Lost Princess (17 page)

The wolf stalked her, creeping closer and closer. When he stopped, they stood face to face, Ryleigh silently imploring the animal to go away and leave her be.

The wolf inched closer, tail lifted, hackles raised. It bared its teeth and growled from deep within its chest, then crouched, the muscles in its back legs quivering with the strain. With one last warning growl, it pounced.

Ryleigh squeezed her eyes closed and threw her arms up in front of her face as she ducked to the side. She tried to die with images of Mia and Jackson for comfort, but the fierce snarl was etched too firmly in her brain.

Screams erupted through the storm.

Ryleigh spun and opened her eyes. The screams weren’t hers.

The wolf was tearing into a savage. The battle ended quickly, leaving the savage lying in a pool of black blood melting through the snow.

The wolf buried his muzzle in the snow, wiping off the savage blood.

A pang of sympathy for the amazing creature kept her rooted for a moment, the intense burn of savage blood all too clear a memory. She rubbed the phantom pain in her arm.

He abandoned his efforts and returned to the savage, sniffing the remains. Making sure he was dead? Or about to have dinner?

Gagging silently, Ryleigh slapped an ice-cold hand over her mouth and inched backward. Slowly. Careful not to make a sound.

The wolf lifted his gaze, halting Ryleigh’s retreat.

He approached her, lowered his head though his gaze remained riveted on her, and waited.

Ryleigh placed a shaky hand tentatively on his big head. “Hey boy.” Without knowing how, she had no doubt the massive creature was male. “Thank you. You saved my life.” She resisted the urge to bury her face against his warm neck, inexplicable drawn to the giant animal.

He started to move away.

Loneliness surrounded her.

Then he stopped and looked back, his gaze meeting hers. Waiting?

She moved toward him, the urge to follow him overwhelming. When she caught up, he turned and resumed his trek, leading her into the brush he’d emerged from. She moved closer to his side as they walked, taking comfort in the warmth emanating from the huge creature as well as his company.

The woods thickened, offering some shelter from the storm, but doing little to relieve the intense cold. Regulating her body temperature had come naturally to her since entering Cymmera, even before she was ready to fully accept her new role. She didn’t know how her body adapted to the changing temperatures, but try as she might, she couldn’t find any warmth now. Maybe any power she’d started to develop in Cymmera wouldn’t work in Argonas. Or maybe the chill came from within. She’d stopped shivering. Fatigue battered her, slumped her shoulders, slowed her pace. The pain from her injuries had dulled to a constant ache. Maybe she’d begun to heal herself, or maybe the cold had simply numbed her.

The wolf stopped. He stared at her through piercing, deep blue eyes. Eyes that held knowledge. Too much knowledge for a wild animal. A niggle of doubt crept up the back of her neck. Chayce could have sent the creature to keep track of her, to kill her. Surely, the wolf would have killed her by now if he meant any harm. He’d certainly had every opportunity.

Her eyes started to drift closed. Warmth finally enveloped her. Her knees grew weak, buckled. The snow cushioned her fall, leeching the stress from her heart, bringing comfort. Peace flowed through her.

Something hit her side.

She ignored it, lost in the intensity of relief.

It hit her again, harder, more difficult to ignore since it banged her injured ribs.

She tried to roll away. Pain ripped through her new-found sense of well-being. “Owww…” Her eyes shot open. The wolf’s mouth was firmly lodged around her wrist, teeth grinding down. She screamed as she lurched back and rolled over, pulling her arm from his grip. “You could at least wait ‘til I’m dead before eating me, you know.” She jumped to her feet, suddenly wide awake, and eyed the wolf warily.

Humor lit the creature’s eyes, then he turned and trotted forward.

Ryleigh had no trouble keeping pace with him this time, the adrenaline coursing through her like a jolt of caffeine. “Where are we going boy?”

Silence answered.

She filled her mind with thoughts of home. Not Cymmera, and not the Jacobs’ house, but her own home. The one she’d grown up in with her grandmother and Mia. The aroma of freshly baked, chocolate cookies used to greet her on Saturday mornings. Laughter always filled the cozy, little house with joy. The smell of smoke and Daygan’s harsh commands, as the only home she’d ever known had burned to the ground.

She wiped the tears from her face. The time for self-pity was over. It was time to build a new home, to create a loving place for Mia to continue to grow and learn and feel safe. It was time to return to her own realm. She had no place here, didn’t understand their ways, had no clue how to lead them. The people of Cymmera would have to content themselves with a king. Who knew? Maybe, one day, Jackson would marry and give them a queen. Jealousy flared, hot and painful.

The wolf’s whimper offered the perfect excuse to keep from examining that reaction too closely. “What’s the matter, boy?”

He lowered himself to his belly and crept forward through the brush.

Ryleigh crouched low and followed. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “What’s wrong, boy?” Foolish to risk giving away their position to speak to an animal that couldn’t possibly respond. The mistake just hammered her point harder. She had no place here.

A black boot lay in the snow.

The wolf slinked closer, with Ryleigh at his side. He whimpered again and nudged a leg with his nose.

“Oh my…Dakota?” Ryleigh launched herself toward the young warrior. She brushed a light dusting of snow from his clothes and face.

His lips had turned a sickly shade of blue, his pale skin not much darker than the snow surrounding him.

“Oh, no. Dakota, can you hear me?” She grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

Nothing.

Her hand trembled violently as she held it beneath his nose.

Nothing.

She placed her fingers against his neck, exactly as she’d been taught in health class what felt like a hundred years ago.

Still nothing. “Nooo!”

* * * *

Cold seeped into Jackson’s bones. A violent tremor touched his mind. Voices reached deep within him, penetrating the merciful blackness. Pain tugged at his heart. He seized hold of the tiniest thread of awareness and dragged himself toward consciousness. When his eyes fluttered open, his vision blurred.

“Glad to see you finally joined us.”

Reality shattered any lingering sense of peace. He lifted his head, struggled to focus, tried to rub his eyes. The shackles around his wrists stopped him. His shoulders screamed in protest, and he straightened his legs, stood and eased the pressure hanging from his arms for however long had brought. The cold stone floor leached any lingering warmth through his bare feet. Fully alert now, Jackson studied his surroundings, searching for a way to escape even as he confronted his bro—

Chayce.

He would no longer think of the other man as his brother. His brother was dead to him, had died the instant he’d betrayed their father. “What do you want, Chayce?” The strength he’d reached for had abandoned him, leaving his voice raspy and harsh. Weak.

Since he was bound to the wall with shackles and chains surrounding his wrists, ankles, and waist, he could only assume Chayce wanted something from him. Otherwise, Jackson would never have surfaced from the peaceful state of oblivion he’d discovered.

Chayce surveyed the shackles carefully, keeping well out of reach.

Jackson pinned him with a glare, pure hatred heating every cell of his body. He buried the urge to strain against the manacles. No sense wasting his energy. If they weren’t firmly secured, Chayce wouldn’t be standing so close.

“I need something, Jackson. Something only you can give.” He tilted his head and folded his arms across his chest.

Jackson laughed, a humorless sound, borne from his inability to believe this traitor thought Jackson would give him anything.

The hint of a smile played at Chayce’s mouth. “I was hoping you wouldn’t give in too easily.”

“Well then, you’ll be quite pleased to know you’ll get nothing from me. Ever.” Jackson spit at Chayce’s feet. “What kind of a man betrays his own father?”

“Funny you should ask that. Someone else just recently asked me the same thing. Of course, Ryleigh was in my arms when she asked it, not shackled to a wall in the dungeon.”

Liar. Jackson clenched his teeth, keeping his protests firmly locked behind them, burying the urgent need to fight against the shackles. No way would he engage in this battle with Chayce. His own brother might betray him, but Ryleigh never would.

Doubt tried to creep in. He shoved it aside. He’d never believe that. In that instant, even knowing the torture he would endure at Chayce’s hand, his heart filled with joy. It had been Ryleigh all along. He should have trusted her to head the Advisory Council. Instead, he’d let his own insecurities cloud his vision.

Chayce’s laughter brought him back to reality. “Ahh…Jackson. You always did have to do things the hard way.” He lifted a sword from a long table at Jackson’s side, a table filled with various instruments of torture.

Jackson stared straight ahead and braced himself for the blow.

“Familiar?” Chayce held Ryleigh’s sword pointed directly at Jackson’s chest.

Pain pierced his heart. “Where did you get that?”

“From Ryleigh, of course.” Chayce pressed the tip of the sword to the mark Kai’s sword had left on Jackson’s chest. A wound that had only partially healed.

This time, Jackson had no armor to protect him. He wore nothing but his jeans. Even his boots and socks had been removed.

Chayce leaned close to his ear. “Don’t tell me you don’t wonder, Jackson. How could I have her sword? Did she betray you? Or is she dead?”

Every nerve ending Jackson’s his body screamed in protest. Pain burned in his gut, exploded in his chest. She couldn’t be gone. The ache in his heart consumed him. The knowledge that Ryleigh would never betray him would surely kill him, since it could only mean… He lunged at Chayce, the shackles biting into him, holding him back. A blaze of hot rage—

Chayce shoved the sword into the hole and through Jackson’s chest, the tip clanging against the stone wall behind him. “Now my dear brother, pay very close attention. Because if Ryleigh is still alive, this is your one and only chance to save her. Do you understand me?”

Could she be alive? Was it possible she was a prisoner in Chayce’s dungeon as well? Jackson stilled as hope flared.

“You were with our father just after he died. In that moment, he would have passed knowledge on to you.”

Could that be true? How could Jackson not know that? A haze of confusion warred with the pain.

“No king can assume the throne without that knowledge. It must be passed from the dying king to his chosen successor at or just after the moment of death.” Chayce grinned. “You will now pass that knowledge on to me.”

Jackson tried to think. It was too hard. Fear for Ryleigh outweighed everything else. But if he couldn’t escape Chayce’s torture chamber, she was as good as dead anyway. Or worse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He cursed the strained croak that emerged, searching for strength.

Chayce wrenched the sword upward, barely missing Jackson’s heart. If the blade penetrated his heart, it was over. The mortal wound would claim him instantly.

“Think, you fool.” Madness contorted his features, twisted his face into a mask of hatred. “At the time of his death, he had to have passed on all of the knowledge needed for you to rule Cymmera.”

Jackson struggled to make sense of what Chayce was saying. Just after his father’s death, Kiara had come for him. Jackson had gone to his father, sat by his side, and held his hand. Memories had played through his mind. Images of his father throughout the years. He’d pressed his father’s hand to his lips. He couldn’t think through the pain of the memories. His father’s lifeless body. The fear that had gripped Jackson so completely. The uncertainty.

All caused by Chayce.

Fury erupted in a primal roar of pure rage. Jackson fisted his hand and swung with every ounce of his strength. The shackle held, but the chain gave a little, ripped partway free of the stone.

Chayce jumped back, yanked the sword free.

Jackson swung repeatedly. Tiny pieces of shattered stone rained down onto the floor as the wall began to release its hold on the chains. A shock stiffened Jackson’s body. He froze, then his arms and legs turned to rubber and he collapsed, caught only by the shackles holding him up.

Chayce shoved his hair back. “If you’re done with your tantrum, brother, let’s continue our discussion.” He tossed the device, similar to a cattle prod, onto the table amid the other tools.

The smell of his own flesh burning sent a wave of nausea crashing through Jackson.

Chayce stood with his feet apart and his hands clasped behind his back, but stayed far enough away that Jackson had no hope of reaching him, even if he could escape one of his bonds. “You have ten seconds to figure out what I’m talking about, and then I’ll kill you and have Ryleigh brought in to take your place. If you refuse to pass the legacy on to me, I’ll simply take Ryleigh as my queen. She has every right to ascend the throne.”

So she was alive. The relief was short lived. That changed things. If Chayce could ascend the throne another way, he would simply kill Jackson and be done with it. The fact he hadn’t could only mean Ryleigh had refused to co-operate. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He blanked his mind, sought the state of emotional emptiness he’d known so well before…well, before Ryleigh had intruded on his life and awakened emotions he didn’t understand and had no hope of controlling.

Jackson closed his eyes and searched for the memory from just after his father died. He’d been sitting beside his father, holding his hand. Jackson’s hands had begun to warm. A tingling had begun in his fingers, traveled up his arm to explode in a burst of heat in his chest. Knowledge broke free from some part of his sub-conscious he’d kept effectively blocked. Perhaps it had been there all along, and he’d simply been too stubborn to listen. He rummaged through and discarded bit after bit of information. Information stored in the memories of the ancients, the past kings of his ancestors, even those who ruled before Cymmera had come into existence.