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BOOK TWO

 

 

Chapter One

 

I snuggle down into the feather bed, luxuriating in the downy softness, knowing I am awake but unwilling to leave. My mind recalls where I was last; the feel of strong arms surrounding me makes me tingle in anticipation. Scenes flash through my mind.

Jarovegi, wyverns, and ogres appear in terrifying detail. A leather-clad soldier slices into the neck of a four-legged monstrosity, only to forfeit his life as the acidic blood of the beast saturates his face, eventually penetrating the protection of the paladin stone to dissolve the flesh beneath.

“’Ware, behind you!” Sheridan’s warning comes from my left.

Pivoting in her direction, I bring up my hand, ready for danger, but Sheridan’s sprint to the charging monster with deadly claws puts her between the demon and me.  She draws back to swing a mighty blow at the gremlin, separating its head from its shoulders. Time slows as the horror unfolds.

“No-o-o!” I roar.

Sheridan glances over her shoulder at me but continues to bend down: intent on retrieving the glowing red sphere the creature carried like a football. When the warrior’s hand touches the ball of demon energy, her mouth contorts in pain. Black tendrils intertwine with the blue magical energy in her aura. The oozing strands brighten, glowing with a fierce, ruby light as the demonic spell is triggered.

My ears ring as an explosion sends every man within ten feet of the woman hurtling outward. Those that were closest to the royal guard lay in crumpled heaps. The swirling dust parts. There is no trace of Sheridan. Splattered gore and a ten-foot hole are all that remain of my brave defender.

That globe was meant for me. Her life for mine. If I had touched that glowing orb with as much power as I hold in my aura, a third of the town would have been decimated. It is a small comfort. I shrug off the vague and even more terrifying memory rising to the surface. Wiping my eyes, I throw back the covers, no longer having any desire to lounge in warm luxury.

“Milady, shall I have your bath prepared?” Crystal is instantly at my side. The buxom blonde who has become one of my closest friends brings a spark of warmth back into my soul.

I nod.

With a motion, Crystal dismisses Phedra to see to the tasks. The bouncing form of the preteen is another dismal reminder of the chaos my life has become. I was on this planet less than twenty-four hours, and I managed to orphan Phedra and her brother, Keth. I didn’t wield the weapon that killed their family, but I erected a force field around this city, a force field I didn’t think through entirely. When the demons broke through, Phedra’s family paid the ultimate price for my lack of forethought.

My mind wanders to the guys who were strangers, mere days ago. Together, we were snatched from Earth and thrust into this magical world with me. Since our arrival in the kingdom of Cuthburan, some have become close friends; others I have learned to tolerate. We’ve all come a long way from that first day. . .

Has it really been only a week? Materializing as the characters we were pretending to be in Merithin’s tower was like a dream come true. Being endowed with the powers of our gaming characters took some getting used to; we are all still learning the limits to our abilities. Since being stranded in this magical world, we’ve bonded together like members of an army platoon. Now we truly are the Crusaders of the Light, fighting back the darkness threatening this world. Every day I spend here, Earth seems more and more like a dream.

The fair-haired maid approaches with a tray holding a pitcher of water and a glass. My mouth feels like I have spent a week in the Sahara. Seeing the shimmering liquid, I realize the cottonmouth and swollen tongue probably wouldn’t have let me speak, had I tried.

I drain the glass three times. “Thank you, Crystal.” With my tongue loosened, I ask the question that has plagued me since waking. “How did the Crusaders of the Light fare in the battle? I know Allinon survived, but I lost sight of the others after I took out that demon.”

“All are well. Would you like me to summon them?” she queries.

“Let them rest. After what we’ve been through, they deserve it.” A loud gurgling from my middle brings my speech to a halt, and my cheeks redden.

“I was told food and water should be given when you awoke.” Crystal tilts her head to one side. “You have recovered much quicker than expected. I apologize for my lapse.”

“The fault isn’t yours.” I pause, taking a sip of water. “Merithin wasn’t informed that I changed my bed into a regeneration chamber.”

“Re-gin—what kind of chamber?” She is baffled by the long English word I use when I fail to find a Cuthburish term for regenerate.

“I enchanted the bed so I will heal faster,” I expound.

She nods, shrugging off the talk of magic. Crystal continues as if just a few hours ago I hadn’t been fighting creatures more horrifying than anything Stephen King ever dreamed of. “Since you recovered marks before they expected, milady, would you like me to fetch the correspondences that arrived this morning?”

I accept her offer to bring the work to me. My limbs feel like I’m trying to move underwater. It’s probably a side effect from the complete drain of magic from my system. Reclining in the enchanted bed for another mark should stabilize my aura and reenergize my body. Nature can take it from there after a few more hours of magical help.

“My God, Crystal, what are those?” Tired enough not to censor my reaction, I gape at a tray loaded down with packages of all sizes. Satin ribbons are wrapped around cloth bundles like a rainbow puddle on the tray. Taking up almost have the surface, a massive blue package tied with a silver ribbon draws my attention.,

“These, are tokens of appreciation milady.” Setting the tray down on my lap, she goes to retrieve the writing utensils and a lap desk from the next room.

“Propriety dictates that gifts given for reasons other than amorous affection should be sent a brief reply in return,” Crystal informs me as she deposits the writing tray on the stand next to the bed. “The one whose gift you choose to display as an adornment at the victory ball tonight need not be replied to. By wearing it, you state your favor rests with the giver.”

“A ball? You must be joking! We leave for a campaign tomorrow at first light and they want to throw a party?” I snort. “Well, I will just reply to all of them. I have no intention of attending. Do I still need to show favor to one of the givers?”

Crystal’s brow crinkles in puzzlement, but dutifully she answers.“Milady, wearing one of the gifts at the next opportunity would be adequate.”

I dip my head, dismissing her to her other duties. I start with the smallest. I’ll work my way up to that big, blue one. Undoing the ribbon, I open the cloth. Nestled in the center of olive-colored satin are three diamonds the size of my pinky. The austere note accompanying it reads, With thanks and appreciation for the work of your hands. It is signed, Duke Rokroa of Kempmore.

I work my way through the mound of gifts, revealing gems and jewelry of all kinds. I have finished my breakfast and replied to all but the largest package when a knock sounds on the outer door. I know Crystal will get it, so I continue my task. My hands tremble. I slide off the wide, blue ribbon that binds the gray silk. Inside, five smaller bundles of royal blue satin are tied with silver bands.

Crystal reappears in the doorway. “Princess Szeanne Rose to see you, milady.” I instruct Crystal to show my guest in, putting aside the last gifts to don a robe.

“Reba, I am pleased to hear of your swift recovery. I was afraid you would be unable to attend the ball at which you are to be the guest of honor.” Her warm smile reminds me why we have become close friends. The empathetic abilities granted me in the transdimensional trip to this world makes her genuine concern a sheltering haven, as it has been for me since Merithin snatched me from my home a week ago.

“Thank you for your concern, Rose, but I won’t be attending tonight’s gathering.” Feeling clever, I retort, “I really haven’t a thing to wear.”

With a nod to Crystal, she smiles. “Then my victory gift is fortunate. I had a feeling my father would overlook the fact that you are a woman as well as a fighter. I arranged for Edward to make this.”

My servant makes a timely entry. She carries before her the most elaborate dress I have ever laid eyes on. Southern belle styled, it has a wide neck stretching almost to the shoulders as well as a plunging neckline. Am I going to have to use an enchantment to keep this dress from dropping to my knees? Deep auburn on the bottom with shining gold partitions streaking into the blazing hemline, aureate thread embroiders gilded highlights to the bust. The dress is a masterpiece. Phedra holds a pair of burgundy lace-up boots that have two-inch heels.

“Ah, Rose! That is the most beautiful gown I have ever seen. How can I refuse to attend?” I sigh, resigned to my fate. “Not taking this opportunity to show off Edward’s work would be criminal.”

“Come now. You must tell me what it is about this affair that vexes you so?” The look of kindness accompanying her question is too much for me.

“It seems like a useless waste of time, celebrating before the last battle has even been fought!” I soften the criticism by noting, “Besides, I am inept at dancing to courtly tunes. All I need is to reveal the famous archmage for the klutz she really is!”

“Reba, I cherish your honesty.” I feel Rose’s surprise at my directness. My lips curve, despite the awkward situation. “I hope I can help ease your concerns. Our ways are foreign to you. I understand your reaction to what must seem to you a triviality.” The princess gestures to the couch suggesting we should make ourselves comfortable before continuing. “This siege with the demons has been a lengthy ordeal. Before your arrival, this city was terrified by the coming of every night. The populace has hovered under the gloom of depression for far too long. Your presence has been like the dawning of a new day.” Rose pauses thoughtfully.

“This is not a whimsical festival. It is a celebration of the life we did not expect to live. When the populace sees the nobility rejoicing, it will give them the fortitude to endure until the last battle has been won. The men who give their lives to protect us will know we have the utmost confidence in them, that we will be victorious.”

“I never thought of it that way.” Feeling like a country bumpkin, I stare at the floor. “I guess I have a lot to learn about politics and morale.”

“Perhaps . . . but you can count on me to ease your passage. It is the least I can do.” Rose’s ready smile comes back as she continues. “I happen to be on very good terms with the best instructor in the kingdom. If he could teach me, he will have you gliding across the floor in no time. I will let you get to your preparations and send him by a couple of marks before the ball.” Without giving me a chance to refuse, the princess takes her leave.

“Well, Crystal, it looks like I’m going to the dance after all.” I sigh and turn my attention back to what was in the big, blue box.

I unwrap the remaining presents, that lay hidden within. I arrange them on the bed as the maid comes up beside me. “Milady, those are worth a fortune.”

“Yes, but what are they?” The stones set in each piece: a ring, a necklace, a bracelet, earrings, and a tiara are yellow with burgundy lines fanning out from a dark slit in the center, a mirror image of a red-tinted cat’s-eye stone on Earth. Even in the dim light, the stones seem to glow with an internal fire. The gems are set on a wire-thin perinthess chain, the burned-gold metal providing the perfect accent for the lightened edges of the stones.

“They are called molten amber. The smallest stone will bring many gold pieces,” my maid mumbles in awe.

The note reads, Archmage Reba, please accept this token of my gratitude for the guidance your light has shown in these dark times, King Arturo.

“I think I have found the perfect accessory for Rose’s gift,” I whisper as Crystal leads the way to the bathroom. “Honoring the king will be most appropriate.”

After a relaxing soak, we saunter back to the bedroom. “Milady, we will have several marks until your hair dries enough for the irons. Time will be short. I’m not sure how much will be left to practice dancing.”

Several marks, that’s like four hours! I’ve built up my reserves enough for a minor enchantment like this. “Prepare the curling irons. My hair will be dry in a few moments.” Without hesitation, I begin a spell.

 

“Getting late and in a hurry I am,

Dry with gel to get me out of this jam.”

 

An inner push releases the energy stored in my aura. A gentle caress, more intimate than a lover’s, brings a smile to my lips. By the time Crystal finishes issuing the orders, I stand before her with my sopping-wet curls encircled by azure radiance. Before Phedra has the necessary undergarment before us to begin the chore of dressing me in the archaic clothes, my hair is dry. The young protégé puts the irons on the metal bars over the fire as Crystal brings a large platter from her bedroom.

Glancing at the contents, I shake my head. She was great with lip-gloss and a comb, but this is too much. “No offense, but I prefer to do my own face. If you don’t mind, I will call up some supplies from my world while you take care of the irons.”

“Certainly, milady. Shall I bring you a hand mirror?” she offers.

While she fetches the looking glass, I recall my supply of top-of-the-line makeup back home. I picture each piece exactly as I remember it so that the magic here can recreate what I need.

 

“Estée Lauder and Lancôme are what I seek

To add some color to these fair cheeks.

Base, lipstick, eye shadow, and rouge,

Mascara and liner and accessories too.”

 

Euphoria caresses my body followed by grating pain. The second discharge of energy in so short a time from senses still raw and tender brings spots to my vision. A throb begins behind my eyes. The fountain of youth spell kicks in. The inflamed membranes are soothed before the blue fog rolls out over the table. Powerful, unrelenting magic pulls the items in my mind into the real world. The mist lifts, revealing the items I requested scattered across the table.

Crystal and several other maids work on my hair. I apply the makeup with the expert precision I have worked years to refine. Even taking extreme care, I am finished in less than a mark. Unfortunately using the round, metal rods with wooden handles—medieval curling irons—Crystal takes twice as long to finish my hair.

My head chambermaid ushers me to the full-length mirror. In the transfer from Earth, my auburn hair was replaced. The wavy locks that are deep auburn at the roots, gradually lightening to blonde at the tips mark me as “the Flamed-haired One,” the prophesied savior. But this makeover is ever harder to handle.

Flaming masses of orderly curls are piled on top of my head with a few ringlets trailing down each side. The tiara rests on the front, the dark auburn hair a beautiful contrast to the golden stones with the burgundy centers. The choker necklace highlights the graceful length of the neckline, while the cut of the bodice with the skirts flaring out under it makes me look as if I have a tiny waist and a full bust, an hourglass figure.

“I look like a fairy-tale princess.” I gape at my reflection.

“What’s a fairy?” asks Phedra.

“Now that’s a long story.” A knock sounds on the outer door. “And if that is my dance instructor, one that will have to wait until later.”

Layers of skirts whisper as I follow Crystal to the reception chamber. I smile, trying not to giggle at the dumbstruck look on my visitor’s face.

“Trying to catch flies?” I jest to cover my embarrassment.

“My lady, when I first met you, I believed nothing could surpass your beauty. I know now I was mistaken.” Prince Szames, a handsome prince from head to toe, gives an elegant bow. His wavy, blond hair is parted to one side, thick and sexy. The Three Musketeers–type clothing accents his broad shoulders and muscular legs, showing the total hunk that lies beneath the mail.

I blush furiously. “If you don’t stop talking like that, I’ll think someone has swapped my cherished friend for his scoundrel of a brother.”

“We cannot have that.” Szames grins as he changes the subject. “I hear someone is in need of instruction?”

“I am expecting my tutor anytime now. Rose said she knew a ‘Master of the Ball.’”

His eyebrows lift. “I am unsure if I am quite that good, but I am at your service.”

“You? You dance?” I sputter, taking no offense when he laughs at my open mouth.

“Shall I send for a musician?” Szames inquires.

I examine his aura. A quick spell save mega time. I’ll only have to use a fraction of my energy to guide his flow.“I have a better idea if you’re game.”

“With you, milady, I am always prepared to be the game.”

Recalling the other instances I’ve used that phrase, a flight spell and a knife throwing experience,, I chuckle at his misconception of the English slang. My lips curve as I mutter,

 

“Learning to dance is what we must do.

Ask aloud and it is played for you.”

 

Tickling energy gives me goose bumps. Although most of the energy comes from the prince, my reserves are so low that I feel the drain. In the blink of an eye, the radiant blue light of corporeal energy fades from my sight. The spell should take on more life than just the spoken riddle. It will take the ideas I have my thoughts resting on.

I give Szames some directions. “All you have to do is name the song or sing a verse from one while you think of hearing it aloud. Magic will be pulled in from around the room, taking the needed information from your memory.”

“This time, instead of soaring like a hawk, I will invoke singing such as a nightingale. I am unsure which game I prefer being.” He smiles, ribbing me before stating boldly, “It has been years, but I believe this is one of the basic tunes: ‘Moonlit Night.’”

The music burst into the room as if a five-piece orchestra is sitting in the corner. Szames glances around like a startled deer.

“Reba, your magic is amazing. It is the best the court musicians have ever sounded.”

“I’m glad you remembered their best performance and not their worst!” Our laughter sprinkles in with the tune, giving it even more life.

prince extends his arm and my lessons begin. I smile, giving a brief curtsey. The A little more than a mark later, I am able to sashay around the reception chamber to the most popular dances: a stroll, a minuet, and a waltzlike number that has five beats instead of three with a solitary rest separating two parts.

“You are a quick study. You have mastered the basic technique.” He tests my control, addressing me as we waltz.

“I suppose I just needed a good teacher.” Not to mention magically enhanced rhythm and memory.

Our lessons halt when a knock sounds on the outer door. To my surprise, Szames reaches for the door instead of waiting for a servant to answer it. Prince Alexandros’s page bows to me first then to Szames. “Milady, Prince Alexandros relays his wish to offer himself as an escort to the gala this evening.”

“A moment please.” I turn to Szames. “I see no need to trouble your brother since you are already here.”

“Reba, it will be an honor.” He bows.

“Please relay to Prince Alexandros my sincere gratitude for his offer. However, his assistance is not required at this time.” The page turns smartly on his heel as I finish the dismissal.

“I feel guilty for monopolizing you like this.”

The warrior shrugs. “As I recall, we had a deal, you and I. The information exchange: my world for yours. You mentioned you have a dance similar to the fimm-step?”

“We call it a waltz.” Quickly I explain the basic differences. Szames bows, extending his hand. I say, “‘I See it Now,’ Tracy Lawrence.” A familiar tune echoes into the chamber.

We glide across the floor. I spin and turn in the harness of massive arms. Relaxing with the familiar ambiance, I whisper, “When I first learned partner dances, all I knew for years was the traditional slow dance.”

“You are no longer a beginner.” I sense admiration making it a compliment of the highest order.

Coloring at his compliment, I miss a step.

“Your music is quite interesting. That was a simple, yet elegant dance,” my tutor says as the song ends. “My fondness for the elegance of a musical promenade is reinvigorated.”

“Mine too. I haven’t been dancing in ages.” I smile at my escort.

With another elegant bow, Szames inquires, “Will we try this ‘slow dance’ next?”

“There is not much to it, really. You just place your hands at my waist. I place mine on your shoulders. We move back and forth to the beat.”

Szames advances to follow my instruction.

Memories of  my high school crush flow though me. My heart thumps wildly. He really wants to slow dance? What song? I haven’t slow danced in years! With a sigh I pull out an oldie favorite from my parents’ collection of forty-fives. “‘Can’t Help Falling in Love,’ the King.”

Szames is as stiff as a teen at his first party. I am not faring much better. Don’t be stupid; it is just Szames. He’s become the best friend I’ve ever known in seven short days. “For this dance, we just relax,” I mumble, covering my unexpected nervousness. “We don’t need to hold the space.”

Surrounded in Szames’s large, strong arms, with the familiarity of my music and my dance, I begin to decompress from the trauma of the nightmarish battle. As the song winds down, his stance finally starts to relax, so I whisper, “‘Anymore,’ Travis Tritt,” as the Elvis song ends. Slowly, gradually, one step at a time, our bodies edge closer together until I am resting my head on his shoulder.

The chorus rings out, “And I’m tired of pretending I don’t love you . . . anymore.”

He’s so big, so tall. I can literally lay my head on a man’s shoulder for the first time. I give in. Letting go of all the responsibilities hounding me since my arrival, I luxuriate in the moment. But even with all his strength, he holds me so softly, gently . . . tenderly.

To the rhythm of an acoustic guitar, Tritt croons, “My resistance ain’t that strong, but my mind keeps re-creating a life with you alone.” The words strike a chord in my heart.

I lace my fingers behind his neck. My hands rest in the silkiness of his flaxen hair. My empathy, usually blank with Szames, senses something. Desire? Not lust but something soft, tender . . . warm. Instead of irritating me, this softer feeling ignites something deep within my soul. The last measure of the ballad whispers into the still air. I lean back, tilting my head upward. Szames gazes into my eyes. Ever so slowly he begins to lean down. My thoughts scatter. My lips tingle in anticipation. Time stands still.

Ka-click. The sound of the doorknob turning resounds into the silence of the room. We spring apart, widening the one-inch gap between our noses.

“Milady, if you aren’t going to be unseemly late, we will need to freshen you up.” The look in Crystal’s eyes is the same one my mom gives when I screw up—big time. It makes me feel just as guilty.

“Thank you, Crystal.” Like a scolded teen, obediently I follow her into the next room.

Milliseconds after the door closes, words rush forth. “You are a life saver. I don’t know what came over me.” It must be posttraumatic stress syndrome.

Crystal stands stiffly, giving me that “I told you so” stare.

When she begins on my curls, I continue, “I need you to do me a favor. From now on, don’t leave us alone, me and Szames, that is. I don’t know why I’m having such difficulty. I never have in the past. But it’s obvious I can’t be spending any more time alone with him, or Alex either for that matter.” I force my whirling thoughts to focus on memories of my marriage. Kyle, I am so, so sorry. “Back home, my husband and I agreed not to have close friendships with people of the opposite sex. I’m beginning to remember why!”

“Milady, obviously love has dawned for the two of you. Are you sure you want me to cloud the sun?” my personal maid queries as I add some lipstick.

“If I had a choice, I would discontinue the relationship with Szames, no matter how much I enjoy it. But that is an option I don’t have. I must remain on good terms with him. Crystal, you are my only hope. I beg you. Please don’t let me destroy my marriage because I got ‘lost in the moment.’ I’ve gotten far too comfortable with Szames.”

“Milady, I understand your desire to hold to your vows, but why would one romp, worlds away, destroy what you have? After all, your husband won’t know if you don’t tell him.” Crystal finishes with my hair.

I step to the mirror for a look while I explain. “I would know.” How do I explain my morals to a world that doesn’t believe in monogamy? “Guilt would tear me apart. I would probably take out my frustrations on Kyle. Eventually it could lead to be the end of our relationship.”

“Hmm, considering your world’s rigid rules about sexual relationships, it seems a reasonable outcome. Thank you, milady. I believe I understand your predicament. For the first time, the strength of your vows is truly tested. I will be happy to assist in any way I can.”

With one last look in the mirror, I hustle into the next room, where my royal escort awaits.

Love’s Price