Shine: The Knowing Ones (36 page)

Trin stood, his massive frame towering, crystal eyes blazing like molten steel. “
I’ll rip him apart.”

A tremor in the environment caused the men to look to the opposite side of the room. Llamar appeared in gleaming light.

Trin crossed the room, looking him in the eyes. “Ashbel is in the mines?”

Llamar looked from Trin to Anvil.

“We think we know why Ashbel is involved,” Anvil explained.

Llamar observed Trin’s countenance as he paced the floor. “Your first task is to find the kindjal.”

Trin’s eyes flashed a wicked glint. “We’ll find it.”

Llamar watched Trin. “Ashbel
is
in the mines but the kindjal isn’t on him. You must get to it before he does. Samantha is right, it is the key to reversing what has been done, but it must be in our possession before the onset of the new solstice or it will be too late.”

Sam pushed herself upright. “He’s right. Your explanation doesn’t involve the kindjal. That’s the key. Take me with you. I can help.”

“Вы не с коем случе не можете ехать с нами!”
There is no way!
Trin’s thundering forbiddance blasted the room, stunning his guides.

Llamar said nothing.

Anvil measured his enraged successor and moved to Sam, taking her hand. “Samantha, your protection is paramount,” he said. “You must have full strength before confronting this enemy, and if we are correct, you cannot be alone in his presence
ever.”

Trin’s lethal eyes gleamed in the shadowy room. “We’re taking her to the sanctuary
now,”
he growled.

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

A
nvil led Trin and Sam through the massive corridor of the castle. Sam was still weak but had insisted on trying to move. With a protective arm, Trin guided her through the ancient structure, passing to the second floor.

Sam shuddered, passing the familiar rooms, walking familiar halls, reliving the nightmare. She had been here before and her senses hummed with a low grade panic while walking the daunting corridor. Her experience here was tainted with Anavi’s blood. They came to a bedroom at the end of the hall. To her relief it wasn’t the same room where Anavi had died. Anvil opened the door, guiding them in. He lifted a hand to a large ornately carved wardrobe against the far wall. “I had all of Anavi’s things put in here,” he said. “Take what you like. Any of it will fit you.”

Sam nodded. “Thank you.”

Anvil turned, leaving the room. Trin glanced back at Sam. “I’ll be right outside the door,” he said. Sam nodded. He kissed her forehead and steadied her before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Sam stood for a moment, looking around the room. She drew in a deep breath, her mind spinning with images of Anavi. She made her way to the massive wardrobe, laying a hand on the crafted wood, letting it trail down the side—remarkable quality, far more elegant and solid than anything she had ever seen.

She reached for the brass handle and pulled, the large, heavy door coming open. After a moment of hesitation she pulled it wide and gasped A breathtaking assortment of hand-sewn gowns hung in a row
before her, all ornate and full of color. She couldn’t imagine how long it must’ve taken to make just one of these gowns. Sam scanned the collection, feeling unworthy to touch any of them—like she was robbing a tomb of respected royalty. Finally, knowing Trin would worry and really not knowing how much time they had before they were discovered she forced herself to reach into the wardrobe, touching the gown directly in front of her. She gazed, fingering the material. The fabric was of the finest quality, the stitching secure. Sam pushed the dresses apart, bringing more impossibly beautiful gowns into view, revealing one after the other until she came to one that stopped her. She froze.

Red velvet, bodice crusted in gemstones. Attached at the neckline, a breathtaking beaded headdress. With rapid breath she stared at the gown Anavi had worn when she had appeared to Sam—the gown she had worn the night she died. Sam stared, unable to look away.

A pull ignited from within the wardrobe, calling to her, a strange yet urgent need to touch the gown. She lifted a hand to the material, reaching out. Her fingers made contact—instant darkness.

She lay on a bed, silenced, unable to move. The dark warrior entered the room—heavenly eyes muted in black, observing, staring as he rounded the bed. Sam watched as he reached into his cloak, taking the bindings, and flinging them in her direction, her wrists instantly bound to the bed posts. Sam could feel the rough leather tight against her skin. She gazed unwillingly into Ashbel’s seething black eyes. He moved in close and Anavi’s thoughts erupted in Sam’s head.

Что вы с ним сделали?

Despite her own growing hysteria, Sam ordered herself to repeat the Russian words over and over in her mind. She looked into his vacant eyes as he pulled the kindjal from his belt, panic rising, heart pounding. Once again the unremitting feeling of loss washed over her in a wave. He lifted the blade above her. The seven massive rock formations flashed through her mind and the earth lurched beneath them.

Sam jolted with a start from the paralyzing vision, gripping Anavi’s gown so tightly her fist shook. With a deep exhale she forced herself to release it, feeling compelled to smooth the significant wrinkles she had caused, but she didn’t dare touch the gown again. Her heart pounded in her chest as Trin’s voice filtered through the closed door. “Sam, are you all right?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I’ll be right out.” She pushed through the gowns and found one that didn’t resemble anything she
had seen in any vision and pulled it from the hanger—a deep velvet blue, masterfully beaded and fairly heavy to guard against the cold. She stripped off her dance costume, folding it neatly on the bed. Taking the gown by the shoulders she stepped into it, pulling it up over her body. It felt heavy and right. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and pulled them over her shoulders. She turned to the side where a mirror stood next to the wardrobe. She stared. She hardly recognized herself. A mental flash of Anavi lit up in her head and she realized this was who Anvil saw every time he looked at her. Turning toward the door, she kept her eyes on her reflection. “Trin?”

The knob turned, the door opening. “Do you want me to come in?” he asked. Peering into the room a bit more, he caught sight of Sam. He pushed the door wide and stared, pausing in the doorway, processing the image in front of him. “Wow,” he said.

Sam‘s shoulders dropped in resignation. “I can’t do up the back.”

Trin moved toward her, reaching for the zipper that lined the back of the dress. He gently pulled it closed and then rested his hands on her arms, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Sam stared too.

“I know,” she said responding to his unspoken thought.

He nodded. “It’s really something,” he said. “Anvil is already freaking out.”

Sam glanced up, eyes pained. The last thing she wanted to do was contribute to Anvil’s agony. Trin’s eyes softened. “You can’t do anything about it, Sam,” he said. “He’ll be okay. It’s just startling, that’s all.” Trin went over to the wardrobe, reached in, and grabbed some boots for her to pull on. Sam took her hair down and shook it out, pulling her fingers through it. “Put these on,” he said. “There’s probably an overcoat in the wardrobe somewhere. You’ll need that, too.”

Sam did as he instructed while Trin retrieved the coat from the wardrobe and brought it to her, helping her put it on. He stood back, giving her a once-over. She looked like ancient Russian royalty—breathtaking. “You feeling okay?” he asked.

Sam nodded. “Are you?”

His eyes said enough. He was not fine. “I will be. Let’s go.”

“Trin?”

He looked down at her. “Anna?” She stopped. It was all she could muster.

Trin’s eyes grew distant. “That’s one of the things I’m here to fix,” he answered. Sam looked down in an effort not to cry. “Where is she?”

“She is with Mikhail. It will be like it never happened.”

“If we get back,” Sam added.

Trin didn’t respond. She was right. He took her hand and guided her through the bedroom door and down the vaulted hallway. Trin sent a mental warning to Anvil, well-concealed from Sam. She already felt badly enough. Anvil needed to be prepared for what he was about to see. They reached the broad staircase and descended right as Anvil and Llamar came into view. Anvil went pale and cast his gaze aside.

The searing pain was more than evident in his emerald eyes as she took the last of the steps to the foyer. Llamar remained silent. Sam didn’t know what to say. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to roll back time and put her freezing dance clothes back on. She found herself unable to say anything. Her countenance said everything she could not say. Anvil neutralized his aura the same way Trin always did and forced a smile. “You look beautiful, Samantha.”

“Thank you,” she replied, anguished. “Thank you for letting me wear this. It’s much...warmer.”

Anvil’s smile softened. “Yes, I would imagine.”

Sam looked to the three men. “What now?”

“We get you to the council,” Trin said without hesitation.

“Your safety comes first,” Llamar said. “You will be protected in the temple sanctuary with the council. They are waiting for us there now.” He turned. “Anvil, you will need to take her—”

“Why can’t I take her?” Trin interrupted.

“She is concealed in Anvil’s energy. If she rides with him Ashbel will not detect her. If
you
take her we run the risk of him seeing you. You are, unfortunately, still a great compass for him in locating Sam.”

Trin’s anxiety was palpable. He trusted Anvil more than anyone. But the track record of success was just not there. Whenever he left her side, catastrophe ensued. And no matter how he twisted it, Lamar was one hundred percent correct. He took a deep breath. “How long will it take you, Anvil?” he asked.

“I can make the ride there and back in twenty minutes,” he answered offering as much comfort as possible. “I will guard her with my life, Trinton.”

Trin returned his vehement gaze. He knew he was thinking of how he had lost Anavi and how he would die before allowing Ashbel to claim Trin’s charge.

Trin nodded in assent. He turned to Sam, cupping her face in his hands. “You will be safe with Anvil,” he said. “Do not leave his side. Do
exactly
as the Elders say.” He looked at her with absolute conviction. “I will not let you down again.”

“You never have,” she said.

He leaned in, kissing her lips. He couldn’t bring himself to release her. Intentionally sending her away felt unbearably wrong.

“You must give her to Anvil, Trinton,” Llamar said. “We are running out of time.”

Trin’s glacier eyes bore into Sam’s soul as he forced himself to let his hands fall from her face. “I will come for you,” he promised.

“I know you will.” Sam’s heart shattered as Anvil gently moved her toward the massive castle door. The last time she had watched Trin leave she had lost him. She knew he was thinking the same thing as he cloaked the exploding pain that tore through his heart. Anvil put on a heavy hooded cloak, giving Sam the same. He looked upon Trin one last time, visually swearing his allegiance and then guided Sam out the door toward the stable.

Trin stared at the door even after it had closed, jaw tight. He shut down every emotion, converting the indescribable pain into focused fury. Fierce anger and the need to rectify the colossal mess that lay at his feet flamed within him. He turned to Llamar. “Let’s do this.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

T
ime was of the essence. At midnight, the winter solstice would begin and Sam had to be off the radar, hidden until the tribe had possession of the kindjal. Once the solstice began everything would be against them.

Anvil raced his horse up the countryside, holding Sam tightly in front of him. The temple was not far off but the snow, cold wind, and darkness made the ride difficult. At many points during the journey, Anvil was tempted to curb the winds, but he knew this would alert his brother to his location, so he let the winds howl. The terrain became steeper and more difficult to navigate. Anvil slowed his horse in response and continued guiding him up the all but buried path toward the temple.

Sam turned to him. “Anvil?”

He gave a tug to the reins. “Yes?”

“The visions I have,” she began. “Some of them include Anavi and that night...”

Anvil remained silent. She watched him for a moment—his brilliant green eyes radiant against his black hair, masculine features yielding to a sweet humility and unparalleled strength. He was so beautiful. They all were.

Sam glanced down, continuing. “You have dreams of her as well, where she can’t communicate with you, but she is trying...”

Anvil paused. “That is correct.”

“You told me that when I first met you, before I came here that is...” she said. “Anavi is trying to tell me something,” she said. “I think
she’s trying to show me through visions because she can’t communicate.”

Anvil guided his horse around an unexpected bit of rocky path. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I had a vision,” Sam said. “It was like I was her...I experienced what she experienced...the night she died.” She paused a moment, choosing her words. “I thought maybe if I explained what Anavi saw, felt, or even
thought
, you might be able to help me piece together what she is trying to tell me.”

Anvil turned an emerald gaze on her. “You heard her thoughts?”

“In that final moment, yes” she said. “Just now at the castle, when I was looking through her wardrobe. The gown she wears in my dream was hanging there. When I touched it, I experienced her death, as if it were me,” she said. “I know her feelings and I heard her thoughts, but I don’t speak Russian.”

Right as Sam finished telling him this, the trees parted and the Ivanova temple was in plain view—majestic, ancient like a temple one might see in an unearthed ruin, but palatial and immaculately kept. As they approached the pathway to the entrance, a large man in ceremonial robes stepped out of the enormous doors to let them in.