how they had reached this point; their future was bound inexorably together. Of that he was sure.
His fingers moved from her lips to caress the hollow of her cheek. “Then I can’t go either.” His hand dropped away. “Now, stop protesting. You’re too intelligent a woman to waste your time with futile arguments.” He smiled with gentle raillery as he took her goblet and placed it with his own on the table. He took her elbow and propelled her toward the doors of the balcony. “Particularly since you’re convinced we have so little time left. Why don’t we watch the procession up the Sun Child? It will be quite a spectacle. Our being outcasts has one advantage at least. We don’t have to climb to the sacrificial plateau for the ceremony. We can watch it from right here.” He drew aside the heavy drapes of filigreed silver and stepped aside for her to precede him. “Perhaps their sacrifices will pacify Ra into forgiving our sins.”
“Don’t joke.” She heard the soft metallic rustle as Dalkar released the silver curtain and it fell into place behind them. She crossed to the stone balustrade to look out over the city. It was hot and utterly still tonight, the air heavy and difficult to breathe. “It was a sin. I don’t think Ra considers it a sin against him because he gave me the vision, but it
His arm slid around her slim waist beneath the pleated cloak and his lips grazed her ear. Her dark waist-length hair caressed his naked chest and the delicate woman scent of her caused his head to swim and his groin to tighten. “There’s no one more responsible than you, little Sayan, and it was a law meant to be broken.”
She could feel the strength and warmth of his heavily muscled arm through the thin ivory silk of her gown and caught the scent of leather and musk that was innately his own surrounding him. She leaned back against him and sighed. “I love you so. Why did I have to love you?”
She obviously didn’t expect an answer, and he gave her none. His gaze was fixed toward the south at the lower foothills of the Sun Child, the highest mountain in the chain that encircled the city. The trail leading up the mountain was dotted by thousands of torches as the citizens of Kantalan wound their way to the plateau halfway up the peak.
“I love this city.” Sayan’s words were only a thread above a whisper. Her gaze was not on the mountain but on the deserted city below them. Stately pyramids and flat-roofed marble edifices sat side by side in faultless harmony and the four rivers dividing that exquisite harmony of architecture shimmered in the silver moonlight like the inscription on Dalkar’s medallion. “Could anything be more beautiful than Kantalan?”
“No.” He experienced a surge of the same pride he had heard in her voice. It surprised him. He was a man who needed to struggle and build, and the perfection of Kantalan had always grated against his basic drives. But what else could he expect? He had chosen to become a soldier in a land that revered peace. Yet tonight, for some reason, he was responding as he had never done before to the serene beauty of his birthplace. “Nothing.”
She was silent for a long time. “Perhaps it will be easier for us than for Cadra. I don’t know if I could bear to leave this place and live among the barbarians.”
“You’ve sent Cadra away?”
She nodded. “He, at least, believed my vision. He didn’t want to leave me, but I told him it was Ra’s will and there had to be someone to tell the tale of Kantalan and summon the four who come after.”
“Where did you send him? Tenochtitlan?”
“Do you think I’m mad?” Her voice was suddenly harsh. “You told me yourself Montezuma made over five hundred human sacrifices last year. He has forsaken the true way of Quetzalcoatl. Do you realize he would have had me buried alive for the offense I committed? We were right to cut off all communication with that colony when the blood sacrifices started. I will not give them Cadra or Kantalan to sacrifice on their altars.”
He chuckled. “So fierce.” His lips brushed her cheek again. “Where did you send him?”
“To the north. It is better that he live with the primitives than with those monsters who have forgotten that civilized cultures cannot be founded on earth soaked with blood.” She drew a deep shaky breath. “We have accomplished so much here. Legend says the homeplace was better but I cannot believe it. Kantalan is-” She paused, searching for a word. “Ra.”
“Now, your humorless priests really would consider that blaspheming.” His breath was warm as he laughed softly in her ear. “I think I’m jealous. I don’t want you to be thinking of Kantalan while I’m holding you like this.” His arm tightened around her. “And I’d like you to tell me you love me again. Will you do that, Sayan?”
“Why should you doubt it? After what-”
He could feel sudden tension stiffen the muscles of her spine. “What’s wrong?” His own body tautened in response, his gaze searching the streets below for some unknown danger.
Sayan realized he hadn’t felt the trembling beneath their feet, yet it was far stronger than the tremor she had noticed earlier. Her gaze fled to the Sun Child’s peak framed against the moonlit sky. Nothing. No sign of even a whiff of smoke issuing from the mouth of the volcano. Not yet. They still had time.
She turned in his arms and buried her cheek against the warm smoothness of his naked shoulder. “Please go. Please leave me, Dalkar.”
“Be quiet.” His voice was rough as his fingers tangled in her shining dark mane as he tilted her head back to gaze into her eyes. For once there was no laughter in his own eyes. They were direct and grave and so loving, she felt as if Ra had flooded the night with sunlight. Her entire being was floating on that stream of light. “I don’t know anything about your visions or your gods. All I know is what we have together. I could no more leave you now than I could change what I feel for you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” He would not leave her. Pain, joy, regret. The emotions tumbled through her in a wild cataract of feeling. “I understand.”
“Good.” The gravity vanished from his expression and he smiled down at her. “Now will you tell me you love me?”
“I love you. I will love you until there is no sun, no moon, and no homeplace on this earth.”
He kissed her lightly. “My solemn little Sayan, you are nothing if not extravagant. I would have been content with a promise involving the rest of our lives.”
He still did not believe her, she realized sadly. She would waste no more time trying to convince him. Time was far too precious now. Her lashes lowered to veil her eyes. “Will you lie with me?”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face. “You wish to merge?”
She shook her head. “I’d like to lie in your arms.” Her lips were trembling as she tried to smile. “We have never lain together without merging. I would like very much to hold you with gentleness and love.”
He didn’t answer for a moment, and she could sense the waves of emotions emanating from him with the same clarity as she had sensed the trembling of the Sun Child. He stepped back. “I would like that very much also, my love.” He held the silver curtain for her. “Though I won’t promise we won’t merge before this night wanes.”
“I ask no promises.” No promises were necessary. The time was near. She unfastened the yellow-diamond clasp of her ceremonial cloak and draped its brilliant folds across the backless chair against the wall. She moved across the room to the golden-hued cushions of the couch in the center of the chamber. He was there before her and held out his arms to draw her down into his embrace.
“Just hold me, Dalkar.”
He was gently stroking the dark tendrils of hair at her temples. She was no longer afraid. How wonderful that love could banish fear. She knew a stab of poignant regret, and then that also faded away. It was not the end. Love did not end and there had been the promise…
Her gaze fastened dreamily on the silver filigree drapes at the balcony door. The curtains were glittering in the candlelight, the fretwork forming lacy patterns against the indigo of the night sky. She heard the faintest tinkle of sound, as if the heavy draperies were being stirred by an errant gust of wind. But there was no wind on this hot summer night… not the slightest breath of a wind.
1
June 12, 1870
Hell’s Bluff, Arizona Territory
“Rein in! This is a holdup!”
