He'd bathed, his hair damp once again, but he hadn't put on a shirt, his muscles and tattoos on spectacular display. He wore a clean pair of pants.
He never glanced her way. Did he regret what they'd done? She studied the blankness of his expression, hoping to catch some sort of micro-reaction the closer he came, but the Ice Man had returned with a vengeance.
Why? Why did he not want to feel while Indifference couldn't punish him?
Was this part of the fallout he'd mentioned?
"I took the liberty of conjuring new uniforms." Still refusing to glance in her direction, he tossed her a T-shirt.
Confused, she sat upright and studied the garment he must have used magic to create. Scripted across the bosom--I Like to Puck.
Gillian snort-laughed. How adorable. And surprising.
"Oh, goodie. A cleansing cloth for my groin." William flashed to Puck's side and commandeered a shirt. "I'll be back," he said before disappearing from view.
As Gillian changed into her new shirt and a pair of leather pants, Puck turned away. Afraid of what he'll feel if he watches me, or uninterested?
"Going to pretend last night never happened?" she asked when she finished brushing her hair and teeth.
"Would be best for both of us, but I can't pretend." He faced her, letting her glimpse the fire blazing in his eyes.
Already buzzing with anticipation and need, she took a step toward him. He took a step toward her--
Winter and Cameron emerged from their tents.
"Uniforms," Puck grumbled, and tossed both of the siblings a T-shirt. "Go team Puckillian."
Always grumpy in the mornings, Winter and Cameron mumbled nonsense as they made their way to the river. Gillian took another step toward Puck, only to stop when William reappeared. Argh! Time conspired against them.
William sported wet hair and a clean black T-shirt that hugged his biceps, as well as a pair of camo pants with multiple pockets. Silent, he packed up his gear.
Gillian hated hurting him. Hated seeing him so upset and distant. But she couldn't give him what he wanted.
When the siblings returned a short while later, William said, "Now that the band is back together, we should go. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish."
And the sooner Puck lets me go.
Stomach twisting, she approached Peanut. A waft of heat scented with peat smoke and lavender brushed against her nape as Puck came up behind her. He took her by the waist and hefted her atop the chimera. He said nothing, just kept walking over to--okay, she'd already forgotten which nut name she'd given his ride. Walnut? Pecan? Whatever. She'd call the guy Lil Nut Sack.
The others mounted up. With William in the lead, Cameron and Gillian in the middle, and Winter and Puck in the rear, they trotted to the entrance of the maze.
"Let the games begin..." William vanished inside the dark fog.
As sand dunes disappeared, evil prickled Gillian's skin, chilling her to the bone. A forest replaced the surrounding sands. A creepy forest, with twisted, gnarled trees, insects, and human bones scattered across the ground--remnants of those who had entered the maze and fallen prey to its horrors?
Gillian swatted a pesky fly the size of a grapefruit as she examined every tree, hoping to find a cuisle mo chroidhe...nope, no luck. What she did see? Cedars, pines and evergreens teeming with snakes and spiders. She shuddered and reached for a dagger, frowned. Empty sheath.
A glance over her shoulder revealed a glint of silver just outside the fog.
"Hang on." She hopped off Peanut and rushed over--denied! Her brain rattled against her skull as she slammed into an invisible wall and ricocheted backward.
Though dizzy, she marched forward--and crashed into the invisible wall once again.
Puck and William dismounted, too, and pushed at the wall.
"We're stuck," Puck said, and frowned. "Magic holds us here, without our weapons. Mine are missing, too."
"Mine, too," Winter and Cameron said in unison.
"I managed to keep mine." Lips pursed, William flashed--nowhere. He reappeared in the same spot and scowled. "I can't flash outside the maze."
Great! Wonderful! "All we can do is keep moving forward, then. And borrow your weapons, of course."
"By borrow she means keep forever," Winter announced. "A gift given to this gal is a gift never to be returned."
They stalked to their chimeras, where William passed out a surprising number of daggers and swords he pulled from nothing but air.
Mounted once more, they plodded onward, staying near the river, careful of every step. The scents of rot and decay seemed to marinate in the air as the temperature dropped.
"There are land mines," Puck said, easing Lil Nut Sack around a flat plot of land. "There, there and there. We should proceed on foot. Slowly."
Agreed. But the deeper they trekked, the more traps they uncovered. Trip vines, falling nets and covered pits. Basically, the entire maze was designed to send trespassers fleeing in terror.
Too bad, so sad, Sin. Nothing scared Gillian anymore. Except maybe her growing feelings for Puck.
*
Focus had never been more important. Danger lurked around every corner, Indifference would not shut up, and yet, Puck couldn't stop thinking about Gillian.
He'd come in her hand while experiencing a deluge of pure pleasure. Afterward, he'd held her in his arms while she slept, protecting her from the world, and enjoyed just as much pleasure. Waking up to find her gone, however? Infuriating.
Needing her again, and knowing they had an expiration date--gut-wrenching.
But he had her now, and instinct demanded he remain at her side, guarding her. Which was why he trotted his chimera between Cameron and Gillian, no other reason.
Must ignore the sweetness of her scent. The hunger clawing at my gut.
After motioning for Cameron to hang back, Puck said, "Your turn, lass. I've told you about my past, now you must tell me about yours."
The look she cast him, one of amused affection, set him aflame. Or more aflame.
"What do you want to know?" she asked.
"Only everything." Every part of her intrigued every part of him.
"Well, I ate, peed myself and cried," she said, mocking him.
"All right. I admit I'm the second most annoying being in Amaranthia."
Now she laughed, the sound delighting and entrancing him. I did that. I made her laugh--I made her have fun, like William.
"For a while, I was a quintessential girly girl," Gillian said. "Loved fairy tales, unicorns and the color pink. At twelve, I decided I wanted to own a salon. My dad--my real dad--let me curl his hair and paint his nails." She grinned, aglow, only to frown and shudder. "He died soon after. Motorcycle accident. My mom remarried a year later and my stepfather...he..."
"He's the one who abused you." Puck shook with untapped rage, eager to commit murder. Needing to.
A nod. She drew in a deep breath, squared her shoulders. "He and his two sons. He'd raised them to be monsters, and they excelled."
Calm. Steady. "Your mother never helped you?"
"One day, I gathered my courage and told her what was going on." Voice harder with every word, Gillian said, "She was angry with me, told me I misunderstood perfectly acceptable displays of affection."
My poor, sweet darling. Desperate for help, finding none. "There is no misunderstanding rape." As a young solider, he'd had a front row seat as his father's armies pillaged enemy villages. The things grown men had done to helpless women and children...
When Puck and Sin had grown strong enough, they'd ensured the men paid for their crimes.
"No," Gillian said, her tone flat. "There's not."
"I'm sorry, lass. Sorry for every horror you endured. And I'm proud of the woman you've become. Brave, and bold. A champion for those in need. Always marching forward, never standing still. You don't just talk of what needs to change, you go out and make change." For Amaranthia...for Puck.
She blinked at him with surpr
ise, gulped. "I...thank you."
"Once, you mentioned you believed William killed your abusers," Puck said.
"She was right. I did." William trotted his chimera to Gillian's other side and flashed a parody of a smile. "Even your mother, poppet. I hacked the gruesome foursome to bits, and enjoyed every second."
"Finally you admit it!" she exclaimed, frowning at him. "Why did you refuse to confirm or deny before today? And why kill my mother? I know she messed up. I disliked her, but I also loved her."
"That. That is why I kept quiet. You loved who she'd been to you years before, unwilling to admit you hated who she'd become. I knew you would ask me to spare her, and resent me for refusing." Wind blew, William's raven locks dancing around his face. "To be honest, I wasn't sure you were strong enough to cope with the truth. Until now."
Puck actually admired the male for his deeds, and envied the kills, wished mortals could die more than once. Though he doubted a thousand deaths would be enough for these particular mortals. But the prevailing emotion? Kinship. Gillian, too, had had her soul ripped to shreds by a loved one. She understood the anguish of a family's betrayal in a way so many others did not, could not.
She understood Puck.
"I don't resent you," she said to William. "I'm disappointed."
And there goes my admiration. Hate him!
"But," she added, "from now on, you do not commit cold-blooded murder on my behalf without chatting me up first."
Winter gasped. "Look, look, look. A cuisle mo chroidhe tree with no spiders or snakes!"
As if she welcomed the distraction, Gillian jumped from Peanut. "Winter, you are a lives-saver." She raced to the short, fat tree.
"Settle in, boys," Cameron announced. "We're gonna be here awhile."
Puck dismounted, calling, "Careful. Could be a trap."
Using magic like a pair of invisible glasses, he searched for any sign of trouble. No trip wires, or bombs. No magical weapons. But then, the tree protected itself, leaking poison whenever something pierced a layer of its bark--poison that could paralyze a person for days.
"All seems to be well," he said.
William flashed to Gillian's side, a saw in hand. "You want syrup, I'll get you syrup."
"That's so nice of you." She offered him a smile, and Puck gnashed his teeth. Really hate him. "But I'm not letting you risk--"
"I will retrieve the syrup for Gillian." Puck snagged the saw and, holding one end, positioned the blade in the center of the tree trunk. "This is my home-realm. I know the ins and outs. You do not."
"I know everything about everything." William latched on to the other end. "And I'm doing this."
They fought over the saw, one pulling left, the other pulling right--until they were actually working together.
"Well, all right, then." Gillian brushed her hands together. "I'll just stand back and enjoy the show."
Puck and William worked for hours. Every time they cut through one layer of bark, another formed, reproducing. Puck never stopped sawing, even when his hands blistered and bled.
When he began to overheat, he discarded his shirt. Or maybe he just wanted Gillian to see the way his muscles bulged from strain, and sinew pulsed.
She fanned her cheeks, as if she was overheated. Winter cheered.
When William removed his shirt, Cameron said, "I'm not gay, but you could change my mind, Willy. Just say the word."
"What about me?" Puck demanded.
Winter's arm shot into the air. "Me! Me! I'd go gay for you."
He cast her a death-glare.
"What?" she said. "Horns aren't my thing."
Whiskey eyes glittering with mirth, Gillian covered her mouth in a failed effort to suppress a laugh.
His heart leaped, the butterfly tattoo moving over his body. He thought he felt the corners of his mouth lift...higher still...
His wife stared at him with something akin to awe--a look he thought he might like to see every day for the rest of his life.
The rest of his life...
For too long, Puck had been a dead man walking, fighting everything he felt, becoming more intimately acquainted with misery.
Want change? Do something different.
He should take a page from Gillian's book, and fight for better. To keep his wife, he didn't have to forget his goals, he realized. He just had to modify them.
29
Taliesin Anwell Kunsgnos Connacht paced the confines of his suite. He'd sent his trio of lovers and guards away. Trust no one. Not even yourself! He'd checked on his fiancee...aye? Or had he let her go?
Can't recall. Afterward he'd--
He sucked in a breath. Had he really done what he thought he'd done?
His mind whirled with suspicions, so many suspicions. He must have done it. He alone had the means.
For centuries, Sin had collected magic. He'd stored every power, potency and ability in boxes, the way the Red Queen had once stored Indifference. The boxes had become batteries--for him.
He'd only used the batteries twice. The first time, to create and power the maze around Connacht lands, protecting his people.
I'm a leader without equal. Why do they despise me?
The second...to create and power a bomb.
That was right! He'd used the bomb against the Sent Ones during one of their ceremonies, destroying their favorite temple, and killing many of their elite soldiers.
Why, why? Oh, yes. To save himself, and his people. Of course his people. This was their home, and the Sent Ones had planned to invade, to annihilate everyone and thing in Amaranthia. The Oracles had warned him.
Or maybe they'd told Sin the Sent Ones would annihilate Amaranthia if he set the bomb? The order of events confused him. But it didn't matter. What was done was done.
He needed to speak with the Oracles again, and decide his next move.
If the Sent Ones thought to retaliate...
He would ensure they couldn't enter Amaranthia.
Now, what to do about Puck? Sin's brother drew closer to the Connacht fortress every second that passed. He could feel the male's presence.
Love him...don't want to hurt him...
But Puck wanted to hurt Sin, to kill him. And now, Puck had a bonded wife. The Dune Raider. Did she love Puck? Maybe, maybe not. But probably. The prophecy...
Can't defeat it. Must defeat it.
Sin should have killed the girl as soon as he learned about her...however many centuries ago. But killing her meant killing Puck. He wasn't ready to end his brother's life. Might not ever be ready.
One or the other. Me or him.
Sin pounded his fists into his temples, then hurled vile curses to the ceiling. For too long he'd been the rope in a terrible game of tug-of-war. Do this. No, that. No, this. So far, nothing he'd done had helped him, his brother or their people. Sin had only caused destruction.
So why did he continue to war with himself? Why not give up and die?
Because! Can't give up. Puck needed him, would always need him. His brother had enemies, and Sin had to help him. Had to kill everyone. If he murdered the citizens of Amaranthia, there would be no one left to hurt Puck. Added bonus: there would be no one left to betray Sin.
And the citizens deserved his rancor. They did! Every day they attempted to steal from him, everything from money, to magic, to children. Nothing was safe anymore.
How many times had the women in his stable attempted to rob him of his seed? How many guards had plotted his downfall? How many enemies had hidden in the shadows, watching him, waiting for the perfect time to strike? Too many to count.
Sin had heard the whispers of his people. Insane. Paranoid. Suspicious.
Pacing, back and forth, back and forth. In this very room, he'd often tended Puck's wounds after battle. Puck the Undefeated, once determined to govern the entire realm with Sin at his side. But one day, Puck would have succumbed to temptation. He would have murdered Sin. Probably in his sleep. A brother's love could not trump a hunger to rule.
&
nbsp; Better to betray than become the betrayed.
Was it?
He needed to speak with Puck. But first, the Oracle.
After loading himself down with swords, daggers and poisons, Sin used magic to bar others from his bedroom and traversed the secret passageways he'd created, going down, down, down to reach the dungeon below the fortress.
"You return at last." The familiar female voice echoed from the bloodstained walls.
Sin stopped in front of the speaker's cage and gripped the bars.
"Hello, Oracle."
She huddled in the far corner, caked in dirt, her cover of mist gone. With her flawless dark skin, hair as blue as a rushing river, and eyes as green as an oasis, she was a beauty unlike any other.
Beautiful, but not so all-knowing. Never saw me coming...
No one ever did. He'd captured the Oracle with ease.
Now a suspicion danced through his mind: What if she had wanted to be captured?
His blood ran cold. He should kill her. Before she could predict a worse fate for him.
No! He needed to know the future--so he could better protect himself against it.
"Has the original prophecy changed?" Sin asked. He'd heard Puck had visited the Oracles centuries ago, and offered his heart. What had been said? No matter how he'd tortured this girl thus far, she'd refused to tell him. "Will I be forced to kill my brother?"
"You know the price for my visions, King Sin."
Greedy wench. No matter. He'd come prepared.
"Of course." He palmed a dagger and shoved the tip into his eye socket. Ignoring the searing pain, he carved until his eyeball popped free.
The Oracle watched, as if dumbfounded.
"Perhaps you can use it to see the world through my eye," he said. Teeth clenched, warm blood pouring down his face, he tossed the macabre offering at the girl's feet.
Despite weeks of starvation, she possessed the grace of a snake as she glided over to heft the eye's slight weight in her palm. "This will make a nice earring. I can see it now--a statement piece for every woman of every realm. Never goes out of style." She laughed, as if she knew a secret he did not. "You'd think that was funny if you knew the terror headed your way."
"Enough! Tell me what I wish to know."
She smiled a white, toothy smile, perhaps the cruelest one he'd ever beheld. "Silly Sin. Perhaps our predictions always come true because perception is reality. Perhaps not. Did the Sent Ones plan to attack you before you struck at them? You'll never know. Would your brother have made a play against you, if you hadn't made a play against him? Again, you'll never know. But you want to learn whether or not the original prophecy has changed due to your actions. Very well. I'll tell you. No. One of you will die at the hand of the other. But now, there is an amendment."