Shadow Magic Read online

  Keeping a good distance from her, knowing that the slightest touch from her could shatter what little control he had, he was startled when she laughed. Her laugh was light and silvery, nothing like the smoky murmur of sound she had made when she captured his body and took her own pleasure.

  "A witch, nay. You know what I am. A simple Shadow Dancer, no more. If it is a spell that makes you hunger, then it has ensnared me as well.”

  Even her voice, the husky thrum of it, seemed beautiful and sensual to him. And her words – the simple way she told him that she wanted him again too – had the effect of making the fire inside him burn hotter.

  If a spell had been cast, it was a powerful one. Still he, a Prince of Rune, with all the years of magical training on his side, should have the skill to remove it.

  But he did not even want to.

  That alone told him much. This enchantment then was potent indeed.

  Which meant he – or they – had a powerful enemy. To be able to cast such a spell, on one such as he – a Faerie who was resistant to such things... It had been more than a spell of simple lust, nay - woven within it was an emotional eroticism of such potency that he knew would continue to haunt him, even now when by all rights he should have slaked his body's thirst with such vigorous coupling as they had shared.

  She made a small sound, making him conscious that she still stood before him in seductive disarray. Though he rose a full head taller than she and no doubt carried twice her weight, so untutored was she in the ways of men that she showed no fear, only an artless lack of guile too straightforward to be believed. But then he was not like other men, never would he take her unwilling.

  And she had come to him virgin. Unspoiled, sharing herself with only him.

  A fresh wave of desire hit him, strong enough to make him stagger. Such untamed lust was dangerous in a man, be he warrior or king. With the enemies she had, distractions could be fatal indeed.

  All he wanted was to find the amulet and return it, so his people could find another King. This fascination with the mortal woman distracted him from his goal. Gods teeth. Perhaps he would have no choice but to be rid of her. This could prove dangerous, to both of them. How could he have his freedom, if he must protect this woman from more than just the sun and the Maccus, but from himself as well?

  Yet how could he leave her unprotected? He owed her that much, to find her another village, another group of people willing to take care of her.

  Perhaps he would let her choose herself.

  Trying not to remember his earlier panic when he’d lost her, slowly he turned. “I think mayhap we should consider parting. I know not what matter of spell hangs over us, but I fear I am unable to fight it.”

  “Part?” Surprise and disbelief colored her voice, along with a faint trace of amusement that told him she believed he spoke in jest. “Why would I leave you, when I can help you find this amulet you so desperately seek?”

  “You do not understand.” Clenching his fists, he shook his head in a vain attempt to clear it. Passion still thrummed inside him, making his blood run hot and sluggish. “There is danger in this, in the way your touch inflames me. Danger and implications that I cannot yet see clearly.”

  “I have sensed this too,” she admitted. “Yet when I think of being apart from you, I—” Hand held out, she shook her head, sending her wealth of dark hair flying. She took a step towards him and he felt his body respond, even as he struggled to keep from touching her.

  “Think well on what you do. Your life may well depend on it. Depart, " he ordered, his voice rusty. "Leave me, and move around in the darkness as you do each night. I will go the opposite way, and be content to travel by the light of the day, as I should."

  If he'd sought to score a direct hit with his verbal arrow, he saw from her stricken expression that he had. Her lovely face crumpled, the gleam of desire he'd seen in her huge golden eyes vanished.

  He felt a stab of pain, of regret. Not since his brother had died had he felt this conflicted, this torn.

  A second later, she'd regained control of her features, her cool mask in place once more.

  "Promises mean so little to you, then?" Her attempt at a haughty tone fell short, her husky voice breaking. “You have given me your word to protect me from the sun, and I in turn have pledged to help you find the amulet.”

  Shame washed over him. Shame – and regret. She was right, and in his cowardice he’d nearly failed once more. Proof yet again that he could never be King.

  “I have changed my mind,” he said, meaning to apologize, to tell her that he could not think clearly with her lush body so close, that in truth he did not really want her to leave.

  But she heard only the wrong connotation of his words.

  "Is that so?" She dipped a graceful shoulder, the creamy skin gleaming, her gaze distant, as if she'd already gone elsewhere and only the beautiful shell of her body remained.

  "Since you are of Rune, not human, the giving of an oath must not carry so much weight as it does with me. Very well, then, you shall have your wish. I release you. You are no longer bound to help me, nor I to assist you.”

  With those words she spun on her heel and went into the woods, moving as easily and as gracefully as a wild forest doe.

  For one frozen moment Egann could only stare, marking the spot where she'd been with his gaze, his body still aching with need and some other, more elemental emotion. He had done it again, seeking to avoid failure by precipitating its arrival.

  "Fool." He named himself harshly, knowing he had let his brain be beguiled along with his staff. This time he would rectify his mistake. This time, he could.

  Striding after her, he caught up with her before she had gone ten paces into the forest.

  “Wait.” He reached for her and she fought him, with all the strength of a wounded fawn caught in a trap. Capturing one wrist, he clenched his teeth and tried to think of honor, even as she twisted and turned, each movement a tormenting friction against his overheated body.

  “Stop and listen,” he shouted, still fighting to restrain her. Finally, seeing that she would not be still long enough to listen to reason, he did the only thing he could think of to quiet her, though he knew once he did it would be like a drowning man going underwater, sinking for the final time.

  He covered her mouth with his and kissed her, feeling the possessive thrill that ran through him, dimly realizing that they were both in far worse trouble than even he might have guessed.

  Still, once his lips claimed hers, he could not keep from touching her.

  As he had known she would, she instantly stilled. Her response to him – fresh, vibrant, immediate – was as heady an aphrodisiac as any drug or spell. Deirdre melted in his arms, opening herself to him in invitation.

  God’s blood, he wanted her again.

  With great reluctance, he tore his mouth from hers. “We cannot do this.” He indicated the Eastern sky, just beginning to lighten. “Your dance with the moon lasted most of the night, our lovemaking the rest of it. Soon the sun will rise.”

  Bowing her head, her silence acknowledged the truth of his words.

  “I do not wish to leave you.” Low-voiced, she would not look at him. “Not yet.”

  He sighed, trying to ignore the thrumming of his still-heated desire for her. “Nor I you. I am a fool. Sending you away was my foolish attempt at self-preservation.”

  Now she raised her head and met his gaze. The tears that streaked her cheeks stunned him. “I can help you find this amulet of yours, truly. Though I know not why, I believe this to be fact. And you can help me as well, in some mysterious way I have not yet been able to determine.”

  Glancing once more to the East, he swallowed. He could not allow her to trust in him so blindly. Now the time had come to inform her of the reality of himself. What he was and what he wasn’t, and what he would never be. And, though difficult as it would be to speak of it, he would tell her too, the fact of how horribly he’d failed.

&nbs
p; He took a deep breath. “We have a few minutes before we must seek shelter. I must quickly tell you the truth of my life. Then you can decide if you truly want me to protect you.” Somehow, he forced a laugh, a sound without humor.

  “After hearing my tale, you may determine you would be much safer without me than with me.”

  For the space of a heartbeat he watched her, unable to breath. Then she shook her head, coming to him and placing her pale hand on his arm.

  “I would find a place to take refuge, so that I might rest. When I awaken you can speak of your sins, if you feel that you must.” With a tremulous smile she moved forward, until she rested her cheek against his chest, and closed her eyes.

  Such a gesture of trust moved him, though he refused to allow her to see it. After all, he knew even if she did not, that there was none less deserving of trust than one such as he.

  * * *

  The shelter was deep, cracked stone steps leading to nothing, a stone cellar long ago covered over in dirt and leaves and time. In this a cave of sorts had formed, and it was to this place Deirdre went to hide from the brilliance of the sun.

  She knew not what Egann meant with his words, nor what old wounds caused the pain she’d recognized in his deep voice. Perhaps the answer might come to her in dreams, a solutions often did.

  Her dreams brought her not Egann, but the amulet instead.

  The silver of its chain was heavy, the metal cool and smooth. Marveling, she held it in her hand, feeling the stark wonder of its magic sear her fingers so that she nearly dropped it.

  In the non-sensical way of dreams she traveled, standing in a crowd of unfamiliar people. Turning, she looked for Egann, to show him how she’d finally located his precious talisman, but could not find him in the strange faces that surrounded her.

  The amulet made a sound, a cry, a song, a lament that became a mournful dirge. Hearing it caused her such pain that she fell to her knees, hand closing around the amulet, as if her grip might silence it.

  Gradually she became aware that the amulet called out to Egann. She added her voice to the lamentation, not understanding why she wept, yet feeling the pain like a sharp knife slipped between her ribs.

  When she awoke, it was to find her hand fisted so tightly that her palm bled from the press of her nails.

  “Egann?” Unable to keep her voice from quivering, Deirdre pushed herself to her feet, brushing off the dirt and crumpled leaves that clung to her.

  Egann did not answer.

  Blind panic robbed her of reason, and she rushed up the cracked steps, pushing at the thorny brush that blocked the exit to the surface.

  Stumbling, she crossed the darkened clearing, peering into the gloomy depths of the forest, the horror of her dream echoing in her head.

  “Egann?” She called again, turning in a slow circle and wishing she had enough magic to find him.

  Then she saw him, lying under the base of an ancient oak, his golden head at an awkward angle, his arm flung out before him.

  Once again, it appeared she had dreamt true. Nay, it could not be.

  Through a haze of fear she went to him, praying he only slept. Though she knew not if the Fae needed to rest like mankind did, the night was the natural time of sleep for all creatures of the sun.

  About to search his body for injury, Deirdre froze as Egann opened his brilliant blue eyes and gave her a sleepy, sad smile.

  She wanted to kiss him. Instead, she backed away so quickly she nearly fell.

  “Tis night already?” His deep bass rumble of a voice made her shiver.

  “Yes.” Troubled, she swallowed. “Strange dreams plagued me, but once again I beheld your wondrous amulet.”

  His gaze sharpened at her words, and he rose in one fluid motion. “Tell me what you saw? Did you see enough to know in which direction we must go?”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “Nay, I did not. I was in a place I have never visited, a dark city of made of stone. All around me people gathered in the smoke, but I knew them not. I searched for you, and felt your presence, though I could not find your face. I shouted your name, but you did not answer. And I dreamt the amulet called to you as well.”

  A startled look crossed his rugged features. “Strange.”

  She waited for him to say more, though he did not appear inclined to do so, peering off into the dark depths of the forest.

  When he did speak, his voice sounded distant. “Did you see the face of the one around whose neck the amulet lies?” She shook her head. “Nay, I did not. This time, I did not even see the talisman, only heard it. But you, do you have a suspicion of who that evildoer might be?”

  “My thoughts are of the Maccus, the race that hunts those of your kind.”

  “The Maccus.” Bitterness colored her tone as she remembered the fire that had roared through the cliff caves. “The Maccus, have created their own God, and he is a red and angry one.”

  “This is the second time I have heard of this.” Egann flashed her a grim smile. “When I lost you I encountered a Maccus here in the forest.”

  She stiffened. “Why did you not tell me this?” Unable to help herself, she turned and looked behind her, as though the Maccus might suddenly appear.

  “I did not wish to frighten you. ‘Tis bad enough that you cannot enter Rune-”

  “Cannot? What mean you?” For some reason his words struck fear inside of her, a dread that chilled her more completely than her terror of the Maccus.

  Ruefully, he shook his head. “I know not. Fiallan only said that your people carried some curse.”

  “What does the curse of the sunlight have to do with Rune and the Fae?’

  He frowned. “It seems that long ago, my people placed a curse upon yours. This is all Fiallan has been able tell me. Perhaps the reason you must walk in darkness is the same reason you cannot journey to Rune.”

  Sadness filled her at his words. “Again,” she whispered, you have sought to hide truth from me.”

  Egann faced her, his stance that of an arrogant warrior. Never had he looked more like a Prince of Fae, with his autocratic features and golden hair. Never had the distance between them seemed wider.

  “I have hidden nothing,” he declared. Then he flashed her a sheepish smile, that tugged once again at her heart. “We were rather, er, distracted, if you remember.”

  Flushing, her body wanted him to distract her again.

  He must have felt the same, for his smile faded and his gaze darkened. But, instead of reaching out to her, he crossed his arms in front of him and frowned.

  “I will not be diverted this time. Now I must speak to you of this other matter – so that you might now know what manner of Fae you travel with.”

  Glancing sideways at him, she saw that his chiseled features had settled into grim lines, and that his eyes had turned an icy gray.

  “Once I had a brother, as small and as fiery-haired as I am golden. Named Banan, he was given over to my care when he had grown tall enough.”

  Deirdre smiled, thinking of Egann caring for a younger, red-haired version of himself. “Where is Banan now?” she asked. “I would like to make meet him.”

  “Banan exists no more.” Egann’s tones carried the weight of years of sorrow. “He perished while under my care.”

  “Perished?” Stunned, Deirdre’s breath caught in her lungs. “I did not know that Faeries could die.”

  Egann also halted, keeping his gaze averted. He might have worn a mask, so expressionless was his face. “There is but one way to extinguish our lives. We do not die easily, nor do we die well.”

  Afraid to ask, yet knowing that she must, Deirdre wet her lips with her tongue. “How did Banan die?” she whispered.

  He seemed not to have heard her, so caught up was he in the past. When he spoke again, his voice was devoid of bitterness and full of sorrow. “I had taken him with me to the mortal castle in a place called Camelot.” He met her gaze finally, his own expression dark with pain.

  “I have heard of this
place. `Tis supposed to be a wondrous city.” She thought of the strange place she had visited in her dream and wondered.

  “Aye, and the humans that people it are known far and wide – even in Rune. I wanted only to look upon the face of their Queen, Gwenyver, to behold her legendary beauty.”

  Closing her eyes, Deirdre held her silence, afraid that she knew what words he would speak next.

  “I bade Banan to wait for me, well hidden in the barn.

  He did not. Once of Arthur’s knights found him, and thought it great sport to threaten Banan with his sword.

  Banan fought bravely, though I heard him cry out to me when the metal blade pierced his flesh. The cut would not have harmed a mortal, small and on the shoulder as it were.

  But this iron is poison to my people, and by the time I carried Banan back to Rune, he had already begun to fade.”

  “Surely there was something…”

  “Something. Aye, I believed the same. So I brought him to Fiallan, who has powerful healing skills.”

  Deirdre’s throat ached at the bleakness in Egann’s voice. “And Fiallan was not able to save him?”

  “No. Banan suffered greatly because of me. He died. And all I could do in my agony was place a curse on the mortal knight who had harmed him. `Twas because of me that Mordred hated his father and betrayed him. `Twas because of my curse the noble King Arthur departed this life.”

  Deirdre shook her head. There were no words to ease so great a grief. “I’m sorry,” she said. “So sorry.”

  He seemed not to hear her, swallowing hard before continuing. “In my sorrow I broke an ancient law, cursing these humans. The awful thing is that none of this brought my brother back. None of this eased my people’s sorrow. To this day, they still mourn. Perhaps now that I am gone, they will be able to forget.”

  More than anything, she wanted to go to him, to hold him close and give him what little comfort she could. But both of their wills had proven to be weak. Perhaps she could bring him a measure of consolation with careful words instead.

  “`Twas not your fault—”