The king watched his adviser leave, then glanced sharply at her. “At least he doesn’t think his fealty oath only counts when it’s convenient.”
“There was nothing convenient about it.” Gods, how she wished she could go back a half hour, to when they had arrived at the site and, seeing how damn worried he looked, she had told him what she had done to protect their children, thinking it would reassure him. Instead, he had taken it as a slap, a lack of faith.
“Well it wasn’t a shining example of loyalty, either,” he growled.
With the huge chac-mool altar behind him and a row of screaming skulls lining the ceiling of the chamber above him, he was surrounded by symbols of the war he was determined to prevent. He looked very much a Nightkeeper, very much like a king and the man she loved with all her heart. But he also looked very, very pissed.
Then again, so was she.
She moved between him and the altar, so he had to look at her. “We’re on the same side, damn it.”
His jaw locked with the familiar jaguar stubbornness, which had been magnified to near deadly proportions over the past few weeks as he’d become obsessed with following the dreams the gods had sent him. “Then stop trying to undermine me.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? And I’ve been right behind you every step of the way. I believe in you, Jag,” she said, using the nickname that was hers alone. “But I couldn’t let Strike and Anna . . .” She trailed off when he stiffened, eyes going cold.
More, she was all too aware of the minutes passing, the solstice approaching, time running out. She had distracted him—both of them—with her ill-timed confession. Which wasn’t the work of a queen or a warrior. Not when they had work to do, a prophecy to fulfill.
“We need to get started,” he said, almost as if he’d read her mind. Except he couldn’t have caught her thoughts, even through the mated bond. Not with them so out of synch.
Exhaling, she stepped aside and turned to face the altar. Thy wills be done, she thought, and offered him her bloodied hand. “You’re right,” she said softly, trying to channel the warrior’s calm that kept eluding her. “Let’s do this.”
She had made her choice—she was there, with him. They all were, nearly a thousand Nightkeepers and three times that many winikin, filling the tunnels and spilling out into the ancient courtyards, ready to add to the uplink and block the Banol Kax from the earth, once and for all.
Gods willing.
He looked at her for a three-count, as if measuring her sincerity. Then he nodded and took her hand. “Ready?” His voice was tough and tight, that of her king, not her husband.
No. “Yes.” She opened herself to him, added her magic to his, and put her faith in him, in his dreams and his plan.
“Pasaj och,” he intoned, his voice resonating through their joined magic. The connection formed, jacking him into the solstice-thinned barrier and bringing her along through the uplink. Power flared through them, ramping quickly from a hum to a jaw-aching buzz. But it didn’t stop there, didn’t level off the way it always had before. Instead, it kept going, flooding her and amping higher and higher.
They hadn’t yet opened the intersection, yet already there was more energy here than she’d ever wielded before. Suddenly, the magic was the stuff of legends, the kind of power their ancestors had used to drive the Banol Kax from the earth plane and create the barrier.
Wonder seared through her, because the magic had to mean that it was real. It was all real—the dreams, the gods’ promises, the potential to avert the war—all of it.
Gods. Tears prickled behind her closed lids, and one hot drop slipped down her cheek.
“Asia.” Jag’s energy was suddenly different, stronger and more vibrant than it had been, not just since her confession, but for days now, weeks. Heat thrummed through their blood-link, sharp and prickly with desire, but tempered with a deeper, softer warmth that wrapped around her, feeling like his arms. Feeling like love. His voice caught as he said, “Open your eyes. Please.”
She didn’t want to lose the moment, didn’t want to see the coldness in him. But when she looked up at him, she saw the man she’d been missing. “Oh, Jag.”
The magic coiled around them, sparking the air red and gold as he moved in and locked his lips to hers.
And his kiss . . . ahh, his kiss.
I love you. His voice spoke through their mated bond, which was strong and true once more.
The knots of fear and grief loosened as she leaned into him, feeling the rise of their own special mated magic. I love you, too, she sent back. I’m sorry I told you. I was trying to help.
I know, and you did help, and that scared me, because it means I’m not as sure as I need to be that this is going to work.
Maybe—probably—that should have worried her. Instead, it put them back on the same team, shoulder to shoulder. The fear wasn’t gone, but they were together. And that gave her the strength to break the kiss and look up at him. “I love you. What’s more, I believe in you.” She linked their fingers together. “I love you for the life we’ve had together and the children we’ve created. And I love you for being willing to make whatever sacrifice is necessary so they can live their lives without a war hanging over them.”
His eyes were moist. “Asia . . .”
“It’s okay. Really. I’m proud to stand beside you right now. That’s what’s important, in the end.”
“This isn’t the end for us,” he said with new determination. “I won’t let it be. We’re going to do this, damn it. We’re going to win the war, right here, right now.” Tugging her to his side, he said, “Come on. Let’s get this intersection open.”
Suddenly aware of the solstice power that thrummed up through the stones beneath their feet and the banked energy of the others waiting to begin the spell, she turned so they faced the chac-mool side by side.
And, linked by blood sacrifice and the mated bond, they began the spell, doing it as it was meant to be done: together.
Myr was shaking as she came out of the vision. Because that was what it had been—a vision, sent from the gods. The spell hadn’t transferred her magic—it was still lodged inside her, still racing through the connection linking her and Rabbit. Instead, the spell had sent them back to the past and showed them the last few minutes before the old king had unleashed the Solstice Massacre. But how? Why?
“Jesus,” Rabbit rasped. “That was . . . are you okay?”
She blinked, somehow unsurprised to find that they were on their feet, holding hands in front of the winikin’s altar, just like the king and queen had been facing the huge chac-mool beneath the pyramid of Chichen Itza. More, when she locked eyes with Rabbit, she saw a hint of Jag in him—just a blink and then gone, but it was enough. “You saw it, too,” she said. “You were there, in the king.”
He nodded. “He was so convinced he was right . . . and he was so damn wrong.”
“Asia knew. She had seen foreseen their deaths, but she stood beside him anyway, not because of the writs or his orders, but because she loved him and believed in him utterly . . . even though she was furious with him, too.”
“She wasn’t mad at the end.”
“No. Not at the end.” Was that what the gods—or the ancestors, or whatever force had guided the vision— had wanted them to see? That when the chips were down, true love conquered even the worst of mistakes? That mated pairs needed to go into battle united, no matter what they needed to forgive in order for that to happen?
Myr looked away from him. She couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t quell the heat in her blood that had come from the dream-kiss and the pressure of Rabbit’s fingers on hers. More than ever before, she wanted to lean into him, touch him, kiss him, and forget about the outside world, just as Asia had done.
“He loved her so much,” Rabbit’s voice was rough with emotion. “So damn much, and he didn’t know how to fix things with her, how to protect the people he loved and still do what the gods wanted.”
Breath hitching, she looked back at him, and found herself caught in the heat of his eyes. They were warm and alive, making her realize suddenly how locked down he’d been since his return. Now, though, there was a spark of the old impetuousness when he tugged on their joined hands and pulled her into him, against him. And
