Jackson moved his hands up her back, gripped her upper arms and…shoved her forcefully away.
She opened her eyes as she stumbled back and grabbed the chair to keep her balance.
Jackson stood, head lowered, tremors wracking his body. She took a step toward him, but he held up a hand to keep her back.
“Jackson?” Until now, he’d fought so hard against the compulsion to claim her. “Jackson?”
He finally lifted his gaze to meet hers. “It’s all right. I stopped myself in time.”
Squeezing her eyes closed for a moment, she struggled for control. She wasn’t yet ready to be claimed by Jackson, didn’t even fully understand the concept or the meaning. He’d explained it to her, said it was simply a promise to be together forever. But forever in Cymmera meant just that, since its inhabitants were close to immortal and could only be killed by an instantly fatal wound, one that wouldn’t allow enough time for the recipient to heal himself. She opened her eyes. “Are you all right?”
He shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Just…let’s move on.” He averted his gaze and retrieved her things from the floor. “Come here.” He lifted a belt made of dark purple leather.
She hesitated, unsure he’d fully regained his senses.
He rolled his eyes. “I said it’s fine now.” She waited through the conflict blazing in his eyes. “I’m okay. I promise.” His tone softened. “Come here.”
She approached slowly. She loved Jackson, of that she was certain, but she wasn’t yet ready to make such a huge commitment, not only to him, but to his kingdom as well. If she allowed him to claim her, she’d be his for eternity. She wouldn’t be able to live in her realm, couldn’t stay with her sister, since Mia wasn’t yet strong enough to live in Cymmera. She’d be expected to rule at his side, become his queen. No. He couldn’t claim her. She wasn’t yet ready to accept his reality. She tentatively touched his cheek. “I’m sorry, Jackson.” Would her desire for him ever become so strong she’d surrender?
He covered her hand with his own. “I know. It’s all right.” The hint of a smile touched his eyes. “Most of the time.”
Ryleigh laughed, her nerves strung taut, wondering how long Jackson would be able to respect her decision.
He pulled her hand away, pressed his lips to her fingers, then stepped back. “Here. Let me put this on you.” He inhaled deeply and held his breath as he reached behind her and weaved the belt over her shoulder and around her waist then buckled it at her right hip. At her left hip, hung a sheath. He retrieved the sword and handed it to her.
A rainbow of reflections emanated from the stones. “It really is beautiful, Jackson. Thank you.” His answering smile brought a wave of relief. He seemed to have his emotions back under control. She slid the sword into place. It felt…right. She couldn’t help the grin that escaped. “I love it.” She moved to the center of the mat and pulled the sword from the sheath. She practiced a few times, sheathing and unsheathing it, before running through her warm-up routine. Sweat sprung out on her forehead, trickled down her back. “This is so much better.” The work-out felt good…hard…but good. Her muscles flexed smoothly, tension creating a dull ache, but none of the intense pain the heavier sword had brought.
“All right, let’s try practicing some—”
“Excuse me, Your Majesty.”
Ryleigh hadn’t even heard the seer approach. “Hi Elijah.”
“Miss Ryleigh.” He lowered himself to one knee, folded his hands across the other knee and bowed his head in the traditional greeting for the king—and queen.
Heat crept up Ryleigh’s cheeks. She’d finally gotten him to stop addressing her as your highness—with the threat of leaving and never returning—but no matter what she said, he still insisted on greeting her properly.
Elijah’s blue eyes, a stark contradiction to the dark, almost black, eyes of the other Cymmeran men she’d met, usually held only kindness and compassion. Now, something darker filled them. Something cold.
A chill raced up her spine.
He approached Jackson. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, for intruding, but I must speak with you immediately. I assure you it is of the utmost urgency.”
Jackson propped his hands low on his hips, a sure sign he was agitated. “What is it, Elijah?”
Elijah cleared his throat and continued to stare at Jackson. “I wish to speak with you in private, sir.” His gaze flickered briefly to Ryleigh, before darting back to Jackson.
Ryleigh started to back away. “Oh…uh…sorry. I’ll just—”
“No.” Jackson stood his ground, his posture rigid. “Ryleigh will one day be queen. You know and respect that, Elijah. I don’t understand your desire to exclude her from a conversation.”
Elijah exhaled slowly, his expression finally softening. “Sir. I mean no disrespect.” He turned to Ryleigh. “Your high—”
The glare she aimed at him stopped him short.
“Uhh…Miss Ryleigh. Forgive me. I assure you, I have the utmost respect for you.” He bowed his head. “It’s just…well…” He looked back at Jackson, his hands fidgeting wildly. “It’s a sensitive subject, sir.”
“Speak freely, Elijah.” Jackson’s expression softened. “This is ridiculous. You’re my friend, Elijah. Come in, sit down, and tell us what’s going on.” He gestured toward the chair. “It’s obvious something’s wrong. Is anyone hurt?”
“No, no. Everyone is fine. I’ve had a vision, sir.”
Jackson stilled.
Elijah waited until Jackson motioned for him to continue but made no move to sit. With one last glance at Ryleigh, Elijah straightened his spine. “Very well, sir. You must assemble the Death Dealers to retrieve the occupants of a human aircraft.”
Shock held Ryleigh’s tongue.
Jackson frowned. “Do you have the necessary information?”
She stared at Jackson. No way would he—
“I do, si—”
“You can’t be serious.” The sound came out too shrill, and she worked to lower her voice. “You’re not actually going to kidnap more humans, kill them, and bring them here?”
No one answered.
“Right?”
“Look, Ryleigh. If Elijah says it’s necessary, it is.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She glared back and forth between the two of them.
Jackson’s expression was hard, his eyes holding none of the turbulent emotion she’d become accustomed to.
Elijah looked apologetic, but no less determined.
“I can’t believe you’re even considering this.”
“There is no other way, My Princess. I’m sorry.”
How dare they? Who did they think they were? “Are you going to at least try and transfer them without killing them?”
Elijah’s shoulders slumped. “Look, Miss Ryleigh, you must accept that it’s just not possible.”
“But I was able to open a portal here, and Mia transferred through just fine.” Something niggled at the back of Ryleigh’s mind. She tried to grab hold of it, but it was gone.
“With all due respect…” Elijah bowed his head—his formal behavior grating on Ryleigh’s last nerve—before continuing. “You and Princess Mia are both of Cymmeran descent, being descendants of King Raya, and