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Magnus’s heart banged in his throat as he crouched at Seona’s side. His breath came in heaving bursts, but he forced himself to stillness long enough to assure himself of the rise and fall of her chest.
She had been dead. And now she lived.
“It’s a miracle.” Riggs gave voice to the conclusion Magnus had formed. Clearly, he had been wrong. The goddess had not forgotten them. Nothing but divine intervention could explain what they’d just witnessed.
“Danu be praised,” Magnus said, a tremor in his voice. Wonder coursed through his veins.
“Danu be praised,” Riggs echoed.
Magnus couldn’t tear his gaze from Seona. Never before had he been granted an opportunity to view her so closely while her face was peaceful. Between Anya’s fierce protectiveness and Seona’s hatred of him, he’d developed an impression of cold, untouchable beauty where she was concerned.
His days were filled with duties that kept him from dwelling on his lukewarm interest in the human, but during his oft sleepless nights, worry chased him in endless circles. A sense of wrongness hung over him like a storm cloud. He did not feel the way he was supposed to feel toward Seona.
In the vision Danu had blessed him with the night of his coronation, he’d experienced an overwhelming flood of adoration for her. The child she’d held in her arms meant salvation for his people, but even in his dream, he’d understood that a barren womb would not have decreased the measure of his love for her. It was her he loved. Her essence. Her moonsoul.
Nothing like that had come upon him when Seona had been discovered in Bantus’s dungeon with the other human women. He’d felt no differently for her than for any of the others. It was only due to the vision that he’d treated her any differently, cosseting her in the chamber beside his while the others recovered from their captivity among the wolfkind women in the Fiona Blath.
For fifty years, he had anticipated an incomparable love for the woman in his vision. For fifty years, he had planned for her arrival. For fifty years, he had longed to finally hold her in his arms, to join with her in the tradition of old and make her not only his pledgemate and queen, but his lifemate. Together, they would restore the sacred, ancient tradition, done away with when women became too scarce for a man to have one all to himself. For the first time in centuries, one man and one woman would pledge their moonsouls to one another while joining in body beneath the full moon. Danu would bless their union, sealing their moonsouls together for eternity. He and Seona would be celebrated far and wide, bringing hope to their people. When she grew with his child, that hope would be strengthened. Through them, wolfkind would be saved.
That was how it was supposed to have gone.
Instead, since the discovery of the human women, Magnus had despaired at his failure to love Seona the way he ought to. He’d despaired at her hatred of him. How would they bring new life to the world when she could not even bear the sight of him? When she demanded each and every day to be allowed to return to her native realm?
As he bent over her on the canyon floor, something changed. He drank in the miracle of her renewed life and something moved inside his chest.
His feelings for her had been like a polished boulder resting in a basin. The visible face held no markings of note, only a duty-filled affection, no more or less remarkable than what he felt toward the other women in his care. But as he marveled at her in the wake of her rebirth, it was like a pair of massive hands rotated the boulder to reveal hidden treasures set into the stone. Diamonds, gold, silver, and gems of every color sparkled to life inside him. He was suddenly awakened to a precious bounty he’d not noticed before.
Her parted lips released puff after puff of steam into the cold air.
He yanked off his cloak and flung it over her for warmth. Then he searched her form with careful hands, looking for non-obvious injuries. He would not take this miracle for granted.
Gentle squeezing of her arms and legs produced no movement of the bones where there shouldn’t be. Pressing fingertips along the back of her neck and what he could reach of her spine, he found no obvious deformities. He would have his physician inspect her when they returned to Glendall, but, incredibly, she showed no sign of damage. Not even a bump on her head where blood matted her hair to her completely healed scalp.
“How will we get her up?” Riggs asked. Palming the back of his neck, the knight squinted up the canyon wall. “Shall I make a litter?”
Magnus shook his head. The thought of trusting her wellbeing to sticks and twine left a bitter taste on his tongue. “I’ll carry her.”
Riggs ventured a step closer. Magnus didn’t blame him for keeping a small distance. What they had witnessed had been jarring. Magnus would never forget it as long as he lived. He would never forget that he had doubted his goddess only to have her prove her faithfulness in the most powerful of ways.
“How will you climb and keep her safe?” His knight’s brow furrowed with doubt.
Magnus grinned as he lifted her into his arms, the most precious bundle imaginable, more precious than all the game he’d brought up since his youth put together. “Have a little faith,” he said. Cradling her to him, he led the way to a hidden, gentler path a furlong east of where they’d descended.
The ascent ate up the rest of the morning. By the time Magnus mounted Taranis with Seona still clutched to his chest, his buoyant mood had faded. At long last, he had discovered the sort of affection for her he had longed to feel, but that did little to soothe the anger building behind his breastbone.
During the return ride to Glendall, his thoughts were plagued with the circumstances that had led them to Lachlan’s Promontory. Seona had not only betrayed the safety and luxury he had offered, but she had entrusted her fate to another man. A prisoner and member of the Breeding First rebellion. This lawless rebel was her choice of ally in place of the king who had rescued her?
His arms tightened around her delicate form. Anger gave jagged edges to his protective urge. She’d misplaced her trust and nearly been killed—had been killed, for the love of the moon. He would not stand for any more of this foolishness.
Magnus had honored Anya’s request to give Seona time. He’d kept his distance when he’d wanted nothing more than to be close to her in hopes of sparking his dormant affection. No more.
Seona was his, damn the moon. No one would keep him from her again.
* * * *
“I want my own realm someday, Papa.” Danu tugged on her father’s beard, pleased to be on his lap, the focus of his adoring attention.
“Is that right, little one? You know ruling an entire realm is not a simple matter.” The warning was gentle, his smile transcendent.
“I know. But I shall study hard and learn everything so I can be a good goddess.”
“You already are a good goddess, my precious one.” He made her feel so loved. More than anything else in all the realms, she wanted to make him proud. He kissed her head, his beard tickling her ear. “As long as you treasure love, as you do now, I will always be proud of you.”
She liked when he understood her thoughts. He was her papa, and he knew her. She liked being known. “I will, Papa. I will treasure love forever and ever.”
Wisps of memory taunted Danu.
In one memory, she was a young goddess on her father’s lap in his study, which overlooked the sparkling Sea of Realms. In another, she was plunged into darkness and consumed with anger, but couldn’t remember what had upset her. In yet another, she was falling and unable to command the air. She searched the milky gray sky above for something to grab onto, finding no handhold, no answers. Her most recent memory was of darkness.
Darkness was familiar. For a very long time, she’d known only darkness and cold.
Why did daylight suddenly push at her closed eyelids? Why did her head ache and her ears ring with noise?
She called forth her power, an act as natural as breathing, to heal what ailed her. Her power did not respond! With more intention, she summoned relief for her pain. Still, it did not come.
Panic fluttered like a wounded bird behind her breastbone. Where was her power? Why was she hurting so?
Despite her discomfort and confusion, she felt oddly safe. Warmth supported her on all sides. Papa?
Gentle rocking eased her panic and lured her away from her cares. She might be hurting, but she had an unshakable feeling she was protected. Whatever had transpired before didn’t matter. She was safe now, and she was loved. This assurance filled up a dry place in her soul with rushing, cleansing waters.
The illusion lasted a few precious minutes. Then recollection rolled over her like a storm.
Hyrk’s dungeon. That was the darkness that had become her world. Duff visiting her. Bringing tidings of her captor’s disappearance.
Her moonstone! That trickster had given it away! To a mortal!
“What have you done, you sly mongrel?” Her voice sounded weak. And the tone of it was all wrong. Huskier and lower than it should be.
Her cocoon of warmth tightened. “What have I done?” said an authoritative male voice. Not her father’s. “If anyone has the right to ask that question, it is I.”
She opened her eyes. The brightness of a cornflower blue sky made her wince. Slowly, a bearded face came into focus above her. Hair like flames of gold licked at a strong brow and fierce cheekbones. As the strands shifted in a cool breeze, silver streaks showed at the man’s temples. The pleasing bulk of teeth behind the man’s lips marked him as wolfkind.
My realm!
Somehow, she had come to be in the mortal realm she had created. But how? Why couldn’t she use her power?
As she worked the problem through, her aches and pains took on new meaning. The evidence suggested she was not only among her mortals but that she was one of them.
The rocking she felt was the movement of a horse at a brisk walk. She appeared to be a lump of cargo on the rider’s lap. Winter-bare trees surrounded them, and a handful of other riders rode ahead and behind.
What a way for a goddess to be transported! She ought to have chariots and trumpets, an army to escort her on streets strewn with flowers. Instead, she got a small contingent of riders making their way through a cold, gray forest. Fitting, perhaps, since she had failed so miserably at being a goddess. And since she appeared to be mortal at the moment.
She glanced over her body. The cloak she was wrapped in made it difficult to ascertain much detail, but breasts made plump mounds beneath the wool. Clearly, she occupied the body of a woman. She ran her tongue over her teeth. They were small and even, like those of her truest form.
Having created her people from the immortal Fae and the mystic wolves she so adored, she’d carefully molded them into a mortal race that reflected her favorite qualities from both. Beauty and long life came from the Fae. Fierce protectiveness and strong community ties came from the mystic wolves. Their physical appearance was, in her opinion, the perfect marriage between grace and power. This body she inhabited did not belong to one of her precious wolfkind. It was too small, for one, and as her legs rubbed together beneath the silky undergarment, she could tell they lacked even the light coat of hair typical of wolfkind females.
Strange, since the only intelligent life in her realm was the life she had created.
Except the humans Duff had mentioned.
His words from what seemed like only moments ago filled her memory. It was a human woman who slew Hyrk’s servant Bantus . . . Another is said to have appeared to Magnus in a vision as the mother of his future heir. Wherever Hyrk is, I’d wager he’s plotting to reclaim his relic and prevent this vision from unfolding.”
If Duff’s assumption was correct, she might not be the only immortal present in her realm. Hyrk might be here.
Her pulse kicked at the terrifying thought. In this mortal body, she would be easy prey. But wait. According to Duff, Hyrk had lost his followers. And his relic. He would be next to powerless. Depleted of power, he wouldn’t be a danger to her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a threat to her realm.
She must learn where he was and what plans he was making, for if she’d learned anything from the last two thousand years, it was that Hyrk never gave up. But thwarting Hyrk would have to wait. First, she must understand her surroundings and work out what in all the realms had happened to her.
She expanded her attention to the regal specimen holding her. With his shoulders pinned back and his chin jutting confidently, his air of command was clear. A man like this could only be a king. Since Hyrk’s king, Bantus, was dead, this must be the one Duff had told her about.
My king, she thought, recalling her friend’s teasing. “Magnus.” It came out as a whisper.
Piercing, gold eyes narrowed on her. “Which is it, Lady Seona? Sly mongrel or Magnus? I admit I prefer the latter.”
Lady Seona. He’d just given her the name of the mortal she inhabited. And he had no idea who she really was.
Heavens, if she was here, where had this Seona gone?
Magnus interrupted her thought. “I regret to inform you your coconspirator is dead. You are once more in the care of the man you would rather die than belong to.” He ground his teeth. “Thanks to Hyrk, you almost got your wish. But it seems my goddess has other plans for you.”
My goddess. She felt her eyebrows rise. He truly had no idea he held his goddess in his arms.
Putting the strangeness of that aside, she tried to make sense of all he’d said. It was Hyrk she would rather die than belong to, not Magnus. But, of course, he thought he was speaking to the mortal, Seona. This woman must have hated Magnus to have uttered such words. Odd, since Danu could find nothing displeasing about him. Odder still was his emphasis on my goddess. Perhaps Seona had allied herself with Hyrk in some way, thus pitting herself against Magnus. But why would she do so? Hadn’t Magnus rescued the human women from Hyrk’s Bantus? Then Magnus had said that thanks to Hyrk, Seona had almost gotten her wish—to die rather than belong to Magnus.
Of course! The fall.
Duff had said Hyrk hated Magnus and the human women, since one of them had killed his Bantus. Hyrk must have tried to kill Seona. In fact, the fall should have been fatal, but somehow, she’d survived. And her body was not broken, as it had been when she’d hit the ground. Whose power had healed her? Not hers, because she had no power at the moment.
There was so much she didn’t understand. So much she must learn if she was going to stop Hyrk once and for all.
Clenching the muscles in her abdomen, she pulled herself up straighter. “Tell me all that has happened.”
Magnus’s arms tightened around her. “Easy, Lady. Do not struggle. I know you would prefer death to my touch, but I will not allow it. You’ll not flee from me again. I swear it. If I must keep you by my side the rest of my days to prevent your harm, I will do so. You may not be one of my subjects, but make no mistake. You are mine in every way that matters.” His voice held no room for compromise. The strength in it thrilled her. The words themselves thrilled her, for no man had ever spoken to her thusly, claiming possession of her.
She should find such a claim repellent, but to the contrary, something feminine and greedy sparked to life within her. Longings that had lain dormant a long, long time began stirring.
She ignored the feelings. This was no time for frivolities. Magnus had mentioned Hyrk. She must learn all that he knew. “Tell me about Hyrk, mortal—Magnus,” she corrected, remembering he did not yet know her true identity.
“You think to command a king? In this way, you are like your sister.” His mouth twitched in an almost smile. “However, I shall be the one conducting the interview, and I shall wait until we are safe in Glendall.”
Glendall. The palace in Chroina. She remembered it from the days of Lachlan.
It rankled to be scolded by a mortal, but she bit her tongue. Keeping her deity a secret might give her an advantage, especially where Hyrk was concerned. Once he caught wind of her escape, he would stop at nothing to find her. What better place to hide than in this human skin?
“Very well,” she said. “Will you tell me this? You said ‘safe in Glendall.’ What danger do we face outside the palace?” Besides Hyrk, what other players were at work in her realm? If she’d been a proper goddess and not fallen into her enemy’s hands, she would already know. It was time for her to stop failing her people and begin saving them.
“Too many to count,” Magnus said grimly, his gaze sweeping the trail before them. “And the number seems to grow with each new day.”
