to straighten everything out. Then they could live in peace while they rebuilt Cymmera. The death of Jackson’s mother, Queen Dara, had left Cymmera a cold, barren, dead land. The last battle had scarred the land even further.
Ryleigh rose and met him halfway across the room. She slid into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his back and resting her cheek against his chest, the warmth of her body against his the most natural feeling in the world.
She fit perfectly against him, as if she were made to be there. And, in a way, she was. The tattoo that had appeared on her arm during his Death Dealer ceremony gave her a rightful seat on the throne. The fact he’d been able to claim her, had been unable to deny the need to claim her, proved they were destined for one another.
Ryleigh stepped back and looked up at him. “Make sure you come back.”
“Of course, I’ll come back.” He cupped her face, running a thumb over the slight bruising marring the cheekbone beneath her right eye, the result of a misplaced elbow during this morning’s hand to hand combat training.
Leaning into his touch, she smiled. “Promise?”
They both knew it was a promise he couldn’t make, so he simply smoothed her long, blond hair and pulled her close again. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of the shampoo she always used. The scent of strawberries would forever remind him of Ryleigh. “I’ll come back, Ryleigh. And when I do, we’ll return Cymmera to the grandeur she deserves.”
Soft sobs shook her shoulders, and her tears soaked through his black T-shirt.
He kissed the top of her head, then stepped away while he still could.
When she stood on her toes, he leaned down for the kiss, pressed his lips to hers, and pulled her back into his arms.
She pulled away first. “I love you, Jackson.” She didn’t say the words often, and they caught him by surprise.
“I love you too.” He released her and turned away. It would only get harder to leave the longer he stayed.
Chapter 2
Ryleigh poked her head through the throne room door. Still no sign of Mia, and Max hadn’t returned. She’d already searched everywhere she could think of for Elijah, intent on harassing him until he gave her answers, but the sorcerer could be elusive when he chose.
No matter. She’d find out what was going on soon enough. Now that the Death Dealers had gone in search of Chayce, maybe the veil of secrecy Elijah and Mia had concocted would no longer be necessary. Assuming whatever was going on with Elijah and Mia had to do with the situation with Chayce, that is.
Her footfalls echoed back at her as she crossed the empty room. The huge chamber’s medieval feel, with its high domed ceilings, patterned stone floor, and the two thrones standing sentinel at its far end, had always frightened her a little. Maybe too stark a reminder of the enormous responsibility she now shouldered.
As she slid past her throne, her sword caught on the arm, and she took a step back and untangled it. She’d never get used to wearing the stupid thing everywhere she went. If not for Jackson’s insistence, it’d probably be stuffed under her bed beside the baseball bat she kept hidden there.
She pulled open a drawer on the side table behind her throne and rifled through the papers she’d stuffed in there in search of her leather appointment book. If she couldn’t find answers, may as well get some work done. It was either that or dwell on Jackson’s mission and the terror it brought. She pressed a hand against her heaving stomach. No. She couldn’t think about that. She had more immediate problems she might actually be able to do something about.
Several meetings had to be scheduled, and without writing them down, she’d never keep track of where she was supposed to be. Especially with her mind so jumbled with images of Jackson going up against Chayce.
She snatched the book, shoved the drawers shut, and turned to leave.
Ryleigh’s vision blurred. The air shimmered in the center of the throne room, and her ears popped.
She ripped her sword from its sheath even as the portal opened.
A seven-foot-tall beast built of solid muscle tore through the portal. A triple headed flail swung from one massive hand.
She braced for an attack.
The savage lurched to the side of the portal and ogled her. A line of thick drool slid down his chin.
A second savage barreled through the portal and lunged to the opposite side.
She squinted against the glint off his axe and fumbled for the rope beside her throne.
More beasts than men, with long, stringy, dark hair, full beards, and thick heavy brows that shadowed their empty black eyes, the savages stood sentinel on either side of the open portal.
She yanked the rope to summon help and prayed it would come in time.
Savages were vicious creatures but dumb and completely subservient to their leader. No doubt the real threat had yet to emerge.
She wasn’t about to stand there and wait for it. She slid to her left, sword at the ready.
The first savage kept pace, paralleling her movements.
Chayce Maynard emerged from the portal, his nearly black eyes rock hard. “Hello again, Ryleigh.”
A setup.
Chayce drew his sword. No sign of the boy who’d toyed with her during their last encounter remained in the man who stood before her.
“What do you want, Chayce?” She lifted her chin, stiffened her spine, in an effort to appear strong.
“Let’s not play games, Ryleigh. That time has passed. I don’t want anything from you except your death, so I can claim my kingdom.” He strode toward her.
The savages kept pace on either side of him.
She raised her sword and backed up. The back of her legs hit the throne. Trapped.
Chayce increased his pace.
She charged the savage on her left. If she could just skirt around him. She brought her sword around and aimed for his chest.
He stepped back, and she missed. He swung his flail and opened a gash across her right bicep.
Not too high a price for the better position. She spun and faced them. Her every instinct begged her to flee, but the door was too far away. She’d never make it.
The savages turned toward her and stopped. They looked at Chayce.
Chayce ascended the platform, sheathed his sword, and settled on Jackson’s throne. Elbows propped on the armrests, fingers steepled in front of him, he leered at her. “Kill her and dispose of her body.”
They rushed her.
She used the first savage’s momentum to plunge her sword through his gut. While he fell, she pulled the sword free and rounded on the second.
His
