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Authors: Maeve Greyson

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BOOK: Eternity's Mark
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“I am not a child anymore, Mother. Please don't speak to me as if I am.” William moved in front of her and blocked her path so she couldn't walk around him.
Hannah looked up and saw her sorrow mirrored in the depths of William's great dark eyes. “I'm sorry, William. You are absolutely right and I'll try to remember that in the future.” Turning back to face the nearly finished pyramid, Hannah gave a weary shrug. “After the services, I haven't decided what I'm going to do. There is one option I'm considering, but if I do that it would be pretty major. So I haven't really settled on anything just yet.”
“Septamus wondered if you were going to go back.” William encouraged with a nudge of his wing.
“Are you talking about me behind my back?” Hannah nudged him back with her elbow.
“
I'm
not.” William rewarded her with a toothy grin. “As the Erastaed's new council, Septamus and Isla met to discuss what they thought you might do.”
“If I go back,” Hannah began, “Isla can only send me back alone and she can never bring me back to Erastaed again. You realize what that means?” She wanted William to understand he might have to go on without her. She loved her Draecna son with all her heart, but Jasper Mills would be hard-pressed to accept him as one of their own. Of course, she could always make her home at Taroc Na Mor. William would always fit in at his birthplace if the gateway ever became usable once again.
William nodded. “I understand.” Strolling along beside her, his claws clasped behind his back, he scowled down at the floor as he continued, “But Septamus and Isla both remarked the portal is in the process of being repaired. Eventually, the gateway to Taroc Na Mor will be restored. Then I could see ye again.”
“Eventually?” Hannah asked.
“Give or take a few hundred years.”
“I see.” Hannah pinched the bridge of her nose. Well, with her curse of immortality, she would live long enough to see them all again.
“I would miss ye, Mother,” William whispered.
“I would miss you too, my son.”
 
A crimson silk banner draped across Taggart's body as it balanced on the shoulders of six young Draecna. Each of the bearers wore golden circlets around their arms and their horns. They marched in unison as though he weighed nothing, heads held proud, eyes straight ahead. They carried their leader to the top of the one-hundred-and-eleven-step funeral pyre and lowered him to his honored resting place.
Hannah walked beside them, her eyes locked on Taggart's face, her heart begging him to open his damn eyes. She wanted it to be some cruel joke. Some magic spell someone had cast to spoil their joining ceremony. But no, his body remained motionless, his features frozen in the eternal mask of death.
Isla swayed along the other side, her great luminous eyes filled with the stark pain of a mother who'd lost her last child. Septamus limped his way up the steps. He closed the processional march. He looked as though he felt each and every one of his three thousand years.
Hitching his way over to her side, Septamus gave Hannah a sympathetic shrug of his wings. “They ...” He nodded toward the throng of faces pressed into the caverns. “They would hear ye speak if ye are able. Are ye so inclined?”
Hannah gazed out at the sea of followers; her mind whirled at the swarm of colors buzzing around them. “Please just tell them Taggart loved them more then he loved his own life. And he'd be honored at how they supported him through all of this.”
Septamus nodded his approval. “I will see that they hear your words. The translator speaks it even now.”
A deafening murmur hummed through the crowd as they all rose and filled the cavern with thunderous clapping.
“Please just let this be over,” Hannah begged.
Septamus agreed with another nod. “Draecna, it is time to send your leader home.”
The six bearers stood, faced Taggart's body, and removed their circlets of gold. They placed the rings on Taggart's chest and touched their claws to their foreheads. Once they'd each performed this ritual, the six returned to their positions lined up on one side of the pyre. In unison, they inhaled chest-expanding breaths and ignited their hottest blaze.
The blue-white flames licked and danced to the ceiling as the Draecna exhaled for what seemed like forever. The inferno blazed; sparks crackled and spun up into the darkness until nothing remained on the platform but ash.
Hannah shuddered, her body shaking with the emptiness of lost love. She had no tears left to cry. She watched the glowing embers swirl with the updraft and disappear into shadows. The hollow sound of footsteps shuffled toward her. Hannah clenched the urn tighter in her hands until her fingers cramped. If she gave it over to them, they'd shovel the last of him inside and then force her to shut him away forever.
“Please, Guardian.”
Her throat ached from the emotions eating away at her soul. Hannah choked back a dry sob. With shaking hands, she forced the box into Septamus's waiting claws, never taking her eyes from the ornately carved lid.
“I want it back once he's placed inside.”
Septamus paused; a rare look of surprise shadowed his wrinkled face as he gently pulled the box from her grasp. “That is not usually done, Guardian. Prince Taggart's tomb awaits him beside the River Ursia Diuan.”
Hannah yanked the box back out of Septamus's grasp, her heart hammered against the lid. They had robbed her of the love of her life; she'd be damned if they'd deny her this. “Does my word mean anything in this world or not?”
With an apologetic bow of his great horned head, Septamus retreated a step. “Of course, Guardian, your word means everything. Please forgive me.”
Extending the box again, Hannah steadied it with both hands. The ivory case suddenly seemed much lighter. “Then please do as I ask, Septamus. Once Taggart is inside, return him to me. Don't take him away from me again.”
“As ye wish, my Guardian.” Septamus bowed his head, took the urn, and turned to lay his friend to rest.
 
“If ye select one of the humans that pleases ye from the surrounding provinces, I will bestow the gift of immortality upon them. Then ye willna be alone for your eternity. Just pick whichever one of them ye like.” Esme's dry, logical voice jarred her from her thoughts as she perched in the cushioned seat of the window.
Pressing her forehead tighter against the cool pane of glass, Hannah wished Esme would just go away. Select a human. What did she blather about? At the moment, a jackhammer ratcheted inside her head, and there wasn't an herb in all of Erastaed that matched the strength of the prescription medication she used to take back in Jasper Mills when it came to stopping one of her migraines.
“Esme, what are you talking about?” Hannah sighed and closed her eyes. Esme needed to just go away. The migraine yanked her stomach into the act, the excruciating pain sickening her until she almost retched. If Taggart had been here, he would've healed her with a wave of his hand. Her eyes burned behind her closed eyelids. No. She couldn't cry. It would only increase her misery. Besides, she'd promised herself she wasn't going to put herself through the if-Taggart-were-here game today.
She heard distinct shuffling about the room and cracked an eyelid just as Esme picked up a pile of scattered clothing and rearranged several tossed-about pillows.
“Do the servants not tend to your private rooms? This place is a disgrace.” With a look of disgust, she displayed her fangs as she heaved several plates of questionable food into the hearth and ignited them with a disinfecting fireball. Turning back to where Hannah sat curled up in the window seat, she refolded her shimmering wings against her scaly back. “I have noticed ye appear to be unable to function well without a mate. If ye will select another human that ye believe would be suitable for an eternity, I will gift them with immortality since ye already have an extended lifespan.”
Massaging her temples, Hannah tightened her eyes shut again. Esme just didn't get it and her heart ached too badly to attempt to explain. “It's not that simple, Esme. You don't just go get another human like you're replacing a pet that just got hit by a car.”
“I fail to understand this pet-hit-by-a-car comparison ye reference. Please explain.” Esme circled the room again and swept up more scattered clothing with her tail.
“Esme, I feel like shit! Would you please just leave me in peace for now?” She'd reached her limit. Grabbing the silver ice bucket off the table, Hannah slung out the ice, clutched it to her chest, and lost what little breakfast she'd been able to force down earlier.
A cool damp towel pressed against the base of her neck until her retching spasms ceased. “Forgive me, Guardian. I didna realize ye were so unwell.”
Another damp towel wiped against her mouth and a glass of water pressed against her lips. “Take just a sip to rinse your mouth and spit it into the bucket before I take it away.”
“I'm sorry, Esme. I didn't mean to bite your head off.” Hannah eased back against the pillows of the window seat as Esme removed the pail. Now guilt hammered alongside the unbearable pain drumming inside her skull. “Please just hand me Taggart and give me some time to myself. When I feel better, I'll explain it so you understand.”
Esme scowled down into Hannah's face, then cast a wary glance at Taggart's urn where it rested on the mantel across the room. “The prince's remains should be in his tomb. It is not natural that ye keep them in your rooms. All the Draecna speak of it. Even Isla has mentioned her son should be properly laid to rest.”
“Okay, that's it. Get out of here, Esme. I've had enough of your lectures for one day. I'm in no mood for any more of your insolence.” Hannah drug herself off the bench, clutching the wall to maintain her balance. “The people of Erastaed stole my last chance at happiness for the price of their own freedom. I'll be damned if they tell me what to do now.” If she wanted to keep Taggart's ashes in her room, it wasn't anybody else's damn business.
Esme's eyes widened as she backed toward the door; the scales of her body flushed to a deeper shade of blue. “I only tell ye these things so ye know the truth. Without the truth, ye canna make wise and logical decisions.”
Hannah held her head as she staggered toward the mantel, where she stretched to slide Taggart's urn down into her arms. Have mercy but her head pounded. She'd not had one this bad since her freshman year of college. She'd had to go to the ER and get a shot to ease the pain of that one. She cradled the carved ivory box against her chest and slid to the floor. Squinting her eyes, she glared up at Esme and brought her knees up to support the base of the box. “I pity you, Esme. I pity you and your pathetic logic and I hope someday, you figure out what to do with your heart.”
Esme's eyes narrowed as she lifted her snout. “From what I have observed, logic is far superior to your so-called heartbreaking love.” Then she jerked her head down in a nod and slammed the door behind her.
“I thought she'd never leave,” Hannah muttered to the chest in her arms as she settled it more comfortably in her lap. For the thousandth time, she stroked her fingers across the carved images across the lid. With a bitter laugh, she lingered on the one panel that looked painfully like Taggart's profile. “If I keep this up, all the pictures they carved of you are going to be worn away.”
The smooth ivory warmed to her touch; Hannah calmed with the weight of Taggart pressed against her body. Her fingertips tingled as she stroked the lid; when she noticed it, she shifted positions on the floor. “I must have a nerve pinched or something,” she muttered. Rolling her shoulders, she rubbed her fingers together then suddenly realized her headache had completely disappeared.
Hannah stared down at the chest, then massaged the back of her neck. Surely not. It couldn't be. Her headache must've just run its course; she'd puked and then it went away. Taggart couldn't heal her from the other side.
“Taggart?”
 
She stepped out of the lily-scented water and reached for the heated towel waiting on the steaming rocks. “I've made my decision and I have to say I feel much better now that I've finally settled on it. So, I'd appreciate it if you two would support me.” Hannah listened and glanced toward the outlined forms of Isla and Septamus against the rice paper divider as they waited on the other side of the room. She knew they wouldn't like what she told them, but as the saying went, they'd just have to get over it. Blotting the moisture from her legs, she heaved a sigh as Septamus finally reacted. She knew he'd be the first to fight it.
“She canna do that. Can she do that? Take his remains back to Taroc Na Mor? The portal hasna been repaired yet. And besides, it just wouldna be right for his remains to be on the other side.” Septamus paced around the edges of the oval, wool rug centered in the room. With a frown, he scratched behind a horn as he glared at Taggart's remains on the mantel.
BOOK: Eternity's Mark
4.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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