Rise (29 page)

Knowing these things, Alistair pulled Ember’s arms from around his neck and forced her to take a step back.

“Will you let your father make you the wife of Gavin Mackenzie?”

Ember shook her head. “I will only become the wife of Alistair Hart.”

“Ember,” Alistair breathed.

“I will marry you, Alistair.” When Ember reached for him, Alistair didn’t try to stop her. When she lifted her face, he kissed her. Overwhelmed by the taste of her, the softness of her skin, Alistair gave in to his craving for Ember. His lips moved down her neck, lingering at her throat. But when his hands molded to the swell of her breasts, Ember stiffened.

“Are you afraid?” Alistair didn’t move his hands, but kept them still. He could feel her heart racing. “Because it is not in my mind to hurt you, my love.”

Ember swallowed hard, her pulse jumping at her throat. Not wanting to push her too far, and reminding himself that Ember was still a maid, Alistair conquered his impulse and slid his hands to her waist. Her breath eased, and Alistair kissed her tenderly.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” he murmured against her lips. “I only want to please you.”

She nodded, and he returned to the path his lips had taken over her skin. Then he knelt before her.

“Ember.” Alistair wrapped his arms around her thighs, his cheek pressed to her stomach. He closed his eyes, reveling in the gentle tousling of her fingers in his hair. “My Ember.”

For the first time Alistair could remember, he basked in the sense that all was as it should be.

“I don’t want to leave you.” Ember’s voice was thick, whether with desire or regret Alistair couldn’t tell. “But I must return to my chamber and ready for travel. We leave at dawn.”

Alistair rose and kissed Ember once more. “Of course. We will speak more of this when you return.”

Ember nodded and lifted his hand to her lips. “I am unworthy of your steadfast love.”

After she’d kissed his palm, Ember stole from the room. Alistair stood quietly. He could still taste her, smell her. Alistair wanted to hold on to this night forever.

“Well done, Lord Hart.”

Where Alistair would have sworn only shadows had been, Bosque stood.

“How long have you been here?” Alistair stared at the tall man.

“I am often here when I am not needed elsewhere.” Bosque smiled at him. “You must be very pleased, having won your prize.”

Alistair risked speaking in anger, realizing that Bosque had witnessed the entirety of his meeting with Ember. “You should have made yourself known. These were private moments.”

Still smiling, Bosque shook his head. “It is unwise to keep secrets from me, Alistair. Our aims are so intertwined.”

When Alistair didn’t reply, Bosque said, “Will you truly begrudge my interest in your happiness?”

The initial shock of Bosque’s appearance fading, Alistair quelled his objections. “I would be grateful if you didn’t make a habit of spying on me.”

“I wasn’t hiding from you,” Bosque answered. “You were the one too occupied with his own thoughts to notice I was in the room.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Alistair said drily.

“It is,” Bosque replied. “I am glad for your new arrangement with Lady Morrow. Upon her return, you must discover what you can about this journey she makes to the Mackenzie stronghold.”

“Does it concern you?” Alistair asked. “A single word from you would have prevented their trip.”

“To stop them is not my desire,” Bosque told him. “I’ve often reaped greater rewards by assisting my adversaries instead of hindering them. The closer they are to their goal, the more likely they’ll reveal their intentions.”

Alistair glanced at the door, his happiness compromised by the implications of Bosque’s words. “You think Ember is your adversary?”

“No,” Bosque answered. “I’m not certain what your Lady Morrow is to me yet. My concern is with another woman.”

“Cian?” Alistair went rigid. “My lord, I know Cian has been reluctant to embrace you, but she is Lady Eira’s own blood.”

“That is why she may be a threat,” Bosque said. “Cian holds Eira back, encourages her to question me. She seeks to impede our work.”

“Are you certain Cian wishes to undermine you?” Alistair asked. “She has a cautious spirit. I doubt her hesitation regarding the changes in Conatus are anything more than a reflection of that trait.”

“I hope you’re right,” Bosque answered. “Learn what you can from Ember.”

“Your will, Lord Mar.” Alistair inclined his head, starting toward the door.

“Before you seek your bed—”

Alistair turned, wondering if Bosque ever slept. “Yes?”

Bosque walked toward the rift, gazing at it with what appeared to be longing. “It’s good that you have what you want, but I spoke in truth when I said I haven’t yet discerned what Ember’s place will be among us. Don’t let your heart run ahead of your instincts.”

THAT THE CHILD HAD TO
die made Alistair uneasy, but he understood the necessity of it. He’d been relieved that Hamish had taken it upon himself to select the boy out of the six children, two girls and four boys all between one and three years of age, that had been stolen from the village. Alistair didn’t know that he would have had the stomach for it. At least the toddler’s death had been as kind as it could be. After the boy had been lulled to sleep by one of the cleric’s tonics, Hamish had smothered the slumbering child.

Though the day’s work was hardly pleasant, Alistair was grateful for it. The import of this task kept his mind from wandering to the previous night and his rancor over having finally won Ember’s love only to have her ride away from him for several days.

While Alistair watched, Hamish set about draining all the blood from the boy’s corpse. The young wolf beside Alistair sniffed the air, licking its muzzle at the scent of fresh blood.

“That’s not for you.” Alistair crouched beside the wolf, and it turned to lick his cheeks, making Alistair laugh.

Lord Mar stood near the sarcophagus, opposite Hamish.

“Will it hurt the wolf?” Alistair asked Bosque.

“The change will be confusing and no doubt unpleasant,” Bosque answered. “But if Hamish is successful, no harm will come to the beast.”

Alistair frowned, looking into the juvenile wolf’s golden eyes. He held out his arm so the wolf could chew at the thick leather gauntlet Alistair wore. This wolf had five brothers and sisters. If Hamish failed, the work would continue. But Alistair had grown deeply attached to the cubs—all of which had grown from yipping balls of fur into gangly pups. He would mourn the loss of any of them.

Watching Alistair with the wolf, Bosque said, “Don’t fear for your children, Alistair. Hamish will not fail. Will you, Hamish?”

Hamish grunted in reply, swapping a bowl brimming with blood for an empty one.

Knight and cleric had gone together seeking Bosque’s advice. Alistair’s work with the wolf cubs couldn’t have been more edifying. That Bosque had described them as Alistair’s children uncannily echoed the feelings that Alistair harbored for the wolves. He spent each day with them. He fed them, played with them, let them huddle around him when they tired of their wrestling and drifted to sleep.

Hamish’s endeavors offered an opposite result. Despite his tireless studies and innovations with the trials, Hamish could not manifest a viable form of Alistair’s vision. With each new attempt came new failures. Alistair and Hamish consulted, found fresh inspirations, and strove to complete their work again. And again they failed.

When Alistair decided Hamish teetered on the edge of madness because of his frustrations, the knight brought Hamish to Lord Mar. Bosque accompanied them to the catacombs to observe their work.

“I see the problem,” Bosque told them within minutes of examining Hamish’s notes and the outcomes of his trials.

“You do?” Hamish tugged at his ruddy, gray-streaked hair. From the look of it, Hamish hadn’t picked up a comb in weeks.

Nodding, Bosque said, “Two bodies cannot exist in same space. Each will struggle against the other for dominance until they are both destroyed. That’s what’s happened here.”

A strangling whine poured out of Hamish’s throat. “Then we attempt all in vain. Why did you not tell us that Alistair’s creation has always been an impossibility?”

“Because it is not,” Bosque told him. “You’re simply viewing the world in too limited a way.”

Since Hamish’s eyes were bulging dangerously at the suggestion that his thinking was limited, Alistair quickly said, “What do you mean, Lord Mar?”

“You’ve been trying to force wolf and man into a single being in this world,” Bosque answered. “When your very ability to manifest this creature requires the aid of two worlds.”

“But we have your blood,” Hamish spluttered.

“You’re not using it correctly.”

Alistair put his hand on Hamish’s shoulder, restraining a further outburst.

“You only think of my blood for its value in letting the beasts restore their health,” Bosque continued. “But you forget the other purpose it serves.”

“The gate,” Alistair said quietly.

Bosque smiled at him. “Of course. Consider the blood oath that all who follow Eira must take. Blood binds us together, strengthens the channel that flows between my world and yours.”

Hamish’s white-faced disbelief began to wane as fascination overtook him. “Bodies between worlds?”

“Yes.” Bosque picked up a piece of parchment, gazing at the monstrous images Hamish had drawn. “The wolf in one, the man in the other.”

“How can a creature be thus divided?” Hamish asked, a fever burning in his eyes. He grasped a blank parchment and quill. “Would it not be driven mad to exist in two planes?”

“Only the body is divided,” Bosque answered. “Mind and spirit are always present in the body that lives in the active plane.”

“The active plane?” Alistair frowned.

“The worlds where men and beasts are born, live, and die,” Bosque explained. “Where we carve our wills into the fabric of existence.”

Setting Hamish’s bizarre sketches aside, Bosque said, “Your wolves will be created to serve you here, in this world. But the body that waits, a hollow vessel until filled with mind and spirit once again, must bide its time in an empty plane.”

“Such places exist?” Hamish scribbled notes as Bosque spoke.

“Lord Hart has visited one such place several times.”

“I have?” Alistair looked at Bosque in surprise.

Bosque laughed. “When you rode the shadow steed or traveled in the mist alongside me. The space between, which speeds the journey, is an empty plane. And that is the place you must invoke to bring your vision to life.”

Hamish dropped his quill as his fingers trembled. “Can I accomplish this task?”

“I would not have sent you to Lord Hart had I any doubt that you could. The premise isn’t difficult,” Bosque told Hamish. “In the magics you’ve practiced, you could take from the earth but only if you gave in return. Now you will take what you need but keep it.”

His bushy eyebrows hunching together, Hamish said, “Forgive me, my lord. I do not understand.”

“How did you weave your portals?” Bosque asked. “Recite the principles to me.”

“The old magic of Conatus was based in the elements of earth,” Hamish answered, regret creeping into his words. “The doors could be woven by pulling various threads of those elements together, honoring the connections that bind the whole world together, like the roots of a single great tree.”

Alistair ground his teeth as an unwanted memory of the sacred cedar flashed into his mind. The tree had been a living symbol of that magic before it had been altered to serve Bosque.

“To complete your work, you will again be pulling threads,” Bosque told Hamish. “But instead of using threads from the earth, you will unravel the threads of life. You will take the essence of a creature’s being and bind it to the body of another.”

“Bind the wolf to the man?” Hamish spoke in awe. “But the bodies remain separate.”

Bosque nodded, smiling in approval at the cleric. “The receiving vessel must be empty—the spirit gone and the blood drained. The wolf lives, its essence possessing the body.”

“Why the blood?” Alistair asked.