himself sick and miserable pining for this elusive paragon he had been denied. This priceless treasure worth killing for—and worth dying for.

Then, he woke up to the truth. Freedom, like happiness, did not exist out there somewhere in the mist waiting to be seized. True freedom dwelled within, waiting to be discovered.

“As I told you before, a person can be free in a cell or imprisoned on a summit.” He hugged her to him. “Freedom, like most things, is a matter of perception.”

“But aging isn’t.” Her voice was choked with emotion. “I’ll grow old, and you’ll stay the same.”

“Like a tree changing with the seasons, you will only take on a different form of beauty.”

She sniffed into his tunic. “Even though you say the sweetest things, I still can’t marry you. I will, however, stay with you as long as it suits us both—and continue my efforts to persuade you to break your bonds.”

That was enough. For now, her promise to stay with him was enough. He knew not what the future might hold, but worrying over it would only spoil the here and now. And, here and now, in this moment, she was his.