Marissa Day (34 page)

A handful of moments to decide whether he would try to live or accept his death.

Except it wouldn’t be his death. He knew that. He would not be handed over to anything so merciful as death. And if he escaped into Kensington House, he’d only bring the danger following him onto the residents there. The queen might be desperate enough for a siege, and his actions had left the house defenseless.

Whatever he did, he must do it now. Before Jane could reach him and put herself in his captor’s power.

Iron calm descended. The river then. His chains would sink him in the current, and there would be precious little these Fae men could do about it. They could not enter the running water without great hazard to themselves. He had to die before they brought him before the queen. She could flay his mind bare, take up the end of his bond with Jane and follow it back to her. She would wrap it tight around Jane and throttle her with it.

Jane would be safe only when he was dead.

A plan began to take shape in Thomas’s mind, and none too soon. The carriage stopped. Gravel crunched beneath the horse’s hooves as they tramped and snorted.

One of his captors undid his chain from the bolt. They’d left his hands in front of him. The length of silver bar between them was a nuisance, but they hadn’t chained his ankles. Another mistake, as was the length of chain fastened to the manacle bar.

His own men never would have made such mistakes. But the Fae knights were secure in the powers of their magic. He was a mere human being, and a traitor at that. To them, he was less than nothing, and they were treating him as such.

Thomas made himself stir and groan. The Fae behind him shoved him out of the disguised chariot and he staggered a few steps across the gravel. The guard that climbed down from the box chuckled and aimed a kick at Thomas’s shin. Thomas flinched and sagged a little further. They grinned and their crows’ eyes glittered. Their senses were alert for any stirring of magic in the darkness, but not for the tensing of his muscles.

Thomas stumbled again, and as he did, grabbed at the chain with his right hand.

He yanked, hard.

The Fae cursed, but his grip was slack. Thomas yanked again and the end of the chain flew free. He snapped it like a whip, sending the Fae reeling back. Thomas wheeled and planted his boot in the stomach of the second Fae. The kick sent that guard crashing into his fellow so they both went down. Thomas pivoted and he swung the chain again, this time snapping the end hard against the flank of the nearest horse.

The near horse screamed its outrage and reared. The off horse echoed its fury, and both took off running. Thomas bolted after them, grinning like a madman. He leapt for the luggage rack at the back of the carriage, and caught hold with one hand. The momentum dragged him off his feet and he jounced and cursed and somehow swung himself onto the narrow wooden shelf.

It was a move that bought him only seconds and he knew it. The Fae were already on their feet and running after him. Mortal men would not have stood a chance of catching the rattling carriage, but the Fae ran like deer, and they were gaining. They became blurs in his sight, inching close and picking up speed.

He gripped the carriage ladder with one hand and despite the pain and the danger, he laughed out loud. The sense of defying such power was dizzying. It was like being aloft in a raging gale. For this one moment, he was a man and alive as he had never been before.

No, that wasn’t true. For he had been a man alive in Jane’s arms and that moment was greater than any that could come now, because in that moment he’d had the dream of a future with her.

The lane turned away from the river at the next bend. The horses would follow the easiest path. He had to jump again. With his manacled hands, he wouldn’t be able to tuck properly. He’d be lucky if he only broke his arm. But he had no choice. He had to keep what little lead he had on his pursuers. Perhaps if he was very lucky, he could smash his weakened skull, and put an end to matters right here.

Thomas jumped. He hit the ground in a blaze of pain that nearly burned the consciousness out of his brain. Instinct took over and he rolled, and was on his feet and running. The chain threatened to tangle his feet with every step and send him toppling forward. He had to stay on his feet and run, run hard, run for his life, for Jane’s life. He just had to make it to the river. Nothing else mattered but that.

Thomas!
Jane’s voice filled his mind.
Thomas! This way!

A woman’s silhouette topped one of the many little rolling hills on the park green. She held a lantern light high. It was Jane. Jane ignoring her safety. Jane coming, as she promised. Jane whom nothing and no one could ever keep from him.

This way!
cried Jane’s voice in his mind again.

“Oh, no, Sir Thomas. This way.”

Sylvan light blinded him. The strength of his body vanished and Thomas fell to the ground like a dead man. Absolutely limp and numb, he rolled across the damp grass, and came to rest at the feet of Her Glorious Majesty.

J
ane watched Thomas fall.

She screamed and she lunged forward. Corwin and Miranda tried to hold her back, but she tore herself out of their reaching hands. She ran. She ran as if her life depended on it. It did. For Thomas, bathed in a sickly ghost light, lay in the grass as if he’d been struck dead.

“Jane, stop!” cried Miranda behind her. “Come back!”

No force in any world could have stopped Jane. She raced down the hill and across the greensward. She stumbled and slipped and fell and leapt up again. Three crows flew high overhead, calling harshly to their fellows. Behind her she heard a crackling like fire. She didn’t look back. She kept her eyes on Thomas where he lay.

Move, move, Thomas.
She cried inside her mind.
Show me you’re alive. Please, Thomas.

And she heard an answer, but it wasn’t Thomas’s voice. It was a woman’s, and it was as sweet and as deadly as poison.

Shock broke Jane’s stride, but too late. Her own momentum carried her into the circle of silver light, and into another world.

In the blink of an eye, she was surrounded by winter’s cold. She sank up to her ankles in snow. More snow fell on her arms, left bare by the summer gown she had borrowed from Miranda. Cold crawled across her skin, making her shiver.

But as she lifted her eyes, Jane saw a woman standing before her. She was tall and slender, wrapped in a dress of white furs. Her skin was pale, and seemed to shine with a pure light. Even her eyes gleamed, white as frost on a window when the sun hit it.

Jane had never seen anything so beautiful. Awe blossomed inside her. Surely this was the queen of the angels come to earth. She should kneel. It was not right that she remain standing in the presence of such glory.

But as her knees began to buckle, movement caught her dazzled eyes. Behind the woman, Thomas lay sprawled in the snow. His skin had gone paper white from the cold and a blue pallor tinged his lips. But he’d turned his head, and she saw his eyes, his brilliant green eyes, and they were wide and fearful with warning.

Awe fell away, cold fell away as the fire of anger rushed into Jane’s blood. She looked again at the pale woman, and this time she knew who it was.

“You’re the Fae queen,” Jane said. “You’re Tatiana.”

Tatiana laughed and the sound crawled like ants up Jane’s arms. “Do you think I fear my own name in the mouth of a mortal drab? Did your pathetic Sorcerers tell you it would help you? They cannot even help themselves.”

The queen pointed one long white finger. Jane could not help but look. At first she saw nothing but darkness, and that darkness was filled with the hunting call of a hundred crows. Somehow her eyes adjusted and she saw Corwin, Darius and Miranda on the hill. A ring of clear fire shone around them, and an entire murder of crows dove down from the sky. The birds hit the fiery wall, and bounced off, only to rally and dive again. With each blow, the wall shook. The crows laughed and screamed, and dove again.

Fear threatened to crush Jane’s heart. But she shoved it aside. She must trust the Sorcerer’s strength. She must not give way before this terrible and beautiful creature.

Jane moved carefully around the circle. On numbed feet, she plowed a path through the snow until she stood beside Thomas. Tatiana turned to follow her, watching every move. Every clumsy, useless move. Jane knew herself to be ugly, ungainly and useless. She had failed her family, failed her husband, failed her charge to the duchess even. What made her think she could do anything now?

Nothing. Nothing at all, except the man lying so still in the snow.

Again, the queen laughed. The sound cut so deeply Jane was sure she felt blood welling up along her arms and falling like tears down her cheeks. Her knees trembled. Pins and needles swarmed up her ankles. The queen, Jane realized, did not have to do anything. She just had to keep Thomas here, because Jane would not leave Thomas, and Jane could not live in this cold.

Thomas,
she thought toward him.
You must try to stand. I cannot lift you alone.
But she felt her thoughts press hard against some unyielding surface, like glass, like ice. Whatever it was, Thomas was on the far side of it and she could not reach him.

“Oh, yes, Sir Thomas,” drawled the queen. “What are you thinking, lounging there? What sort of gentleman fails to stand when a lady enters the room?”

Thomas’s legs twitched. His head jerked up, and he stood, slowly and mechanically. Jane could practically see the chains around his wrist and throat pulling him to stand upright.

“Bow to the lady,” ordered the queen.

Thomas bowed and straightened, as powerless as a toy soldier. But as he did, Jane saw his eyes again, and saw the pain and defiance that glittered within. Hope surged into her faltering heart. Because in that defiance she saw Thomas. He was still there. Whatever magics Tatiana possessed, she had not yet claimed his soul.

“Pretty thing, isn’t he?” The queen reached out and brushed some snow from Thomas’s shoulder. “And such a fine lover. Did you enjoy him very much, Jane?”

Jane stiffened her spine. “Let him go.”

“Now why would I do that?”

“He’s nothing to you anymore. He no longer loves you.”

The queen smiled. Jane thought her heart would stop for love and fear.

“And you think he loves you? That you are special to him? Foolish child!” Her laugh fell like blows against Jane’s body. She swayed, then staggered. The sound of triumphant crows sounded close overhead.

I can’t fall. I can’t let Thomas see me fall.
Somehow she managed to keep her feet, and the corners of the queen’s perfect mouth turned up scornfully.

“He’s a man too long away from his own shore and homesick. You could have been any woman who spoke English and had the enticing taint of mortality about you.”

“That might be true,” said Jane through clenched teeth. She was shivering uncontrollably now. “But it makes our love no less real.”

“Your love! You think he feels anything I do not allow? He is mine, mortal child, and he has nothing I do not give, not even a will or form of his own. Sir Thomas!” she spat his name. “Come here!”

Slowly, stiffly, Thomas marched to the Fae Queen’s side. Jane felt her heart tremble with fear and sorrow at the sight of his still, pale face. It was as if his soul had fled him. Until she looked into his eyes, his beautiful green eyes that had captivated her from the start. In his eyes she saw his anguish, and knew that no matter what commands he might now obey, Thomas still lived within himself, and in that truth lay all their hope.

“Your lady love is here,” said Queen Tatiana acidly. “Take her in your arms.”

Thomas wheeled around. He marched toward Jane, his face absolutely blank. For a moment Jane’s nerve faltered and her body screamed for her to run. But where to? The queen would only order him to chase her down, and that might break them both.

Crows called again. Fire blazed on the hills. The Sorcerers were still fighting. She could not let go now.

Thomas moved closer and Jane held herself still. She was very conscious of the breadth of his shoulders and of his strength as his arms enfolded her, without tenderness, without love.

Thomas!
She flung his name against the wall between them.
Thomas!

Jane.
She heard him answer, but his voice in her mind was faint, blurred, as if he spoke from a great distance or in a high wind.

Fight her, Thomas!
she cried inwardly
You must fight !

“Kiss her, Sir Thomas,” sneered the Fae queen. “I want to see this grand passion she claims.”