Jardan

THE MEN OF ANDERAS

JarDan, the King By

C.J. Johnson

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

© copyright by C.J. Johnson, July 2009 Cover art by Eliza Black, July 2009 ISBN 978-1-60394-337-6 New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

2

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

3

Imperial Orders of the Tribunal of Anderas In this, our one hundredth year of plague, in an effort to save what is left of our planet, we, the members of the Tribunal of Anderas; hereby declare the following articles to be law: • Technology from alien planets is to be immediately dismantled and destroyed. • No deliberate harm may be brought against any female. • Travel Craft will only obtain females from the worlds chronicled in the Archives of the Ancients. • No female may be taken who has family or close friends who will grieve for her absence. • A male may not choose a mate until this thirty-fifth year. • No male may bond with more than one female in his lifetime. • In order to preserve our bloodlines, no child may be created with a female from any planet other than those listed in the Archives of the Ancients. • Advanced technology will only be used to preserve life and to procure females. • To avoid possible detection, each kingdom of Anderas will be assigned specific areas on the planets of our ancestors in which to locate acceptable females. • No alien being shall be allowed on the planet of Anderas. • Aliens wishing to remain in service to the Anderan Space Exploration Program may apply for permanent residence aboard the orbital space station. Violation of any article listed above will mean swift and certain death. We take these drastic measures in an attempt to save our dying planet. May the wisdom of the Ancients guide and protect us.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

4

PART ONE Chapter One The feeble light of an overcast sunrise brought little cheer to the shabby, rundown barn. Melodie leaned against the rusted tractor that hadn’t moved in twenty years, comforted by the familiar smells of animals, hay and damp earth. It was all she had to soothe the numbing grief that gripped her heart and soul. It was over. At least it would be when the crew from the auction company arrived. All the scrimping and saving and doing without merely extended the death watch. In the end the results were the same. She had nothing left. This sprawling farm nestled in the rolling plains of central Missouri was the only home she remembered. Her grandfather had done his best to care for the frightened toddler who suddenly appeared in his life, but he was already old and set in his ways. Melodie knew he loved her, he just hadn’t shown it often. Now she had nothing. No home. No money. No family. She owed Mr. Carstairs a staggering debt of gratitude. Foreclosure should have occurred six months ago. He used his position at the bank to convince the board of directors to wait until Grandpa Joe no longer fought the insidious cancer eating away at his body. Well, that was six weeks ago. Six weeks of dealing with doctors and funeral arrangements. Six weeks of believing that everything would be fine when the insurance company paid off. Six weeks of living in futile hope. The insurance barely paid for the funeral. There was nothing left. There was no more hope. The painful lowing of the last remaining milk cow brought Melodie back to the present. Twice a day, every day, Bessie demanded her attention. Placing a small stool beside the warm bovine, Melodie began the process that was as familiar to her as brushing her teeth. There was a certain security in the feel of Bessie’s warm, soft hide against her cheek. “This is our last morning together, girl. Tonight you’ll be in someone else’s barn, eating twice what you’re worth and giving less milk than it takes to feed the cats.” Tears clogged her throat, but she resolutely refused to let them fall. She moved the half-filled pail of milk and draped her arms around her old friend’s neck in final farewell. “I’ll miss you, Bess.” She whispered as she stroked the velvet soft nose. Taking a deep breath, she brushed the bits of straw and dust from the seat of her jeans and flipped her long, dark braid across her shoulder. “Enough of this, Melodie Anne. Chores have to be done no matter what the rest of the day brings.” With the quick, efficient movements of long practice, she fed and cared for the animals, taking an extra minute to say goodbye to each of them. An hour later, she found nothing more to keep her in the familiar surroundings. It was time to face reality. Taking a wide circular route from the barn to the house, Melodie drank in the sights, sounds and smells that would carry her through the next several months. The frayed rope swing that once lifted her to the clouds. The flower beds filled with the delicate scent of sweet peas. The old well-house that her imagination turned into castles and pirate ships and famous theater stages. With gentle caresses, she sought the peace

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

5

that comes from warm memories. Tears she could no longer contain slipped slowly down her pale face as she crushed the colorful sweet pea blossoms to her chest. A tiny spark of anger at the unfairness of life flared in her heart. It was enough, for now, to push the pain away. She would grieve later. Wiping at the wetness on her cheeks, she sprinted toward the house. There was still too much to do before the auction started to stand around weeping. The scavengers would come from miles around to gawk. They would carry no tales of a hysterically sobbing woman back to feed the gossip mills. **** “Did you see the kitchen? Why, I bet that icebox is as old as I am.” “And those awful drapes; but what can you expect from that Melodie Smith? You know she never has been much of a real woman.” “Why I heard she’s never even had a date.” “What man wants a woman who looks him in the eye? There’s a reason my Joe calls me his little woman. That’s the natural way of things. It’s just not natural for a woman to be so tall.” Melodie stood in the darkened pantry listening to the snide remarks about her and her home. Anger and humiliation warred within her, threatening to crack her fragile shell of control. She would not give them the satisfaction of losing that control. These women were no different from most of the crowd milling around both inside the house and across the wide expanse of lawn. Every person here had his or her own reasons for attending. A few intended to purchase land or equipment; but most shared a mixture of morbid curiosity, pity and fear. The plight of the American farmer was becoming increasingly glum. They all knew how quickly everything could be lost. Their spite and venom were merely talismans to keep at bay the possibility that they could be next. Pride kept Melodie going through the hours it took for the highest bidders to lay claim to her home. Since there were no offers for the farm as a whole, the livestock and equipment sold separately. It was painfully hard to watch a lifetime of memories disappear down the dusty road. After hours of listening to the tongue-tripping cadence of the auctioneer, she handed over the keys to her home; thanked the auctioneer and his team with a few mumbled words of appreciation and carried her meager belongings to the battered pick-up truck that hadn’t been worth a bid. An unusually strong gust of wind carried the scent of rain and Melodie realized the storm forecast for after midnight was imminent. There were still two cars remaining in the yard. One belonged to Mr. Carstairs and the other to Reverend Simmons. With a groan of dismay Melodie watched the overweight, over-zealous minister make a bee line straight toward her. “Sister Smith, a moment of your time please.” “Of course, Reverend Simmons.” She replied with a slight smile. After twenty years she knew there was nothing that could keep the man from doing what he decided was God’s will. “I hope, dear woman, that the results of today’s proceedings were financially

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

6

beneficial?” At the slight negative shake of her head he continued. “Well, God’s Will be done. The women of the church put together a little something for you to take with you. I took the liberty of putting the box in the truck when I arrived. It’s not much, just a little food for the trip and some canned goods to help for a spell till you get settled.” “That really wasn’t necessary, Reverend, but tell them thank you for me. The fried chicken smells really good.” Melodie turned toward the truck door hoping the man would take the hint and leave. She wanted very much to be alone. “You know, Melodie, I’ve always considered your refusal to join the Ladies Prayer Meetings a personal failure of mine. It’s important to have friends, especially when life’s problems appear to overwhelm …” “Does the fate of my immortal soul depend on whether I attend those Thursday morning coffee and cake sessions?” She asked in a cold voice, ignoring the sharp jab of conscience. The women of the Ladies Prayer Meeting Group offered spiritual support as well as food, clothing and shelter when necessary to anyone in the community who needed their help. “No, of course not. You’ve always been such a loner and there’s some speculation about why you never attempted to become part of the community. You’ve lived here all your life, yet no one really knows you.” Taking pity on his embarrassed rambling, Melodie reached out and laid a comforting hand on Reverend Simmons’ arm. “You have no need to feel you failed me. There was just too much work to do here. I never seemed to find time just for myself. Grandpa needed me more than the women of the church. I have no regrets and neither should you.” Again her conscience rebelled at her lie. There were a great many things she wished could have been different, just no reason to dwell on them. Casting a hasty glance at the ever-darkening storm clouds, he clasped her hand and offered a prayer for her safety before hurrying away secure in the knowledge he had done his Christian duty. “Laid it on a little thick, didn’t you?” Melodie’s impish grin spread like sunshine across her face and Samuel Carstairs felt the full force of that smile like a blow to his chest. Although she wasn’t classically beautiful, in the right environment, with the right clothes, she would be stunning. She stood eye-to-eye with him and he was six feet tall; but what caught and held his attention was her unusual violet eyes. They were the clear gem-like violet of amethysts. When combined with the coal-black mass of hair she always wore in a neat braid, the effect was staggering. “Are you all right, Mr. Carstairs?” Melodie asked when he continued to stare at her. “I’m fine. I was just … never mind, it wasn’t important.” There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t make him sound like a perverted old man. “I was just thinking about your grandfather. He was born on this farm. Worked it all his life. Now the only thing left is that battered old truck.” His gaze wandered slowly around the empty farm. The only sound was the rumbling of the approaching storm. “What will you do? Where will you go?”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

7

His softly spoken questions brought the return of tears to her eyes. Swallowing hard past the lump in her throat, she did the only thing she could to ease the worry of this dear old man. She lied. “I mailed my resume to several job referral offices in St. Louis weeks ago and two of them have scheduled interviews for next week. I never thought about all of the clerical work that goes into running this place. I look pretty good on paper.” In truth, she had no idea where she was going or how she was going to survive. She just knew she’d do what she had to do. “Then I want you to take this.” He handed her an envelope before speaking again. “There’s five hundred dollars in there and before you start arguing with me, think with your head and not your pride. Joe Smith was my best friend and I know he would have done the same for me. I only wish I could do more. Please, let me give this final gift to my friend. Let me help.” Tears ran unheeded down her face as she clasped the envelope to her chest. “I don’t know how to thank you.” She managed after a few minutes. “No thanks are necessary. Just promise me you’ll let me know if you ever need anything.” With an impulsiveness that was uncommon for her, Melodie hugged the older man, whispered a ragged thank you in his ear before quickly scrambling into her truck. Before the door closed behind her, huge drops of rain began battering a rapid tattoo against the cab.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

8

Chapter Two “By the Ancients, JarDan! Why do you insist on continuing this voyage?” Dak yelled in exasperation. “We have more than one hundred females in sleep chambers. If the other travel crafts have been half so successful we’ll not have to make another trip to Earth for years.” The frustrated second-in-command glared in angry confusion at the stiff back of his friend and liege. This voyage was taking its toll on the entire crew. Every day brought a new case of space fatigue. So far, the cases were all mild. It wouldn’t be long before it affected the highest levels of command. Even the commander, Tor JarDan. Their travel craft had been in Earth’s orbital field for twelve months. No travel craft in the history of Anderas had undertaken such an extended journey. From initial take-off to return was never more than six months. Yet, JarDan showed no intention of returning to their world nor would he explain his reluctance to leave. Dak tried again to reason with his friend. “JarDan,” he began with forced calm, “you’re the Commander of the Destiny and as such I’ll follow your orders without question.” He ignored the snort from across the room. “The crew is restive and their concerns are valid. Every hour we delay in leaving orbit puts all of us at risk. They deserve to know why you refuse to leave. If you continue with this course of action, there will be trouble. I feel it.” “Perhaps you should refer the crew to the page in their manual that deals with the Order of Command of a Travel Craft.” Sarcasm tinged the deep voice as the dark-haired leader turned from his perusal of the blue and white planet beyond the window port. “If that fails to satisfy their curiosity then you might mention that I am the Prince of Tor.” Dak drew himself to attention at the rebuke from his Commander. “My apologies, your Highness. I will pass your message to the crew. I bid you good night.” “Dak …” The voice was soft but the command to halt was there, nonetheless. JarDan watched as his best friend stood stiffly at attention. “I’m sorry. My temper controls my tongue these days. You take advantage of the fact that we’re as close as brothers. No other man would question my orders then dare to take offense when I snap in anger.” Turning back to the window port he waited until he heard Dak sit before continuing. “I don’t know that I can explain what I don’t understand myself. This is our third trip to Earth, but this time is different. There’s something pulling at me with all the force of an electromagnetic field. I wake up in the middle of the night with such an overwhelming sense of urgency that it takes all my willpower not to teleport -somewhere -- anywhere -- down there. I can't stay away from this window. Watching. Waiting.” JarDan turned and pinned his friend with a look, willing him to understand.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

9

“Does space fatigue cause this kind of madness? Have I put the ship and crew in jeopardy because of my fixation with this planet? I think of my father and know I need to return to Anderas, but I cannot issue the order. I know without a doubt that my destiny is waiting down there and if I leave Earth’s orbit I will regret it the rest of my life.” Turning back to the window port and the beckoning planet below, JarDan sighed deeply. “What’s down there, Dak?” The buzz of the intercom interrupted any comment Dak might have made. “Tor here.” “Commander, you said to notify you if I noticed … you know … anything unusual, Sir.” JarDan shook his head. “Yes, Ensign, I’m aware of my orders. What have you found?” He shoved his hair back from his forehead. “And Ensign, short and to the point please.” “Yes, Sir. Well, Sir, it’s a storm, Sir. A real killer, Sir. It will cause massive destruction, Sir, in an area in central North America.” “There’s nothing unusual in that, Ensign. They’re a common occurrence in that area.” The deliberately patient tone of voice was a warning. “Well, Sir.” Stammered the young man. “It’s difficult to explain, Sir.” JarDan waited for several seconds before realizing the young man was not going to offer further information. “Ensign!” He barked. “You have exactly ten seconds to make your report -- officially -- or I will relieve you of your post. Is that clear? And one sir per sentence.” JarDan shot a warning glance at his chuckling companion. “Yes, Sir. The storm is not so unusual, Commander,” answered the navigator briskly. “It’s the woman, Sir.” “A woman?” His senses went on full alert. Something was happening. Something important. He felt it in the quickening of his pulse. “Yes, Sir. She’s standing knee-deep in mud and … she’s attacking her vehicle, Sir.” “I’ll be right there. Captain Beldon will be in charge of the Flight Deck. Have the Teleport Crew stand by for my orders.” He severed the connection before the young navigator could begin another monologue. “JarDan! Where are you going? You’re not even dressed!” JarDan glanced at the flowing robe he wore, its distinctive white color and gold embroidery a symbol of his royal heritage. “Come on, Dak! There’s no time for me to change!” “But where are you going?” Insisted Dak. “Down there!” JarDan yelled, heading for the elevator, barefoot and wearing nothing but the loose, caftan-type robe, a crooked grin spreading across his face. This tingling awareness had to signify something. An end to his quest? By all the Ancient Prophets, could this woman be the reason? Attacking her vehicle? In the middle of a storm? Amazing! ****

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

10

Melodie slid from the battered old truck, gasping as the thick, black mud sucked her feet into its depths. Rain soaked her clothes, chilling her skin to goose-flesh. She strained with the effort of lifting one foot then the other from the clinging mud. Using one arm to shield her face from the driving rain and the other for balance, she struggled against the pull of the mud and the buffeting wind. Every deafening explosion of thunder and blinding flash of lightning emphasized the deadly consequences of her mad dash across the state. Pride goes before a fall, Melodie Anne, and just look where it’s gotten you now. When all you have left is pride and a truck with more rust and dents than paint, it’s hard to give it up. If she could find the farmer who owned this field, she could beg the use of his tractor to pull her truck from the mud. Since she hadn’t passed any houses in several miles, the farmer had to live in the direction she’d been driving. The house should be fairly close, but with the way her luck was running these days, she didn’t count on it. It was going to be a cold, wet walk no matter how far. With a sigh of resignation, she took firm hold on her determination and began the arduous task of fighting her way through the mud to the road. As soon as she rounded the front of the truck the full force of the howling wind hit her hard. Turning her back against the storm’s fury, she never saw the tree limb hurtling toward her until it slammed into her back, knocking her face down into the mud. Her small measure of emotional control snapped like the limbs of the falling tree that caused her to swerve off the road, sailing across the fence into the mud. Struggling to her feet, she grabbed the limb and beat against the hood of her truck. “You miserable hunk of rusting junk! How could you do this to me? I’ve babied you for years and this is how you repay me? It’s not fair! It’s just not fair.” She beat on the defenseless truck until she had no energy left to fight. Exhausted, she lay across the warm hood, cursing the pride that drove her from the safety of Reverend Simmons’ home into this crazy dash across Missouri. Finally, her tears and anger spent, Melodie knew she had to find shelter from the cold rain. The truck was no longer an option since the entire passenger side of the front windshield was gone, shattered by an exploding tree limb -- the same limb currently embedded in the back of the passenger seat. She would have to abandon the truck until the storm passed. The only building in sight was an old barn, one wall completely gone, the other three listing to the side. It wasn’t much but she didn’t have time to be picky. The danger lay in crossing the open field. She would be a walking lightning rod. Before she had gone more than a few feet, she heard the unmistakable freight train roar of an approaching tornado. Wiping water from her eyes, she watched the gyrating cyclone perform a terrifying ballet across the pitifully few miles between it and the acres of open, muddy field around her, moving closer and destroying everything in its path. There was no refuge in the open field and no time to get to cover. So this was it. She never expected her life to end this way -- nor so soon. Grandpa used to say that everything happened for a reason. If the Good Lord felt you needed to know what it was, He’d tell you -- just have a little faith. Melodie had no fear of death. She believed strongly that her immortal soul would find a better world and this

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

11

gave her strength. Words like -- alone -- bankrupt -- homeless -- wouldn’t exist in Heaven. She stood with calm acceptance as the tornado advanced with deadly precision, sucking the very air from around her, knowing that soon she would see her family again. Suddenly, a brilliant glow appeared in front of her. From this glowing orb of light stepped a giant of a man. A man too perfect to be real. Long, dark hair and robes of white and gold adorned his magnificent body – surely he was an angel sent to guide her passing. His strong, powerful arms closed around her, offering warmth and security, drawing her with him into the light. Cradled in the embrace of the angel, Melodie watched in serene fascination as the churning destructive force of the tornado ripped through the field around them. The truck, her clothes, everything she had left in the world was at the mercy of the demonic wind. Twisted metal and flying bits of rags were all that remained of the woman called Melodie Smith. “Close your eyes,” whispered the deep, masculine voice of her angel. “I’m taking you somewhere safe.” **** “Dak!” Bellowed JarDan as he stepped from the teleport platform with the unconscious woman in his arms. “Notify the MediCenter. I think she’s in shock.” Without slowing his pace, the Prince of Tor carried the woman to the waiting elevator. A team of medical personnel with a mobile stretcher waited just outside the door when the elevator stopped. JarDan forced himself to place her on the stretcher but followed closely while the team wheeled her into an examination tube. His reluctance to leave the woman’s side strengthened his belief that she was the reason for his delay in returning home. By the Ancients, he hated the smell of a MediCenter. Shutting his mind to the antiseptic odors, he watched the six-member team scurry around attaching monitors and sensors to the bed where the woman lay. “Leave her to us, Commander.” Doctor Sladal stated, trying to usher the hovering prince from the room. “She’s in no danger; merely wet and cold and suffering from her first trip through a teleport unit. Surely you remember how debilitating such excursions are until your body acclimates itself. You will do her more good by letting us do our job.” “Stop treating me like a five-year old, Sladal. I have no intention of leaving this room until I know everything there is to know about her condition.” “As you wish. It will take a few minutes to get her cleaned up and into dry clothing. At that point I will be able to examine her and give you a report.” JarDan nodded in absent agreement as he reached for the wet shirt. “Your Highness!” You cannot undress this woman!” JarDan grinned at the shocked expression on the doctor’s face. “I’ve seen naked women before, Sladal.” “I have no doubt. However, you paid those women for that service, did you not? Have you paid this woman for the privilege of undressing her?”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

12

“Sladal, you walk a very narrow line with your comments.” JarDan warned in a cold, steely voice. “I tire of repeating myself. I. Am. Not. Leaving.” Without waiting for further comments JarDan returned his attention to the unconscious woman, quickly stripping the rest of her clothes from her body. He cleaned the mud from her skin before covering her with warmed sheets while the medical team cleaned the mud and debris from her hair. Her face, neck and lower arms were much darker than the rest of her body, evidence of spending long hours working in the sun. The untanned skin was a pale ivory color. Her breasts weren’t large but JarDan knew they would fill his palm to perfection. He gently dried her skin with the warm towel, feeling a strong surge of desire when her nipple, drawn tight from the cold rain, tightened even more with his touch. He wished he could take full credit for the pebbled condition. With a quiet groan, he relinquished her care to the medical team. He hadn’t visited a pleasure station since before he left for Earth more than a year ago and his reaction to this woman was strong. The thick blanket shifted with each soft breath and accented the way her hips flared from her narrow waist. Taking a deep breath, he forced his attention to her face, grateful that his robe was loose enough to hide the physical evidence of his interest. Thick, dark lashes rested against her pale cheeks. Her nose was short and tipped on the end. High cheekbones balanced a wide, full mouth and a stubborn chin. Taken one piece at a time, she was merely pretty, but the total woman was striking. Minutes turned to hours and still she remained unconscious. JarDan paced the small cubicle until his concern for her drew him back to the woman. Now free of mud, her hair hung over the side of the bed. The heavy, black mass created a living cascade that brushed the tops of his bare feet. His fingertips softly stroked the midnight wisps from her face, willing her to open her eyes. An unseen hand brought a chair and JarDan moved it so he could watch her sleep. When his helplessness threatened to overwhelm him, he began to pace again, watching the clock as the cycle repeated itself. “What’s wrong with her, Sladal?” He asked for the hundredth time since the doctor activated the examination tube. “Physically, nothing. The monitors indicate that she is a perfectly normal, human female. The memory scan should be completed within the hour. JarDan paused his restless pacing to stroke the pale face, fascinated when a strand of hair curled itself around his hand, binding him to her. Another sign. He now had his answer. Without a doubt in his mind, he knew that this woman was the reason for his extended delay in returning to Anderas. A deep feeling of protectiveness washed over him when he held her chilled hand in his own, tracing the calluses on her palm with a gentle caress of his fingertips. It surprised him to realize that she had known hardship, years of it if her hands were any indication. He glanced up as Dak walked through the door. He could see the questions in his friend’s eyes but he had no answers. “It’s been hours, Dak. Sladal doesn’t know what else to try.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

13

“Give it time, JarDan. We’ve loaded the course coordinates for Anderas. When Sladal completes the mind scan and we know her status, we can be on our way home. Why not change into a clean uniform and get some rest? You’re covered with dried mud. I’ll stay with her until you return and call immediately if there’s any change.” Reluctantly, JarDan acknowledged the wisdom of Dak’s suggestion. He turned to leave, but found himself returning to stare at the sleeping woman. “As I trust you with my life, so guard hers.” Dak responded with a slow nod of his head. JarDan moved toward the elevator, allowing the guard inside to speed him toward his quarters. He refused to consider the possibility that she may have someone special in her life. She belonged to him. Every second he spent with her calmed the driving urgency that had plagued him for months. Now he felt -- complete. Dak was right, he needed a bath. The Prince of Tor wanted to be at his best when she met him for the first time. The Prince of Tor wasn’t the only one who showed in interest in the Earth female. Across the room, unobserved by the busy medical team, a grey-haired MedTech watched and waited. He recalled his death pledge, given years ago. This was his chance to show the master he was still a worthy Minion of the Dark. The end of the House of Tor was approaching, and if Tor JarDan was interested in this woman then she must die, too. Smiling with evil pleasure, the MedTech slid his hand into his pocket, assuring himself the vial of liquid was still there. The drug could bring intense pleasure or horrible death. Pleasure stations throughout the galaxy once used it to stimulate sex drive. Scientists discovered that when used just before space sleep, the disruptive physiological side-effects would cause the heart to explode. Now, only the few stations still offering the more perverted pleasures used the outlawed drug. He would find a time before the female went into space sleep to administer the drug. “Sladal! Sladal! I think she’s waking up!” The MedTech watched as Captain Beldon hurried from the room in search of the doctor. Using the pretext of straightening the blanket on the bed, Torak uncapped the vial and dribbled the lethal fluid into her mouth. Hearing the approach of the other men, he resealed the vial and turned from the bed. Did he use enough? She needed to swallow the entire bottle, but there just wasn’t enough time. It would have to be enough. She had to die. It would please his master. With a crisp salute to Captain Beldon, he left the MediCenter. It really was too bad he had to put her to sleep. He remembered his one experience with the drug. It took hours before the whore began to suspect something was wrong. Torak smiled at the memory. Confusion and mindless rambling were the early signs, but the woman was too stupid or too drunk to realize what was happening. When her skin got too sensitive to stand her clothes, she knew then. She knew, but it was too late. By that time, it wouldn’t have made any difference who she was with. All she could do was ride out the increasing waves of desire. Trying to satisfy that female had damn near killed him. Yes, it was just too bad

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

14

Tor’s bitch couldn’t stay awake and enjoy what was coming. His hollow laugh echoed through the deserted corridors.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

15

Chapter Three She heard voices. Strange muted voices. Where was she? Melodie kept her eyes closed and tried to remember what happened. She was trying to outrun the storm when lightening hit a tree near the road sending burning branches in all directions. A large limb came through her windshield. Jerking the steering wheel in reaction sent her truck sailing off the road, over a fence, landing in the middle of a field. The torrential rains had turned the freshly plowed dirt into a sea of mud. The tornado coming straight for her! The angel! Forcing her eyes open she stared at the room around her. Beds lined both long walls of the room, each separated by curtains suspended from the ceiling. Everything was white and stainless steel. Strange, she never imagined Heaven would look like a hospital. “Ah, so you’re awake. Good. Good.” Melodie blinked as she focused on a very unusual man. This was definitely not her angel. If the wrinkles on his face were any indication, he must be at least one hundred years old. Bright blue eyes, much too alert to be so ancient, twinkled beneath the thickest, bushiest eyebrows imaginable. “Your hair’s blue,” Melodie mumbled in stunned surprise as she stared at the stranger bending over her. “What? Why so it is. A very pale shade of blue to be sure, but blue nonetheless. Do you dislike blue hair?” She chuckled as the blue eyebrows twitched like giant caterpillars. “My fourth grade teacher, Miss Clairmont, had blue hair but I think it came from a bottle.” The strange man smiled as he pushed buttons and flipped switches on the equipment panel beside her bed. “Who are you? Where am I? How long have I been here?” She stared at the smiling face of the blue-haired man. This is definitely not Heaven. Not unless angels had blue hair. Why would a man have blue hair, anyway? “My name is Sladal and you’ve been here for about twenty-four hours.” He responded, patting her hand. “I’m a physician.” “Physician?” She echoed in panic. “Am I all right?” “Yes. Yes. You’re fine. You were suffering from a mild case of hypothermia. Once we got you dry and warm, it was just a matter of letting your body’s natural healing process work. Are you hungry? Would you like to freshen up? Clean clothes are in the drawer beneath the bed. Anything else you might need is in the bath through that door.” He indicated a closed door across the room. Melodie smiled her appreciation, but before Sladal could leave she reached for his arm. “Doctor …” she felt foolish for even considering the possibility, but she had to

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

16

know for sure. “Was there a … a man with me when I arrived?” A fiery blush crept up her neck to cover her face as she pretended a great interest in the seam along the top of the sheet. “Uh … yes,” the doctor mumbled. “A man did bring you here.” Trying to cover her interest in nonchalance, Melodie shrugged as she slid her legs off the bed. “I’m grateful he was passing by when the tornado hit. I wonder if it was his field I destroyed with my truck.” Gathering the clothes from the drawer beneath the bed she turned what she hoped was an innocent face to Doctor Sladal. Not for a minute did she believe that man was a farmer. “Is he still here?” “Um … mm … I suppose. I’ll see if I can locate him for you.” She watched in confusion as the doctor practically ran from the room. Shaking her head, she headed for the bath. As she washed her face and brushed her hair, she tried to remember exactly how she got here. Wherever here was. Slipping the shapeless grey garment from her body, she reached for the gown that came from the drawer. This was like no hospital gown she’d ever seen. No pale green cotton, that’s for sure. Melodie gasped in pleasant shock as the soft, silky material slid down her body. The deep blue gown rippled and flowed around her with a life of its own. Every movement sent tingling sensations dancing across her skin from the caress of the fabric. Her hands smoothed the material across her abdomen and down her hips, intensifying the sensations. Soft moans echoed in the small room. Startled, she realized she was the one moaning. She stared in wonder at the face in the mirror. The flushed cheeks and too bright eyes looked familiar, but something was definitely different. Pushing the disturbing sensations from her mind, Melodie returned to her bed and tried to bring some order to her chaotic thoughts. Questions tumbled around in her head. How did she escape the storm? Where was she? Although she rarely left the small community where she grew up, she was certain there was no medical center in the area. And the man? Who was he? Smiling to herself, Melodie tried to picture a Missouri farmer wearing long white robes anywhere. Nope, she decided with a grin. Definitely not a farmer. It should be a sin and a crime for any man to be that attractive. Remembering the feel of his arms, the solid mass of his chest, the warn scent of his skin sent a shaft of heat from her throat to her knees. Sensations and needs she never knew existed sprang to life, growing stronger with each minute. His image in her mind sharpened until he consumed her thoughts, pushing all questions into limbo. “Enough of this, Melodie Anne,” she muttered aloud. “You’re being ridiculous. No man is that perfect. With the accident and the storm, you’ve obviously magnified this man with your stupid fantasies. Now, braid your hair and act you age.” Pulling the brush through her hair with more force than necessary, she tried to still the little voice whispering in her ear. Most women your age wouldn’t have to rely on fantasy.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

17

Without warning, the memory of a voice became a deep, rumbling caress. Close your eyes. With a gasp, she obeyed the silent command, leaning forward to reach for what the voice promised. Again, the sharp stab of heat flooded her body with a longing she didn’t know how to fulfill. Shuddering with need, Melodie hugged her arms across her chest. Dear God, what is happening to me? A commotion just beyond the curtain surrounding her bed alerted her to the presence of others in the room. Trying to ignore her growing restlessness, she quickly finished braiding her hair, praying no one would notice her trembling fingers. Doctor Sladal appeared at the foot of her bed with an attendant close behind him. “Well, are you feeling better?” Melodie knew she must have made an appropriate response, but for the life of her she didn’t know what it was. “Good. Good. There’s someone who wishes to meet you so if you will follow me …” “Wait. I can’t see anyone dressed like this.” She indicated the delicate blue gown that clung to her body, revealing every curve even if it did cover her from neck to mid-calf. “What? Oh, of course.” A snap of his fingers sent the attendant scurrying away. “Thomas will soon return with a heavier robe then he will escort you.” **** “I will hear no more!” Roared JarDan, ending the argument he and Dak started several hours earlier. “The decision is mine to make and I’ve made it! The responsibility is mine!” “I can’t believe you’re willing to risk so much over this woman. Have you read the mind-scan? Does she have people who will miss her? Not even the Prince of Tor would dare break that law.” “Of course, I’ve read the scan. She has no one. Orphaned as a toddler, she lived with her grandfather on his farm in central Missouri. His death two months ago forced a public auction of the farm where they lived. The vehicle destroyed by the storm contained all of her possessions. She’ll make the trip to Anderas.” “Then have her placed in space sleep, JarDan. Let the subliminal programming teach her of our planet and our way of life.” “No. She’ll not be put to sleep so if you have nothing further to report, leave me.” JarDan watched his best friend storm from the room. At least he couldn’t slam doors controlled by electronic sensors. This was beginning to be a habit with the two of them. What was happening to the closeness that once bound them like brothers? How could he make Dak understand? This woman was special but there were no facts he could give to make Dak believe it. There were no arguments he could offer that would support his belief that she was destined to be with him. He wanted her to accept him on her own, not because of some computer program. Grabbing a goblet from the table set for dinner, he drank deeply of the rich, red wine of Anderas. A shower and a few hours of sleep had eased the strain of teleportation

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

18

through the storm. Sladal had orders to bring the woman to his quarters when she recovered. JarDan paced the twenty-foot length of his room. He picked up a book from the desk and dropped it on the bed. He straightened the perfectly placed silverware on the table. He flipped the curtain from the window to stare at the retreating planet. Repeatedly, he made his journey around the room until he caught sight of himself in the mirrored bathroom door. He never thought too much about the way he looked. Women often commented on his appearance but he assumed it was his rank as much as his face that created such interest. Now, for the first time in his thirty-five years, he took a hard look at himself. What would she think of his looks? Would she see the man beneath the crown of Tor? Turning his face from one side to the other, he studied his reflection. Using the same clear, logical voice he used with his men, he recited what he saw. “Six feet six inches, black hair that covers my shoulder blades – hmmm, I need a trim – blue eye, my mother’s nose and my father’s chin. Everything looks ordinary to me.” Trained from birth to be a strong leader of powerful men, he found nothing unusual in his broad shoulders and thickly muscled chest. He took for granted the curling mat of hair exposed by the deep opening of his shirt. Most of the men of Anderas were of similar height and build. He found nothing exceptional. “So impress her with your wit and intelligence instead of your face.” With that thought firmly in his mind, JarDan settled into the one comfortable chair allotted in a travel craft chamber. Picking up the sheaf of papers, he resumed his study of the multi-page translation of the memory scan done on the woman. No. Not the woman. She was Melodie. The name caressed his senses like a gentle breeze. He closed his eyes and her image sprang to life. She was magnificent. The courage it took to face the fury of that storm was remarkable for a woman. By the Beard of the Ancients! He knew of few men who would do the same. Even drenched with rain and covered in mud she took his breath away. A soft smile spread across his face as he remembered the way she accepted his embrace in the teleport beam. The memory of her slender body against his sent heat rushing to his groin. His heavy arousal was a painful reminder of the effects of his extended celibacy. His needs were getting stronger by the hour, but he didn’t want the casual relief of a pleasure station. He wanted Melodie. He wanted to bury himself in her warmth. Wanted her to melt in his embrace, to come apart in his arms with passion. Muttering a phrase not suitable for mixed company, JarDan jerked himself from the chair, wincing at the pain in his lower body. Where was Sladal? According to Dak’s report, Melodie awakened more than two hours ago. Pouring himself another glass of the potent wine, he tried to force his mind to think of other things. He knew from her mind-scan there had never been an emotional involvement with a man. One look at his aroused body would send her running in terror. He had to go slow. Too much was at stake. He would not risk his future on immediate physical gratification -- and he was positive she was his future. ****

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

19

Following Thomas through empty hallways, Melodie had to admit that this was the strangest hospital. No nurses scurried from room to room attending patients. No visitors waited with cards and flowers. Not once did she hear the intercom call for a doctor. “Where are the doctors and nurses?” She asked after passing several closed doors. “Are you not feeling well?” Thomas stopped to peer intently at her. “No, I’m fine.” She assured him. “It’s just … so quiet for a hospital.” In truth, she felt anything but fine. The strange sensations she experienced when she awoke continued to pulse, growing stronger with each heartbeat. The gentle friction of the soft gown against her breasts and hips as she walked was almost painful. Even the faint vibrations from the floor thrummed through her bare feet to settle low in her body keeping time with her heartbeat. “This is a residential floor, not a medical center.” With a slight shrug Thomas continued down the hallway. Melodie opened her mouth to object but lost her train of thought when a wave of longing hit her. The sight of Thomas’ uniform-clad body rooted her to the spot, unable to move, unable to look away. The term tight ass sprang to life as she watched his longlegged stride. Although young, he showed the promise of virility in his broadening shoulders and long, straight back. Need flared in her chest and brought a small whimper to her lips as heat turned to warm liquid between her legs. “Are you certain you are well?” He asked again from his position a few yards ahead of her. The flush of desire turned to a blaze of embarrassment as the wave crested and she was again in control. My God! He’s just a boy! Horrified at the direction her imagination was taking, she forced herself to breathe slow and deep. Mumbling an answer to his question, Melodie quickly closed the distance between them. “Where are we going?” She asked without looking up. “Here.” He indicated the door at the end of the corridor as he touched the wall and the door opened with a soft whoosh. Between one heartbeat and another Melodie looked from the floor to Thomas to the open door, until she looked into the face of her angel. He nodded in acknowledgement of Thomas’ salute. “Were you seen?” It was the voice that whispered in her ear during the storm. “No, Sir,” Thomas responded. “It was as you ordered.” “Very good. Return to your duties. I’ll see our guest back to her room.” Melodie decided she’d rather study the ruggedly handsome man standing in front of her instead of attending the conversation flowing around her. She could spend eternity looking at this man. As tall as she was, she had to tip her head back to see his face. His hair hung in thick waves past his shoulders, held in place by a gleaming band of gold that circled his head around the middle of his wide forehead. Never in her twenty-nine years had she seen a man so perfectly chiseled from bone and muscle. Her eyes traced the

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

20

massive chest and shoulders covered now in a loose fitting shirt instead of the white robe. The neck of the shirt opened almost to his navel with every visible inch covered in a thick mat of soft black curls. “Please. Come in.” The voice was as deep and warm as she remembered. Melodie placed her hand in his outstretched palm. Warmth and security settled around her. Just like in the storm, she instinctively trusted this stranger. A portion of her mind told her it was irrational, but trying to understand why was just too tedious. “I’m glad to see you’ve recovered from your ordeal.” “I have you to thank for that. I would have died if you hadn’t arrived when you did.” She trembled as much from the memories as the strong grip on her hand. “Are you afraid of me?” He whispered, tightening his hold on her. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but she was positive it wasn’t fear that caused her breath to come in shallow gulps. Please, Lord, don’t let me humiliate myself with another of those strange spells. Keeping her gaze on their joined hands, she shook her head. “Then why won’t you look at me?” She raised her head until she focused on an area just below his chin, jumping when he suddenly bent his knees and lowered himself to her eye level. The barely adequate intake of oxygen she was managing suddenly became too much for her lungs. His piercing cobalt eyes sparkled with humor and understanding. He’s teasing. As she stared in mute admiration, a lop-sided grin stretched across his face. She had no choice but to smile back, mesmerized as he slowly straightened to his full height. No one but her grandfather had ever teased her. “Better. Much better. I had myself convinced I only imagined eyes the color of clouds at sunset.” His voice was low and husky. “My name is Tor JarDan and I’ve arranged for dinner to be …” Melodie was still smiling at him when one dark brow arched and his words trailed off. Following his questioning gaze to their hands, she watched her own fingertips stroke his palm, caressing the ridges of calluses she found there. With a gasp she jerked her hand free of his and turned her back to hide her embarrassment. Melodie Anne Smith, just what in the world is wrong with you! “I beg your pardon, Mr. Jordan.” She whispered in mortification, covering her flaming cheeks with trembling fingers. “JarDan,” he stated quietly. “My name is JarDan not Jordan. It’s I who should apologize. When you spend much of your life in the company of warriors, you forget how sensitive women are to the scars and calluses of battle.” Melodie turned to tell him he was wrong. His touch didn’t repulse her. She craved his touch. Her sensitive breasts ached with the need to feel those calluses against her skin. Don’t be ridiculous. This man would never be interested in a lanky old-maid farmer’s daughter. He’s just being polite so act your age. “We have much to discuss, but first you need to eat. I know you haven’t eaten for at least a day, so if you’ll be seated, I’ll order our dinner. Later, I promise to explain everything.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

21

She watched him leave, wondering what he felt he needed to explain. She took advantage of his absence to regain her composure. “Good grief, girl,” she muttered. “You were pawing the poor man.” Heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment kindled in her abdomen, sending fire racing through her body. No! Not now! I won’t allow it to happen again! Think about something else. Yes, that’s it. Think about snow storms or cold showers or Mrs. Peabody’s fat, ugly dog. Slowly she regained control, repressing the disturbing feelings with shaky resolve. Determined to think only about common, everyday things, she took note of the room around her. The furniture was sturdy and functional, almost plain. She could see nothing remarkable in the neutral shades of beige and brown. Other than a white and gold blanket across the built-in bed and a few books stacked on the desk, there was nothing personal in the room. The table set with gleaming china and crystal was in vivid contrast to the utilitarian simplicity of the rest of the room. She knew hospital personnel sometimes maintained sleeping quarters in case a critical patient needed extra attention, but gut instinct told her JarDan was no doctor. So what was he doing here? “Jar Dan,” she whispered, savoring the taste of his name on her tongue. “Now what mother in her right mind would name her son Jar? Must be short for something.” Picturing the black-haired giant as a small boy at his mother’s knee brought a smile to her face just as JarDan returned with a huge tray. “I hope you’re hungry. We seldom entertain guests so the cook has outdone himself.” He loaded the small table with bowls and platters of food that filled the room with delicious aromas. She couldn’t remember the last meal she ate and her stomach rumbled in appreciation of the feast. Praying that the trembling in her hands was due to hunger and not a prelude to another shameful hot flash, Melodie attacked her meal. She had almost finished her dinner when she knew her prayer went unanswered. Sensation replaced reason. Texture became as important as taste. The casserole coated her tongue with the taste of nuts and as the approaching storm of physical reactions intensified, she craved more of the unusual flavor. With a soft sigh, she trailed her finger around the plate. Rubbing the creamy substance across her lips, she savored the feel of her fingertips before allowing her tongue to pull the thick liquid into her mouth. A strangled cough from across the table momentarily brought her out of her stupor. “Are you okay?” She asked, blinking rapidly to clear her vision. “Fine,” was the tight answer to her innocent question. “Just swallowed wrong. Would you care for more wine?” He was already refilling her glass with the blood red liquid. Never having tasted alcohol of any kind, she found her first experience extraordinary. “This is delicious,” she said, running her tongue around her lips. “Grandpa said wine and spirits would lead a man into sin. Sin tastes wonderful. Why did you mother call you Jar, Mr. Dan?” Melodie drained the wine from her glass, holding it out for

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

22

another refill. “What?” He choked again. Shaking her head at his inattention, she smiled. “You said your name was Jar Dan but I think Jar is a little, you know … different. Is it a nickname … or something?” Her voice trailed off while she watched a lone drop of wine roll from his lip before he captured it with his napkin. “My name is JarDan. J-A-R-D-A-N. All one word.” He carefully removed the wine glass from her hand. “I believe you’ve had enough of this. Are you ready for dessert?” “Oh yes,” she whispered, nodding her head. Such a strange man, this JarDan. Drop dead gorgeous, sex appeal to die for, yet he made her feel comfortable. Not once during their quiet dinner did she feel she had to think of something to say. He seemed perfectly content with her silence. The ripple of muscle in his arms and across his chest was a source of extreme fascination while he cleared the table. When he brought the dessert dishes to the table, Melodie found herself eye level with his hips and thighs. Held in the grip of overwhelming obsession, she started in awe at the evidence of his masculinity, moaning softly as it swelled beneath her gaze. The dessert plate landed on the table with a thud. “We need to talk.” “Wonderful! I’ve never had a conversation with a man as beautiful as you. Oh. Maybe I shouldn’t have said you were beautiful. I didn’t mean to imply you were effeminate or anything. Nobody can look like you do and not be one hundred percent male.” “Will you eat your dessert and shut up.” She didn’t understand why he sounded angry. She couldn’t remember doing anything wrong but it was just so hard to concentrate. The fire between her legs was making her squirm in the seat. She managed to get a little relief by pressing her legs together as tight as she could, but it didn’t last long. “Melodie,” he began, “what I’m going to say will come as a shock to you. You may not believe me. All I ask is that you trust me … as you did in the storm. Will you do that?” “Yes.” “Good,” he breathed. “I’m the commander of a travel craft. A space ship, Melodie. My home is millions of miles from Earth. Do you understand?” She must have given him the answer he wanted since he was talking again. Melodie watched as he stroked the moisture from the side of his wine glass, wiping the water droplets against his palm. What was he saying about a virus? Maybe he was a doctor after all? No. He said he was a space man, but that can’t be right. It was just so hard to think. Dragging her gaze away from the hypnotic motion of his hand, Melodie followed the sound of his voice right to its origin. His mouth was full and framed by deep dimples. What would those enticing indentations taste like? “Do you have any questions?” Propping her elbow against the table and resting her chin in her palm, she studied

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

23

him, drawing her brows together in fierce concentration. “Do space men kiss like normal men?” When the choking across the table started again, she raced around the table to pound him on the back. “You should chew your food better. I don’t know the Heimlich maneuver and even if I did, I don’t think I could reach around that magnificent chest.” Their eyes locked when JarDan captured her hands to stop the assault on his body. His gaze darkened with some emotion she couldn’t identify before he looked away. When he turned back, his voice was as unsteady as his hand. “You better finish your dessert so I can get you back to your room while I’m still able.” He gently steered her back to her own chair. “This dessert is a great favorite on my world but it takes a little practice to learn how to eat it without getting it all over you. Here, let me show you.” He reached across the table and picked up one slender confection from her plate. Shaped like a melon wedge, it was dipped in chocolate and rolled in crushed nuts. “The outside is a crisp pastry but there’s a liquid center so when you take a bite, be sure to suck at the same time.” Melodie watched his hand move closer to her mouth. When he touched her lips with the strange dessert, she opened her mouth and took a bite, forgetting the juice. She watched in fascination as the golden liquid flowed down his fingers and pooled in his palm. When he would have withdrawn his hand, she grabbed his wrist, holding him captive. Seeking and finding his burning gaze, she lowered her mouth to the puddle of liquid cupped in his hand. “It tastes like oranges,” she whispered. When there was no longer enough liquid to drink, she used her tongue to cleanse, taking each finger into her mouth. With a fierce growl, JarDan shoved the table out of the way and pulled Melodie into his hot, throbbing embrace.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

24

Chapter Four The taste of oranges was strong on JarDan’s tongue as he sought the farthest reaches of Melodie’s warm mouth. She moaned softly and heat surged through his body. The insistent voice of reason urged him to go slow. Breaking the contact with the hot sweetness of her mouth, JarDan gently eased their bodies apart. Her response to his kiss was ripping at his self-control like the talons of the giant falcons that darkened the skies of Anderas in centuries long past. “This isn’t what I planned for the evening.” His ragged whisper betrayed his barely leashed passion. “I’ll take you back to your room.” The words came from the small portion of his brain still functioning on more than a sexual level. His hands gently stroked Melodie’s arms trying to ease the tension. His mouth dropped soft kisses on her eyes, cheeks and nose. Just one more kiss, he argued. Another taste and I’ll see her safely to her quarters. Melodie’s eyes darkened to deepest purple. JarDan felt her fingers tangle in the thick hair covering his chest and just before his mouth closed over hers, he heard her whisper. “Please don’t take me back. Kiss me. Please …” The flames of need roared out of control, incinerating his noble thoughts of denial. The nagging voice of reason fell silent under the white-hot heat of his desire. Needs too long denied flared to life, fanned by the aroused undulations of the woman in his arms. His mouth closed over Melodie’s, hungry and demanding. He nipped the soft curve of her bottom lip then used his tongue to soothe the sting. With the first tentative touch of her tongue against his, JarDan reached down and grasped Melodie’s hips, kneading the supple mounds through the silken material before slipping the concealing robe from her body, revealing the soft gown she wore. Her arms tightened around his neck pushing her even tighter against his chest. With quick flicks against the tip of her tongue and deep, plunging thrusts, he used his tongue to tease and torment, urging her to respond in kind. When she sucked his tongue back into her mouth, he lifted her more firmly against his heavy arousal, swallowing her whimper of need. By the Prophets! This woman with the courage to face a killer storm was on fire in his arms! Spreading his legs for balance, JarDan flexed his hips against the apex of her thighs. Melodie moaned with every brush of his arousal against the soft mound beneath her silky gown. “Yes,” whispered JarDan, smiling against her throat. Gripping her hips tighter against his erection, he lifted her legs higher around his thighs. Flexing hard against the thin barrier of blue silk, JarDan smiled with male satisfaction when Melodie cried out, her body convulsing in orgasmic surrender. “Easy, my love. Easy.” He whispered. His blood thundered with his own pending release. Holding Melodie’s trembling body, he lowered her legs until she was standing on the floor. “What did you do to me?” He grinned at the question whispered against his chest. Not even in his wildest

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

25

fantasies had he ever imagined bringing a woman to pleasure with no more than a touch – and both of them fully clothed. Calling on two decades of discipline and training, JarDan focused his concentration on his own heartbeat. By counting the gradually slowing pulses he gained some control of his unsated lust. Placing a finger beneath her chin, he raised her head from its resting place against his chest until he could see her face. Her eyes were again the soft violet of an Anderan sunset, a small smile curving her lips. Using the rough pad of his thumb, JarDan traced the delicate line of her mouth, amazed when her eyes began to darken with renewed desire. “You exploded in my arms.” JarDan smiled at the blush that spread across her cheek. “You are the most beautifully passionate woman I’ve ever known. Destiny brought you into my world, Melodie,” he said in a voice husky with passion, “and now you’ll become part of my body.” Cupping her head, JarDan brought her face up for his kiss. This time he was ready when her response turned her to liquid fire. “Come to me, Melodie,” he whispered against her mouth, drinking deeply from the well of passion she possessed. JarDan pulled back long enough to slip the narrow straps of the gown from her shoulders. He used the silken material to stimulate her taut nipples and the sensitive skin of her abdomen and hips. He gloried in every shudder and moan as he slid the gown down. His memories of her ivory skin paled before the live woman. Not since his first trip to a pleasure station in his eighteenth year had he trembled so near the edge of his control. “Will you take your hair down for me?” He asked softly, encouraged by the fire that blazed in her deep-purple eyes. Her braid was as thick as his wrist and he knew the tip brushed the curved mounds of her derriere. JarDan watched, mesmerized as her trembling fingers loosened each coil until her hair fell in a waterfall of midnight satin to the backs of her knees. His body pulsed painfully at the sight of Melodie’s nude body. He knew he was near the limits of his endurance and he wanted her to come for him again. Bending quickly, he lifted her and placed her on his bed, stripping the clothes from his body before settling beside her. Brushing the cloud of hair away from her flushed skin, he began a thorough exploration of the treasures of her woman’s form. With the first touch of his hand against her breast, she arched against him, her hands raining fire along his chest and stomach. Sucking air into his lungs, he knew he would never last if she continued to touch him. Gathering her hands in one of his, he held them above her head where they could do no damage. Slowly, deliberately, he stroked her body from shoulder to thigh. Catching one taut nipple with his lips, he pulled the pebbled bud deep into his mouth. He palmed the soft mound of the other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers until she moaned and writhed against him, her every movement begging fulfillment. “Please, JarDan,” she cried. He wanted to take her slowly; to savor the sensation of her warmth pulsing

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

26

around his hardness; relish her uncontrolled response to his touch. When Melodie opened her legs in unconscious entreaty, his resolve to go slow died a quick death. “Next time, my love, we’ll be slow and gentle.” He promised as he moved to cover her body. His need was as urgent as Melodie’s, his erection rock hard and ready to explode. “I can wait no longer. Hold on to me, Melodie. Hold on.” Fitting himself to the wet entrance to her body, JarDan covered her mouth at the same instant he surged into her. Her sob of pain recalled the mind scan – he was her first man. “Forgive me, Melodie. I haven’t the strength to withdraw.” Holding himself as still as his aching body would allow, he waited for a sign from her -- any indication that she was ready for the next step in their dance of desire. The tightness of her silken heat was almost more than he could bear. “Please … don’t stop. Don’t stop.” He couldn’t stop. Already his body was pulsing with his impending climax. With quick, powerful lunges into the unbearable tightness of her body, JarDan sought his release. His ragged breathing and throaty growl matched the frenzied climax that arched Melodie’s body with its intensity. Long minutes passed before he could summon the energy to roll from the trembling body beneath him, gathering her close against his chest. Covered with sweat and still fighting for breath, he never felt better in his life. “Are you all right?” He asked smoothing the tangled mass of hair wrapped around them. Her only answer was a small movement that could have been a nod before she drifted into sleep. Gathering her hand against his heart, JarDan grinned at the sleeping woman. “Rest while you can, my love. This night is just beginning.” His grin turned to a chuckle when she moved against him even in her sleep. “Insatiable, beautiful and courageous. Remarkable. This will be a very interesting trip.” Already his body was recovering from his recent orgasm. JarDan, Prince of Tor, had no intention of wasting another minute of his night with the incomparable woman who was Melodie Smith. **** Between the pounding in her head and the cotton in her mouth, Melodie was reasonably sure she was dying. At least she hoped she was. No one could survive this torture for long. Slow and easy, girl. No sudden moves. Rolling to her back, she discovered that if she moved very, very slowly and very, very gently the hammers in her head only increased marginally and her stomach didn’t heave. Water. That’s what you need first. Wasn’t there a pitcher beside her bed yesterday? Turning her head, she saw . . . a foot? What on earth is a foot doing on my pillow? A flash of memory no longer than the blink of an eye brought her upright in the bed.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

27

“O-o-o-h,” she moaned, grabbing at her throbbing head. When the pounding slowed to a manageable level she opened her eyes, grateful that the sun hadn’t yet brightened the room. The realization that she was definitely in bed with a stranger came simultaneously with the knowledge that she wore no clothes. Grabbing the blanket, she scurried into the corner of the bed. A bed built into the wall on three sides. He was between her and the outside edge. The foot moved, drawing her attention. It was a very large foot attached to an equally large leg. Her gaze traveled up the long length of hair-roughened leg beside her, gasping in shock at the bare mounds of his buttock. Mercy sakes alive! He even has a tattoo on his back! She stared in amazement at the star-shaped design at the base of his spine. Images raced through her brain, each separate yet connected somehow, like watching a movie through a strobe light. Her straddling the hips so blatantly displayed before her. Him lying on top of her telling her … No! It’s not true! This is all a nightmare and I’m going to wake up in my own bed -- alone! Think, Melodie. There has to be an explanation for all this. You wouldn’t just sleep with a strange man. She refused to think about how long she did -- or didn’t -sleep. The man picked that moment to roll onto his back, stretching his muscled arms until he settled into a comfortable position. If his back was shocking, his front was formidable! Massive shoulders tapered down a thickly muscled chest to an abdomen that gave new meaning to the term wash-board. Melodie stared in stunned silence at the proof of his virility lying passive in its nest of black curls. She remembered! The velvet hardness, the musky male scent, the taste! As if aware of her interest, it began to pulse and thicken, causing JarDan … that’s his name, JarDan … to stir. Drawing her knees to her chest, Melodie almost cried out from the pain between her legs. Shamed flooded her cheeks with brilliant color when she realized the cause of the burning pain. With the acceptance of the events of the night before came full, vivid memory. The storm. Dinner. Wine. That explained the headache. Space craft. Merciful Heaven, he said he’s from another planet! An advanced civilization! They take females from Earth! Every article about aliens from every supermarket tabloid she had ever read flashed before her eyes. All the aliens had egg-shaped bald heads and huge bulging eyes. She remembered reported cases of abduction -- scientific experimentation -- even impregnation. Please, God, not that. Even as she prayed she recalled the hot rush of liquid filling her each time JarDan climaxed. Who was he? What was he? She had to escape. She couldn’t just sit here and wait for him to wake up and continue what he started last night. Moving quietly, careful not to disturb JarDan, Melodie eased closer to the edge of the bed. Was the pounding of her heart as loud as it sounded to her own ears? Just as she slipped one leg over the side of the bed, the door to the room opened with a whoosh.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

28

“Here’s your morning meal, Commander. Captain Beldon has asked . . .” Melodie scrambled back to the corner of the bed, wishing she could disappear. It was about six feet tall and walked on two legs but that was as close to being human as it came. The silver skin and total absence of any hair on its head, including eyebrows and eyelashes, was strange, but nothing could have prepared Melodie for the sight of its teeth. They spread in a wide slash from one side of his head to the other. Long and sharp, the teeth clicked with every word -- only the movements didn’t match the words, like an old movie with a bad soundtrack. Melodie sat frozen with fear, fighting desperately against the scream she could feel battling for freedom in her throat. The creature replaced the table JarDan flipped out of his way the night before and began gathering the broken dishes and remains of their dinner. She must have made some sound that alerted the creature to her presence. Without warning, it turned and pinned her with its fire-ball red gaze. “I beg your pardon. I would not have entered had I known Commander Tor had company.” “Leave us, Kreisak. I rely on your discretion.” JarDan’s quiet command sent the strange creature from the room. Melodie huddled deeper into the corner, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Please, God, don’t let this be real. She could feel the tremors starting first in her hands then spreading until her entire body jerked spasmodically. “Melodie?” JarDan questioned softly. “You have nothing to fear from Kreisak. He’s been a member of my crew for many years. His looks …” Melodie jerked when he shifted closer to her on the narrow bed. “Don’t come any closer!” She cried. “What was that … that thing?” She forced herself to look at JarDan’s face. With his cheeks dark with his heavy morning beard and his hair in wild disarray around his shoulders he looked sinister -- more animal than man. Melodie shuddered at the memory of her fingers tangling in that mane of midnight black. “What are you?” “I’m a man, Melodie. You know that. If you’ll relax and let yourself calm down I can explain everything. Do you remember anything we discussed last night?” “You said you were from another planet.” She struggled to keep her voice steady. If it was as loud to him as it was to her own ears, she was practically screaming. “You said things weren’t always as they seemed. Did that mean you? Are you using some … weird mind control so that I see you as a man? Do you look like that thing that just left?” JarDan tried to move closer to Melodie but she pushed herself tighter into the corner. He fought to keep his voice calm to reassure her that everything would be all right. She was very close to hysteria and he had no idea how to deal with it -- or what caused it. “Melodie, you know I’m a man -- a human man. I’m as human as you.” “No! I don’t believe you! You kidnapped me! You got me drunk! You raped me! I’ve got to get away!” She lunged over the side of the bed, but JarDan caught the thick curtain of hair that flowed around her, pulling her into his arms.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

29

“Enough. I’ll not harm you. You’re safe, remember?” He wanted to brush the hair from her face, but she recoiled from his touch, kicking and clawing like a crazed animal. “Let me go! Please! I won’t tell anyone about you, I promise! Please!” He deflected most of her blows until one well-placed foot caught him in his groin. He lost his grip on her when he doubled over in pain, fighting the nausea threatening to choke him. When the pain eased enough for him to move, he looked around for her. She was standing near the door frantically punching buttons on the control panel. JarDan pulled himself up and staggered against the wall, the pain still intense between his legs but not as intense as the anger brought on by her callous words. He could understand her confusion, but her vicious attack had hurt more than his manhood. Unwilling to admit how deeply her words wounded him, he let his temper overcome his common sense and lashed out in anger. “I was man enough for you last night.” She turned at the sound of his voice. “You screamed then, too, only you screamed for more. If rape occurred here, Earthling, I was the victim -- not you. You couldn’t keep your hands -- or your mouth -- off my body.” “No! You lie! It’s all lies!” “I never lie, Earthling,” he stated coldly. “Do you want me to tell you how sweet your mouth can be? Especially when it’s wrapped around the most male part of my anatomy?” JarDan regretted the words when he said them, but it was too late to call them back. He watched in sickening horror as Melodie crumpled against the door, her eyes unfocused and staring. The sound she made was less than a scream and more than a moan. It was a sound he would carry with him to his grave. Rushing over to her, he lifted her limp body against his chest. What had he done? By the Prophets! He was trained to mediate – to be the calm voice amid dissention. Was his training for nothing? Had his anger destroyed the woman destiny determined would be his? Laying her on the bed, he punched the communication panel near his head. “This is Tor. Send Captain Beldon and Doctor Sladal to my quarters immediately.” Sightless eyes, shadowed with terror stared out from her pale, drawn face; her arms lay across her breasts in an age-old gesture of protection. JarDan covered her with the blanket, hoping the soft warmth would help. Nothing changed. She just lay there trembling and moaning that strange whimpering sound. He smoothed the tangled mass of hair off her face. Afraid to touch her. Afraid not to touch her. “Melodie,” he whispered, “can you hear me? If I could take back what I said I would. Come back to me, Melodie.” There was no indication she heard his plea. He continued to stroke the soft curls, offering whatever belated comfort he could -- cursing himself for a fool with every breath. “JarDan! JarDan! Open the door!” Dak’s anxious demands and pounding fists drew JarDan away from Melodie’s side.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

30

“JarDan! Answer me!” “At ease, Captain,” barked JarDan as he stood and slipped the white caftan over his head. “The locking mechanism is jammed. It will take a minute for me to clear it.” JarDan continued programming the panel, patiently repairing the damage Melodie inflicted in her attempt at escape. With a soft whisper the door opened to admit Dak, lasargun drawn, ready for any danger, and Doctor Sladal, carrying his bag. “Put your weapon away, Dak. There’s no danger here. Sladal, come quickly.” “What happened to her, Commander? She’s in deep trauma.” JarDan watched the doctor’s careful examination, debating what to tell him. Melodie was not a paid companion. She was special and everything in him that lay claim to her rebelled at discussing their activities of the night. “Commander,” Sladal stated calmly. “I cannot help her if I do not know what happened.” “I want your vow that nothing I say will leave this room.” He waited until both men assured him of their silence before continuing. “She was awake when Kreisak brought my morning meal and his appearance can be startling. I sent him away as quickly as I could, but Melodie was already becoming hysterical.” “What in the name of all the planets was she doing here in the first place?” Dak asked. JarDan shot him a warning look. “Do not question my actions, Dak. I am fully responsible but I’ll not justify one hour of my time to you or anyone else.” “You’re a fool, JarDan. You’ve let this woman … or your lust for her … cloud your judgment.” “Excuse me, Commander, Captain Beldon? Could we please get on to the important information? I really must insist on answers to my questions. You may continue your argument later.” “Ask your questions, Sladal, I’ll answer them all.” Concern and resignation echoed in JarDan’s sharp retort. “There is just one, your Highness. What happened to cause this?” “How in blazes do I know? One minute we were sleeping -- the next minute she’s screaming about aliens and mind control and …” JarDan took a deep breath, moving closer to Melodie’s semi-conscious body. “She doesn’t believe I’m human,” he whispered in harsh bitterness. “Women are curious creatures,” replied Sladal. “It’s often difficult to decide how they will react to a given situation. Now, I don’t believe the damage is serious.” He removed a syringe and needle from the medical pack at his feet and quickly injected Melodie. “Melodie? Can you hear me?” Doctor Sladal’s voice was low and soothing. “You’ve had a minor … uh … accident and I need to examine you. Do you understand, my dear?” Melodie blinked several times, her eyes following the sound of Sladal’s voice. JarDan wanted to shout with relief when she focused on the doctor’s face, recognition

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

31

replacing the blank stare of minutes before. “Doctor?” Melodie wanted to cry in relief when she recognized the bushy-haired doctor. It really was a nightmare but she was awake now. No more aliens with ferocious teeth. No more angels with the soul of the devil. “I had a horrible dream. You’ll never believe …” “Thank the Ancient Prophets!” Melodie jerked when she heard JarDan’s soft prayer. Dear God in Heaven! It was no dream! She jumped from the bed, clutching the blanket around her breasts and pulling Doctor Sladal with her toward the door. “Run, Doctor! We’ve got to warn the authorities. He’s not human. He’s a …” She stopped when she backed into Dak’s solid frame. The reality of her situation crashed around her. “You’re all aliens.” Melodie reached out and let her fingertips brush against the bushy blue hair of the physician. “Aren’t you?” Her softly whispered question was the last sound she made before Dak carefully pressed his fingers against the base of her ear, rendering her unconscious. JarDan turned his back on the woman in Dak’s arms. “Put her in space sleep, Sladal.” He didn’t speak to the other men nor did he move from his post at the window port until he heard the faint whoosh of the door closing.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

32

Chapter Five What are you? Melodie’s anguished question echoed in JarDan’s head. He knew she would ask questions, he anticipated them, welcomed them. How else were they to learn about each other? But not that one. Never that one. The roiling emotions souring his stomach overwhelmed his feeling of despair. He was the Prince of Tor. Who was she to question his humanity? JarDan punched the controls on the weight simulator to a higher setting, ruthlessly increasing the pressure of the butterfly device. He often sought the physical release of a strenuous workout when the demands of being a travel craft commander and ruler threatened to overwhelm the man. Only this time it wasn’t working. The familiar pattern of resist-release-resist-release failed to soothe. Blinded by the sweat running down his face and over muscles bulging with the strain of his workout, JarDan refused to quit. Refused to quit even when the creaking of metal against rubber repeated Melodie’s question. What? What? What? “A-a-r-r-g-h!” He yelled with a final push against the simulator. “I’m a man, Melodie!” He roared into the empty room. “A man!” The volume of his rage did not disguise the pain of her betrayal. JarDan dropped to a bench against the wall, leaning his head against the cool metal. As his labored breathing slowed he relived again the events of the morning. He could think of nothing that he said or did to generate such fear. He had been so arrogantly sure he and Melodie would share a future. What kind of future awaited him when the woman cringed at his touch? “By all the Prophets, what am I to do now?” He whispered in resignation. When no answer floated back to him, he headed back to his quarters. Maybe there were answers in a stinging spray of hot water. JarDan felt better physically, if not mentally, after his shower. He was still toweling the dampness from his hair when his personal comm-unit beeped. “What now,” he mumbled to himself. He and Dak were the only ones with comm-units, and they used them only if the security of the ship’s monitored communication system was suspect. “Dak?” JarDan questioned, slipping the heavy gold ring that housed the unit back onto his finger. “Come to Sladal’s quarters. Now.” The door slid closed behind him before Dak’s voice faded. If this was urgent enough for the comm-unit, he wouldn’t waste time in responding. When he entered the doctor’s private quarters minutes later, Dak greeted him with his lasargun drawn, armed for battle. “Twice today you’ve greeted me with your weapon. What’s the reason now?” His steel-edged tone conveyed the urgency of the question. “Sladal has something you should see.” “Doctor?” JarDan asked eyeing the computer sheets clutched in the man’s hand.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

33

“You have to understand, Commander. Even had I known of a problem, I would not have ordered a medical scan for this.” The doctor paced around the room, glancing at the printed sheets in his hand, unaware of the gathering storm of frustrated confusion in his prince. “When I examined the body this morning …” “Body?” JarDan barked. “Whose body? Melodie …” “… I thought it was merely a tragic waste of life until Dak found the vial. My initial …” “Will someone explain to me what is going on here? Whose body? A vial of what?” JarDan’s voice left no room for misunderstanding. If the order from the commander of the vessel didn’t elicit an immediate response, then a royal command would guarantee swift and immediate retribution. “Sit down, Sladal,” Dak urged. “Let me explain this before we both spend the rest of our lives on an incarceration asteroid.” With hands fisted against his hips, legs spread wide for balance, JarDan faced his life-long friend. “Housekeeping discovered the body of MedTech Torak early this morning,” Dak explained as he motioned JarDan to join him at the table covered with data sheets. “He took his own life after leaving this note.” JarDan took the small scrap of paper from Dak, quickly scanning the content. “What does he mean I have failed my Master? Death to the House of Tor?” He asked, looking from one man to the other. With a quick movement in the doctor’s direction to keep him silent, Dak answered the question. “We have no idea. Until I read the note, I viewed his death as nothing more than space fatigue -- a tragic waste as Doctor Sladal has already stated.” “Has something changed your view of his suicide?” JarDan asked, watching Dak’s anxious pacing. A dull red flush climbed Dak’s neck. Muttering curses in several galactic dialects, he rounded on his liege, his commander, his friend. “Sladal ran routine medical scans on each female as he does every day. He found several unexplained variations between Melodie’s readings yesterday and those done today.” “I isolated each variation,” interrupted Sladal, “and identified the source. The wine you served for dinner, the boranut spice, even the citrona liquor in your dessert. Everything … except one.” “What has this got to do with Melodie?” The last remnants of disillusioned rage vanished in an instant. The heavy thudding of his heart made breathing difficult and JarDan swallowed hard past his fear. “I see no connection between the suicide of a crew member and the females on board.” “Not all females, JarDan, just your Melodie,” Dak answered softly. “Torak had an empty TSX vial in his lab coat.” “Impossible,” JarDan stated, a sick feeling gathering in his gut. “It’s illegal to

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

34

posses the drug.” He didn’t want to see a connection between Melodie and Torak and TSX. “Murder is illegal, but it still occurs with sickening frequency.” Dak’s sarcastic remark earned him a fierce scowl. “Your Highness,” Sladal interrupted softly, “the one variation I could not identify on Melodie Smith’s medical scan was TSX and Torak was on duty the night you brought her aboard.” JarDan quickly scanned the handful of papers Sladal offered him, proof of what Dak claimed. He carefully lowered his taut body into a chair. So much of last night made sense to him now. Why her comments had disagreed with the original mind scan and her actions seemed so out of character. Taken separately, each incident could be a quirk. A mind scan was generally accurate, but nothing was infallible, so he’d ignored the differences, brushed them aside like an annoying insect. “Why would Torak administer a sex stimulant to Melodie?” JarDan watched with growing aggravation as Dak and Sladal exchanged looks. “My first thought,” Dak finally answered, “was that you ordered it.” “What?” JarDan yelled, jumping from the chair. “Have you lost your mind? By the Beard of the Prophet,” he cursed, “if any man but you had made such an accusation he would be dead now! Hear me well, Dak! I did not plan her seduction when I brought her aboard!” JarDan pinned his friend with a deadly stare. “But, if that was my goal, I’m fully capable of arousing and satisfying her without such vile assistance. You, who know me better than anyone, know I abhor the thought of drugs. It reduces the user to little more than an animal.” His throat tightened against the rising bile in his stomach when he recalled the vivid red scratches that covered his chest and back. “It was because of your irrational reaction to this Earthling, JarDan.” Dak defended himself. “As Chief of Security my job is to investigate all possibilities in an unexplained death.” “Then do your job, Captain,” JarDan growled, stalking around the small room. “But I warn you -- make no further accusations against me you cannot prove!” “I now believe the use of TSX was spontaneous -- not planned,” Dak continued. “No one knew you would bring an adult female aboard, but your attraction to her was common knowledge within minutes of your arrival. Based on this,” Dak handed the note back to JarDan, “I believe the attack on your Melodie was a warning to you.” JarDan shook his head at Dak’s summation. “You’re mistaken, Dak. What did he hope to accomplish? A blow to my pride if I failed to satisfy her? That hardly seems reason enough for suicide. No. There must be another explanation.” “Your Highness,” interrupted Sladal, “if you had followed proper procedures, Melodie Smith would be dead now.” JarDan schooled his features not to reveal the crippling pain that squeezed his chest at Sladal’s statement. It took several seconds before he could force even one word past the knot of fear in his throat. “Explain.” “Sladal is right, JarDan,” Dak insisted softly. “She should have gone into space

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

35

sleep when she regained consciousness. Two hours later her heart would have exploded.” The Prince of Tor shuddered as the horror of what might have been washed over him. “Torak was off-duty when you arranged your dinner,” Dak continued. “You gave orders for secrecy …” “To prevent her from seeing one of our alien crew members before I had a chance to explain, not to hide my interest in her.” “Exactly,” Dak agreed. “You know how fast news travels among the crew. Torak must have known his plan had failed before you poured the first glass of wine.” “It would explain her irrational behavior this morning.” Sladal offered. “TSX heightens all of the senses to such a degree that simple confusion would become abject fear.” “Believe me, Doctor,” JarDan stated flatly. “Her reaction to me went well beyond simple confusion.” The emotional wounds from Melodie’s cruel words of the morning still burned with the acid of her rejection. Sliding his fingers through his damp hair, JarDan pushed the dark strands back from his temples. “I saved her from the tornado and put her into the hands of an assassin. When she began to act strangely, I should have returned her to her room.” I ignored my instincts and followed my raging hormones. In the name of destiny I gloried in the taking of her innocence. JarDan closed his eyes but couldn’t block out the image of Melodie when she finally realized the truth of her situation. “I should have found a way to calm her fears, to reassure her. Instead, I yelled obscenities that would make a whore blush.” The yoke of guilt, resignation and responsibility settled around JarDan’s shoulders, heavy and oppressive. His belief that Melodie was the reason for his restlessness -- and the end of his driving compulsion to remain in Earth’s orbit -- was still strong. He had no doubt about his commitment to a life with her. Was he strong enough to withstand the pain that was sure to be a part of her acceptance? Would he have the patience to win her affection? Did he really have a choice? Her trust in him was battered and bruised but he refused to believe there was no hope. He just had to find a way to restore it. Tossing the suicide note back on the desk, JarDan stood and turned to face Dak. Gone was the disillusioned lover, replaced once again by the Prince of Tor. “Have her sleep chamber brought to my quarters. Until we discover who Torak’s master is and why this attack on Melodie, or my family if Dak is correct, we must take precautions. Pick a few of your best men and reassign the duty schedule so that one of them will be with Melodie when I can’t be there. Have you completed a search of Torak’s quarters?” At Dak’s negative response JarDan moved rapidly toward the door, stopping just inside the portal. “Assemble a security team. We may find answers to our questions there.” Before JarDan could exit the doctor’s small chamber, Dak laid a restraining hand

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

36

on his shoulder. “Until we discover the extent of this conspiracy we should limit the number of people involved. Torak may have accomplices on board.” JarDan nodded at Dak’s wisdom. “So be it. Come, Sladal, it appears you are now on security detail.” JarDan’s mind churned with implications as the three men traveled the corridors to the crew’s quarters. If Dak were correct about the threat to his family, then he had to send a message to King Zeth immediately. It was not the first time he and his father had battled for the Throne of Tor. One family could not rule for more than five thousand years without encountering an enemy or two. Not even the specter of extinction from the plague that gripped his world was powerful enough to prevent such violence. Drawing a deep cleansing breath into his lungs, JarDan prepared himself. The time of battle may be unknown but it would come inevitably. Already he could feel the adrenaline surging – heating his blood. “The seal is unbroken.” It took several seconds before JarDan realized they were at their destination and Dak was waiting for him to give the order to proceed. When he nodded his consent, Dak removed the electronic band across the control panel, allowing the door to open. “What, exactly, are we looking for, Commander?” Asked Doctor Sladal. “Anything that’s not … usual … for a MedTech’s room.” JarDan headed for the closet while the doctor began a search of the storage bins beneath the bed and Dak settled at the small desk. The only sounds were the rustle of cloth and paper as the methodical hunt progressed. “There’s nothing in the closet except his uniforms. Have either of you found anything?” Although JarDan did not expect to find all his answers, he had hoped to find something to explain the attack on Melodie. He had no time for frustrated questions and suppositions. Before he could warn his father, he must have something solid. “Other than a book dealing with perverted sex, there’s not one personal item here. The desk appears unused.” “Why would a man leave home for six months and bring only what he was issued by the Space Center? That makes no sense, Dak. He didn’t even bring his own clothing.” “Perhaps he didn’t expect to return home.” Dak’s quiet statement hovered in the room -- palpable and alive with questions. Always more questions. When would there be answers? “This is very odd,” mumbled Doctor Sladal. “I agree, Sladal,” JarDan said settling on the bed. “We must …” “No, Commander. Pardon my interruption, but this is what I was referencing.” Sladal handed a small packet of papers to JarDan. “Someone affixed these sheets to the bottom of the drawer. I cannot be positive, but I do believe they are written in the language of the Oracles.” “Why would a MedTech carry documents in a language only a handful of men on Anderas can read? The Oracles accept a very limited number of students. King Zeth

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

37

used all of his considerable influence to get JarDan and me into the training.” “Another interesting question, Dak. Look at this.” JarDan joined Dak at the small desk. “It’s as if someone altered the language. Some symbols are easy to translate. I’ve seen this before,” he pointed to a small circle with a scrolling center that resembled an m. “I just can’t remember where. And this one looks like a bird.” “Could it symbolize the master?” Dak asked. “I believe the bird is a falcon, JarDan. Suppose I’m correct in assuming that you were the target of this attack. If we translate every symbol of the bird to House of Tor or possibly a particular member of your family, what does it say?” Taking one sheet, JarDan and Dak began the slow process of translating the symbols. “By all the Ancient Prophets,” JarDan breathed in horror. “Tell me I’m wrong, Dak. Tell me this cannot be.” Dak retrieved the paper from JarDan’s nerveless fingers. “I’m assuming this flower symbol represents a rose?” JarDan nodded in absent agreement. “In the thirty-fifth lifecycle of the Falcon Queen,” he read, “death arrived seeking blood. The screams of the Rose blended in unspeakable harmony with the mourning cries of the Falcon King. The Master was pleased with my performance.” “My mother!” JarDan fought against the painful memories. “Torak killed my mother.” “You can’t be certain of that, JarDan. There are too many symbols here that we don’t recognize. When we reach Anderas, I’ll have Raiwan translate it correctly.” “No, Dak,” JarDan argued quietly. “There are too many similarities to be a coincidence. My mother was thirty-five when she disappeared. Everyone who knew her called her the rose queen …” He drew a quick, sharp breath into his lungs. “Morandoni,” he whispered, taking the paper from Dak’s hand. “This symbol,” he pointed to the encircled m, “I know where I’ve seen it.” JarDan closed his eyes against the continuing rush of memories. “It’s the seal on the signet ring of Morandoni.” “But he disappeared years before Arica was killed. Are you certain?” “There is no doubt, Dak.” JarDan shook his head in shocked acceptance. “Morandoni is the master behind this attack on my family.” “I remember him as a young man,” Sladal offered quietly. “His accomplishments while studying under Raiwan were legendary. He was destined to be the next Oracle when he simply disappeared without a trace. The people of Falcon Tor mourned his loss for many years.” “Well, he’s back now. At least we know the truth of my mother’s death. All we ever found was her bloodied gown.” “I know, my friend.” Dak gripped JarDan’s shoulder in sympathetic understanding. “When my parents died, she offered me the love only a mother can give and she’s the only mother I remember. I still miss her, too.” JarDan blinked at the sting of tears before rising to face the other two men. No one ever got over the loss of a mother.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

38

“Send word to my father of the threat to the throne. Do not mention this diary or the translation. I’ll tell him when we’re together and alone. His grief is as fresh today as it was twenty years ago. He loves her still and lives constantly with the regret that he could do nothing to protect her.” JarDan headed for the door, leaving the other two men to finish the search for information. Before he activated the control panel, the Prince of Tor turned. “Unlike my father, I’ve been warned and I will be ready for him. Captain Beldon, you and Doctor Sladal will appear in my cabin in two hours in full dress uniform. At such time, you will act as witnesses for my bonding with Melodie Smith.” Without waiting for a reply from either man, JarDan headed to his quarters. He had much to do in the next two hours. A grim smile curved his mouth when he remembered the look on Dak’s face just before the door closed. Without a doubt, he and his friend would soon be deep into another argument. Dak didn’t understand the silken web that bound him to Melodie -- tighter than titanium shackles, yet soft as butterfly wings. JarDan wasn’t sure he understood. He just knew he couldn’t give up. He’d give his life before he allowed any harm to come to her. Morandoni had made a fatal mistake. Tor JarDan, Prince of Tor, was more than the heir to the throne and Commander of a space craft. He was a warrior. Strong. Powerful. Deadly. Soon -- very soon -- he and this demonic murderer would meet in combat. The master had much to answer for and JarDan vowed to avenge his mother’s death and all the years of sorrow his father endured because of the whim of a madman. He would have his vengeance if it took the rest of his life.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

39

Chapter Six It was no surprise to JarDan when Dak demanded entrance less than an hour later. He might have come to argue but he had the sense to don the black and silver dress uniform of an Anderan Travel Craft Officer first. “Are you out of your mind?” “Thank you, Dak. Your approval means a lot. Did you come to lecture me or …” “You know exactly why I came and I do not approve. You are the future King of Tor. This irrational action will affect everyone at home. Why, JarDan? Give me a reason to explain this.” JarDan closed his eyes in resignation, wishing he could avoid this confrontation. Turning to the mirror, he continued with the row of buttons that ran from his neck to his shoulder and down the left side of his chest. The silver buttons and fringed epaulets were sharp contrast for the unrelieved black of the jacket, tightly fitted pants and knee-high boots. The only difference in his uniform and Dak’s was the insignia on the short, standup collar of the jacket and the slim, gold circle that rested around the middle of JarDan’s forehead. The crown of the heir to the throne. “The choice of life mate is mine, Dak. Not even the King can question my choice.” He met his friend’s troubled gaze in the mirror. “I want you here as my friend, the brother of my heart if not my blood. I ordered you here because I knew you wouldn’t come otherwise.” JarDan sighed as he turned from the mirror. “I release you from that order, Dak. If you can’t accept Melodie as my mate I’ll find another to serve as witness.” “Are you doing this because you took her to your bed? You don’t have to tie yourself to a woman whose fear of you sent her into shock. She doesn’t think you’re human, remember? You can still send her back. Sladal can reconstruct her maidenhead, the information tapes can be modified to erase her memory of the incident, and no one would ever know.” “I would know.” JarDan stated firmly. “I’m not choosing her for my wife just because I slept with her. I’m old enough to know the difference between love and lust. What I feel for Melodie isn’t the love my father and mother shared. They knew each other all their lives. The voyage home would have given us time to learn about each other. Time for these feelings between us to grow – maybe into the soul deep love my parents knew. Torak’s treachery took away any chance I had of giving her the gentle courtship she deserved and now I’ve got to find a way to undo the damage. There has to be a way to make this work, Dak. I know that I will regret it for the rest of my life if I let her go. Now, Sladal will be here shortly, do I need another witness?” JarDan held his breath waiting for Dak to make his choice. He was the Prince of Tor and he would not beg. His heart dropped when Dak turned his back and walked to the window port. Please, Dak. Try to understand. Try. He stood perfectly still, waiting. Dak had to make his own decision without feeling pressured from his liege or his friend. When Dak turned and extended his hand, JarDan clasped his arm, a grin splitting his face. Wrist to wrist, the bonds of friendship held firmly between two strong-willed men. “Where else would you find a witness who can recite the ancient words? We’re

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

40

the only two on board forced to learn the language of our ancestors, and you know it.” “Thank you, my friend. You do me a great honor.” Offering Dak a goblet of wine, JarDan turned the conversation to more urgent matters. “Have you selected the guards?” “No, and don’t give me that black look, JarDan. It only works on men who fear you. We’ve found no further clues in Torak’s quarters. Was he acting alone? Is there another on board ready to take his place? All I find are questions on top of questions.” A quick bark of laughter interrupted Dak’s complaints. “You echo my own sentiments, Dak. I’ve never known such frustration in my life. This endless barrage of questions without answers would try the patience of a slug.” “Until there are a few answers,” agreed Dak, “I hesitate to place a guard in your quarters. By morning, I’ll have reset an electronic security bar with a code known only to the two of us. During duty hours, we can secure the room. Whenever either of us is free for a few moments, we can come and check on Melodie. At night, you’ll be here with her and can activate the bar from inside.” JarDan nodded his agreement with Dak’s plan. Cold, deadly calm replaced the shock of the morning. To bring deliberate harm to a female was punishable by death – and JarDan vowed the death would be slow and painful. “Until we know more about this plot, I don’t trust anyone enough to risk an attempt on your life. We’ve traveled with the same crew for ten years, and suddenly I suspect everyone. Am I losing my sanity?” “If you are, my friend, then we’re together in our madness.” JarDan drank deeply from the goblet in his hand. It was the same goblet Melodie drank from last night. He rubbed his bottom lip against the cool metal seeking some remaining taste of her mouth. His intelligence told him it was impossible, but his heart could remember and dream. “We’ve been at war for twenty years and not known it.” JarDan motioned for Dak to sit before settling his large body into a comfortable position. “Who are we fighting? Have they infiltrated the palace? Where do we start? For every scrap of information we uncover there are a hundred questions.” “It seems,” drawled Dak, “that we owe your Melodie a large measure of gratitude.” “What? Praise for my lady from the darkly intense Beldon Dak? What sorcery is this? Are you well?” “You make jokes at my expense. If she has practiced sorcery, it’s on you. You’re the one enchanted by this female. I merely appreciate the fact that she was the instrument used to reveal the plot against your family. Nothing more.” JarDan chose not to comment on the deepening color on his friend’s cheeks. “As you say, Dak,” he commented in a sober voice, “she has enchanted me. I’ve only known her for one day, yet I can’t imagine my life without her. She makes me feel -- complete and at peace. The moment I took her in my arms in the teleport beam, I knew. Can you understand?” JarDan gazed at his lifelong friend, willing him to see the depth of his

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

41

commitment. When Dak grinned at him after several long, intense minutes, he felt a mighty weight lift from his shoulders. “Then I’ll honor her as your mate. By the Ancients, I pray I never fall victim to such irrational emotions.” Doctor Sladal’s arrival interrupted any comment JarDan might have made. He and Dak quickly removed the desk to make room for Melodie’s portable sleep chamber. Infants in sleep chambers were a common sight, but it was a shock to realize how much the unit resembled a glass coffin when used for an adult. Uncontrollable, irrational fear caused his heart to pound in his chest. The slowed breathing and reduced heart rate gave the impression of death and JarDan could not stop himself from checking the monitor panels for assurance she still lived. Gone was the fear and denial that twisted her face this morning. The soft light illuminating the monitor panels highlighted her pale skin. He knew just how soft her skin was next to his; recalled the faint floral fragrance of her hair, the taste of citrona on her lips. Placing a hand on the glass top, JarDan turned to the other two men. “Let’s begin. Doctor Sladal, I believe we can remove the cover of the unit for approximately two hours. Is that correct?” When the doctor agreed, he unsnapped the glass top, setting it aside before he continued. “If you will place the bonding cord around her wrist, Dak will recite the vows.” JarDan wrapped one end of the narrow, intricate braid of gold filament around his left wrist while Sladal wrapped the other end around Melodie’s wrist. With his right hand on Melodie’s, he nodded to Dak before closing his eyes. The Prince of Tor let the ancient words engulf him. Only a handful of men knew the language of the earliest Anderans. Born of magic, infused with mystic metaphor, it was a language of sound and tone. Made up of complex written symbols, it passed from generation to generation in the relentless teaching of the Oracles. The gold grew warm against JarDan’s skin and began to glow with a soft light as the energy of his life force flowed along the braided metal. He could feel the energy from Melodie reaching out to join with his along the shimmering band. She was a part of him as he was now a part of her. Only death could sever the bond of their joining. The golden band glowed as Dak finished the ancient vows. JarDan was reluctant to break the spell but there was still a certain amount of protocol involved. “Congratulations, Your Highness,” offered Sladal when Dak ended the ceremony. “May your life be blessed with happiness and prosperity. I pray you soon find a solution to the problems plaguing you so you are free to pursue your dreams. If you will excuse me, I’ll bid you good night. It has been an unusually long day.” JarDan accepted Sladal’s good wishes before ushering him from the room, wishing Dak would leave with him. He wanted to be alone with Melodie while the sensations of the bonding were still so fresh. “You should think about using the subliminal tapes, JarDan. She fears what she doesn’t understand. The tapes will explain why …” “I’m familiar with the tapes, Dak. Your suggestion is valid and I’ll consider it.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

42

Right now, I’d like to be alone.” After Dak left, JarDan changed from his formal black uniform to the favorite white caftan he wore for comfort. Pulling a chair close to Melodie, he laid his hand against her face, softly brushing the wisps of hair around her ears. “This is not the ceremony I expected or the one you deserve, my lady,” he whispered. “There should be musicians and dancers and hundreds of guests toasting to our health and happiness. You should be dressed in a magnificent white gown covered in lace and jewels, not a simple MediCenter gown.” Watching the gradually fading glow of the golden bonding braid, JarDan’s intelligent mind churned with questions. Questions without answers -- for now. “Did you feel the force of our joining, Melodie? Are you aware of my presence? Your essence is all around me.” JarDan lifted her hand to his face. “The fragrance of your soap fills my nose, the taste of your skin sweet on my tongue. I ache with the need to hold you -- touch you -- be a part of you. We’ll find a way to bridge this gap between us. I give you my word. All you have to do is trust me enough to try.” He gently removed the bonding cord from her wrist before settling her hand against her stomach. Holding the warm metal in his hands, he smiled. Dak suggested he use the subliminal tapes and he would, but there was no reason not to make a tape or two of his own. If he wanted her to trust him, he would have to expose himself -- his emotions and dreams -- to her. Without giving himself time to think about what he was doing, he set the machine on record before taking her hand in his. The same hand that still held the bonding cord. “Shall I tell you about Anderan Bonding Cords, my love?” JarDan knew she wouldn’t hear him until he reset the machine to play, but he could pretend. This conversation with her somehow made the ceremony more real -- special in a way that was important for him. “When an Anderan male reaches his fifteenth year, he selects a bar of gold from among hundreds. The size and shape are as important as the color. Did you know there are hundreds of shades of gold? From pale lemon to deepest amber, there’s a shade that calls to each lad. The selection itself requires many hours of deliberation and thought. This is a momentous event in his life and there’s only one perfect bar for him. “With the selection made, he then begins the long process of beating the gold into fine threads. The number of threads and their diameter is a matter of choice since the ultimate design is as unique as each individual young man. “More than one hundred strands make up our bonding cord, Melodie. These strands are no thicker than a single hair. This is what gives the cord its flexibility. If you were awake, you would see how supple it is despite being made of metal. It took me more than a year to complete this initial process, placing each individual strand in a sixfoot long box lined with white satin. White is my family color. You’ll find most of the palace decorated in white and gold. My mother often complained of the lack of vibrant color. It probably explains her fascination with her roses. “Sorry, my love. I didn’t intend to get off on a tangent. I was explaining the construction of the bonding cord. While I fashioned these golden strands, I visualized the

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

43

pattern of the braid that I wanted to make. There are no printed instructions or guides for bonding cords. Each must come from the heart of the maker and only males who have completed their cords may observe the progress of another cord. Using three strands at a time, I braided the threads into a simple tight design. I braided the individual strands into thicker threads before starting the more complex design. This process is repeated until the final product is the three-foot cord we hold now. I was twenty-one when I finished this cord. The intricate design impressed my father. He said it looks more carved than braided because of the series of loops and knots that form the pattern. “No one knows how or why the gold reacts as it does. It’s something we simply take on faith. You couldn’t see the way the gold took on a life of its own, fed by the energy of our individual life forces. The light from the warm gold was as bright as a torch. “When the cord loses the warmth of our joining, I’ll remove a piece from the end to be fitted to your ring finger. This is a custom we’ve started in the last few hundred years. Back in the days when adult women came from Earth they insisted on a ring if they were to be married to us. The remaining cord will be fitted and fused to my wrists. Once in place, they can be removed only by severing my hands.” The steady beep-beep-beep of the monitor alarm interrupted JarDan. It was time to replace the cover of the sleep chamber. Laying his head close beside Melodie’s, he breathed deeply of the gentle fragrance of her hair, rubbing his face against its softness. Placing a gentle kiss against her lips, he settled the glass lid in place, watching closely until the monitor light indicated a complete seal. The thin glass was all that separated him from his mate, yet he felt alone. This was his wedding night, but he wouldn’t be spending it as he always dreamed. Placing his large hands against the glass, he imagined the comforting warmth of her skin. Almost immediately, the feeling of loneliness faded. Smiling at the sleeping woman, JarDan reset the tape to play and moved the sleep chamber close to his bed. Settling on his side, his hand still resting against the glass, he drifted off to sleep. The smile of contentment never left his face.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

44

PART TWO Chapter Seven “I’m through talking about it, Doctor Sladal. I want to go home. I will go home. Are you going to tell me what I need to know?” “But you are home, my dear. Prince JarDan had your chamber transported to his private quarters at the palace. This is your room.” Melodie wanted to growl like a cornered cougar. Never in her life had she met such stubborn individuals as she had on this cursed trip. Praying for patience, she looked around the large room. Instead of the sleep chamber, she now reclined on a massive bed set on a raised dais. The intricately carved wooden posts reached from floor to ceiling where they supported a canopy of heavy white material. You will find most of the palace decorated in white. Shaking her head to remove JarDan’s voice, Melodie continued her inspection of the room. The same material draped the four support posts, tied back with golden ropes. She had no doubt that those drapes, when released at night, created a warm, cozy cocoon for sleeping. She could easily picture JarDan sprawled across the snowy sheets, his dark hair and swarthy tan a stark contrast to the pristine whiteness. His sleeping form, in the narrow bed aboard the Destiny continued to haunt her. It was the first accurate memory she had of the man. Before the fear. Before the nightmarish memories of her druginduced sexual frenzy. Being drugged should have made it easier for her to deal with what happened between them, but it didn’t. She should feel justified in blaming him for her current predicament -- after all, he took her to his ship where that maniac drugged her. Instead, she found herself wondering if the real Melodie Smith could capture his attention so completely. Forcing her mind away from the implications of her thoughts, Melodie returned her attention to the room. Huge windows on two sides of the room brightened the grey stone walls. Several paintings in delicate pastel shades hung among an impressive array of swords, daggers, and shields. Other than the ridiculously large bed, the only furniture was a substantial desk and chair under one window, two high-backed chairs covered in dark gold brocade on either side of a massive fireplace and a dressing table and bench in the same shades of white and gold. Her grandfather’s entire house wasn’t much bigger than this one room. Returning her attention to the man standing perfectly still beside the bed, Melodie continued with the argument that began two hours ago when he brought her out of space sleep. “This isn’t my home, Doctor. My home is a small farm in Missouri about halfway between St. Louis and Springfield.” A repossessed farm. “I want to go home.” “You know that is not possible. The tapes …” “I don’t give a damn about those tapes,” she interrupted. “Oh, I know all about the plague and I’m sorry, but I am not a brood mare for aliens. Now, who do I talk to about going back to Earth?”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

45

“King Zeth is the only man who can authorize your return.” Melodie hardened her heart against the sympathy on the older man’s face. “How do I arrange a meeting with him?” “You will meet him at the evening meal tonight. He is JarDan’s father.” JarDan. Memories, both sweet and painful, again flooded her senses. His tapes told her about the drug but the knowledge didn’t ease the sharp pain of humiliation over her shameful reaction to him. A prince for Heaven’s sake! She had no business even talking to him. Don’t think about him. If you think about him you’ll remember. Melodie didn’t want to remember the dark-haired, blue-eyed man. She had to forget his gentle kindness and the way his touch set her blood on fire. She desperately feared that, once given free rein, her mind would sap her will until she no longer cared where she was or how she got here. She forced her attention to the ill-at-ease doctor. “Thank you for everything, Doctor Sladal. You’ve always been honest with me. I know you don’t believe me,” she grinned, “but I am going home.” “I know you will try, Princess.” Melodie jerked at the formal address. Princess! He called her princess. Melodie Anne Smith from Crocker, Missouri married to a prince! An alien prince, no less! Unthinkable! She stuttered when she spoke to the mayor of Crocker -- and he was her Sunday school teacher. How in the world was she going to convince a king to send her home? “… if you agree.” “What? I’m sorry, Doctor. I was thinking about something else.” Doctor Sladal lifted her hand and patted it gently. “Your Highness … Melodie, I urge you to consider your actions most carefully. Our world appears strange to you now, but give yourself time to understand … to accept … what we have to offer. We changed our language and many of our customs to meet the needs of women from your world. We did all we could to ease their adjustment to a life here for without them … without you … Anderas is faced with extinction. In time you will realize that we are men … no more … no less … forced to choose between conscience and survival.” Melodie decided to keep her plans to herself. She didn’t want to alienate the kind-hearted man. “I’ll think about it, Doctor. That’s all I can promise.” He smiled, obviously pleased with her response. “Well, now that we have settled that little matter, I have someone for you to meet.” Before she could stop him, the doctor crossed quickly to the door and ushered a young woman inside. “Melodie, this is ArDell. She will be your maid and I understand she specializes in long hair.” “You honor my family, Princess.” The woman bobbed a curtsey before flashing a quick smile in Melodie’s direction. “Why do I need a maid?” Melodie gazed in confusion between the doctor and the smiling woman. “I managed for twenty-odd years to keep my grandfather’s house clean. There isn’t any reason I can’t keep house for JarDan until I go home.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

46

“Princess! You cannot!” ArDell argued, her face pale with shock. “Melodie,” Sladal interrupted the indignant maid, “ArDell is your lady’s maid, not a household maid. She will be responsible for your wardrobe and grooming, also any personal tasks you choose to assign her.” Melodie stared at the grinning woman beside her bed fully expecting her to sprout two heads. “Do you mean she’s supposed to help me dress and comb my hair? Like some heroine in a Victorian novel?” “That and more, Princess,” ArDell grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Oh, no. I don’t need a maid. A braid is quick and easy and I don’t need help getting dressed.” Just thinking about anyone watching her dress brought a blush to her cheeks. Other than an occasional visit to the doctor, no one had every seen her naked. JarDan has. Grunting in frustration, Melodie mumbled under breath. Oh, shut up. “Melodie, my dear,” Sladal stated in that placating tone she now recognized as his ‘this-is-for-your-own-good’ voice. “The clothes you wore when Prince JarDan rescued you were beyond salvage. Your wardrobe here is more … uh … formal than the pants you are accustomed to wearing. I’m sure that once you’ve sampled ArDell’s abilities you will appreciate her assistance. Now, I must deliver my report to King Zeth and the Council of Elders. Until dinner, Princess.” He bowed deeply from the waist before backing from the room. When did she lose control of the situation? She couldn’t convince a doctor and a domestic servant to do her bidding. This didn’t bode well for her confrontation with JarDan and his father. Lord, how was a body to survive? “Princess, if I am unacceptable to you, there are others who can do as well.” ArDell’s quiet statement told Melodie how upset the woman was with her rejection. Knowing she had few options at this point, she drew a deep breath, praying for patience. She was not a Barbie doll sitting on shelf waiting for someone to change her clothes and comb her hair. “ArDell, I have no complaints with you.” Melodie wanted to wipe the hurt from the woman’s soft brown eyes. “This is all so strange to me. She indicated the room with a sweep of her hand. “I don’t want to be here and I don’t need a maid.” “Everyone is talking about you, Princess.” ArDell offered with an infectious grin. She began sorting through the multitude of drawers and cupboards along one side of a massive closet. “No one can remember the last time a crew brought back an adult female. The songmasters are already composing tales of your adventure. So romantic -Prince JarDan snatching you from the storm! Why, everyone knows how dangerous it is to teleport in a storm. He could have been killed and him the heir to the throne.” She didn’t know it was dangerous to teleport in a storm. But then, she was beginning to realize there was a great deal she didn’t know. “Now then, Princess.” ArDell stopped rummaging through drawers and stood beside the bed. “Your bath is ready and if you expect to look your best before Prince

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

47

JarDan returns, we need to get started. We only have three hours.” Three hours? Just to get dressed? A quick shower, jeans, tee shirt, and a quick braid in her hair and she’s ready to go -- twenty minutes, max. Good grief. Was a bath so different here that it took that long? Just how different was this place? The answer came in the space of time it took for her to climb from the huge bed and follow ArDell across the room. There the chattering maid opened a set of double doors with a flourish. Melodie closed her mouth with a snap. Before her was a massive white marble tub that could easily hold six people. Gold-veined mirrors covered one wall from floor to ceiling. Another wall contained double sinks, shelves filled with thick white towels, and an open door through which Melodie could see a matching toilet facility. She stepped into the room, inhaling the floral scented steam rising from the churning water in the tub. Sunlight from a large bank of windows created miniature rainbows in the fragrant mist. “Good Heavens!” Melodie mumbled. “This place is …” Her life in Missouri couldn’t provide her with a word to describe the opulent splendor stretched out before her. “Melodie Anne,” she muttered as she slowly circled the room, “you are in deep trouble.” “Come, Princess,” ArDell urged while gathering several thick, white towels. “Tallie and her sister, Dora, are waiting.” At the mention of their names, two women rose from the swirling water in the tub. “Oh, my goodness,” Melodie stammered, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea anyone was using the room.” She backed toward the door, her face and neck pink with embarrassment. “Please excuse …” “Wait, Princess,” ArDell placed a restraining hand on Melodie’s arm, preventing her from leaving. “They are the bathing maids for Prince JarDan and now they will serve you as well.” Melodie stared in speechless astonishment at the two women. Their blonde hair curled damply around bare shoulders. Diaphanous material made virtually transparent by the water covered their well-rounded bodies from armpit to mid-thigh. Shock turned instantly into blazing anger, fueled by an emotion she refused to acknowledge. “Do you mean to tell me,” she demanded of ArDell, “that these … these …women … bathe JarDan? Like a helpless baby?” “Of course,” ArDell answered in her cheerful voice. “Now they will bathe you as well.” “Over my dead body!” She exclaimed in righteous indignation. Ignoring the look of disbelief on the faces of the other women, Melodie stormed back across the room. “Nor will you help Prince JarDan with his bath. He’s a grown man and if he can’t wash his own body then let him stink! The very idea!” Melodie stood with her arms folded across her chest, waiting for two nearly nude blondes to dress and leave. She refused to let their obvious distress bother her. Never in her life had she caused deliberate hurt to another’s feelings but, by damn, JarDan married

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

48

her and he could damn well act like a married man. It didn’t matter that she didn’t consider them married. She wasn’t even conscious during the strange ceremony, for God’s sake. Later, after her return to Earth, then he could resume his debauched lifestyle. Turning toward the silent ArDell, Melodie squashed the pain in her chest at the thought of JarDan cavorting in the bubbling tub with another woman. Seeing the compressed lips and reddened cheeks, Melodie knew ArDell was unhappy with her actions. Well tough! Start out as you intend to continue was now her motto. “Do you have anything to say?” Melodie demanded. “It is our way, Princess.” ArDell muttered with disapproval. “Tallie and her family have been bathers for generations. It is what they train for from childhood. It will shame their family to learn of your dismissal.” “Horse feathers!” Melodie snorted. “They should be ashamed for practicing such a disgusting occupation. They can bathe the animals in the barn if that’s all they want to do with their lives. Your way isn’t my way, ArDell, and if we’re going to get along together, don’t try to change me into something I’m not.” “As you wish, Princess.” ArDell mumbled, retreating from the room. “I shall be waiting to help with your gown when you have completed your bath. Prince JarDan will surely call for them to return when he is ready for his bath.” Melodie stood motionless long minutes after the door closed behind the maid. Oh, Lord! What had she done? ArDell’s parting comment rang like a death-knell around her. Would JarDan humiliate her by calling for the women? She just didn’t know. After weeks of listening to the tapes she could recite chapter and verse about Anderan history. She knew all the past leaders, could discuss the current political situations, and even list the names of the plants and animals indigenous to the area. What she didn’t know was how to be a princess. Be yourself. Right. Just walk into dinner with a prince and a king. Tell them you spread manure over the garden plot and it should be ready to plow in a couple of days. Or maybe you could discuss the fact that Belle, the milk cow, isn’t producing enough milk to justify the cost of her feed. Turning to face the tub, Melodie caught sight of herself in the wall of mirrors. The pale, wide-eyed woman staring back at her was a stranger. Like a character in a fairy tale, she went to sleep a pauper and woke up a princess -- literally. “Now, there’s a topic for polite dinner conversation, Melodie Anne.” She whispered. “Describe to people so rich they don’t even dress themselves, what it’s like to watch the auctioneer sell off everything you have left in the world -- and still owe the bank more than five thousand dollars. To realize that all you have left besides a suitcase full of old clothes is a truck held together with prayer and baling wire. That all that stands between you and starvation is one hundred sixteen dollars and twenty-two cents in pennies from your piggy bank. Or that it took you more than twenty years to save those pennies.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

49

Allowing herself a few more minutes of self-pity, Melodie slowly straightened her spine. Wiping at the tears clinging to her lashes, she grasped the only lifeline she still possessed -- her pride. The same pride that sent her racing into a storm. The pride that couldn’t accept the charity of neighbors she never saw except at church on Sunday. That pride would see her through whatever this strange world held in store for her. Thirty minutes later she reluctantly left the hot, bubbling water. Wrapped in one of the huge towels left by ArDell, she had to admit she had never enjoyed such a bath. There had to be something sinful about such luxury. The swirling water washed away the stiff, achy feeling from the space sleep. The fragrances of crushed petals filled her nose. She was such a sucker for flowers. Looking around the steamy room Melodie realized there was nothing for her to wear -- not even a comb for her hair. Drat! Now she’d have to parade around naked with ArDell watching while she searched for clothes. This too shall pass. Drawing a deep breath and gathering her meager confidence around her, Melodie walked through the double doors. ArDell immediately came forward with a robe for her. After securing the soft, white garment, Melodie dropped the towel, delighted that she didn’t flash even a hint of skin. “If you’ll sit here,” ArDell instructed as she scooped up the damp towel, “I’ll comb your hair.” Melodie grinned at the thought of having her hair combed for her. When it was dry and loose, the ends reached almost to her knees. It was a tedious chore to complete the required one hundred strokes every morning and night. She had never cut her hair – other than having the ends trimmed every six months or so. Her grandfather believed that a woman’s hair was her crowning glory. She had fond memories of him combing and braiding her hair when she was little. It was a special daily ritual, reserved for the two of them until his arthritis became too painful for him to continue. “Where’s the blow dryer, ArDell?” Melodie asked after searching through the drawers of the vanity. The maid was just returning from disposing of the soiled towel. “I don’t understand. What is a blow dryer?” Melodie could see the confusion on the woman’s face. How was she going to dry her hair if she didn’t know what a blow dryer was? “You must have a different term for it here. It’s an appliance that blows hot air. You plug in into the electrical outlet and hold it like this.” She pantomimed the actions of drying her hair. Why did she feel like she was speaking a foreign language? “We have no such devise like you describe. I’ll dry your hair with the comb.” Her confused expression was almost comic. “It takes hours for my hair to dry on its own. Just combing it won’t help.” Shaking her head at Melodie’s statement, ArDell removed a large comb from the top of the vanity and gently began to untangle the heavy curtain of black hair. “Nonsense,” she cajoled in a voice that made Melodie feel like a five-year old, “by the time it’s smooth, your hair will be dry.” Within minutes Melodie felt the heat from the comb as ArDell gently pulled it

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

50

through her hair. “It’s hot! Well, not exactly hot but very warm. How does it work? Is it battery operated?” Her hair was drying faster than with a dryer. Amazing! She watched in the mirror as ArDell shrugged without missing a stroke with the remarkable comb. “It’s one of the many items made from the energy stone. The processing time of the raw ore determines the heat it generates. Just like the stones used in buildings, the temperature will remain constant.” “Are you saying that comb is made from rock? It looks like silver.” Yes was the only answer she received. Such a simple little three-letter word -yes. Yes, it’s a rock? Yes, it’s silver? Yes, you’re losing your mind? Yes, what? Keep your mouth shut, Melodie Anne. It’s one thing for her to think you’re a fool. There’s no reason for you to confirm it. In less time than it took for Melodie to take her bath, ArDell and her amazing comb had her hair dry and hanging in smooth waves down her back. A phrase from an old movie suddenly flashed through her mind -- we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

51

Chapter Eight JarDan stood silent and unobserved at the entrance to the Rose Garden, watching his father. Only here, in his mother’s special place, did his father allow his grief to show. Twenty years had not eased the pain of his loss. He finally understood that pain -- since Melodie. Her brush with death aboard the Destiny continued to haunt his nightmares. Melodie. The first cowardly act of his life was instructing Sladal to greet her upon waking from space sleep. His emotions were too raw -- too uncertain -- to risk another rejection. Confrontation with Melodie would come soon enough. Right now he had to tell his father about his mother’s death -- and Morandoni. Clearing his throat to announce his presence, JarDan walked into the garden. The rich, heavy perfume of hundreds of blossoms filled the air. Vibrant shades of red, pink, yellow and white dipped and swayed with the afternoon breeze. Wrapped in the security of warm memories, he gazed at his father. Zeth was approaching eighty years old, which by Anderan standards made him middle age. Still straight and strong, his body pulsed with the blood of a thousand kings. JarDan smiled at the love shining in eyes the exact shade of blue as his own. The changes in his father were slight, subtle, yet evident to the son who loved him. There were silver streaks at his temples, small lines shadowing the wide forehead, and a slight stiffness when he bent to cull a dead blossom. Was his extended trip to Earth the cause of these added signs of his father’s aging? What would the details of his mother’s death do to his father? JarDan’s guilt-ridden soul searching halted when he reached King Zeth. “You look well despite such a long trip. I’m grateful for your safe return.” Whispered Zeth, pulling his son into a close embrace. JarDan held his father tightly, relishing the unconditional affection, dreading the pain his news would cause. “It was a long journey, Father, and I’m glad to be home. This was my last voyage and I don’t regret that fact.” “Come, sit with me and tell me about your trip -- and not the official version you’ve given the Council of Elders.” JarDan was silent, stalling until his father sat on one of the marble benches scattered throughout the garden. He had so much to tell and absolutely no idea how to start. “So, where is your mate? Dak says she’s a remarkable woman and that she’s bewitched you.” King Zeth looked expectantly around the garden. “Melodie is recovering from space sleep and will join us for dinner. Yes, she is remarkable -- and beautiful -- and courageous.” The husky tone of his voice was like a stranger’s to his ears. “Whether I’m bewitched is debatable. Dak doesn’t understand … this attraction I feel for her. It’s so much more than physical desire, yet I know not what I feel.” JarDan sat cross-legged on the grass at his father’s feet. For more than thirty

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

52

years, father and son had shared the joys, sorrows and secrets of the soul in just such a manner. Here, alone together, they were no longer king and crown prince but two men bound by their devotion to each other. “We gathered the infants from the collection stations with only minor interference. Earth’s radar tracking systems are advancing rapidly. It won’t be long before our ships will be detected long before we enter their atmosphere. The building of an orbital space station is well underway. We may be forced to suspend future expeditions.” “Did you tell this to the Council of Elders?” JarDan shook his head and smiled at his father’s quiet question. “They were already upset with me over Melodie. I thought it prudent to wait for another opportunity.” “Their concern is justified, son. You exposed your ship and crew to great danger with your extended orbit. Your trip was longer than any on record. The emergency rations are for emergencies, not the whim of the Travel Craft Commander. And the water … there is only enough for a few days beyond the expected travel time. How did you manage to refill the water reservoirs without detection? The radar jamming device only works when you’re airborne.” “There are a number of fresh water supplies located in remote areas.” JarDan defended his actions. “By seeking these areas, we landed without incident. There are areas of Earth where …” “Whenever you start pulling at the grass like you’re doing now it usually means you’re stalling. And when you ramble you believe it’s something that I don’t want to hear. What is it that you don’t want to tell me? Do you now regret your bonding?” “No!” JarDan dropped the handful of green sprigs and pushed himself up from the ground, brushing absently at the grass and leaves on his dark pants. “My commitment to Melodie is without question. She’s the reason for the extended voyage -although I didn’t know it until I found her. For weeks, Dak pressured me to return, but I couldn’t give the order to leave. There was a sense of urgency -- a restlessness that I couldn’t explain.” JarDan flashed a sheepish smile. “Dak threatened to relieve me of command more than once and I’m not sure he was joking. I knew before I teleported into the tornado that she was the reason for my unusual behavior.” “According to Dak you’re still exhibiting unusual behavior. He charges that you’re not acting like the Prince of Tor.” “And just how is the Prince of Tor supposed to act?” JarDan paced several steps in agitation before facing his father. Straightening to his full height of six feet six inches, he grasped his wrists behind his back. To anyone but his father it would have been an intimidating pose. “I have done nothing to bring shame to myself or to you.” “Spare me the injured martyr act, JarDan,” King Zeth laughed. “If you want my opinion, in recent years you’ve been too much the prince and too little the man. If Melodie is responsible for the change then I welcome her with open arms.” He patted the space beside him on the bench. “Now, enough stalling. If not your mate, then what has you so disturbed?”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

53

JarDan fought the pain in his chest. Somehow, from somewhere, he had to find the words. What could he say to ease the agony that his words would bring? Drawing a ragged breath, he reached into the inside pocket of his tunic and withdrew the pages of Torak’s journal. “I didn’t tell the Council everything about the attempt on Melodie’s life.” JarDan leaned his forearms against his thighs, his chin resting against his chest, the damning notes partially hidden between his spread legs. “When we searched Torak’s quarters we found … part of a diary or journal. There were only a few pages … written in a strange combination of the language of the ancients and symbols Dak and I are still trying to translate.” JarDan was gulping great mouthfuls of air, fighting to keep his churning emotions in check. The firm touch of his father’s hand gently rubbing the taut muscles of his back reminded him of other times. Times when just such a touch would dispel the demons of a young boy’s nightmares. Times when that touch was all he needed to know his father loved him. “Son,” Zeth whispered, “it will be easier dealt with once said.” His eyes burning with unshed tears, his throat tight, JarDan turned to face his father. “They detail … the pages reveal … by all the Ancients! Torak tells of Mother’s death.” JarDan watched his father’s face change. A brief flash of pain and the loving concern became a blank mask. The hand that soothed now stilled with tension. “Arica? Why? I don’t …” With hands that trembled Zeth reached for the pages. “I would read them for myself.” “No father, you can’t!” “JarDan, I love your mother as deeply today as I did the day I asked her to be my queen. Whatever those pages contain can’t hurt me more than her death did – and still does.” Reluctantly, JarDan released his hold on the journal. There was no way to shield his father from renewed pain and no reason to protect him from the truth. Zeth read the gruesome account in only minutes. JarDan watched his father smooth the papers before slipping them into his own tunic. It took two attempts before he could speak. “Well,” he grated, “at least we now know what happened. Would you please excuse me, son? I need to be alone for a short while. Before I return to the palace, I will deliver these,” he indicated the pocket containing the journal, “to the Council of Elders. The Archives needs an accurate detailing of your mother’s death. I look forward to meeting my daughter-in-law at dinner.” JarDan nodded, turning toward the entrance to the garden. He knew his father would deal with this blow here -- in the garden where Arica’s presence was still strong. “Son,” Zeth called just before JarDan reached the gate. “I know this was hard for you to do. Thank you for being the one to bring me the news.” ****

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

54

“Princess,” ArDell complained patiently, “if you don’t sit still I can’t finish your hair and you’ll be late.” Melodie eyed the strange assortment of loops and curls of hair currently secured to the top of her head. Did this woman not understand English? “I’m not going at all if you don’t take this mess down right now! ArDell, I’m almost six feet tall in my bare feet. What I don’t need,” she argued while pulling pins from the towering mass, “is another six inches -- even if it’s my own hair. I can barely hold my head up with all that weight. Now, take it down!” The mutinous expression on the maid’s face was almost comical as she removed her handiwork. Ignoring the mumbles and grumbles behind her, Melodie stifled a chuckle. Maybe there was something to this princess business. All it took was a little patience and making sure everyone knew who was boss. When the heavy curtain of ebony hair again flowed down her back, she smiled her appreciation. “Does the Princess have a preferred hair style for evening?” Although she asked the question softly, the stony expression and hands fisted on her hips screeched disapproval. Laughing at ArDell’s attempt at intimidation, Melodie shook her head, creating undulating waves from her neck to the pool of black on the floor. “As a matter of fact she does. She likes it pulled back in a braid. A style very similar to the one she prefers for the morning but slightly different from the same way she wears it for the afternoon.” “No.” Melodie stared at the woman who now stood with her arms folded across her chest, glowering. “No? What do you mean -- no?” Obviously she still needed to work on the boss situation. “That style is suitable for the day or when occupied out of doors or upon retiring for the night. You will not appear before King Zeth with a braid.” “Look, ArDell. This has gone on long enough. You work for me. Remember? I’m the one who gives the orders and you say yes ma’am and follow them. Do you have a problem with that?” Maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but if she didn’t stand her ground with the maid what chance did she have with the king -- or JarDan. Instead of angering the other woman, Melodie’s comments seemed to amuse her. “The Prince hired me, Princess,” she crowed between giggles. “It’s in your best interest since you’re so unfamiliar with our ways. I’m sure you’ll agree once you’ve been here for a while.” In her best interest? She was the only one who knew what was in her best interest. How dare that muscle-bound cretin presume to dictate his will as her own? So much for exerting her authority. JarDan had effectively undermined whatever small control she thought she had. Fine. However, she’d get her way about her hair one way or another. “Then let’s do what the all powerful Prince of Tor demands.” Her sarcasm brought a flush to the maid’s face. “You’ve got two choices for my hair -- braid it or leave it loose. If you attempt to twist it into some outrageous mound I’ll cut it off right up to my ears. Then you won’t have to worry about it again.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

55

“As you wish, Princess.” Convinced ArDell believed her threat, Melodie allowed the maid to continue with her task. Without another word the maid’s nimble fingers gathered the hair above one temple. Adding a length of pink ribbon, she quickly braided the first six inches before anchoring it to the back of her head with a pin. When the opposite side matched, ArDell removed the pins and secured the ribbon around both pieces, leaving the ends trailing down her back. The hair left unbraided created a shimmering curtain that Melodie knew would brush the back of her thighs when she stood. The woman staring back from the mirror was a familiar stranger. The face was the same – only softened by the loose cloud of hair. The pink ribbons at her temples drew attention to her wide violet eyes. She might not look like a princess but she surely didn’t look like a farmer either. “Thank you, ArDell.” Melodie smiled at the maid’s image in the mirror. “This is much better but I have to warn you -- by tomorrow morning there will be so many tangles you’ll swear I’ve never combed it.” “I know a trick or two about knots and tangles, Princess. Come, your gown is ready and we’re almost out of time.” Melodie gritted her teeth in frustration when ArDell reached for the belt of the bathrobe. Pushing the determined hands away she backed away from the vanity table. “I can dress myself.” She was not going to let this woman dress her. “Which drawer has underwear?” “Everything you need is on the bed.” By her tone, Melodie knew the woman was miffed again. Too bad. She had more important things to worry about. She had to convince the king to send her home. The gown spread across the bed brought a gasp of delight to Melodie’s lips. She only owned two dresses, both for church, and neither one fancy. Here was a dress straight from the pages of a fairy tale – soft and glimmering and all for her. “Oh, my.” Melodie whispered while fingering the silky material. “This is so beautiful. Surely whoever lent it to me must have made a mistake. What if I spill something on it? I’d never forgive myself.” “The gown is yours, Princess, as are all the gowns in the wardrobe. Prince JarDan placed the order when he notified his father of your bonding. They are his gift to you.” While one part of her wanted nothing to do with the dark-haired man, another part marveled at his thoughtfulness. “I guess I’m going to have to ask for your help after all.” She could feel the heat climb from her neck into her cheeks. “I’d hate to ruin something this pretty just because I’m shy.” “There’s no reason to be shy with me.” ArDell grinned as she helped Melodie remove the bathrobe. “I serve only you. Your secrets will be as my own, I won’t abuse your trust. I give you my vow.” “I’d rather have a friend than a maid.” Melodie admitted while stepping into a pair of white, ruffled, knee-length pantaloons. “I’d like it if you called me Melodie.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

56

“When we’re here, alone in your quarters I’ll call you by name.” ArDell agreed softly. “It wouldn’t be proper for me to do so when others can hear. Turn around.” Melodie couldn’t prevent the shiver of excitement that tickled her spine when the silky gown of deep rose slid past her shoulders. The dress was plain with a scooped neck and long straight sleeves. Gathering her hair over one shoulder, she waited while ArDell laced the back together, causing the material to mold itself against her figure. “I’ve never worn anything so pretty. Do people wear something this fancy every night?” She twirled in a slow circle, enchanted by the flair of the skirt. “Shouldn’t I have a slip or something?” “The under dress is all you wear beneath your gown. This is the gown.” Melodie stared, open-mouthed, at the dark green dress ArDell brought from the wardrobe. It was heavier than the silky under dress with a deep square neckline and long, full sleeves that fell in graceful points almost to the floor. Delicately embroidered flowering vines covered the entire dress from neckline to hem. “Sweet peas!” She whispered, fingering the needlework. “Prince JarDan told me they were your favorite flowers and I passed the information to the seamstress. Now, let me lace you into the gown or you’ll be late.” Melodie slipped her arms into the voluminous sleeves, holding them out from her body while ArDell laced each side of the dress from armpit to just below her waist. The sides fell open from the hips to the floor, revealing the softer pink under dress. The same pink material gathered softly above the square neck to accent the slender column of her throat. The sleeves ended just short of her wrist allowing a glimpse of rose whenever she moved. “I feel like I’m going to a costume party. I look like a princess.” Melodie whispered, staring at her reflection. “What else would you look like?” ArDell asked smoothing the tendrils of dark hair back into place. “You are a princess.” ArDell’s matter-of-fact attitude did little to calm the butterflies currently churning away in her stomach. I can’t do this! Panic snipped at her reason. I’m just plain Melodie Anne Smith. What do I say to these people? I don’t know what to do at a fancy dinner. Please, God. I want to go home. “Now,” ArDell placed matching green slippers on the floor as a gong sounded deep and resonant somewhere in the castle, “it’s time to go. I thought Prince JarDan would escort you down, but he’s likely still with the Council of Elders. I’ll show you to the top of the stairs. Come, Princess.” The darkened hallway brightened when ArDell opened the door. As they traveled down the corridor, light shone for about ten feet ahead of them and disappeared about ten feet behind them. Melodie had the oddest sensation of walking with a personal spotlight. “How do you do that?” She finally had to ask. “Do what, Princess?” “Turn the lights on and off without touching a switch.” Even turning the corner didn’t stop the light.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

57

ArDell didn’t spare her a glance before shrugging her shoulder in dismissal. “It’s the energy stone.” This was some rock. It gave off heat, provided light and replaced her hair dryer. This fairy tale was beginning to show signs of becoming a science fiction ordeal. Space ships, galactic travel, kings, castles, servants and now magic rocks. No wonder she was dizzy. “This is as far as I go, Princess. Just follow the staircase and you’ll enter the great hall. Hurry now. You must not keep the prince waiting.” Melodie stared at the spiraling steps until ArDell gave her a gentle push. Descending into the bowels of Hell couldn’t be any worse than this. She heard the voices, muted by the stone walls. Each slow, careful step was an agony as the voices grew louder with her descent, deep male laughter and other softer, higher pitched female sounds. Glancing back at ArDell still standing at the top of the stairs, Melodie forced a smile and a wave in answer to her maid. The lights of the hall glowed around the next bend of the staircase. Wiping her damp palms against the heavily embroidered gown, Melodie straightened her shoulders and turned the final corner. In for a penny – in for a pound. Just please, Lord, don’t let me trip on the stairs.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

58

Chapter Nine Melodie stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared. Why did they have to pick tonight for a big costume party? There had to be two hundred people in the room, all dressed up like Knights of the Round Table. Room? The place was closer to the size of a gymnasium! Rows and rows of tables covered with white cloths and set with sparkling crystal stretched across the room. From what she could see from her corner, there were at least three huge fireplaces. She couldn’t begin to imagine why anyone needed a fireplace – they had magic rocks. Women in dark dresses covered with long white aprons hurried from table to table placing and filling glasses. No one seemed aware of the bustling activity as the men and women gathered in small groups talking and laughing. One long table was set apart from the others on a wide platform. Three steps carpeted in gold led from the main floor to this special area. Behind the table and chairs that stretched across the front of the dais, there were several upholstered chairs placed around the fireplace inviting cozy conversation. That was where she spotted JarDan. His arm rested with familiar ease across the shoulders of an older man so like JarDan, Melodie knew in an instant that he was King Zeth, JarDan’s father. There was only one female with them, a young girl who couldn’t be a day over eighteen. The top of her head of fiery auburn hair barely reached the center of JarDan’s chest. With her dark coloring and red gown, she looked like an exotic pixie. Melodie searched her memory of the tapes JarDan made during the voyage for any mention of a young woman. Nothing. Who was she? And why did the sight of her in animated conversation with JarDan cause her heart to slow? JarDan looked up at that moment and caught her staring. He excused himself from the young woman and his father and headed straight toward her. Like a slow motion film, she noticed everything about him. His hair lay thick and dark past his shoulders. A slender gold band circled his head to rest about an inch above his eyes. His familiar grin brought out deep dimples and sent a wave of longing straight to her core. A longing she firmly ignored. The sight of him in his costume sent her heart into overdrive. A tunic the same green as her dress covered his massive chest and shoulders with narrow bands of dark rose around the neck, sleeves and hem. Even the skin-tight leggings and knee-high boots were the same deep green. The wide black belt at his waist held an ornate gold scabbard and sword. A party like this took a long time to plan, yet they were dressed alike. But since her dress was new when was his costume made? He probably already had his costume and had hers made to match his. Before she could get a grip on her nerves, he was standing in front of her. Did you really expect to just slip into the room unnoticed? “You look lovely, Melodie.” He whispered, extending his hand to her. “Did you find everything to your satisfaction?” Melodie stared at his hand, knowing he expected her to put her hand in his. She

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

59

couldn’t look at him without remembering their one night aboard the Destiny. How could she touch him? Without realizing it, she clenched her hands at her waist. “Are you still afraid of me?” His whispered question was stark. Filled with pain? She wished she could remember more about the morning she went into space sleep. “No.” She answered quickly, looking into his eyes. “At least, I don’t think so.” She shrugged and tried to smile. “Maybe.” JarDan chuckled deep in his chest. “My ego may never be the same.” Melodie didn’t resist when he pried her fingers apart, giving her hands a gentle squeeze before raising them to his lips. The heat of his kiss against her fingers warmed her to her toes. “Come, my lady,” he whispered against her skin, his eyes still locked with hers. “My father is anxious to meet you.” Placing her hand atop his, he turned to escort her across the room. Her fingers tingled from the touch of his lips. His touch, like a trigger, opened her senses to maximum reception. The solid strength of his hand, the gentle caress of his thumb against her fingertips, even the cold, metal wrist band -- his bonding band -swamped her with memories of slow, deep kisses and whispers in the dark. She could smell the lingering traces of soap and something else -- something she should know -every time his shoulder brushed hers. As they crossed the floor and climbed the steps the voices in the hall quieted until all Melodie heard were the whisper of fabric as they walked and the soft clink of JarDan’s sword. She kept her gaze fixed on their joined hands, refusing to think about the disturbing memories of their first dinner together and equally determined to ignore the crowded room, now silent as a tomb. JarDan’s father separated himself from the small group and stepped forward. “Father,” JarDan turned toward Melodie and brought her hand to his lips for the second time. “This is my princess, Melodie. Melodie, I’d like you to meet my father, Zeth, King of Falcon Tor.” “Don’t be so stuffy, JarDan.” The older man’s smile was wide and welcoming and Melodie couldn’t stop herself from smiling in return. It was a surprise to realize how easy it would be to like JarDan’s father. “Really, JarDan” came a soft, reproving female voice from behind Zeth, “you should have taught your … mate how to greet the king. She didn’t even attempt a curtsey.” “Tiana!” JarDan gasped. Melodie stiffened in embarrassment and shock. Shocked that the young redhaired woman would openly confront JarDan and embarrassed at being the cause of his public shame. She knew something like this would happen. What did she know about greeting kings? Before she could apologize to everyone for her ignorance, King Zeth wrapped his arms around her. “Behave, Tiana,” Zeth warned gently. “Melodie is my daughter now and doesn’t have to bow to me any more than you do.” Zeth turned his attention back to Melodie.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

60

“Welcome to Falcon Tor, my dear. JarDan has spoken of little except his beautiful bride.” She relaxed at Zeth’s gentle reprimand to his daughter. No, she’s not his daughter. There was nothing in the tapes about a sister. I’ll have to ask JarDan later. The confident pressure of JarDan’s hand against her back was public acknowledgment of her status in his household and more of an anchor for her unsettled emotions than she wanted to admit. “Come and meet the rest of our little family.” The king turned her away from JarDan to face the two people standing near the chairs she noticed earlier. “This unruly sprite,” he kissed the younger woman on the cheek, “is my ward, Tiana. She’s a delightful child standing on the verge of womanhood and often speaks before considering the consequences of her words. I’m sure you two will become great friends in no time.” Melodie smiled and offered her hand to the young woman. Just when she believed Tiana would ignore her gesture, the girl reached out and acknowledged her greeting with a weak response of her own. Tiana’s bright green eyes were open and guileless until Zeth turned to introduce Melodie to the next person. For the space of a heartbeat, Melodie saw hatred so deep it stunned her -- and gone in the blink of an eye. Friends? I don’t think so. “And of course,” continued Zeth, “you remember Beldon Dak? He has lived with us since he was a young boy.” Melodie’s memories were shadowy and sporadic where Dak was concerned. JarDan mentioned him often on the tapes he made for her but those images didn’t fit with her memories. “Your Highness,” Dak bowed deeply over a hand she didn’t recall extending. Here was another problem. Outwardly, she couldn’t see anything to suggest Dak was any more than he appeared. Why did she feel like she’d made him angry? “Now, JarDan,” Zeth returned her to JarDan’s side. “You must present her to your warriors and their ladies.” Melodie followed silently when JarDan led her to the edge of the dais. She must be more nervous than she realized if she managed to forget the crowd assembled in the huge room. One crisis at a time. You didn’t fall down the stairs or trip the king. What can two hundred strangers do? “Ladies of Tor,” JarDan’s deep voice carried across the wide room, “my lifemate, Melodie of Tor.” As if on cue, every female in the room dropped into a deep curtsey -- and stayed there. Should she do something? Tell them to stand up? 4-H and FFA never prepared her for this. JarDan solved the problem for her when he continued. “Warriors of Tor!” His voice was apparently the signal for those who escorted a woman to reach out and help her to her feet. “Princess Melodie is my chosen mate. From this day forward you will protect her as you do the kingdom and honor her as your future queen.” Instead of bowing, the men dropped to one knee with their right hands placed

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

61

over their hearts and just as suddenly stood, yelling TOR! Melodie jumped when each of them drew his sword, brought the hilt to his chest and raised the blade high in the air. The warriors shouting Tor! Tor! Tor! repeatedly were unsettling and Melodie leaned closer to JarDan. His grip on her hand tightened in understanding. King Zeth finally put an end to the riotous yelling by ordering dinner. JarDan escorted Melodie to the seat between his father’s and his own. Protocol dictated he sit on the other side of his father, but protocol be damned. He had to be close to her. Close enough to touch her. Close enough to inhale the delicate floral fragrance of her soap. He remembered the lingering scent of crushed blossoms in the steamy bathroom when he took his own bath. Having such tangible evidence of a woman in his quarters made him feel -- complete. Melodie would be upset if she discovered the hidden passage into the bathroom -- and furious with him for using it. He didn’t know what he enjoyed more -- his first bath in his own quarters in more than a year or listening to the arguments between Melodie and ArDell. His bride would learn to hold her own. She was too independent to remain passive for long. He couldn’t wait for the fireworks to begin. By the Beard of the Prophet he wished he could have been there when she tossed Tallie and Dora out of the tub. That was the act of a jealous woman! He watched his wife fidget with her bonding ring, the only jewelry she wore, and grinned like a fool. She hadn’t run screaming from the room when he touched her. That was definitely a good sign. Her reasons for dismissing his staff were unimportant. Her acceptance of her position in his life -- that was important. JarDan reached over and covered her hands with his. The sight of their joined hands -- his larger and darker, hers slender yet strong -- gave him a good feeling. The words of the bonding ceremony rang in his head -- join hands, join hearts. He felt the trembling in her fingers and realized she was nervous. “Relax,” he whispered in her ear, inhaling the soft perfume of her hair, “the formalities are over. Just think of this as a quiet dinner with your in-laws.” He watched the army of kitchen personnel carry tray after tray of roasted meats, vegetables of every color and variety and mounds of freshly baked bread. “A costume party for hundreds of people,” she finally mumbled after their plates were filled with more food than she could eat in a week, “is hardly a quiet dinner. “Costume?” JarDan scanned the assembled crowd below them. “There’s no one in costume, Melodie. The ladies obviously took extra care with their dressing in your honor, but this is just a simple evening meal.” Something about this conversation struck JarDan as odd -- as if he were missing an important piece of information. “Simple?” She cried, blushing when everyone turned in her direction. JarDan laced his fingers with hers, letting instinct guide him since he was as confused as Melodie appeared. She was staring at her hands again so he reached out with his free hand and turned her face up to his, caressing the soft skin of her cheek. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m not … I can’t …” she drew a shaky breath. “I want to go home.” She finally whispered. He knew she wasn’t referring to their room upstairs. Panic urged him to argue.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

62

Common sense told him she needed a little solitude. “Come with me.” He stood, his fingers still laced with hers. “JarDan?” His father questioned as he, and every other man in the room, stood when Melodie did. “Is something wrong? Where are you going? This dinner is in your honor, yours and Melodie’s.” Placing an arm around his wife’s waist, JarDan pulled her close to his side. “I’m sure you’ll all understand,” he announced to the hall in general, “but I have a strong desire to be alone with my bride. If you’ll excuse us?” Ignoring the ribald comments of the men, softened because of the ladies present, JarDan headed toward the stairs. Instead of turning toward their room, he led Melodie down a different flight of stairs to a door that opened into the deserted rose garden. He could feel her relax with each step into the garden with its lush blossoms clearly visible in the bright moonlight. She pulled out of his embrace but didn’t fight when he took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers again. “You shouldn’t have said that.” She finally spoke, looking out over the rows of bushes. “Now they’ll think we’re … that you …” “That I want to make love to my wife?” He finished for her with a grin. He tightened his grip to keep her from pulling her hand free. “They’re right.” He answered softly. “I want to hold you, kiss, and make love to you all night.” His heart thudded painfully when she stiffened at his side. Turning to face her, JarDan stared into her closed expression. With his free hand, he smoothed the wisps of hair stirred by the evening breeze and told himself it didn’t matter when she flinched at his touch. But it did. “You’re not ready for that kind of relationship with me, are you?” It was an unnecessary question and since he didn’t expect an answer, her silence didn’t surprise him. Cupping her face in his palm, he lifted her head until she was looking at him. When he saw confusion and not fear, he wanted to shout with joy. “Will you tell me why you’re so upset about dinner?” He couldn’t hold back his grin when the confusion in her eyes turned to surprise. Good. If he kept her off guard she couldn’t build any more walls between them. When she tried to look away, he wouldn’t allow it. “No. There’s no one here except you and me. Don’t hide from me, Melodie.” JarDan pleaded softly. “I can’t talk when you look at me like that.” She sounded annoyed. “Like what?” He asked, feeling his grin widen. His fingers gently stroked the tender flesh of her neck while his thumb brushed the side of her face. “Like you’re a starving man and I’m the food.” JarDan groaned at the erotic memories her innocent remark brought to life. He knew the taste of her skin, the unique flavor of the very heart of her and he ached with the need for more. With a final stroke of her hair, he released her. To continue touching her was to invite disaster. He wanted her willing -- eager -- to come to his bed. With every step she took down the cobbled path, her gown brushed against the dew-laden blossoms, releasing their heady perfume into the night. How could his father

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

63

come here so often? This place pulled at the very fiber of his desire. “Can I ask you a question?” Melodie’s quiet voice brought him back to attention. “Anything.” He answered truthfully. She stopped and began to trace the petals of a blossom with her fingertip. She fidgets when she’s nervous. JarDan filed that information away for future examination. “Do you really dress like this all the time?” “Yes.” He said glancing at his tunic and boots. “Why?” She demanded, turning to look at him in the moonlight. “You didn’t look like Robin Hood on the space ship. Everyone there dressed like … like you’d imagine space men to dress. This,” she indicated the garden and castle with a sweep of her hand, “is like living in a fairy tale.” She paced back and forth for several seconds and JarDan knew she was gathering her ammunition for another salvo. She was working herself up to a full-blown confrontation and he loved every minute of it. If she could get past her fear enough to argue with him -- to openly confront him -- then he was making definite progress. “One minute I’m a farmer. Then -- ZAP! -- I’m in a space ship headed for God knows where. Now I’ve zigzagged back through a time warp expecting any minute to see knights fighting dragons or capturing unicorns or something.” She stopped beneath the overhanging branches of a willow tree and wrapped her arms around her waist before turning to confront him. “In all those tapes you recorded there wasn’t one word -- not one -- about this.” She swept the area with a wide arc of her arm. “I’ve never worn a long dress or been to a dance or had dinner with so many people -- unless you count eating a hot dog at the county fair. You don’t dress yourself or wash yourself or …” She turned her back to him and JarDan had to step close behind her to hear her whisper. “You should have told me how to greet a king. You should have told me.” He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. Now he understood, at least he was beginning to. “I’m sorry, Melodie.” He whispered softly against her ear. “My lifestyle is so common to me that I didn’t think to mention it.” He rubbed his cheek against the softness of her hair, willing her to accept him and relax in his embrace. When she turned in his arms, JarDan’s hands tangled in the thick mantle of hair. “We once lived in a very different manner.” JarDan continued to hold her in his arms. He carefully kept his embrace loose enough not to frighten her, but tight enough to satisfy his need to touch his mate. “When the plague was first discovered, the Tribunal and the Council of Elders … over-reacted. All efforts to find the origin of the virus were fruitless. “After testing and discarding every possible organic host, the Council admitted that we were doomed. In their panic, they concluded that this was a sign from the Ancients that we were too far from the lifestyle outlined in the Archives. “It took fifty years, but they dismantled and disposed of every mechanical device on the planet. At least they showed some measure of common sense by allowing the

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

64

MediCenter to progress unchallenged. And, of course, the space program. “Every male above the age of fifteen voted on which of three prior periods in time the Oracles deemed more in keeping with the Archives of the Ancients. This you see now is the result of a decision made two hundred centuries ago.” “Why didn’t the women get a vote?” Melodie’s curiosity brought a smile to his face. “There were less than one hundred women left on Anderas by this time,” he explained. “The Council knew they would all be dead before all the changes were made.” “If the women voted, you can bet they wouldn’t have given up washing machines, dishwashers and vacuum cleaners,” Melodie snorted against his shirt. Chuckling softly, JarDan increased the pressure of his arms, bringing her closer. “This didn’t happen overnight, my love. It took another hundred years or so to alter the lifestyle of an entire planet. More and more changes were necessary to help the women adjust to their new life. This didn’t just affect Falcon Tor, Melodie. The Tribunal changed an entire world.” “I don’t belong here, JarDan,” she whispered, her gaze locking with his. “I know how to plant corn and milk cows and pray for rain when it’s hot and sun when it’s wet. I don’t know how to be a princess or what to say to a king. I want to go home.” The tears from earlier now slid silently down her face. “Please,” she begged, “let me go home.” The pain in his chest threatened to choke him. Closing his eyes to her distress, all he could do was hold her closer and shake his head. “I can’t.” He finally managed to squeeze past the lump in his throat. When she pushed against his chest, he released her. When she turned without a word and headed back to the castle, he let her go.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

65

Chapter Ten Melodie walked alone through the garden. It had been a week since her confrontation with JarDan here amid the splendid array of blossoms. Every day was a repeat of the one past. She spent her days wandering through the castle or the garden, looking for something to do -- something ArDell would allow her to do. While waiting for an opportunity to see King Zeth, she looked for a common bond with the other women of the village and tried to avoid Tiana. Now there was a piece of work if ever she saw one. Jealousy would explain her hostile attitude. If Tiana only knew the truth! The others in the castle treated Tiana like a child and more or less ignored her veiled comments. But when the two of them were alone -- when no one but Melodie could hear -- her true nature came out. Just this morning, while sitting alone with her breakfast of strong tea and sweet breads, Tiana sought her out. “I see JarDan has abandoned you again.” Tiana said, low enough not to alert the dozen or so men and women scrubbing the stone floor of the hall. “Good morning, Tiana.” Melodie continued picking the raisins from her roll. She knew the best way to avoid a verbal battle of opinions was to ignore the bait. “Before you came he always had his morning meal with me. Now he eats with his men.” When a woman approached their table with Tiana’s tray, the spiteful brat disappeared in an instant. The smile she offered the servant was warm and open and friendly. “Good morning, Elsa. How is your mother?” “Much better, Lady Tiana. Thank you for asking. That shawl you sent to her is just the thing to keep her joints from aching so bad.” “It was little enough and I was happy to do it. You give her my regards.” The change in Tiana amazed Melodie. Maybe she wasn’t as spoiled as Melodie thought. Someone who cared that much about others had to have a warm heart. Was it possible that the problem wasn’t Tiana? She wanted to go home. Was her resentment coloring her perceptions of Tiana? “Her old crone of a mother caught me sneaking out of the castle one night and threatened to tell Zeth. The stupid witch was easy enough to buy off with a cheap, wool shawl.” So much for warmhearted compassion. Melodie sipped her tea, fighting the urge to defend the old woman. She would give a lot more than a wool shawl to know just where Tiana was going. “Everyone is wondering why he bonded with you. I mean, you’re so … different.” She took a delicate bite of the pastry. Leave it to Tiana to shoot straight to the heart. “You’ll never make a proper queen. It takes years of grooming and training to prepare you to rule. I’m the one raised for the position. Everyone knew JarDan was just waiting for his thirty-fifth birthday to make it official. You’ve ruined everything -- for

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

66

now.” She paused long enough to refill her cup from the heavy silver teapot. “It won’t last, you know. JarDan will realize his mistake and send you back to Earth where you belong. You’re not a princess. You’re too tall, too gauche. Why, you’re nothing more than a pig farmer.” Although Tiana echoed her own thoughts and doubts, Melodie resented having them thrown in her face. When everyone was grooming Tiana to be queen, they should have taught her some basic manners. This rude, spiteful girl had everything handed to her. King Zeth pampered and adored her and anything she wanted was hers for the asking. She was beautiful, delicate, and graceful but consumed with envy. Surely she didn’t honestly believe JarDan would marry someone almost twenty years his junior? “We raised corn and alfalfa, not pigs.” Melodie retorted calmly, refusing to give in to her baser instincts and return insult for insult. Everything Tiana said might be true, but Melodie would swallow her tongue before admitting it. There was a spark of defiant child deep inside her that wanted to yell oh, yeah? what do you know? But it wouldn’t change anything. “Really?” Tiana made a rude examination of Melodie from head to toe. “You would think that much exercise would have taken a few pounds off. But then again, breeding always shows. Doesn’t it?” Melodie finished her breakfast as fast as she could and sought the solitude of the garden. Here, at least, she could be herself. The heady perfume of the roses blended with the smell of damp earth and freshly cut grass. So familiar were the warmth of the sun against her face and the kiss of the breeze that she doubled over with the pain of homesickness. She missed her grandfather so much. She was little more than a toddler when her parents died and she went to live with him. With very little money and even less education, he did his best to provide for a tiny orphan suddenly dumped in his lap. She’d once had dreams of going to college, but long before she finished high school, he was too old to run the farm alone. He never knew about the scholarship she’d turned down to take over the farm that had been in his family for over a hundred years. A farm she lost at public auction. Sinking to the lush grass, she fought the tears burning her lids. If she allowed one tear to fall, she feared she wouldn’t be able to stop. Tears would only make her eyes red and puffy and give Tiana something else to criticize about her. Melodie focused on her tangible surroundings, pushing the memories away until she was strong enough to deal with them. This section of the garden was against the back wall of the inner bailey. The gardeners obviously didn’t think anyone came here often since the beds of roses hadn’t been as carefully maintained as those had closer to the castle. Weeds had already gained a substantial foothold and by the numbers of dead blossoms still clinging to the bushes, she knew they hadn’t culled them in weeks. For the first time in a week she didn’t care about ruining the beautiful gowns provided for her. If she cost JarDan enough money in replacement gowns, maybe he’d send her home. Heedless of the grass staining her pale blue overdress, she crawled to the nearest bed. Here was something she knew how to do -- something that felt familiar -- felt right. With the single-minded determination of a zealot she began pulling weeds from around

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

67

the multitude of hardy bushes. JarDan found Melodie just before noon. She knelt on the soft grass, her gown hitched above her knees. Shapely calves and bare toes flexed with her movements. There was a substantial mound of weeds and dead flowers a few feet from where she worked. At some point she had wiped at the sweat glistening on her face, leaving a trail of dirt across her forehead. Her hands, caked in dirt and covered with scratches from the vicious thorns, pulled relentlessly at the offending plants. The pleasure shining on her face was as elemental as the ground where she sat. Approaching on silent feet, he was reluctant to disturb her. Not since their remarkable night onboard the Destiny had he seen her with her guard down and he dreaded the return of the polite stranger she had become. He could combat her fears of him and his world -- those he reluctantly understood -her doubts about her own worthiness were alien to him. Did she truly not know how special she was? Melodie was terrified of doing something she considered wrong. There was no right or wrong way for her to behave. He wanted her to be herself. The warm, friendly woman he remembered from their first meeting. A woman with the natural shyness of newly awakened passion -- if he discarded her drug-induced reactions. JarDan wasn’t a man who thought much about being a prince. It was what he was. Some men were doctors, some miners, some farmers. He was a prince. She couldn’t seem to get past that. He must have made some sound to alert her to his presence. She turned with a jerk, her eyes wide with surprise before she stood and wiped her hands against the ruined gown. When she raised her chin in silent defiance, he smiled. That’s right, love. Fight with me. Argue, spit and snarl if you want -- just don’t pretend I don’t exist. “What do you want?” She flushed and hid her hands behind her back like a little girl caught stealing a cookie. I want to make love to you -- right here -- right now -- dirt, sweat and all. A strong sense of self-preservation kept his thoughts silent. “I came to invite you on a picnic.” He grinned at the flash of surprise quickly covered by wariness. “Why?” JarDan raised a dark brow at her question. “Because you’re my wife and I want very much to spend time alone with you.” His gut clenched when she stiffened. “And I’d like to show you some of my world.” He held his breath for an endless eternity of seconds while she stared at him. He had the distinct impression she was weighing his words for the truth of what he said. He met her gaze head on. His words were true -- he just didn’t tell her the whole truth. “I’d like that. It’s been years since I went on a picnic. Are they the same here as they are on Earth?” Carefully controlling the elation of her acceptance, he nodded in answer to her questions. “I know it’s hard for you to accept, but our language has changed over the centuries to reflect yours. While there may be slight variations due to peculiarities of a different environment, the meaning and intent are the same. An Anderan picnic is a

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

68

prepared meal, packed and taken over varying distances to be consumed sitting on the ground while fighting off annoying insects. Does that describe what you remember?” His chest swelled when she laughed at his teasing. “It’s close enough. If I find anything missing, I’ll fantasize.” She flushed and brushed at the bits of grass and dirt clinging to the soft fabric of her dress. “Do I have time to change clothes?” “Of course,” he managed in an almost normal voice. “We’ll meet in the great hall in an hour.” She was running, still barefoot, along the garden paths before JarDan finished his sentence. Could he find a way into her fantasies? Maybe create a few fantasies together? His body pulsed with need. Breathing deep and slow, he brought his rampaging hormones under control. **** “I will not get on that horse!” Melodie glared at JarDan, chin tilted in defiance. “I hate horses. They throw you off for no reason.” “Melodie, you have to ride with me. We have no horses gentle enough for a woman.” He explained patiently for about the hundredth time. His bride obviously had some bad memories of earlier rides, but there was no other transportation on Anderas. For the past ten minutes she had argued with him about their travel arrangements. The kitchen managed a remarkable meal in record time and he was anticipating an afternoon alone with his mate. Provided he could get her on his horse. He sat astride Storm, his favorite mount, and she still stood on the step, her arms crossed in militant defiance. Enough was enough. “Dak!” He bellowed over his shoulder. When the man appeared beside him, JarDan signaled with a slight twitch of his head. With a frown and fierce scowl Dak grabbed Melodie around her waist and lifted her into JarDan’s waiting arms. Ignoring her scream of outrage, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her firmly against his chest. “Be still or you’ll have us both in the dust.” She must have realized the precariousness of their situation because she stopped struggling and sat stiffly across his thighs. With a flick of the reins, he headed through the gate. Once past the town, he turned Storm’s head in the direction of the mountains. Easing the horse into a gentle, ground-covering lope, JarDan wished Melodie would relax against him. She would be sore tomorrow if she continued to fight the motion of the horse. Silence enfolded them as they traveled through fields rich with early growth, acknowledging the waving farmers they passed. He felt the rumble of her stomach beneath his hand and chuckled. “It won’t be much longer before we reach our destination. I’d hate to think what my father would say if I allowed you to fall into a decline from hunger.” Her chin came up another notch. By the Prophet he ached to kiss that defiant protrusion. “I’m not that hungry. Besides, I’ve recently been told that I need to lose weight.” “Who dared to tell you such nonsense?” JarDan was enraged to think someone would insult his lady. He slid his hand across her abdomen to cup the indentation of her waist before sliding his fingers up her ribs, resting his hand just below her breast. “I like

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

69

the gentle curves and soft roundness of your body just as they are.” He couldn’t prevent the huskiness in his voice and feared she would shut him out again. When she relaxed against his chest instead, he almost slipped from the saddle. Would he ever understand this woman? Drawing near a heavy stand of trees, JarDan steered Storm down a narrow path. Melodie turned her face into his neck when the branches became thick around them. He cupped the back of her head, his fingers absently stroking the folds of her braid. She trusted him to protect her from the forest and for now that was enough. The warm rush of her breath against his throat sent his heart into high speed and he was helpless to prevent his body from responding to her nearness. He knew the moment she recognized the hard flesh pushing against her thigh and steeled himself against another rejection. It didn’t come. “This wasn’t such a good idea.” She shifted her hips away from his groin. “It’s a natural reaction that happens every time I think about you or touch you or look at you. You’ve had this effect on me since I first put my arms around you in the storm.” “I’m sorry. I don’t … I can’t …” “Relax, love,” he whispered into her hair, “I’m not going to rush you. Despite the evidence to the contrary, I didn’t bring you out here to seduce you.” After several silent minutes, Melodie relaxed back against his chest. Apparently she was going to ignore the situation. Resigned to the wondrous torture of his aroused state, JarDan eased them through the remaining trees until they emerged onto a large meadow where the late spring grass was waist high and swaying in the breeze. Countless varieties of wild flowers, every color of the rainbow, filled the air with their delicate fragrance. A fragrance JarDan already associated with Melodie. “Oh,” Melodie sighed, “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” “I though you’d like it here. Just over that rise is a pond fed from an underground spring. That’s where I thought we could have our meal.” “It’s perfect. Let me down, please. I want to walk.” JarDan lowered her until her feet touched the ground and held her until he was certain her legs would support her. No sooner had he let go of her than she was off like a rocket, running through the grass, spinning and twirling and laughing. The sound of her laughter, so carefree and uninhibited, hit him like a rock. Years from now he would look back and know that today -- this minute -- watching his bride frolic in the sun with childlike abandon -- was when he realized he loved her. Loved her with a desperation that threatened to cripple him. What would he do if she never let herself love him in return? He couldn’t think about that possibility. After their moonlight walk, a frontal assault was out of the question. She was wary and suspicious of everything he said. She constantly watched and weighed his every action and word. When he got too close, pushed too hard, she pulled her defenses tight around her heart -- shutting him out, again. As he dismounted and unsaddled Storm, JarDan grinned in anticipation. Giving the stallion a slap on the rump, he gathered their meal sack and headed toward the rise

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

70

where Melodie stood with her arms full of colorful flowers. This was war and she wasn’t even aware she was under siege. While she waited for him to attack her defenses head on, he’d be quietly slipping through the cracks in her armor, climbing over the obstacles she built against him. He’d sneak up on her emotions until she was unaware of anything or anyone except him. It was just a matter of time and he was discovering he was a patient man. “Hey, Princess Wildflower!” He yelled. “Your Prince is weak from lack of food and begs sustenance.” Her bubbling laughter echoed across the open meadow and warmed the cold, lonely places in his heart.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

71

Chapter Eleven Melodie stretched out across the grassy bank of the small pond, replete from the delicious meal of roast fowl, freshly baked bread and soft cheese. The afternoon sun shining through the leafy branches above them patterned the area with spots of golden warmth. At times like this she found it almost impossible to distinguish Falcon Tor from Missouri. She knew the similarities between the two places were the deliberate results of a carefully structured process to alter a natural lifestyle and she had a problem with that. Attempting to control nature only brought more problems than you originally had to deal with. It was just so wrong. “Did you have enough to eat?” JarDan asked as he lay down beside her on the grass. “Too much.” She answered quickly. “I’m stuffed.” It was getting harder and harder to concentrate whenever her husband was near. Husband? When did she start acknowledging him by that title? Sneaking a glance at JarDan, she couldn’t prevent a rush of possessiveness when she realized that such a truly handsome man belonged to her. The ends of his hair shifted in the gentle breeze and Melodie wanted to remove the slim, golden band from his forehead, freeing the thick mass. The loose white shirt he wore over tight black pants contrasted sharply with his darker coloring. JarDan had removed his sword when they started their picnic and the tail of his shirt lifted in the breeze. Each glimpse of tanned skin did strange things to her body. Her fingers tingled with the desire to trace the neckline down through the thick mat of soft hair on his chest. His profile was strong and sharp and reminded her of the faces on ancient coins. As if aware of her study, he turned his head in her direction. She couldn’t look away -- couldn’t break the silent spell that held her immobile. Caught in the snare of his heated gaze, she watched as he slowly rolled onto his side, facing her. Her breath caught in a throat gone suddenly tight while her heart fluttered once before setting up a maddening pace. So close she could smell the warmth of his skin. Her body remembered his touch, his taste, despite all the warnings of her common sense. Only when he lifted a single, white-petaled flower was she able to look away. She closed her eyes when he gently, softly traced the contours of her face and neck with the whisper soft petals, breathing deep of the delicate fragrance of the flower. “Melodie …” JarDan’s harsh whisper brought her crashing back to reality. Quickly shifting to a sitting position, she racked her brain for a topic of conversation that would diffuse the sudden tension between them. What on earth were you thinking about, Melodie Anne? He doesn’t want you. He wants the wild, sexy woman he remembers. You practically gave him permission to seduce you. Staring at the sunlight blinking across the pond, she asked the question that continued to bother her since she awoke from space sleep. “What caused the plague?” After a short hesitation, JarDan seemed to accept her change in attitude and again stretched out on his back, hands linked beneath his head. The physical evidence of his

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

72

desire was clearly visible beneath the tight leggings he wore. If she looked at him at all, her gaze would zoom in straight to his hips so she forced herself to look anywhere else. “We don’t know. Perhaps we’ll never know more than we do now. We know it still shows up in every male infant born on the planet; yet, it never affects the female infants we bring from Earth.” When she allowed herself to relax and be herself she enjoyed talking to him. He never made fun of her ignorance like Tiana and some of the women who visited the castle. He truly listened to what she had to say. It had nothing to do with his deep, husky voice or the way his eyes darkened when he looked at her. Nope. She just liked having a friendly face to talk to for a change. So, since he was willing to answer her questions, she’d keep asking them. She refused to examine why she wanted to extend their afternoon. “When did you start taking babies instead of adult women?” A part of her raged, thinking about some woman nailing posters of her kidnapped baby on telephone poles around the city. Part of her, a part she quickly shoved into a mental closet, believed he would have a rational answer. JarDan briefly looked in her direction before returning his gaze to the puffy clouds above them. “When your world started throwing them away.” His soft answer startled her. “We don’t throw babies away! Why, there are people who wait for years to adopt a baby. Milk cartons carry pictures of missing children. Are any of them here?” She expected an argument -- not the short bark of amused laughter. “Melodie, Tiana was found in a trash dump in Chicago just hours after her birth, still covered with the blood of her delivery and barely alive. We have sentinels in most of the major cities in North America. They live in some of the worst areas and in unbelievable squalor because that’s where people live who have little or no humanity left. Do you have any idea how many infants aboard the Destiny were destined to die of neglect? The abandoned buildings used for illegal drug use, crack houses I believe you call them, are some of the sentinel’s favorite haunts. Girls, some hardly old enough for their first monthly flow, lose their childhood, their virginity, and usually their lives seeking the temporary solace of drugs. When they can’t buy their drugs, they bed the suppliers in barter. Eventually, if they live long enough, they get pregnant. Most of the infants we bring here are born addicted to the same poison their mothers craved. It’s a miracle if they survive their first year. Still others are born carrying a deadly disease that destroys their immune system. The MediCenter can cure it, but are at a loss about how it’s spread.” “You’ve discovered a cure for AIDS?” Melodie exclaimed, interrupting his answers. “Why haven’t you told anyone on Earth? People are dying every day. You could save thousands of lives. You …” “How do you suggest I pass this information along?” He interrupted her barrage. “Should I appear before your President as JarDan, Prince of Falcon Tor on the planet Anderas or perhaps Commander of the space ship Destiny?”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

73

Melodie could feel the heat of her blush climb up her neck to cover her face. “Oh.” She muttered. “I see what you mean.” She lay back, again, on the soft grass, comfortable with JarDan’s nearness. There were no hidden undertones to his voice, no heated desires darkening his eyes. `“Okay.” She admitted grudgingly. “So you don’t steal babies from grocery carts. Why not take adult women? I’m sure there are thousands of homeless adult females who wouldn’t mind a move in exchange for never being hungry or alone again.” “Adult females,” he answered with a grin, “ask too many questions and make too many demands to be taken back.” Her only answer to that was a very unladylike snort. Determined to continue her questions as long as he was willing to answer them, she rolled to her side and proper her head on her hand so she could see his face. “Do you ever regret what you’re doing?” Her voice was softer than she wanted it to be and she had no idea why. “Regret it?” JarDan asked after a heavy sigh. “Every day of my life since I was old enough to understand.” He was silent so long, she was about to ask him another question, when he rolled to face her, his gaze pleading with her for … what? … understanding? … acceptance? … forgiveness? “Two thousand years ago Anderas was so different from what you see now. Ships from hundreds of planets and dozens of different life forms docked here for trade, recreation, protection. Everyone was welcome. This virus I carry was insidious. There were no warning signs -- no fever -- no chills -- no rash -- nothing to suggest that we were doomed. It still took more than a hundred years before the problem became more than idle speculation. Certain families were concerned about not having a female offspring for generations. There were still enough baby girls being born that no one listened to those few voices raised in panic. Ironically, it was a young woman working in the Family Archives Center who discovered what was happening. She was one of the last females born on Anderas. By the time she convinced the Council of Elders to approach the Tribunal, there were less than five hundred females on Falcon Tor. “It didn’t take the doctors long to discover that the men of Anderas were incapable of fathering female children. We were a world doomed to extinction.” JarDan stood and moved slightly away from her where he could look out over the pond. She wanted to put her arms around him and tell him … tell him what? That everything would be all right? That there had to be a way to solve this so he didn’t have to live with his guilty conscience? “When no cure could be found, the Tribunal overreacted. Their intent was to remove as many contaminating influences as possible in hopes of narrowing the search for the source of the virus. They ordered every alien life form off the planet and forbid them to land here while we searched for a cure. No one argued or complained since it was unknown how the virus spread. Some fanatic oracle convinced the Tribunal that the plague was a result of forgetting the lessons of the Ancients and embracing modern technology. So, they turned the historical clock back to an age similar to your Medieval

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

74

Era. I’ve never understood what they hoped to accomplish. “The Archives of the Ancients detail the arrival of an advanced race of people thousands of years past. Some liked the planet so well they stayed and made their home here. Others continued their journey. Their mission was to colonize a select number of other planets across a dozen solar systems. Earth was one of those planets.” JarDan finally turned to look at her again. “We made our first trip to Earth while the Jesus from your Bible still walked among men. I don’t know why Earth didn’t progress as fast as some of the other planets visited by the Ancients. For the most part, no one questioned our presence there for hundreds of years. Natural disasters and disease weren’t as controlled as they are now and every flood, hurricane, or earthquake provided a large number of acceptable females. What nature couldn’t help us accomplish, man did with his endless wars. There are always a great many widows and orphans left after a battle. “The instinct for survival drove us to become thieves -- sneaking in and out without detection -- and it looks like it was all for nothing.” Melodie watched as a slight shudder slipped down his tall frame. She had the definite impression he had just shaken away the memories of his ancestors. When he began gathering the remains of their lunch, she knew the friendly atmosphere of the afternoon was gone. A low whistle brought Storm right to his outstretched hand and the crunchy apple he held out as a treat to the massive beast. With the huge horse saddled and loaded with the remains of their picnic, JarDan lifted her into the saddle and quickly mounted behind her, giving her no time to protest. “Why?” She whispered softly, wanting to know why he sounded so defeated. She wanted to tell him she understood, but she didn’t -- she couldn’t. No one could truly know how hard it was on the men of Anderas unless they also faced the possibility of extinction. Would the men of Earth feel the same way? Absolutely. A small smile that didn’t reach his eyes lifted one corner of his mouth. “Soon our ships will be detected long before we reach Earth. Do you think we can waltz in, load up females -- infant or adult -- like shopping at a market, say thank you, and shoot on back across the galaxy without question? “You aren’t ready for a life with me, and I’m willing to give you the time you need.” He cupped her face with his free hand, turning her face up until she looked into his eyes. “Believe this, Melodie. I would kill any man who tried to take you from me. Most men -- no matter the race -- feel the same way about their mates and children.” She didn’t know what to say to his impassioned declaration, so she wisely kept quiet. They made the journey back to the castle in silence. Not the comfortable silence of before but the silence of two people who have too much to think about, too many questions to ask, and too afraid of the answers they might receive. When they were within sight of the main door, Melodie spotted Tiana standing on the steps with Dak and two women she met at dinner her first night here. She didn’t want to hear the endless discussions of needlework and wardrobes that these particular women enjoyed. She wanted to be alone for a while so she could take out the memories she had

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

75

stored from their time by the pond. Some were warm and wonderful and she wanted to touch them in her head. Maybe she would discover just what made them so special. “I’ll see you at dinner, my love.” JarDan whispered when he brought Storm to a stop at the bottom of the steps. “Your company made the afternoon very special. Thank you.” Melodie didn’t pull away when he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. When he increased the pressure on her mouth, she sighed and opened her mouth to him. It wasn’t until he ended the kiss that she remembered that she didn’t like him kissing her. Yeah, right, Melodie Anne. You don’t like chocolate either. “Dak,” JarDan addressed his friend with a shaky voice, “will you assist by bride.” Melodie couldn’t seem to wipe the silly grin off her face when Dak lifted her off JarDan’s lap and stood her beside the sweating horse. “I had a wonderful time, JarDan. Can we do it again sometime?” “We’ll do it as often as I’m able, my love.” Dak chuckled behind her as JarDan walked Storm toward the stables. It wasn’t until she turned and saw the blazing fury on Tiana’s face that his double meaning hit her. Instead of making her angry, his comment brought a blush of pleasure to her face. Let Dak and Tiana think she and JarDan spent all afternoon making love in the sunshine. Maybe Tiana would back off if she believed they were sleeping together. He could always tell them the truth after she returned to Earth. With a smile and a shrug, she headed for the garden. She had a pocket full of plant shoots that she dug up while JarDan was preparing their picnic site. The delicate wildflowers would contrast nicely with the formality of the rose garden. She knew just where she wanted to plant them along the outer wall and if she hurried, she could get them in the ground and still be upstairs before ArDell started lecturing about her dirty hands and grass-stained gown.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

76

Chapter Twelve Dinner was the usual combination of controlled chaos and quiet conversations and Melodie felt the now familiar tightness at the base of her neck signaling a headache in the making. So many people still made her nervous. The softly spoken comments from those sitting around her were in direct contrast to the louder conversations from the men below them. At least only the single warriors ate dinner at the castle every night. There were always dozens of women around during the day working on some bit of embroidery or playing one of several musical instruments that were in the solar. Melodie never learned to do fancy stitches but she could play chopsticks on the piano. Picturing the outraged faces of her court as she proudly pounded out chopsticks make her giggle. “Do you find my father’s tale so amusing, Melodie?” JarDan’s voice whispered close beside her ear. Still smiling at her mental rambling, she turned toward JarDan, “I’m afraid I wasn’t even listening.” She admitted with a quick glance over JarDan’s shoulder to make sure no one else could hear her. “Was he talking to me?” Anxiety brought a heated blush to her face. Drat! She hadn’t made a single blunder all night and now she’s missed the conversation by letting her mind wander. “Relax, love.” JarDan assured her quietly. “He’s speaking to hear his own voice. What were you thinking?” “It wasn’t important.” She mumbled, looking down at her fingers tracing patterns on the skirt of her burgundy gown. She couldn’t prevent another grin at her fanciful rambling. Trust me enough to tell me your thoughts, Melodie. He knew she wouldn’t -- not yet. By the Ancients, was there no way to reach through her barriers? Sitting here, close enough to smell the delicate fragrance of her soap brought a fierce, burning need to life in his chest. Not just physical need, though he wanted her in his bed so badly he ached, but emotional need. She was the other half of his heart, his soul, and he wanted the life he knew in his heart they could have together. Her fingers continued to move restlessly against her gown. You’re nervous again, my love. Are you aware of me as a man? A man who wants to kiss that soft shadow beneath your ear? A man who craves the smile you bow you head to hide more than a drink of water? The man who will fulfill your heart’s desire if you will but give him a chance? “JarDan!” Tiana’s petulant voice intruded into his silent message to his bride. “Your father is talking to you.” JarDan raised a dark brow in mocking question of Tiana’s tone before turning to his father. “Did you need something, Father?” He wasn’t about to apologize for ogling his wife. “You seen distracted, son.” Zeth commented with a grin and a wink. Turning back to his wife, who was watching and listening to their conversation now, JarDan slowly lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss in her palm. “Not distracted, Father.” He replied without looking away from Melodie’s

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

77

darkening eyes. “Dreaming. I was thinking about kissing my wife just below her ear. Her skin is very soft there.” The rosy flush that covered her face made him want to jump up and shout. Yes! She knows I’m a man! “I don’t know what you’re all laughing about!” Tiana stormed, glaring at Dak and King Zeth who were valiantly trying to contain their amusement. “I think it’s disgusting the way she’s making him behave and I don’t want to have to witness it.” “You’re right, Tiana.” JarDan agreed, before standing. Since he was still holding Melodie’s hand, she had no choice but to follow him. “I’ll take my wife and my desire for her out into the moonlight where our only audience will be the crickets.” With a mocking bow to his family, he slipped his arm around Melodie’s waist and hurried through the hall toward the gardens, pausing only long enough to bid goodnight to his men. “JarDan!” Tiana wailed. “Don’t let him leave, Zeth.” She begged. “He spends all his time with her.” Zeth soothed the girl he would always think of as his daughter. “It is as it should be, Midget. Melodie is the heart of his life. Someday, you’ll be sneaking out to a private place with a special man. Then you’ll understand.” Once beyond the towering door of the castle, Melodie pulled out of his embrace but continued to walk beside him. JarDan slowed his pace, adjusting his stride to hers. She might not like being so tall, but he found that, at almost six feet tall, she fit him perfectly. Everything about her fit him perfectly. “Do you often perform for the crickets?” Melodie’s soft voice broke the comfortable silence as they strolled toward the garden gate. The entrance from the side of the castle was closer, but he wanted the extra time it would take to circle the castle. Time to be with Melodie. “Too obvious?” He questioned with mock innocence. When his beautiful wife laughed gently, he clenched the hands that hung loosely at his sides before he could pull her against his throbbing body. “There are times when Tiana acts like a jealous wife.” His face hardened at the memory of her mockery of Melodie’s love for the garden during their brief breakfast meeting just this morning. “You’re the only one who seems to have noticed.” “Is she causing trouble?” JarDan’s tone was steady but even a fool could recognize the threat beneath it. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Melodie assured him as they reached the gate. “She’s like a small child who’s had her favorite toy taken away. I took her toy.” “Me?” He asked the question in jest, surprised when Melodie nodded in answer. When she stepped past him into the garden, he reached out and grabbed her arm in a loose grip. He wished he could see her features but the fitful light from the rising moons hid more than it revealed. “I’ve never given her any reason to think of me as anything except her brother.” “I know.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

78

Her calm assurance declared her belief in him and his heart swelled with emotion. Did she realize what she revealed with her unconditional acceptance of his statement? “Do I have a jealous wife?” Like a sore tooth, he had to keep picking away at the wall she kept between them, prodding her until she let him into her heart. Melodie ignored JarDan’s question. She wasn’t ready to look for the answer. The more time she spent with him the harder it was for her to remember that he was her enemy. No one, especially a man, had ever made her feel so special and it scared her. Just walking next to him did funny things to her stomach. When he touched her she knew she had to pull away; yet, when she did she wanted to cry and beg him to touch her again. Crazy. You’re losing your mind, Melodie Anne. Pushing her disturbing thoughts back a safe distance from the present, she opened herself to the beauty of the garden bathed in moonlight. She always felt at peace here. No matter how disturbed her thoughts, the garden welcomed her with serenity when she walked through the gate. The soft breeze danced with the lush roses, carrying their heavy perfume off into the night. Across the courtyard, she could hear the muted voices of the stable boys finishing their nightly duties and the soft whickering of the horses. Occasionally, one of the men would leave the hall and there would be a brief burst of loud male voices before the heavy door closed against the intruding sound. All these things she acknowledged with the edges of her awareness, like background music to a song. And for her the song was JarDan. Now you’ve come full circle, girl. Think about something else. She was finding it harder and harder to think of anything except the handsome man who was her husband. At the oddest times, like the middle of the night, she would remember the feel of his mouth kissing hers and the hard press of his body against her softer one. These memories were coming more frequently but leaving her more frustrated each time -- wanting more than just a memory. Well, it’s only natural. He taught you about sex and now your body wants more. You can handle it. But was it just sex? He told her in a hundred different ways every day that he cared for her and Melodie knew it was more than sex for him. Did he love her? Did she want him to love her? No. If she wanted his love then it would mean she was falling in love with him, too. You do not want to love him. Too late, a small voice echoed at the back of her heart. “You’re quiet tonight.” Melodie jumped at the sound of his voice. She was still reeling from the thought of loving him. “I’m just enjoying the peace and quiet here.” She must have been silent for longer than she realized since they were standing in the middle of the immense garden, beneath the sheltering branches of a large willow. “If you still find dinner in the hall so disturbing, I can have our meal brought to our quarters.” “No,” Melodie assured him, “that’s not necessary. It’s not as bad as the first night. I’m just not used to so many people being around all the time. I can handle it until

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

79

I leave. Maybe by then, it won’t bother me anymore.” She was shocked to realize that she hadn’t thought about going back to Earth all day. If she were honest with herself, the idea of leaving no longer seemed so important. Despite all her efforts, this strange world among the stars was feeling more like home every day. She no longer feared the towering giants of JarDan’s armed guard. The men of Falcon Tor were all big and heavily muscled. She just wasn’t used to looking up at anyone, except God. The ladies of the castle were trying to be friendlier and, if Tiana wasn’t there to stir up trouble, she probably would become friends with some of them. She was adjusting to her life here. It isn’t home, she argued, fighting against this growing feeling of belonging. But it could be, if you’d let it. That thought shocked her into leaning against the tree for support. “I’ve discovered a bottomless well of patience where you’re concerned, love.” JarDan plucked a rose from a nearby bush and took the single step that was necessary to bring him within touching distance. Lifting the delicate blossom, he began to gently trace her features with the petals. Across her closed eyes, down the ridge of her nose, and down her cheek to the skin below her ear. Melodie’s breath caught then whispered out on a ragged sigh while her heart stumbled before beginning a pounding beat. When JarDan brought the petals to her lips, she opened her mouth, moaning as he traced first the upper lip then the fuller bottom lip. She flicked her tongue across that same bottom lip and heard him gasp. “Melodie …” Whatever else he might have said was lost when his mouth covered hers in a soft kiss. It was a first kiss -- not the kiss of lovers. It was the kind of kiss they had skipped. A part of the building of passion that they missed because of Torak’s evil drug. Having once tasted that passion, this gentle, questioning kiss wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted to feel his muscles flex beneath her hands. She wanted to feel his chest against her swollen, aching breasts. She wanted him. “JarDan?” She didn’t know how to ask for what she wanted, but her husband understood and, with a deep groan, pulled her tight against his body. JarDan immediately took control of the kiss, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth and she answered his demands with her own. Her hands slipped up around his neck, glorying in the feel of heat and muscle before burying her fingers in the dark cloud of hair against his shoulders. When he slid his hand down to cup her bottom through the fabric of her gown and pull her into his arousal, she actually felt the ground move beneath her feet. “What the …” JarDan pushed Melodie away as another tremor rocked the garden. Her small whimper of protest helped calm the raging desire heating his blood. The tree she still leaned against rocked and shuddered against her back. “JarDan!” She cried. “What’s happening?” Without answering, he grabbed his wife by her hand and raced with her across the garden. He could hear the cries of alarm from the castle as his warriors surged out. Was

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

80

this another attempt on his family? Did Morandoni have the knowledge to create quakes? A natural quake hadn’t shaken Falcon Tor for more than a thousand years. “JarDan!” Melodie’s scream came at the same instant he felt her fingers slip from his grasp. Turning, he saw her ankle wrapped in the twisting, writhing vine of a burlem plant. “Be still!” He yelled as he drew the sword at his side, praying the decorative formal weapon was strong enough to cut the vine. “If you fight it you’ll only make the binding worse.” The polished steel winked in the light from two full moons as his powerful swing severed the vine and embedded the blade in the ground. Grabbing Melodie around her waist, he pulled his sword free and ran, half pulling, half carrying his frightened wife, for the relative safety of the bailey yard. “Dak!” JarDan yelled when he spotted his friend. “Bring torches, quickly. It’s a burlem and if we can’t destroy it before the second moon reaches its zenith it will destroy the castle.” “How in the name of the Ancients did one of those cursed plants get into the garden?” Dak growled as he raced to follow JarDan’s instructions. Grabbing a torch, he ran for the garden where the monstrous plant surged skyward toward the brightening moonlight. “JarDan!” Melodie cried above the frightened screams of both humans and animals as the ground continued to shift and buck beneath their feet. “What’s happening?” “Someone’s planted a burlem vine in the rose garden. If we can’t stop its growth, it will destroy everything around us. By the Beard of the Prophet, I’ll have the head of whoever did this!” “JarDan!” Dak skidded to a halt. “There’s a second vine growing in the moonlight but these four,” he held a cluster of seedlings in his outstretched hand, “were still in the shadow of the outer wall.” “My sweet peas!” Melodie gasped in confusion. “Why did you pull up my plants?” “You did this?” Dak bellowed. “Do you hate it here so completely that you would destroy us in your determination to return to Earth?” “That’s enough, Dak.” JarDan warned. “Is there no end to what you’ll risk for that Earthling? First the crew, then your own life, now this cursed vine. How many have to die to satisfy your lust, JarDan?” JarDan’s fist connected with Dak’s chin hard enough to snap his neck. The blow would have caused serious injury to a smaller man, but Dak rolled back to his feet almost instantly. “That’s enough out of both of you.” Zeth demanded. “Settle your differences later. You don’t have time to stand around fighting. The second moon will reach its zenith in less than half an hour.” Dak turned without a word, spitting blood from his busted lip, and headed back toward the garden.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

81

“I don’t understand.” Melodie whispered. “They were just tiny sprouts of sweet peas. I brought them home from the meadow where we had our picnic this afternoon. These,” she retrieved the wilted shoots Dak threw on the ground at her feet, “can’t possibly grow into those gigantic … things.” Tears pooled in eyes wide with fear. Shoving Melodie into the arms of his father, JarDan dropped the dress sword to the ground and grabbed his war sword from an armorer’s assistant. “Keep her here,” he told his father, “and for all our sakes, don’t let her get into anything else.” Melodie watched him tear across the yard toward the once peaceful rose garden. The ground beneath her feet shuddered and jerked with each growth surge of the twin vines. “JarDan doesn’t blame you, Melodie. He knows of your fondness for the sweet pea of your world from your mind scan. The burlem is as close as Anderas can come to what you remember. Only when the plant grows beside the drasan tree is it the delicate vine you saw today. If allowed to flourish anywhere else … well, you see the results.” She stared at King Zeth in dawning horror. All around her men were running with swords and torches. She could see the orange glow of a dozen fires lighting the night. Like Jack’s beanstalk in the fairy tale, this small bit of vine that she planted with such happy memories of her afternoon with JarDan was growing -- reaching for the beckoning light of the twin moons. Not even the stout stone walls of the outer bailey wall could withstand the strength of the encroaching plant. I didn’t know. She argued silently as tears flowed, unheeded, down her cheeks. You know this isn’t like home. Home. Had she really thought she could make this alien world her home? The pain of loss washed through her, intensifying the tremors that already racked her body. JarDan. Her heart cried out to the man who held her and kissed her so passionately such a short time ago. Although she longed to hide in her room, her pride refused to allow her that small bit of solace. She was the cause of this destruction and she would stay until the last fire was out and the last warrior sought his bed. Gradually, after hours of standing in the courtyard, fighting to stay on her feet when the ground shifted beneath her, Melodie noticed a change in the activity. The warriors were walking instead of running and the acrid burn of smoke wasn’t quite as strong as it was earlier. When the fifth man walked by and deliberately looked away from her, Melodie pushed away from King Zeth. She wouldn’t hide behind the king. “The danger has passed, my dear,” Zeth whispered. “Why don’t you go back inside the castle and let your maid prepare you for bed?” “No.” She stated flatly. “I’ll see it through to the end.” She was grateful when JarDan’s father merely stared at her for a moment before nodding his acceptance. His slow return to the castle was a signal to the gathered crowd. Within minutes she was alone in the courtyard, ignored by the returning warriors. Standing straight and tall, she waited for JarDan and the fury of his temper. She didn’t have long to wait. He and Dak came around the corner of the castle, their steps slowed by fatigue. When Dak saw her standing in the center of the courtyard,

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

82

he said something to JarDan and stormed off without a backward glance. Drat! Worrying about why Dak hated her was minor compared to the anger that tightened her husband’s features. Features streaked with soot and sweat and clearly visible in the glow of the twin moons at their fullest. “Was anyone hurt?” She asked softly when he reached her. Without saying a word, he took her arm in a firm grip and led her into the castle. He didn’t hurt her, but she had no doubt that he didn’t intend to let her go until he was good and ready. Straight through the crowded hall, where exhausted men consumed huge glasses of cool wine, Melodie trailed after JarDan. He didn’t rush her and she knew he had again slowed his pace to fit hers. She wondered if he realized how often he did that without her having to remind him to slow down. When he pulled her behind him into her bedroom and slammed the door behind them, she felt a small shiver of apprehension skitter down her spine. He won’t hurt me. She didn’t know where that random thought originated, but she didn’t doubt it for a minute. And it took about that minute for her to realize that, maybe, she was mistaken.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

83

Chapter Thirteen “I’m so sorry.” Melodie forced the words past her lips. “I didn’t know …” JarDan stopped her with a quick flick of his hand. “Not now, Melodie. I’m in no mood to listen to another of your apologies.” With a heavy sigh, he dropped into one of the chairs near the cold fireplace. “I know you didn’t bring the plants back with any ulterior motive; but you have to understand the danger of your actions. If you had brought the plants back a few days ago they would have developed an interlocking root support system and our efforts tonight would have been useless. As the moonlight fed the first plant, all the others would have fed from it. Tonight, we only had two separate vines. A connected row of vines is unstoppable until the sun rises and suspends its growth.” “Everyone thinks I did it on purpose, don’t they?” She asked from her position by the window. “Not everyone.” JarDan answered honestly. “You can’t blame them. You haven’t given them -- or me -- any reason to believe you want only the best for us.” “I would never do anything to hurt someone else, JarDan.” Melodie wiped at the tears on her face. “All those tapes you played in my sleep chamber didn’t cover everything. How can I know what people here grow up knowing? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do all day. When I do find something I know how to do, someone’s there to tell me I’m doing it wrong -- or that I’m not supposed to be doing it at all.” “If you’d stop thinking only of yourself, you’d realize that no one, except you, cares if you don’t say the right thing or get a wrinkle in your gown. By the Beard of the Prophet, you’re the Crown Princess of Tor. One day you will be queen. This,” he indicated the room with a sweep of his hand, “is just one room of your home. Not my father’s. Not Tiana’s. They live here as members of the family, but you are mistress of the castle. If you don’t like the way things are done -- change them. Stop sitting around waiting for someone to tell you that you don’t belong here.” “I don’t belong, don’t you understand?” Melodie’s tears were as much from frustration as the pain that she couldn’t be what he wanted her to be. “I’m a farmer, JarDan. I dig in the dirt and make things grow.” He raised one dark brow as he leaned against the padded arm of the chair. “Yes, we all got a sample of how well you plant and grow.” She always got angry when she cried and his mockery broke the fragile hold she had on her temper. “That’s not fair!” She argued, wiping the tears from her face. “I didn’t know the stupid thing would mutate in the middle of the night. It was three inches tall when I planted it. How was I to know it would grow taller than the towers of the castle?” With her fists balled on her hips, she glared at her husband. He thought she was a wimp, did he? Well, let him get a good dose of her temper for a change. Maybe if she made him mad enough, he’d send her back to Earth. “Ask someone.” He shot back, his voice harsher than she expected from his

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

84

relaxed stance. “Who? You? You’re never around except at dinner. The closest I get to you during the day is to watch you and your warriors playing with your swords in the field.” She waved a hand toward the window. “Or maybe I should ask Tiana. I’m sure she’d be the first one to offer kind advice.” Her sarcastic comments finally triggered a reaction from her husband. JarDan jerked himself up from the chair. Shoulders back, head tilted in arrogance, chest filled with injured dignity, he was the perfect picture of royal outrage. “Spend time with you?” He asked softly, grasping her by the shoulders. “I’m only human, Melodie, despite what you may think to the contrary. You’re my wife, but I can’t touch you. I go to sleep at night dreaming about you. I wake up in the morning hard and aching for you. How can I spend time with you and not take you to my bed? You can’t have it both ways. Either you want me or you don’t.” He released her with a gentle shove. “You think we’re playing? I assure you, love, when the need arises you will be grateful that my warriors played so often with their swords. There’s a maniac trying to kill you along with the rest of my family. Have you forgotten?” The reminder of her close brush with death took all the fight out of her. What in the world were they arguing about? They were both upset about the destruction of the wall but that wasn’t any reason to strike out at each other. “No,” she whispered as she dropped into the chair opposite where JarDan stood, “I haven’t forgotten.” He merely stared silently while she searched for a topic that would defuse their tempers -- a topic other than his desire for her. That one she planned to ignore until she had time to think about it more. “Was anyone hurt tonight?” She desperately wanted to get away from the subject of fighting. JarDan had no idea how she hated to watch them practicing with their weapons. Her heart pounded in fear each time a warrior landed a blow on her husband. Anything could happen when these powerful men attacked each other. They used real weapons, not blunt practice instruments. She lived in constant fear that someone would make a mistake and cause serious injury. JarDan sighed wearily as he settled in the matching chair beside Melodie. “One of the gardeners, Klyde. A falling stone from the wall broke his leg. There were some minor cuts and a few burns, nothing serious. I’ll have to remember to send someone to Klyde’s home tomorrow. His potatoes are ready to harvest and his wife is heavy with their first child.” “I’ll arrange that, if you like.” Melodie instantly knew a way to atone for her negligence. She would harvest the crop -- as long as JarDan didn’t find out. Meeting her husband’s cool blue gaze, she never flinched. If he suspected anything she couldn’t tell by his expression. “As you wish, my lady.” He answered after a long silence. “Now,” he rose stiffly from the chair and headed toward the door, “I think it’s time we retired.” Melodie gasped and felt the heat of her blush in her cheeks. Shaking his head, JarDan gave her a sad, weary smile. “Don’t worry, love. I

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

85

wasn’t inviting myself into your bed, as much as I would like to stay here with you. I’m trying to be patient, Melodie, but it’s getting harder to be around you and not touch you. Make love to you. Be you husband.” He reached for the door handle but turned back to Melodie before he opened the door. “I make my bed in Dak’s room, as I have since we arrived. He and I have a few problems to work out ourselves. Good night.” The door closed silently behind him and still Melodie sat staring at it. A ripple of unexpected happiness rocked through her. He couldn’t be around her without wanting to make love to her. He was sleeping in Dak’s room. Only now, when she knew the truth, did she admit that she wondered about his sleeping arrangements. Too afraid of the truth to voice her concerns, even to herself, she ignored the situation. If she questioned JarDan, he might think she wanted him to sleep with her and she didn’t. Did she? You were jealous. The denial died unspoken. Suddenly, all the arguments and self-recriminations vanished like the smoke from the fire. She could no longer deny it. She was in love with her husband. He was the most aggravating, arrogant, kind, gentle man she had ever met. Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, he slipped past her defenses and caught her heart unguarded. Oh, God. Now what am I going to do? The logical answer to that question was unacceptable. If she acknowledged her feelings for JarDan, she would have no chance of getting home. You are home. No! Home is a farm in Missouri. Home is my garden and milking Bessie. Home is … gone … sold to the highest bidder. With a groan of deep, emotional pain, she allowed the grief to consume her. Hard, soul cleansing sobs racked her body as she curled into the comfort of the large chair. Even if she went back to Earth, she had no place to go. JarDan didn’t just save her from a tornado. He saved her from destitution. Melodie cried until all she had left inside were the troubling thoughts she still had about her husband. So intent was her concentration, trying to sort her jumbled emotions, she didn’t notice when ArDell arrived to help her change. She didn’t even complain when her maid carefully washed the tears, soot and grime from her face and arms before lowering the silky, white gown over her head and tucking her into bed. A bed that was suddenly too big and too cold. **** “Good morning,” Melodie greeted the kitchen staff with an eager smile. The sun was barely above the horizon and she had something useful to do for the first time since she arrived. “Princess,” stammered the cook, “we weren’t expecting an inspection this morning. I …” “No, no.” She rushed to put Phillip’s fears to rest. “I’m not here for that. I’ve got to go out early this morning and wondered if you had a roll or maybe …” “See, Phillip, I told you it would work.” Melodie turned to see the beaming face of a young man carrying a huge tray of rolls still hot from the oven. Their yeasty aroma made her stomach growl. “Oh, those look wonderful.” She exclaimed. “May I have one?” Instead of answering her, the young man slammed the tray down on the wooden

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

86

table that served the kitchen staff as a work table and quickly dropped to one knee. “I beg your pardon, Princess. There is no harm done. It is my free day and I offered to help Phillip with the morning meal.” Melodie frowned in confusion. This young man, barely more than a boy, was acting like he was doing something he shouldn’t. “Please stand up. I hate talking to the top of someone’s head.” She waited until the lad did as she requested before indicating the chairs beside the massive hearth. “Why don’t we sit? Now,” she breathed deeply, her mouth watering at the aroma of fresh bread, “what harm have you not done?” She smiled warmly, hoping to help the lad relax. “Princess,” interrupted Phillip, “he …” “He can answer for himself and I’m sure you’re very busy with breakfast preparation.” With a deep bow the cook turned his back on the pair sitting quietly beside the cold fireplace. Melodie didn’t say anything, just waited until the young man was ready to explain. “I’m a MedTech.” After several silent seconds, Melodie realized his harshly whispered statement was all he was going to say. This was getting stranger by the minute. There was something familiar about the young man, but she couldn’t quite remember. Of course, with all the people who constantly moved through the castle there was no wonder that she didn’t know his name. “Okay. What’s your name?” Maybe that would give her a little hint. The young man jumped up from the chair and stood at attention, his eyes straight ahead. “I am MedTech Thomas of the Travel Craft Destiny. I will await Prince JarDan’s punishment in my quarters. By your leave, Lady.” “Wait!” Melodie grabbed the retreating Thomas. He couldn’t make a statement like that and just walk away. Why would JarDan punish him? Thomas? Not the Thomas who escorted her to JarDan’s room her first night on the spaceship? He looked so different from the young man she remembered in his grey flight suit. He looked much younger in the soft white uniform of the kitchen staff. “Please sit down, Thomas. I also hate looking up at anyone.” She thought for a moment that he was going to argue with her but with a militant expression on his face, he perched on the edge of the chair -- still at attention. “Now, why would JarDan punish you?” Melodie almost laughed at the expression on his face. He obviously thought she was born stupid and got more ignorant as she got older. “Because I am a MedTech and not a Cook.” His tone clearly questioned her ability to understand the spoken word. Well, she obviously didn’t understand but she didn’t say anything. She just continued to stare at Thomas with what she hoped was the same look her grandfather gave her when he knew there was more to the story than she was willing to tell. Rolling his eyes in a typical gesture of his age, Thomas relaxed against the back

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

87

of the chair. “Princess, the members of my family have been MedTechs for centuries just as Phillip’s have been cooks. A man’s ancestors decide his occupation. You cannot change tradition.” “Are you telling me that you’ll get in trouble for helping in the kitchen because your great-great-great-great-great-grandfather wasn’t a cook?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What a ridiculous custom. When Thomas merely nodded in agreement, Melodie turned her attention to Phillip. “Is this true?” She knew the older man was listening to every word. “Yes, Princess,” he agreed sadly, “he speaks the truth. It is sad when one such as Thomas, born with a natural instinct for creating masterpieces for the palate, is trapped by tradition in an occupation where he will be merely … average.” “I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous. If he wants to be a cook, then he should be a cook.” “It isn’t so simple.” Phillip shrugged with resignation. “Only a royal command can change a vocation. I have never known of one person who has succeeded.” “I’m the Crown Princess. Can I issue a royal command?” She looked from one man to the other. The older face skeptical, the younger alive with sudden hope. “I don’t know … it has never been done … yes, a Crown Princess would have that power … maybe we should seek advice …” Melodie stopped Phillip’s rambling with a wave of her hand. “If you want him in the kitchen, and he wants to be a cook, then consider it a done deal.” “Thank you, Princess!” Thomas yelled, grabbing her around the waist and twirling her around the kitchen. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your generosity.” Melodie’s laughter filled the kitchen, winning the hearts and loyalty of at least two of the castle staff. “You can start by putting me down.” A fresh round of giggles erupted when the young man dropped her like a hot rock, guilt and embarrassment flooding her face with bright color. “Please forgive my forwardness. I didn’t think . . .” “Enough.” She whispered softly. “I haven’t had so much fun in a long time.” When Thomas escorted her to the table with all the elegance of a trained knight, Melodie watched Phillip’s preparations for her breakfast. If you see something you don’t like, then change it. JarDan probably referred to the drapes or something, but he should be more specific in his instructions. Her first royal decision made her feel great. A plate of warm rolls and butter and a large glass of fresh milk was a perfect breakfast. Phillip knew she didn’t care for the sweetened wine or strong tea that he normally served with breakfast. Melodie insisted the two men join her and within minutes, no one remembered that she was a princess and they were members of her staff. A discussion of the light, fluffy sweet rolls soon turned to a description of a typically American meal. “What I miss more than anything is a big juicy hamburger with all the trimmings and fries, drowning in ketchup.” Melodie sighed with pleasure at the memories of backyard barbeques with her grandfather.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

88

“I have never heard of this ham-burger. What is it?” The way Phillip said the word made her think he had something nasty in his mouth. “It’s a grilled patty of ground beef on a roll, topped with lettuce, tomato slices, pickles, onions and spicy mustard. A truly perfect burger patty is still pink in the middle and so moist that juice runs down your chin when you take a bite.” She sighed and closed her eyes, almost tasting the smoky flavor of the grilled meat. “Heavenly when served with huge mounds of french fried potatoes.” “Humph. Doesn’t sound like something the King would enjoy.” Phillip’s statement took the wind out of her sails. Pushing the memories back where they belonged, Melodie finished her breakfast. She had a big job to do and the sooner she started the sooner she’d be finished. Brushing the crumbs from her lap, she wished she still had her jeans. Although she wore this gown for all her gardening, she knew it would be so much quicker and comfortable with pants. Phillip and Thomas stood when she did, their courtesy as natural as breathing to them. That was when she noticed Thomas’ clothes. “Thomas, how tall are you?” She closed the distance between them until she could look him in the eye. “Six feet, Princess. Why do you ask?” His confused expression became almost comic when she giggled and reached up and hugged his neck. “Perfect. I know just how you can repay me for making you a cook. But,” she cautioned, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear her conversation, “it has to be our secret.” Ten minutes later, Melodie headed for the family farm of Klyde, the vegetable gardener, dressed in one of Thomas’ flight suits. The material was stretchy enough to give with her movements and fit her like a coat of paint. She wound her long braid around her head and anchored it with a couple of wooden skewers from the kitchen. Without the restriction of the long gown it would take her no time at all to dig Klyde’s potatoes. That was something she’d done since she was old enough to pull a burlap sack and trail behind her grandfather. The sun was turning the clouds a beautiful shade of bright pink when she reached the small gate that lead to the garden plot. Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning. A sure sign of rain, if it meant the same on Anderas as it did on Earth. She hoped to have a good bit of the digging done before the rain came. A quickening breeze brought just a hint of coolness from the mountains and Melodie could hear the morning chatter of hundreds of birds in the forest that circled the hamlet of Falcon Tor. This was her favorite time of day. When the noise of daily life was still silent and every living creature -- from smallest plant to the largest war horse -- stirred and stretched, preparing to meet whatever the day held. A check of the small tool shed near Klyde’s gate found a stack of rough sacks, not burlap but close enough that she knew they were for the early summer harvest. Gathering an armful, she deposited several at the end of ten rows. Going back to the first row, she rolled the top of the bag down until only about a quarter of the sack was open

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

89

and began pulling at the potato plant just enough to loosen the dirt around it. When the plant gave way, she dug through the loose dirt, retrieving the small potatoes and tossing them into the sack. When she felt certain she had all the potatoes, she moved to the next plant. It was a slow, back-breaking process and she never felt better in her life. With the sun heating her back and dirt packed beneath her fingernails, she felt useful. Needed. She felt at home. When she filled the first sack, she quickly tied the top with the string attached at the opening before laying the bag beside the completed row. The process continued for a couple of hours when a screech shattered the morning calm. A woman waddled toward her as fast as her advanced pregnancy would allow. With the racket she was making Melodie wondered if she were in labor and needed help. Wiping her hands on the seat of her borrowed clothes, she hurried in the direction of the young woman. “What’s wrong? Do you need a doctor?” Melodie’s questions halted the nonstop wailing, but the woman still looked like she’d seen the demons of hell in her garden instead of a woman. “Princess?” She whispered after staring at Melodie. “What are you doing here? You don’t belong here.” She was getting so tired of hearing that. “It’s my fault your husband broke his leg so it’s my responsibility to see that his crop is harvested.” “But … you can’t! The Prince … the King … oh, my.” The poor woman looked ready to faint. Melodie took her arm in a gentle grasp and carefully led her over the rough ground to a bench built next to the low stone wall around the field. “You’re the one who shouldn’t be out here. You should be resting for the birth of your baby.” “But what will the Prince say when …” “The Prince will ask his wife what in the name of all the Ancients she’s doing dressed like a man and digging in the dirt?” “JarDan!” Melodie spun at the sound of his voice. “What are you doing here?” To be such a big man, he sure had a way of sneaking up without a sound. Why did he have to look so wonderfully alive so early in the morning? The sun glistened in the blueblack strands of hair that lay spread across his shoulders. Melodie recognized the leather vest and form-fitting leather pants. He always wore them to the practice field. The flex and give of his powerful thighs brought a bright flush to her face. “I was about to ask you the same thing, my love.” His softly voiced comment held the unmistakable steel of command. He wanted answers and wasn’t leaving until she satisfied every question he had. “I assumed you would dispatch one of the other gardeners to do the task. Did I miss the part where you informed me that you would be doing the job?” “The others already have more work than they can do right now and it’s not fair to add more to their schedules. I’m the only one around here who has nothing to do and

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

90

knows how to harvest the crop.” Melodie grabbed an empty sack and started back down the partially finished row. As far as she was concerned there was nothing else to discuss, especially with the growing crowd of people outside the low wall. She should have known JarDan wouldn’t share that opinion. “Melodie,” he called after her, “come back to the castle where we can discuss this in private.” She heard him following her down through the field, but ignored him and started working on another plant. She waited until the toes of his boots appeared in her line of vision. “There’s too much to do to stop just to talk. It’s going to rain soon and I want to finish at least this half of the field before then.” “You aren’t going to finish anything.” He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up to his chest. “Especially dressed like that. By the Beard of the Prophet, Melodie, I can practically count the freckles on your skin through that suit.” “I don’t have freckles and my pants aren’t as tight as yours.” “Mine weren’t this tight until I spotted my wife with her delectable derriere wiggling in the air.” She blushed at his comment, but refused to back down. “JarDan, please try to understand. I’m responsible for Klyde’s injury. That makes me responsible for him until he recovers. I have to take responsibility for my actions the only way I know how. Princess Melodie could send any one of a hundred men here to do the job, but that wouldn’t change my part in this destruction.” Melodie placed a grimy hand against the butter-soft leather of his vest, some distant part of her heart reveled in the feel of the firm muscles beneath her fingers. “If you thought you were to blame for an injury to one of your warriors would you send someone else to help him -- or would you go yourself?” “We’re not discussing me, we’re discussing my wife. Women do not …” “Don’t you dare say it. Women can do any thing they want to do and I’ll have you know that I’ve been digging potatoes for twenty years.” She forced her anger away. She would never convince him by fighting with him. “Please, JarDan,” she begged softly. “I need to do this.” Would he understand her reasoning enough to allow her to continue? Something deep inside her waited -knowing this was a critical step in their relationship. After long silent minutes that seemed like hours, JarDan released the breath he was holding and nodded slightly. “Very well, love,” he smiled gently, his blue eyes twinkling with suppressed humor. “Do what you feel you must do. But,” he warned, tipping her chin up with fingertip, “do not work too hard. It wouldn’t be appropriate for the Crown Princess of Tor to fall asleep in her dinner plate.” Melodie was so happy that she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his smiling lips. A kiss that started out as saying thank you quickly turned into something different -- something deep and hungry. She opened her mouth in invitation and moaned deep in her throat when he gave her what she wanted. When his hands pulled her hips flush against his, she felt the heat of his arousal through the thin flight suit and her knees

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

91

buckled. If he weren’t holding her so tightly she knew she would be in a puddle at his feet. “Melodie …” he muttered against her hair when she pulled back from the kiss. “I have work to do.” She traced his bottom lip with her fingertip, shocked by the dirt she left on his face. “Good grief. You look like you’ve been kissing a pig.” She quickly wiped the dirt away with the back of her hand. A hand that still trembled from the sensual assault of JarDan’s kiss. “That’s the first time you’ve kissed me. I do believe the occasion was worth a little dirt on my face.” His voice was deep, his smile soft and she wanted to crawl right back into his arms. Instead she forced herself to return to her digging. The last she saw of JarDan was when he escorted Klyde’s wife back into the small cottage. She had been steadily digging for another hour when she heard someone behind her again. If JarDan was back to stop her, he’d really get the back side of her temper. Instead of her husband, she saw two of the ladies of her court. One she remembered as Dyana, the wife of the armorer; but the other one she didn’t recognize. “Have you come to gawk at the princess digging in the dirt?” She knew she was being defensive but she’d had enough of trying to be something she wasn’t. “No, Lady Melodie,” answered Dyana in her soft voice, “but I don’t suppose you’ll believe that. Sibell and I,” she indicated the other woman with her, “would like to help.” “Why?” This was one time when she wouldn’t make it easy on anyone but herself. The women of her court had not tried to get to know her. Part of that was her fault, she knew, but at least one of them could have made the effort. Dyana and Sibell exchanged a quick guilty look before meeting Melodie’s gaze. “If you were the woman we were led to believe you were, you wouldn’t be here.” Dyana indicated the field around them. “We owe you an apology but we’d like to do it by helping you, if you will allow it.” Melodie felt the sting of tears and swallowed hard. For several weeks, she’d suspected Tiana was deliberately keeping her from making friends. She’d prayed she was wrong; after all, the young woman was JarDan’s sister. Dyana’s confession confirmed her suspicions. It was one thing to think Tiana was causing trouble and another to know it was fact. Clearing her throat, Melodie grinned at the two women. “You’re going to ruin your gowns.” Both women barely glanced at the elegant pastel silks they wore before grabbing the back of their skirts and pulling them up between their legs, tucking the ends beneath the silver belts at their waists. “I haven’t had a new gown in months,” grinned Sibell. “Looks like we’re going to be busy sewing in a few days.” It took Melodie almost an hour of instruction before Dyana and Sibell could do justice to the potato plants. Their laughter floated across the field with the breeze as they worked side-by-side down the long rows. If any of the dozens of people who paused to watch their progress questioned the reasoning of the princess and two ladies of her court,

JARDAN, THE KING

they were smart enough to keep silent.

C.J. Johnson

92

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

93

Chapter Fourteen Melodie ached everywhere. Five weeks flat of her back in the sleep chamber on the trip from Earth and three weeks of doing nothing more than dress and walk around took their toll on her muscles. Even with the pain, she felt wonderful. She, Dyana and Sibell finished Klyde’s harvest before the first raindrop landed on her nose. She managed to commandeer a handful of JarDan’s warriors to transport the heavy sacks to the store houses where the vegetables would be layered with fresh straw to prevent them from rotting during the coming winter. It was a good day’s work and she felt great, even if she did move a little slowly. “Your bath is ready.” ArDell announced while she gathered a gown from the huge closet. She smiled at the woman’s back. By the tone of her voice she knew ArDell was still furious with her over her actions today. The opinionated maid spent the last hour lecturing her on the proper behavior of a lady in general and a princess in particular. The fact that Melodie wasn’t alone in her disgrace didn’t impress her one little bit. Slipping into the hot, bubbling water, Melodie couldn’t stifle the groan of pain and pleasure. Within minutes, the soothing warmth massaged away all the aches and pains of a day spent working in the sun. Leaning back against the cool marble to rest for just a few seconds, Melodie was soon fast asleep. **** “Princess! Are you out of your mind? You’re going to drown!” ArDell’s bellow was enough to crack eyeballs at a hundred yards. “I’m not sleeping,” Melodie mumbled, pulling herself into a sitting position. “I was just resting for a second.” “Well you’ve rested for over an hour. Look at yourself! You’re as wrinkled as an old hag! Now out of there and don’t give me any of your sass about seeing you naked.” “ArDell, tonight I wouldn’t care who saw me with no clothes. I’m too tired to worry about it.” After allowing the maid to wrap her in the soft towels, Melodie followed her back to the bedroom where her clothes lay spread across the bed. Realizing just how late she was she hurried into the pink and green gown she had worn for her first dinner at the castle. This was still her favorite gown. Partially because she loved the rows of embroidered sweet peas; but mostly because of the way JarDan’s eyes darkened to midnight blue when she wore it. That particular shade of blue spoke of heat and need and kisses laced with promise. Kisses she intended to sample. Soon. “I don’t think we have time to do more than dry my hair. I’ll wear it loose tonight and you can anchor it back with the circlet.” Melodie rolled her eyes at the mock surprise on her maid’s face. Okay, so she didn’t usually wear her hair down and she never liked to wear the gold circlet -- the crown worn by the future Queen of Tor. It would be a nice gesture, a way of saying thank you to JarDan for allowing her to take care of Klyde’s harvest. Besides, tonight was special. She wasn’t exactly sure why she felt that way, but something was about to

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

94

happen, she could feel it. When she entered the great hall a short while later, the rest of the family sat near the center fireplace. JarDan was standing beside his father’s chair. He looked wonderful in the white tunic he wore over black pants. The soft velvet caressed his wide shoulders with a lover’s touch while the tight pants hugged his powerful thighs and long legs like a second skin before disappearing into the tops of his boots. The only colorful spots on him were the jewels that blinked from the hilt of his dress sword. It used to bother her that these men all wore weapons at the dinner table. Shoot! At Grandpa’s table, you better not even sit down with a cap on your head, much less armed for war. Now, it seemed perfectly natural to see the shorter, more elaborate swords hanging by their sides. Without slowing her steps, Melodie crossed the room and headed straight for her husband. When he spotted her coming toward him, he extended his hand in welcome and -- for the first time -- she eagerly reached out and slipped her hand into his. When he pulled her close to his side, she acted on impulse and reached up and kissed his cheek. “Hi.” She whispered softly, grinning at the shock on his face. “Did you get the repairs made to the wall?” JarDan grinned from ear-to-ear before ducking his head to cover her mouth in a quick kiss that was too much and at the same time not enough. “We should finish the job tomorrow if the rain stops.” “There would be no need for such extra work,” complained Tiana in her usual petulant whine, “if you had sense enough to stay where you belong.” “Tiana!” JarDan barked. “If you can’t behave yourself, you can go to your room. I’ve had enough of your rudeness.” Melodie tightened her grip on JarDan’s hand. She didn’t want Tiana’s spite to spoil the evening. “Good evening, Tiana,” she smiled, hoping to defuse any further barbs. “Is that a new gown? That emerald color is gorgeous on you.” “Is it true?” The young redhead demanded, ignoring Melodie’s attempt at changing the subject. “Did you really work like a servant in that man’s garden? How can you shame this family like that?” “Repaying a debt brings shame to no one, Tiana, but if you find my presence such an embarrassment, you’re free to take your meal in your room.” Melodie heard King Zeth choking and was sure he was trying not to laugh. JarDan wasn’t so polite. “Pull in your claws, Midget.” JarDan warned. “Melodie doesn’t owe anyone but me an explanation of her actions and I was fully aware of where she was and what she was doing.” “I can’t believe you’re taking her side in this.” Tears pooled effectively in her wide eyes. “You heard her. She’s sending me to my room like a naughty child. She has no right to do that.” Melodie opened her mouth to deny that she was sending the girl to her room when Zeth stepped up and took Tiana by the arm. “It’s not a matter of sides, little one.” He told her gently. “It’s a matter of honor and Melodie did what her honor required of her. That’s the best any of us can hope to

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

95

accomplish.” He pulled the young woman into a tight hug before continuing. “Dinner in your room was an alternative -- not banishment. However, if you do not cease this constant nagging and baiting of Melodie and JarDan, I will do more than send you to your room. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Tears slid down the porcelain perfect cheeks while Tiana glared at the three of them in turn. “It’s not fair!” She cried. “Everything was perfect until she came here. I don’t want her here and if you don’t send her away, I’ll hate you forever!” With a theatrical sob, she ran from the room. “Well,” breathed Zeth after several awkward moments, “that went fairly well, considering. Don’t you agree?” Melodie had to smile at the confusion in the older man’s eyes. Did any man ever know how to deal with a woman’s tears? She was suddenly looking forward to growing old with JarDan because he was going to be just like his father. You can’t grow old with him if you leave here. That annoying little voice kept nagging away at her at all times of the day. Well, tonight she was tired of listening to it. “Will she be all right?” Although Tiana’s thoughtless remarks continued to hurt her, Melodie hated being the cause of so much dissention. “Certainly. This is just a part of growing up, I assume. I freely admit that JarDan and Dak were much easier to raise. You always know where you stand with both of them. With Tiana …” Zeth shrugged in a gesture familiar to parents of teenagers everywhere. Melodie took her seat between JarDan and his father. These tall, powerful men who once scared her spitless, now offered safety and security. For so many years she was the one who had to be strong; who had to do the chores and pay the bills. In the dark of night, when she was too tired or too worried about money to sleep, she would dream of a man -- strong and caring -- who would take part of the burden from her shoulders. You’ve found such a man. There was that voice again, but this time she listened -- really listened -- and she had to agree. Now, what to do about it. She glanced at JarDan and found him watching her with that same dark, hungry look she recognized as desire since she was quite sure she looked at him the same way. Locking her gaze with his, she smiled slowly, trying to tell him with her expression that things between them were about to change. JarDan’s ragged gasp told her he got her message loud and clear. JarDan fought the urge to grab Melodie and carry her somewhere private while he struggled to breathe and swallow. He couldn’t allow himself to believe what her eyes and smiles were telling him. Under other, normal circumstances, he would think his wife was issuing him a most erotic invitation. The kind of invitation he lay awake at night dreaming about until his body throbbed, hard and aching. Forcing his mind away from the uncomfortable swelling in his pants, he focused on the meal placed before him. Only then did he realize that there was no plate for Melodie. That unacceptable breach of etiquette sent his shaky control right out the window. “Why has the princess not been served?” His clipped demand stopped several of the kitchen stall in mid-stride. Finally, one of the women stepped forward to answer.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

96

“We were told not to serve Princess Melodie, Sire.” “By whose orders?” JarDan’s thunderous voice bounced off the rafters, bringing a sudden, unnatural silence to the Great Hall. “Go! Bring him to me! Now!” The frightened woman did no more than turn toward the kitchen area when Phillip entered carrying a magnificent silver tray. “It was by my orders, Prince JarDan, and there was no insult intended. This is a special meal for your princess tonight.” With a great flourish, the stocky cook placed the tray on the table in front of Melodie and lifted the lid. There, on a silver plate, was the strangest meal JarDan had ever seen. Before he could question his cook, Melodie gasped and burst into tears. “What is the meaning of this, Phillip?” JarDan demanded as he pulled her into his arms. From the back recesses of his conscience, he was aware of his guards coming to their feet, swords drawn to protect their princess. “It’s okay, JarDan,” Melodie mumbled against his chest between sobs. When she pushed away, he handed her a napkin to wipe the tears from her face. “He made me a hamburger,” she whispered as more tears slipped down her face, “and french fries.” She was crying again and JarDan looked to his father for guidance. Melodie never cried unless she was furiously angry. All his father gave him was another shrug. Great. For thirty-five years he’s told you what to do and now that you ask for help, he’s silent as a rock. “That doesn’t look like the hamburgers I’ve seen on Earth.” He was still skeptical. The pile of meat, bread and garden greens seemed unworthy of such an emotional outburst. “This isn’t Earth and I think it’s perfect.” Wiping her nose and eyes on the damp napkin, she turned to Phillip with a smile that could light up the entire castle. “Thank you.” She whispered. “I know who did this. Please tell him to consider the debt paid in full.” At her cryptic message Phillip bowed and left the hall. JarDan motioned for his men to resume their meal since there was no threat. “Will you explain what this is about?” He tried to keep his voice calm, but he was still upset over her tears and more than a little jealous of the smile she bestowed on his cook. “It was in payment of a debt.” She answered with another of those illuminating smiles. That’s all she was going to say? Payment of a debt? He couldn’t pursue the matter any further because his unpredictable wife was devouring her dinner with all the delicacy of a pig. Obviously she wasn’t too nervous to eat this hamburger. For the past three weeks, he watched her pick at her meals -- too afraid of doing something she thought was wrong to relax enough to eat. It was a wonder to him that she hadn’t lost weight the way she didn’t eat. She glanced up at him with eyes that sparkled until she noticed he wasn’t eating -- just staring at her. “Do you want a bite?” She asked, holding the strange lump in his direction. I want a bite of you. Instead of speaking, he took his napkin and wiped the grease from her chin. “No, love,” he whispered, “you enjoy your special treat.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

97

With another of those heart-stopping grins -- by the Beard of the Prophet when did she start smiling like that? -- she quickly finished her meal. He must have eaten something because his plate was empty; but he wasn’t aware of anything but the happiness that radiated from the remarkable woman next to him. He couldn’t go on much longer sleeping away from her. He wanted her -- needed her -- too badly to maintain this unnatural celibacy. When she leaned back in her chair with a deep sigh, JarDan expected to rupture a seam in his pants. The sight of her breasts pushing against her gown made his mouth dry. “That was wonderful.” She breathed. “Now I feel like a big, lazy cat. All I want to do is curl up and go to sleep.” She flashed him a shy smile so different from the previous ones that he went on instant alert. “Would you like to join me for a nap?” For the space of a heartbeat, JarDan couldn’t breathe. After that, his heart pounded too hard to think about breathing. “Be careful how you tease, Melodie. My control has limits and I fear I’m very near the end of them.” He had to be reading more into her question than was there. He couldn’t let himself jump to conclusions. The reality was too hard to bear. “I’m not teasing.” Her voice was barely audible above the normal sounds of the hall, but he heard her as clear and loud as the steeple bells on the church in the hamlet. Closing his eyes, he silently begged for strength to deal with this change in his wife. When he opened his eyes again, she was still staring at him. There was a little fear, a little apprehension in her gaze but nothing that would suggest she didn’t mean exactly what she said. With a trembling hand, JarDan stroked the shining mass of midnight black hair that flowed down her back and pooled on the floor around her chair. “I want you more than anything in the world.” His voice was harsh with need. She gave him another of those smiles that could buckle his knees and reached over and clasped his hand. His heart stopped when she suddenly frowned and looked around her. No. Please don’t back away from me now. “What will everyone say if we leave now?” She still worried about what people thought about her, and she probably always would. He knew that in time she would make a place for herself here. It would take time before she had the confidence to actually be the Princess of Tor. “Come, my love,” he urged her to stand with him, “they will think what they will. I can’t control their thoughts.” Bidding Zeth and Dak a quiet good night, he led his wife upstairs to the room they shared -- but hadn’t shared -- in all the weeks of their marriage. He dismissed ArDell as soon as they entered the bedroom. Melodie wouldn’t need a maid tonight. Her husband was more than willing to perform the duties of a lady’s maid just for the pleasure of undressing his bride. She pulled her hand from his and stepped to the window. He waited, knowing she was dealing with this new development in their relationship and prayed she wasn’t having second thoughts. He would never force his way into her bed, but he was seriously questioning the strength of this control. When she finally turned to face him, there was a

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

98

sheen of tears in her eyes and he braced himself for her rejection. “I don’t remember much about that night on the Destiny. Just bits and snatches mostly. Because of that drug, I don’t know how much was real. I wake up at night and I want … I don’t know what I want; but I know that whatever it is you’re the only one who can give it to me. Does that make sense to you?” JarDan felt a knife-sharp pain in his chest. Sex. Her body remembered and cried out for fulfillment but not because she cared but because he awakened her needs as a woman. “Is that why you invited me to your bed? Because you need another lesson in what your body wants?” He couldn’t prevent the bitterness that crept into his voice. “No!” She cried, running across the room until she stood inches from him. “I’ve had those feelings since I came out of space sleep and I’ve managed to ignore them, for the most part. If … lust was all I felt, I could deal with it. This is different, JarDan, and I can’t fight it anymore. I don’t want to fight it anymore. I still don’t feel like this is home but I think I will one day. The one thing I’m sure of is the way I feel about you.” Her fingernails traced patterns in the velvet of his tunic, setting fire to the skin underneath. He knew it was her habit to fidget when she was nervous and that telltale sign helped lighten his dark mood. Cupping her head in his hands, he tilted her face until he could see her expression. Her eyes were the glorious dark amethyst of sunset -- a color he remembered from their one night together. He knew he couldn’t deny himself or her any longer -- he just hoped there would be no regrets in the morning. “I need you, Melodie.” He whispered just before his lips closed over hers. There was nothing tentative about this kiss. He was hungry for her and this kiss devoured all the sweetness of her mouth. Her arms closed around his waist, pulling him tight against her soft curves. Breaking the kiss, JarDan pulled back, grinning at her moan of protest. If he didn’t put a little distance between them, this would be over before it even started. He wanted this night to be perfect -- for both of them. “You have the most glorious hair.” He lifted the soft mass away from the fastenings of her gown. “Do you have any idea how many nights I’ve dreamed of spreading your hair across my pillow and wrapping myself in your silken web?” When her clothes were nothing more than a puddle of color on the floor, he lifted her against his chest and carried her to their bed. Quickly discarding his own clothing, he joined her. Fighting the urge to bury himself deep in Melodie’s warmth, JarDan held back. As desperate as he was to make love with her, he knew he couldn’t survive another rejection like the one onboard the Destiny. “Is something wrong?” Melodie asked when JarDan didn’t immediately take the initiative. “No, love,” he whispered, “everything is perfect.” “Then why did you stop kissing me? Did I do something wrong?” For weeks she avoided his touch, dodged his embrace and sidestepped his kisses. Was she wrong in thinking he wanted this as much as she did? “No! You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just … are you sure this is what you

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

99

want? If you tell me to stop right now, I’ll dress and leave. I couldn’t bear it if you regretted your actions in the morning.” Suddenly she understood his hesitance. She didn’t remember too much of the morning after he first made love to her. Fear was the one overwhelming emotion she could recall. Now, she recognized fear in JarDan. Not the fear of bodily harm -- nothing could frighten him in battle. Her husband, the man built like a football linebacker, was afraid she would reject him again. Well, Melodie Anne, you have to earn trust and you pretty much destroyed his in you. What are you going to do about it? “The only thing I’m going to feel in the morning is satisfied.” Pushing him onto his back, she leaned across his massive chest, rubbing the hard points of her nipples through the curling hair. “Relax my mighty warrior. This won’t hurt a bit.” Tracing the outline of his full mouth with the tip of her tongue, Melodie savored the taste of him. When she fused her mouth with his, her tongue urged his to join hers. Opening her mouth wider against his, she felt consumed by her need. “You’re wrong, love.” JarDan gasped when she finally broke their kiss. “The pain is unbearable.” She gasped when his powerful hands lifted her until she lay fully along the top of his body. Every soft curve of her body fit perfectly with the hard planes of his. Shifting until she could straddle his thighs, Melodie slowly pulled out of his embrace until she sat upright. Sliding her fingertip through the curling hair on his chest and abdomen, she slowly traced the ridges of muscle along his ribs. His groans were all the encouragement she needed. When her fingertips danced over the swollen evidence of his desire, he gasped and grabbed her wrists. “Have a care, Melodie.” He warned harshly. “I’m very near the end of my control.” Pulling free of his grip, she lifted his hands to her breasts, moaning when his calloused palms gently abraded the sensitive tips. Every man on Earth should take up sword fighting if these wonderfully erotic calluses were the results. Lifting her hips, Melodie pulled herself forward until the tip of his erection nestled at the entrance to her body. When he jerked and arched his back, she slid slowly down the hard length. “By all the Ancient Prophets,” he gasped as he grabbed her hips, “no man can survive this pleasure.” She wanted to go slow but the feel of him touching her womb drove her wild with need. “Next time,” she mumbled in his ear, “we can go slowly. Please, JarDan, I can’t wait.” He pulled her down against his chest and rolled until she was lying beneath him. Clutching handfuls of her hair, he fused his mouth with hers, his tongue imitating the act his body demanded he complete. He remembered when he said almost the same words to her that first night on his ship. Moving slow and deep, JarDan felt Melodie’s inner muscles pulse, destroying his tenuous control. His thrusts became hard and fast, driving them both over the edge into that special place where lovers lose themselves in the

JARDAN, THE KING

paradise of passion.

C.J. Johnson

100

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

101

Chapter Fifteen “JarDan!” Dak’s impatient voice shattered JarDan’s lingering memories of his night with his delightful mate. This was one of those rare days when he wished he were just an ordinary man. As an ordinary man, he would still be snuggled close to the warmth of Melodie’s satin skin, waking her with slow kisses and husky whispers of pleasure to come. “By the Ancients,” Dak growled, “are you going to listen to this message or not!” Forcing his thoughts away from his last vision of Melodie -- asleep, her magnificent hair spread across his bed in a wild blanket of midnight -- he turned to face his father and Dak. The older man was trying desperately to control his laughter while Dak’s face was dark with undisguised frustration and a hint of humor. “Read the message again, Dak. I’ll try to pay proper attention this time.” “For weeks you walked around in a fog because your mate wouldn’t let you in her bed.” Dak continued to pace and shake his head at the mysteries of marriage. “The grin on you face this morning announced to the entire castle that you have truly mated and you still can’t think of anything except Melodie. “If a female ever puts me in such a predicament, I pray that one of you will run your sword through my heart! My bonding will be for producing an heir only -- and I’m in no hurry for that.” “The note?” JarDan didn’t want to hear Dak rant and rave about the status of married life. He knew that anything he said to his foster brother would sound patronizing. By temperament, Dak was his opposite -- quick to anger and slow to give his trust and loyalty. When Dak found his heart-mate, it would border on the cataclysmic because Dak never did anything by half measures. Zeth handed him the message received earlier at the communication center. He scanned its contents while Dak found a seat beside the crowded desk in the king’s study. Possible nursery detection! Situation monitored but I can’t be positive. Will let you know as soon as possible. “Were there any earlier messages from Logan? Anything that hinted at a possible problem?” The message was urgent, and JarDan couldn’t imagine why Logan Taylor would wait so long to report the problem. Even the possibility of detection could mean his death. “No,” Zeth answered, “this is the first message with more than the usual monthly check-in sequence. There is no reason to doubt Logan’s concern on this matter. If a collection station has been discovered, we have no choice but to send a recovery unit immediately and try to avoid contact with the Earthlings.” The king pinned JarDan with his steady gaze. “Your bonding with Melodie may be the answer.” “What does Melodie have to do with any of this?” JarDan didn’t like the direction of this conversation. “Dak made a valid point while we waited for you to join us this morning. He

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

102

asked what I thought Melodie would do in the same situation.” JarDan shot Dak a dark frown. “Dak has developed an unhealthy habit of discussing my wife at will. One of the local Earthlings discovered the collection station in Maine -- Logan thinks. Why would Melodie’s opinion of the discovery affect the action we decide to take? There is only one course of action -- we must close the station and get Logan out of there.” “I agree,” Dak argued in a calmer voice, “but Melodie is the first adult Earthling to come here in a very long time. She knows how the people of Earth will react to the discovery of an alien -- or more specifically, an alien residence filled with sleeping infants. It’s a five week trip back to Earth. Do we have a hope of getting him out of there before he’s killed by a fear-crazed mob?” Leaning his head against the stone window casing, JarDan acknowledged the wisdom of Dak’s theory. “You were there when she realized we were aliens, Dak. She was so terrified she went into shock -- and she didn’t know about the infants. I think we have to assume that Logan is in a great deal of danger.” “Is Melodie still afraid of us?” Zeth wasn’t looking at his son when he asked the question, and JarDan couldn’t judge his mood from the tone of his voice. “No. She’s accepted her life here, I think. She's not afraid of us. She doesn’t feel worthy of being a princess because of her prior life as a farmer.” He smiled remembering her transfer of Thomas to the kitchen staff. Thomas’ family was outraged but JarDan would continue to support his wife’s decision -- not because he necessarily thought she was correct in her assumptions but because she made the decision. It was a beginning. “Her self-confidence is improving every day, but this,” he indicated the area outside the window with a sweep of his hand, “is like a fairy tale to her. She still expects to see magicians and unicorns appear at any time. I think she’s afraid that it will disappear, like a dream, if she lets herself believe.” Dak’s short bark of ironic mirth filled the room with the rare sound of his humor. “You haven’t told her about the unicorns, have you?” JarDan scowled at his friend. “If you mean have I told her that our war horses are male unicorns with their horns removed, no. I have no death wish that I’m aware of.” “Didn’t she ask about the mark on the horse’s head? Zeth asked, trying to take control of the situation again. “She was too terrified of riding to notice.” He flushed with embarrassment. “And I was too occupied by other thoughts to worry about whether she discovered she was riding a unicorn.” “Well, Son, I don’t envy you the task of explaining that particular piece of our world. Now, if you two have quite finished, we have serious work to do this morning. Let’s go to the Communication Center and question the possibility of an earlier message. I can’t believe Logan would let something like this slip up on him. He, like his father before him, takes his responsibilities seriously. Monitoring a collection station is difficult at best.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

103

The three men left the small room. The echo of their footsteps covered the sound of a window closing -- the window next to the king’s study. **** Melodie stretched in the huge bed, feeling the pull of muscles unaccustomed to last night’s activities. A purely feminine smile of utter satisfaction curved her lips. Brushing her fingertips against their swollen fullness, Melodie remembered JarDan’s hungry kisses. That man certainly knew how to kiss. The bits and pieces of her memories aboard the Destiny merged with the reality of last night, heating her face with her blush. There wasn’t one inch of skin untouched by his mouth and hands. Those huge, powerful, warrior’s hands that caressed her with a touch as gentle as a breeze. Something elusive, something she should know drifted just out of reach. Something that made last night different from the first night -- and it had nothing to do with drugs. Get out of bed, Melodie Anne, she told herself with a shrug and get on with your day. Laying about daydreaming won’t make tonight come any faster. Tossing back the snowy blanket Melodie immediately headed for the bathroom and the tub of hot, bubbling water that was always fresh and waiting for her. By the time her bath was complete, ArDell was waiting with her magic comb and for the first time she didn’t complain about the luxury. This morning, the pampering felt good. “I’m so glad you finally came to you senses, Princess. The whole village is talking about your change of heart.” Melodie turned suddenly to face her gossipy maid. “What do you mean the whole village is talking?” An uneasy suspicion was beginning to make her queasy. “Why, about you and Prince JarDan finally sharing a bed. What else would they be talking about this morning?” ArDell issued her bald statement and turned Melodie back to face the mirror so she could finish her hair. “Close your mouth, Princess. You look like a fish.” With a snap of her teeth, Melodie glared at ArDell’s reflection. “Just how would the whole village know about our sleeping arrangements?” How could she face all these people if they knew the most private details of her relationship with JarDan? There was always someone around to help her dress or undress or comb her hair or take a bath. Lack of privacy was one thing -- she lived in a castle, for goodness sake. But this! This was just too much! Melodie didn’t believe JarDan would spread tales of what went on behind their door but she couldn’t imagine how anyone else would know. ArDell laughed at the indignation on Melodie’s face. “Princess, half the warriors watched you and Prince JarDan leave the hall last night. At the breakfast meal, Lord Dak was grateful for a night without Prince JarDan’s snores keeping him awake. It takes very little effort to figure out where the Prince spent the night.” She laid a comforting hand on Melodie’s shoulder. “There was no insult or harm intended, Melodie.” She offered softly. “The people of the village only wish the best for you. Your actions yesterday made quite an impression on them -- not that I approve, mind you.” She scolded. “You had no business out in that sun and dirt. Why, I’m just beginning to see the end of those tan lines on your arms and neck and there you are without so much as a hat on your head. Well, never mind about that. As I was saying,”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

104

she continued in a softer tone, “you made yourself real to them -- not just the future queen, but a person with convictions and the courage to live by those convictions. You made them proud.” Melodie blinked rapidly to prevent the tears stinging her eyes from falling. It took several tries before she could speak past the lump in her throat. “I didn’t do it to impress the people of the village. I only did what I felt I had to do … and I’d do it again. If you can find a way, tell them thank you for me.” With a brisk nod, ArDell finished braiding Melodie’s hair, weaving silver ribbons through the loops. When she was finished she brought out a silver silk underdress and an overdress in deep blue brocade, trimmed with silver embroidery around the hem and sleeves and covered in scattered pearls. “Where did this come from?” Melodie asked in amazement as she fingered the pearls that looked like snowflakes against the darker blue of the dress. “I’ve never seen it before and it’s much too fancy to wear today. I’ve got to repair the damage to the rose garden.” With a reluctant sigh, she pushed the dress back toward her maid. She was more comfortable in the long gowns she wore now, but it just went against her nature to ruin something this beautiful with grass stains. “It’s a gift from King Zeth. He ordered several dresses delivered for you.” With a militant expression on her plain face, ArDell held the dress out. “With everyone looking at you today, don’t you want to look especially beautiful?” Melodie blushed at the reminder of the gossip concerning her marriage. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed for the soft, shimmery underdress. “Don’t you ever get tired of being right all the time?” When she was dressed, she headed for the main hall. She couldn’t stand looking at ArDell’s smirking face another minute. The Mafia could take lessons from her on blackmail, Melodie thought without rancor. The anticipation of seeing JarDan had her smiling long before she reached the deserted hall. Maybe after she surveyed the damaged garden she’d look for him. She tried to remember if he mentioned his plans for today, but her memories of last night centered on their bed and the long hours they spent making love. Making love! That’s what was different. The first time, Torak’s drug controlled her actions. She made no conscious decision to sleep with JarDan. It wouldn’t have made any difference who she was with that night. Last night, it was her choice. She decided to accept her marriage. She chose to deepen the intimacy between them. She admitted she was in love with her husband. Melodie swayed against a chair near the fireplace. She was in love with her husband, but neither of them spoke the words last night. Not from her -- and not from JarDan. Oh, he told her constantly how much he wanted her and how they were destined to be together, but he never said he loved her. Her head told her to accept his affection and respect, but her greedy heart, once so dead set against him, now screamed for the one thing he hadn’t offered -- his love. Feeling a desperate need to be alone, Melodie headed for the one place in the castle where she felt at peace. Strange how the garden affected her mood. There was

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

105

always a sense of well-being and security among the profusion of vibrant blossoms. No place else made her feel that way -- not even her own bedroom. She wandered among the plants, letting her thoughts tumble over and over each other as if seeking some order of their own. She was no closer to a solution when Tiana found her. “I wanted to come to see your handiwork firsthand.” Tiana said with malicious acid. “You’ve ruined Arica’s garden.” “It was an accident, Tiana,” Melodie defended quietly; “you know that. If you’re so concerned about the roses, you’re welcome to help with the repairs.” She picked up the pruning shears from where she left them yesterday and began filling a basket with blooms for their table in the great hall hoping Tiana would take the hint and leave her alone. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Tiana retorted with a quick look around the garden. “I’ve never liked it here. This place gives me chills.” With a delicate shudder she followed Melodie through the garden. “Oh?” Melodie asked in genuine surprise. “I’ve always felt at peace here.” “Yes,” Tiana agreed in mock sympathy, “JarDan told me how out-of-place you are here … inferior was the word he used, I believe. Of course, we both had quite a laugh about that. He was saying just this morning at breakfast how amusing you little attempts at being a princess are to everyone.” Melodie gritted her teeth and forced the angry words back down her throat. She refused to get into an argument with a spoiled, spiteful teenager. Even if that teenager did come packaged in a body any grown woman would envy. “JarDan’s a marvelous companion at meals, isn’t he?” Melodie smiled flatly at Tiana. “He always knows just what to say to keep the conversation interesting.” The younger woman blinked several times reminding Melodie of an owl just waking up -- one that didn’t know where he was. “Y-yes,” Tiana stuttered, “now that he’s sharing breakfast with me again, we have some really … interesting … conversations -- usually about you and whatever stupid stunt you’ve pulled recently.” Give the kid a cigar. She regroups fast. “Glad to be of service, dear.” Melodie replied with saccharin sweetness. “We wouldn’t want you bored now would we?” “Don’t you care that you’re ruining JarDan’s life?” Tiana yelled. Shame on you, Melodie Anne, you’re not playing her game and now you’ve made her angry. “I’d probably care more if JarDan were standing here throwing a fit; but since you’re the only one in a snit, no, I can’t say as I care at all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Tiana turned and ran from the rose garden without a backwards glance. Melodie continued gathering the roses, letting her temper grow with each snip of the shears. The nerve of that little witch! Someone should have tanned her backside years ago to teach her some manners. Melodie didn’t know why, but she didn’t believe for a minute that JarDan would talk about her to others. She trusted him with her secrets and if he had

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

106

talked to anyone, it was for a very good reason. She wouldn’t put it past Tiana to listen at keyholes. That was more her style. What other secrets did the pampered princess have access to with her sneaking around? The more she thought about Tiana taking advantage of the affection she received from the men of Tor, the angrier she got. Without realizing her intent, or her destination, Melodie found herself at the entrance to the practice field. JarDan was leading his warriors in their never-ending practice with swords and bows. His massive chest glistened with his exertion. The thick mat of hair exposed by the deep opening of his vest curled wetly from the sweat that trailed down toward his waist. Her obsession with her husband’s torso almost made her forget the reason for being here. One warrior made a risqué comment about JarDan’s lack of stamina and his exercise of last night. In his defense, she knew the man didn’t know she was standing there, but that didn’t lessen her blush nor did it cool her temper. Stalking across the walled end of the suddenly quiet practice field toward JarDan, she was unaware of the dangerous picture she presented with the garden shears gripped in her hand and fury in every bristling step. There was a stone walkway leading from one of the doors in the wall out onto the field. The ground on either side was rough and uneven and before she was aware of it, her ankle twisted, throwing her off balance. Grabbing at a rope hanging beside the walkway, Melodie struggled to regain her footing. The rope didn't open the door -- it was the release for the floodgates. The sudden flood of rushing water scooped her off her feet and sent her shooting down the stone walkway like the water slides she’d seen on Earth. Her scream and JarDan’s shouted warning were both lost in the roar of the water. When she finally reached the practice field, JarDan and most of his warriors were stumbling around in the mud looking for lost weapons. Still shaking from her wild ride, Melodie carefully moved each arm and leg, making sure all the parts worked. Other than a missing shoe and a torn dress, she seemed to be nothing more than wet. She still had the pruning shears in her hand. Good Heavens, girl, you could have cut your fool throat with these things. “Melodie!” Yelled JarDan, making his way toward her. “Are you hurt?” “No, I think I’m okay. It hurt my pride more than anything else. Can you help me up? This dress weighs a ton when it’s wet.” He lifted his soggy wife out of the mud, trying hard to control his temper. “Melodie?” He questioned with forced patience. “What are you doing on the practice field?” “I came looking for you. You know you should talk to somebody about putting a lock on that door. Someone could get hurt. It seems sort of dumb to disburse all that rainwater onto the field where your men practice. They’ll get all muddy.” “That retaining wall was designed specifically for battle training. It isn’t always nice and sunny when you go to war. Why are you looking for me?” By the Beard of the Prophet, he’d never laid a hand on any woman in anger, but in his present mood, there might be a first time.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

107

“You mean you deliberately pour water all over the ground just so you can fight in the mud? Do you have any idea how much extra work that makes for the laundry and the …” “Melodie!” His bellow had the desired effect. “I do believe you’ve caused enough trouble for one morning, so why don’t you run on back to the castle and change clothes -- and try to find something to do that doesn’t destroy anything else.” The Prince of Tor, trained in tact and diplomacy, knew the very instant when he pushed his beautiful wife too far. “Don’t you dare talk to me like I’m a … a … wife! For your information, I tripped, you jackass! I could have broken my leg but all you’re worried about is your stupid practice field. I came out here because I was concerned about something. Something that could be serious, but all you can do is yell at me. Fine. You figure out who’s spying on you.” JarDan didn’t want to yell at her. He wanted to grab her up and pack her in cotton so she’d never be hurt. When he saw her rushing at him down the aqueduct, his heart nearly choked him to death. The woman was making him insane. He grabbed her by the arm when she started back toward the castle. He’d long since come to the conclusion that Melodie’s mind worked like no other’s -- and, for the most part, he loved that about her. However, this time she even had him at a loss as to what she was talking about. “You can’t make a statement like that and just leave.” “Sure I can. Just let me go and I’ll show you. No. On second thought, you’re going to listen to what I have to say.” She was in a full rage now and she wasn’t going to take a chance on him defusing her temper until she had her say. When he opened his mouth, she held up her hand. “Don’t talk, just listen,” Melodie interrupted. “The next time you decide to tell someone about my insecurities you better make damn sure there’s no one listening at the keyhole! You got that straight?” She punctuated her words with the index finger of her left hand to the middle of his chest. “For that matter, what right do you have to tell anyone something that I told you in confidence? Does your word mean so little? You keep telling me to trust you and now I hear all about our conversations from other people. Make up your mind!” “Hold it!” JarDan yelled grabbing the hand she was using to punch his chest. “What in the name of all the Prophets are you ranting about?” A month ago, Melodie would have been terrified of the tall giant towering a good six inches or more above her with the fierce scowl drawing his brows together. It was a measure of her trust in him that she knew he would never retaliate against her display of temper. It was that knowledge that cooled her anger and softened her tone. “About you telling someone that I don’t fit in here, that’s what.” She whispered, looking around her at the gathered warriors. Poor JarDan thought she was angry with him. She wasn’t. Well, maybe just a little, but she just didn’t know any other way to warn him about Tiana’s tales. “I hear you got a big laugh at all my stupid mistakes.” “Melodie …”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

108

The stricken look on his face did more to calm her rioting emotions than all the screaming in the world. She took a deep breath for control and blinked as his expression changed from shock to black, blinding rage. “Who dares …?” “JarDan,” Melodie pulled her hand from his grasp and rested it against the dark curls on his chest, unconsciously flexing her fingertips into the soft hair, “I don’t think you knowingly betrayed my confidence, at least not without good reason. The fact that someone else knows tells me your private conversations aren’t very private. Next time, be sure you know who’s in hearing distance.” Suddenly aware of the curious stares and knowing grins of the men on the field, she flushed and turned to pick her way through the muddy field. When her forward progress abruptly halted with a hard jerk on her head, she turned to find JarDan gripping the end of her braid. The man had actually grabbed her by the hair of her head! Jimmy Dale Higgins was the last one to grab her braid -- and that was when they were in the sixth grade. She blacked Jimmy Dale’s eye too and he never tried it again. She still didn’t like it. So much for not losing her temper. “Look, Robin Hood,” she ground out between clenched teeth, “you play with swords and bows and arrows. Remember? Conan was the barbarian who grabbed women by the hair and dragged them off to his cave. Let go!” “Now there’s an interesting prospect.” JarDan grinned wickedly, giving the long braid a quick tug. “I’ll carry you to my cave where you can play with my sword.” Realizing she still held the garden shears, Melodie quickly and effortlessly snipped the thick braid in half, releasing herself from JarDan’s hold and continuing on her way back to the castle -- and she refused to acknowledge his suggestive banter. “She cut her hair.” He muttered in shock as his wife left the field. “The woman cut her hair!” JarDan looked around him at the men who suddenly found something more important to do than stand around and watch their prince and princess. With a growing sense of outrage, JarDan threw his head back and yelled. “Melodie!”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

109

Chapter Sixteen JarDan stormed toward the castle, intent on confronting his wife with the braid still clutched in his hand. What, by all the stars above, did she hope to accomplish by cutting her hair? For weeks he’d dreamed of her glorious hair. Spread across his pillow. Tangled in his fingers. Covering their naked bodies. Last night, all of his fantasies faded in the light of reality. Now, in a fit of defiance, Melodie had ruthlessly slashed her braid in half. By the Beard of the Prophet, she would answer for this. Rounding the corner into the courtyard, he heard the trumpeted signal from the tower warning of the approach of an unidentified group. Shoving the hank of hair inside his vest, he raced toward the battlements to search the surrounding countryside for this newest threat. He shook his head in confusion when he met Dak on the wall. He quickly scanned the area but he saw no advancing army, no mounted threat, not even a cloud of dust to mark the travel of a wagon on the open road. The clear afternoon sun shone across the hamlet and ripening fields. Farmers stopped working to hasten their families to the protection of the castle compound in response to the alarm. Herds of cattle and sheep still grazed in contended ignorance of any possible danger. What caused the alarm? “Send the guard to me, Dak. The one who raised the alarm.” JarDan continued to search the surrounding fields while Dak went in search of the guard. There wasn’t a hint of danger, not even the slightest movement among the trees. His well-trained guards wouldn’t issue a warning without cause. “Sire?” JarDan turned to face the burly guard standing at attention beside Dak. “What did you see, Kord?” A brief expression of confusion passed across the guard’s face before he turned and pointed in the direction of the mountains. “I’m not certain. It could be nothing, but with the threats against your family …” “I understand and appreciate your concern. Tell us what you think you saw.” JarDan hoped the man was overreacting, but he couldn’t deny the increased reports of attack by the outlying farmers. Where they once had one or two incidents a week of a stolen cow or hog, they now had two to three dozen reports. The earlier problems were usually based on a debt one farmer felt another owed and occasionally revenge. These newer acts of violence were random acts of destruction, not theft. Cattle slaughtered and left in the fields to rot; crops burned; entire fields poisoned. No witnesses. Nothing to lead them to the ones responsible. Only the scrolling M -- Morandoni’s signature -- to confirm their suspicions. “There,” Kord pointed again to the foothills, “where the old mining road drops out of sight. I thought I saw a flash of light like … you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I swear

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

110

it looked like lightening, only … it was green.” “Green?” Dak asked the guard. “What could possibly give off a flash that color?” “I don’t know, Captain Beldon.” The guard answered. “That’s why I sounded the alarm.” “You did the right thing, Kord.” JarDan assured him. “You may return to your post.” “What do you think he saw?” Dak asked when Kord was out of hearing distance. “I don’t know; but, like Kord, I don’t think we can risk ignoring this. Assemble a scouting party and be ready to ride in ten minutes. Pass the word to the remaining guards that when everyone is safely inside, I want the gate barred. No one gets in or out until we return.” JarDan reached the bottom of the tower stairs when Dak reached out and grabbed his arm. “JarDan,” he whispered, “I think you should stay here. Let me …” He shook off Dak’s hand. “I’ll not hide behind these walls like an old woman. You have your orders. I’ll meet you in the courtyard in ten minutes.” “There’s no need for you to put yourself in danger. You have a mate to …” “Nine minutes, Dak.” JarDan yelled as he ran across the courtyard toward the castle. It took him several minutes to make his way through the increasing number of people inside the castle. Children raced around the huge hall oblivious to the possible danger. Mounds of sleeping pads and blankets quickly became small family areas. King Zeth’s emergency drills passed this latest test and from what JarDan could tell, his subjects remembered their training. His father was near the main staircase directing the distribution of another load of bedding. His calm directions and unquestioned authority kept worry from becoming panic and disorder from becoming chaos. “Father.” JarDan called when he was a few feet from the stairs. “Will you join me in my room? Where’s Melodie?” He scanned the crowded hall but couldn’t see his wife’s dark head above the scores of women. “She’s around somewhere. I saw her just a few minutes ago. What danger do we face, son?” Zeth asked as the two men climbed the stairs. “One of the guards saw a flash of light on the old mining road. It could be nothing, but Dak and I are going to investigate. We leave in a few minutes.” He pushed open the door to the room he now shared with his mate. “Melodie?” He called as he gathered his battle sword and shield from the wall. Silence greeted his call. Her wet, muddy gown was the only evidence that she’d been there all day. The heavy leather pants and vest he wore for arms practice were damp and muddy, but he didn’t have time to change. He only needed to add the shirt of finely woven metal links to be ready for battle. “Melodie and her maid have commandeered the ladies solar for expectant mothers and mothers with young infants. She feels the main hall is no place for a baby to rest.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

111

JarDan grinned at his father. “I can imagine the reaction she got from that announcement.” “Your wife’s ladies-in-waiting have been most cooperative. She can be … assertive when she feels it is necessary.” At his son’s raised eyebrows, the king chuckled. “I believe the phrase she used with a few of the more reluctant ladies was move over or move out. Apparently, they wisely chose not to test the truth of her statement. Tiana has opened her quarters to anyone who doesn’t wish to share the solar with others.” A deep frown wiped the smile from the king’s face. “I’m afraid I’ve been too lenient with that child.” “There you are,” Melodie exclaimed as she rushed into the room, “I’ve been looking all over for you. What’s going on? Are we under attack? Why are you wearing that fence thing?” “Fence …? Melodie, what are you talking about?” His relief at seeing his wife quickly became confusion. He buckled the heavy leather belt around his waist without looking away from her, unconsciously adjusting the sword at his side. Melodie fluttered her fingers in the air near his chest. “That chain-link shirt … thing.” She turned and smiled warmly at her father-in-law. “How are you doing with all this turmoil?” JarDan took her shoulders between his hands and gently pushed her into the nearest chair. “This is chain mail, love,” he quietly explained, “and I always wear it when …” He glanced at his father who started for the door. “I’ll wait for you at the top of the stairs, Son.” When the door closed softly, JarDan turned back to Melodie. Kneeling at her feet, he took her hands in his larger ones, smiling when he felt their softness. Gone were the calluses that once covered her palms. Stroking his thumbs across her knuckles, he marveled again at the strength in her. He prayed her courage would be strong enough to see them through the next few days. “Stalling won’t make it any easier to say.” Her shaky smile couldn’t completely hide her fear from him. Rising, he picked her up before sitting in the chair with her settled firmly in lap. He wasn’t surprised that she didn’t mention his wet clothes that quickly spread dampness to her dress. The only demand his wife made for herself was to return to Earth and he thanked every lucky star in the galaxy that she no longer asked to leave him. His heart swelled and he pulled her closer. She didn’t fight the embrace but she didn’t relax against his either. “The tower guard spotted something unusual near the mountains and Dak and I are taking a few warriors to investigate. There’s no reason for you to worry. This is just a routine scouting patrol.” He squirmed beneath her direct gaze. He had the feeling she was seeing into his soul. “Bull. You don’t move everyone into the compound for a routine investigation. It’s different this time, isn’t it?” She asked. “Yes.” He finally whispered. “This is different. The patrol is waiting for me but I couldn’t leave without clearing this misunderstanding between us. I’ve never spoken of

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

112

your fears to anyone but Dak and my father -- and I felt it was necessary at the time. Please believe that your secrets are safe with me, despite the evidence. When I return, we’ll find out who’s lurking at keyholes.” Removing the silky cap covering her head, JarDan released her hair, surprised when it curled possessively around his hand just below the middle of her back. Without the weight of the added length, the midnight strands were alive with curls and waves. “Hiding your hair won’t make me forget what you did." He smiled to take the sting from his words. Melodie jumped from his lap and faced him. “What I did!” She demanded, crossing her arms across her chest. “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t grabbed me. A simple wait would have worked much better.” “Easy love,” he soothed, pulling her back down onto his lap. “I didn’t come to argue.” This time she curled against his chest, her face buried against his neck. “I know,” she whispered against his skin, “you came to say goodbye.” JarDan lifted her chin until her lips were directly below his. Slowly, he lowered his head until his mouth settled softly over hers. When she melted against him, he deepened the kiss, wanting -- needing -- the taste and feel of her. With a groan of unfulfilled desire, he drew back, smiling at the deep purple color of her eyes. Those eyes would always betray her emotions to him. "I have to go.” He whispered, standing with her in his arms. “Dak and the men are waiting.” He released her legs, letting her slide against his body. “You need to change into dry clothes again before you go back downstairs.” He didn’t try to hide his reaction to her nearness -- a reaction unfazed by the chilly dampness of their clothes. “You’ll be safe as long as you stay inside the wall.” “What about you?” She asked, tracing his jaw with her fingers. “All you’re wearing is your sword. Aren’t you taking guns or tanks or something?” “There are no guns on Anderas, Melodie. We fight hand-to-hand. You know that.” She jerked away from his embrace. “That is so stupid!” She railed, stomping across the room to the window. “You travel through space. You have every imaginable bit of technology available in the MediCenter to make sure you all live to be a hundred and fifty or more.” She turned and faced him again. “There’s more to living than just being alive. It’s not natural to force everything to remain frozen in time -- especially a time that was past and brought back to life. Everything has to change, JarDan, or it dies.” “This is our way, love.” He answered softly. He walked to the window where she stood facing him. “I’m not going to die. I give you my word. Remember, I never lie.” He kissed her quick and hard before stepping away from the warmth of her body. “Take care, my love.” He whispered before leaving the room. His father was waiting for him near the top of the stairs. “I wish I could go with you, Son. Waiting has never been one of my favorite pastimes.” “You're forbidden to leave the safety of the castle in times of danger, so you're going to have to come to terms with your frustrations. Your safety is a priority. I only hope we can catch one of Morandoni’s henchmen this time. He’s like a wisp of smoke --

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

113

gone before you realize he’s there. His Minions of the Dark managed to breach the castle at least once before and Morandoni has already made an attempt on Melodie’s life. What if he tries again?” “Rest easy, my son,” Zeth assured him. “I will protect her with my life.” “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. We’re only taking ten warriors and we should be back by early morning. I’ve left orders to bar the gates when everyone is inside.” He grabbed his father’s hand in the traditional wrist-to-wrist salute. “Take care, Father.” “And you, my son.” Dak and the others were just mounting when JarDan reached the courtyard. He swung into the saddle, controlling the prancing of the spirited stallion with practiced ease. Turning to his father on the stone steps, he bid the man a final farewell. “If you haven’t heard from us in three days, assume the worst.” JarDan lead his small band through the gate, slowing their pace only when they encountered villagers on their way to the castle. Once past the hamlet, he gave Storm his head. The mighty war steed stretched powerful muscles in a ground-eating gallop. Each man knew his responsibilities and acknowledged the danger he faced. **** Between arranging meals and sleeping arrangements for the hundreds of people from the village, Melodie had no time to worry about JarDan. The gates closed within an hour of his leaving. All the villagers who lived in the hamlet were safe inside the walls and most had found places to bed down for the night. Now that the last child was asleep, the fires banked and the staff dismissed until early morning, she convinced her father-inlaw to seek his bed. Slipping into her own room, she pulled a chair over to the window. She could see the mountains rising in dark splendor against the pale illumination of the first moon rise. Somewhere out there JarDan and his men searched. After all the bustle and noise of the hall, she needed the blessed peace and quiet of her bedroom. “You should rest, Melodie. Come,” ArDell indicated the vanity stool, “let me braid your hair for bed.” Melodie jumped at the sound of her maid’s voice. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” She returned to her watch by the window. “I can’t sleep knowing someone may be trying to kill him.” She whispered. “The waiting is the hardest when you love someone. At least let me get you a gown and robe.” With a weary nod, she allowed ArDell to help her into a soft white nightgown trimmed with golden ribbons and a matching robe. White and gold – JarDan’s colors. Was he sleeping out there beneath the light of the moon? Did he miss her as much as she missed him? What if Morandoni succeeded in killing him? Her heart thundered in her chest. He couldn’t die. Not now. **** Six hours of hard riding brought JarDan and his band of warriors to the junction of the old mining road and the more commonly used trade roads. According to the

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

114

description Kord gave Dak, they should reach the sight of the unusual green lightening within a half hour. At his signal, the column of men and horses slowed to a walk and carefully picked their way through the trees to the stream that flowed down the mountain. “Ten minutes,” Dak ordered in a quiet voice. “Relieve yourselves and water the horses. Make as little noise as possible, we don’t know who’s listening.” JarDan visualized the road ahead of them while Storm drank from the cool water. As boys, he and Dak spent many hours exploring the mountains and valleys of Falcon Tor. There wasn’t a road anywhere he hadn’t traveled. He couldn’t remember the last time he rode along that road but he did remember the hundreds of places where a few well placed men could hold off an approaching army -- or ambush an unsuspecting patrol. The road was built along the bottom of a natural gorge. Steep walls rose beside a path barely wide enough to accommodate two war horses side-by-side, making a rapid retreat impossible. If this was a trap, it was well set. The burning hatred for the evil wizard that was born within JarDan aboard the Destiny grew with each passing day. After twenty years he suddenly had a target for revenge. He would avenge his mother’s death -- and the attack on Melodie -- and rid his home of Morandoni’s malevolent presence at the same time. “It’s a trap.” Dak announced, voicing JarDan’s concern. “Yes,” JarDan answered on a sigh, “but we’ve got no choice. If the men are ready, let’s ride. I want to get there before the sun sets.” Within minutes the mounted patrol galloped along the road. If they were riding into a trap their enemies already knew they were coming. If not, walking their horses through the gorge would only delay their arrival. Darkness came faster inside the steep walls of the gorge. The deepening shadows shifted with the play of clouds overhead, giving them the appearance of living beings. JarDan slowed the patrol to a walk, the sound of shod hooves striking stone echoed through the canyon. Storm danced from side-to-side until he leaned over and patted his neck, whispering assurances he didn’t feel himself. All of the horses were acting skittish -- fighting their commands to go forward. Signaling to his men, JarDan dismounted. Wrapping the reins securely around his hand, he gripped Storm’s bridle and led the nervous horse through the rocks. Without a word, each man scanned the sides of the gorge, straining in the failing light to see any hint of movement, any sign of impending attack. A sudden breeze carried the sickeningly sweet smell of death. He recognized the smell and tried to steel himself for what they would find beyond the next bend in the road. Glancing around at the men behind him, JarDan dropped Storm’s reins knowing the years of training would conquer the horse’s innate aversion to the smell of blood and that he would stay as commanded. The sound of metal sliding against metal as the scouting party drew their swords was unnaturally loud in the dark. If this were, in fact, a trap, he was leading them into it blind. Only the Ancients knew what waited for them in the darkness ahead. Dak made little sound as he took his position at JarDan’s back, straining to hear

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

115

any sound as they neared the final bend. He knew his men were protecting each other the same way -- it was as natural as breathing to them, all part of a warrior’s training. By the Beard of the Prophet, he hoped they would all meet on the practice field again after this night was through. The ominous yellow glow of a fire pit lay ahead of them. Not good. The light would make it impossible to see anyone approach from the other side. “What the …” Four bodies -- two men and two women -- sat around the fire, propped upright with spears embedded down their spines. Their decapitated heads rested on the ground between outstretched legs and atop each head was a crown. It was a brutal symbolic gesture for the rulers of the House of Tor. JarDan had to clear his throat several times before he trusted himself to speak past the rising bile. “Have the men circle each side of the pit. Tell them to stay close to the rock, out of the light of the fire and signal when they reach the other side.” Dak’s whispered instructions sent warriors moving away, blending with the shadows. JarDan measured the passage of time by the heavy pounding of his heart. Every human instinct urged him to offer aid to the men and women visible in the light of the fire pit. His warrior’s training kept him still until he was sure there was no further danger. When the signal came from the far side of the circle of light, he was ready. Whoever was responsible for this massacre was long gone. He and his men were safe -this time. “Have the men move in -- slowly -- and check for survivors,” JarDan moved toward the fire and the macabre scene staged for his benefit. His heart cried out for retribution. He was fighting an enemy he never saw. Frustration, rage, sadness and fear for the safety of his family battled inside his chest. With a low growl, he jerked the cheap, paper crown from the head of the nearest man. “Are you here, Morandoni?” He yelled as he circled the fire pit, his voice echoing back at him again and again. “You won’t win. I’ll find you and destroy you. This is a promise I make on my soul.” “JarDan,” Dak interrupted, “there are no survivors.” JarDan closed his eyes in resignation. “I didn’t expect any, but I hoped I was wrong. How many?” “Eleven that we can locate. Seven men and four women. There may be more in the rocks, but we won’t know for sure until the sun rises. The men are already loading the bodies into the cargo wagon parked on the other side.” A bark of mirthless laughter shook JarDan’s massive shoulders. “If Morandoni continues killing females, he won’t have a kingdom to rule. They’re our one chance for survival.” “He knows that as well as any Anderan.” Dak agreed. “This is all staged to trigger a response from you -- or Zeth. He knows the penalty for harming a female is death, so he deliberately kills them. All we have to do is figure out why he’s provoking you with these assaults. Robbery isn’t his motive. That cargo wagon has enough energy

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

116

ore to make a dozen men wealthy.” “Since an Oracle, even a defrocked one, can’t challenge a mortal to combat, he’s trying to force me to come after him.” JarDan turned his back on the slaughter around him. “He’s playing a dangerous game that can only end with death -- his or mine. “Post the guards then have the rest of the men get some rest. Tomorrow we can search for clues around the area, but I don’t expect to find anything. Morandoni’s Minions of the Dark probably pay for mistakes with their lives. We leave at first light.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

117

Chapter Seventeen “I thought I might find you here.” King Zeth said as he joined Melodie in the garden. “Do you mind a little company?” “Of course not.” She replied with a smile. She genuinely liked JarDan’s father and welcomed any opportunity to spend time with him. His unconditional acceptance of her into his family was one reason she felt like she might one day make a place for herself here on this alien world. “Is there any word from the patrol?” She asked quietly. She spent last night sitting at her window -- watching the dark shadows of the mountains where JarDan and his men faced another unknown threat. Watching. Praying. Waiting. “No, dear,” Zeth answered as he sat beside her and gathered her hands in his, “but I wouldn’t worry too much this early. It’s barely midday and they may have gone farther than we realize. I’m sure he’s safe and on his way home to us.” “You said he should be back by morning. What if something’s happened to them? What if …” “Enough of that!” He ordered. “You cannot bring him back any sooner by imagining all the what ifs that could happen. He is a capable warrior who’s seen his share of battles. You must be as brave.” “I’ve never had to worry about anyone, except my grandfather and he didn’t leave the farm unless I drove him. I’m not prepared for this.” A fine tremor shook her slender frame and she had no idea whether it was from nerves or fear. Catching and holding the king’s sympathetic gaze, she asked about JarDan’s mother for the first time since she awoke on Anderas. “How did your wife deal with watching you ride through the gate knowing you might not come back?” There was a brief flash of pain before Zeth’s eyes cleared and she again stared into eyes the same deep blue as his son’s. “I was already king when we were bonded. By Anderan law, the king cannot leave the compound in times of danger. There are hidden access routes to the MediCenter and to the Teleport Station for emergencies but we’ve never used them. The Castle has withstood every attack by invaders for as long as there is recorded history.” “You still miss her, don’t you?” Melodie wanted to ask more about the woman who gave birth to her husband, but didn’t want to hurt Zeth with her questions. When the king stood and walked a few feet back toward the castle, she feared she had angered him until she saw the hard shudder pass through his body. “I am to blame for her death.” His harsh statement was barely audible in the quiet of the garden. “Horse feathers!” Her snort brought a reluctant chuckle to her father-in-law. “JarDan said she was murdered and you are definitely not a murderer.” “No.” He admitted, walking back to the bench beneath the willow. “I didn’t kill her but I am responsible for her death.” She sensed Zeth was marshaling his emotions and his words so she waited while

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

118

he toyed with the swaying branches of the tree. Watching him pull the increasing number of yellow leaves from the branches, realized summer would soon turn to fall. Change. Everywhere there was change -- everywhere except in the lives of the two men she loves. “This was her favorite place to be, did JarDan tell you?” She knew by the way that he said it that he didn’t really expect an answer from her so she merely nodded and smiled. “Arica spent as much time as she could manage here with her roses. She was so beautiful. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love her. Often I would slip quietly through the gate so she wouldn’t hear me, just to watch her. She’d be down on her knees, unmindful of her gown or her rank, digging and pruning.” He smiled fondly at her. “You remind of her in many ways.” Melodie smiled in return, grateful he didn’t expect an answer from her. She wasn’t sure she could speak past the tightness in her throat. Would JarDan ever love her with such complete commitment and devotion? “I still dream of her here with the sun turning her cheeks pink as it warmed her skin and the breeze stirring the perfume of the blossoms around her until she carried the very fragrance of the petals themselves. And her smile …” With a slight shake of his head, Zeth’s face changed to a mask of bleak acceptance. “One morning I came to watch her and found her gone. I didn’t think too much about it at the time, assuming her duties as queen called her back to the castle earlier than usual. JarDan, Dak and I went hunting before the midday meal and returned shortly before dark. When I couldn’t find Arica, I began to worry. No one could remember seeing her. We searched every inch of the castle compound and every building in the hamlet. We found no trace of her anywhere. Shortly after midnight I called a halt to the search until daylight when we would begin scouting the area around the castle. “The boys were barely fifteen years old, frightened, yet fighting so hard to be brave. I didn’t have the heart to send them to their rooms, so I took them with me to mine. We didn’t talk much, just sat there in front of the fire until they finally fell asleep on the rug. I must have fallen asleep shortly after that. The next thing I remember is waking up just before dawn. I turned to the bed, hoping to see Arica. Thinking this must be some horrible nightmare.” Zeth was breathing so hard and fast that Melodie rushed to him, sliding her arm around his waist. He folded his arms around her back holding her so tightly she was afraid he would crack a rib. How could he live with this much pain? “You don’t have to tell me anymore. Please,” she whispered against the velvet of his tunic, “don’t do this to yourself.” If he heard her, he ignored her plea. “On the bed, in the very place she lay every night since our bonding, was her gown -- or what was left of it. It was ripped and torn until it was barely recognizable as a woman’s garment. By all the Ancient Prophets, there was so much blood. When I lifted the gown from the bed, her blood dripped onto the floor. It was still warm.” Melodie held on as tight as she could, licking the tears from her lips and wishing

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

119

she knew what to do to ease his torment. “To this day, I don’t know how anyone got into that room to put the gown there. My guard was still in place outside the door and he didn’t see or hear anything. There is no other entry into the room other than the barred windows. Engineers and architects searched every inch of that room from floor to ceiling and wall to wall hoping to find a passage of some kind.” Why did he continue to blame himself? He and JarDan and Dak were the victims of a brutal crime no one could have anticipated. “You did everything you could. There was no way you could have prevented it.” “If I hadn’t gone hunting, I might have prevented it. If I’d stayed in the castle I would have realized sooner that something was wrong. I should have protected her with my own life.” “How?” Melodie asked softly. “By locking her in her room away from the sunshine and roses that made her so happy? Posting a guard to follow her around every minute of the day? Do you really believe she would live like that?” Zeth gently pushed her away from his embrace and straightened his shoulders. Looking at him, she saw the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. “Sometimes, when the sun is bright and the flowers in full bloom, I can actually feel her presence here. Even in death she still soothes me. She was my heart, my soul, my very life and my failure brought her a hideously painful death.” His suddenly intent gaze made her uncomfortable. “It will not happen again.” Without another word, JarDan’s father walked out of the garden leaving her to wonder what brought the sudden change in attitude to her father-in-law. After hearing the details of Arica’s death, she now understood why JarDan felt the need to have her remain so close to the castle. She still didn’t like it, but at least she could try to be a little more tolerant. She also understood how Zeth felt about the peace and tranquility here. More than once she had escaped to the haven of the garden, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of serenity. For some reason, Melodie always felt safe here. Secure. Cherished. Maybe Arica’s spirit watched over the family who still grieved for her, offering them in death the comfort she could no longer give them in life. Stranger things have happened, Melodie Anne. She mumbled as she headed back to the castle. Until JarDan and his men returned the villagers couldn’t return to their own homes. Feeding that many people was a logistical nightmare. Introducing the residents of Falcon Tor to the build-it-yourself-soup-and-sandwich-bar made the task a little easier on the kitchen staff. Now, if she could figure out how to come up with a half-dozen dishwashers, she could ease the workload of the rest of the castle staff. All in good time, girl. All in good time. **** The grim convoy passed through the foothills of Falcon Tor in the fading afternoon sun. Slowed by the cumbersome mining wagon loaded with the remains of Morandoni’s latest campaign against his family, JarDan struggled to fit the pieces of this particular puzzle into order. What happened to turn one of the brightest young oracles in

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

120

the history of Anderas into a creature of such unspeakable evil? He remembered the raving reviews from the Royal Oracle, Raiwan. The elderly man gleefully groomed Morandoni as his future replacement. Where was that brilliant, ambitious man? He and Dak were just beginning their study of the ancient language when Morandoni disappeared twenty-five years ago. As time passed and no trace of him appeared, Raiwan declared him dead. If not for the pages of Torak’s sinister journal, no one would know that Morandoni lived. Why now? Why after all this time? “Your scowl is fierce enough to keep the scavenger birds away.” Dak’s dry comment was loud in the stillness broken only by the creak of leather, the thud of hooves, and the squeaky wheels of the wagon. “There is little to smile about.” JarDan rotated his shoulders, easing the strain of long hours in the saddle and a night without sleep. “As on the Destiny I find more questions with every passing moment. Why” he turned until he could Dak’s face, “has he returned after all this time?” Dak shook his head, a puzzled frown drawing his eyebrows into a dark slash across his face. “I wish I had answers for you but I can barely remember what he looked like. If there’s something from the past, from when he disappeared, that would make sense of this,” he indicated the wagon with a toss of his head, “surely Zeth or Raiwan would tell us.” “From the beginning he’s been one step ahead of us. It’s like he knows what we’re thinking before we do.” With each mile they covered, JarDan’s frustration grew. “He is an oracle, trained in the mystic arts of the Ancients,” Dak offered, “but I don’t recall mention of the ability to read minds.” JarDan suddenly rubbed his palm against the slight ridge beneath his vest where Melodie’s severed braid rested against his heart. “I think the answer is as simple as keyholes, Dak.” He smiled at the look of astonished understanding on Dak’s face when his friend remembered the incident on the practice field before the alarm sounded. His nod was more than affirmation, it was a silent acceptance that there was a traitor in the castle and a promise of immediate action when they returned to Tor. “How soon do you think we’ll reach the compound?” JarDan could read the sudden tension in Dak’s body. He still sat easily astride his horse, moving with the natural rhythm of the animal. His eyes still scanned the road before them, constantly watching for attack from the deepening shadows of twilight. The flexing of muscles in his jaw and the tightly compressed mouth were clues; but it was his eyes that held the proof. The darkness no longer glittered with inner fire but was as flat and lifeless as the bodies they carried in the wagon. Dak was a formidable ally but he was an even deadlier opponent. His personal convictions were stronger than any man JarDan had ever known and his loyalty, once given, was boundless. Dak wouldn’t stop until he discovered the spy and destroyed him. “At this pace it will be close to sunset before we reach the MediCenter.” JarDan answered. “Any suggestions on where we can meet with my father to discuss this possibility?”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

121

“I’d suggest the dungeon except for your fear of spiders.” Dak offered with a slight grin. “I’ll arrange a suitable place when we get home.” Shuddering at the mention of the tiny arachnids, JarDan urged his horse to a faster pace. **** Melodie was showing a group of children how to make Indian yo-yos with a large button and sturdy twine when the alarm sounded from the tower. After two days of nonstop noise, the sudden silence in the hall was deafening. King Zeth waited for her by the heavy door, a battle sword gripped tightly in his hand. “If you won’t stay within the castle, you’ll need a guard. It could be an attack, you know.” She shook her head with a grim smile. “It’s the patrol.” She stated with conviction. The long hours of hiding her worries were over. She just hoped the answer to her prayers for his safe return hadn’t been no. “Then you will greet him on the steps as is tradition.” Zeth informed her, taking her elbow in his free hand. The warriors JarDan left to guard the compound filled the courtyard as word of the patrol’s return spread. From her advantage atop the steps she watched the heavy outer gate swing open and the weary men head for the stables, searching the crowd for the faces of their loved ones as they passed. She tried. Lord, how hard she tried to remain standing on the step like a true princess would, waiting for her prince to return to her side. Her prince was home, but she failed her test as a true princess. As soon as JarDan swung down from Storm, Melodie bolted down the stairs. “JarDan!” She yelled as she launched herself into his waiting arms. Oblivious of the grinning warriors, she clung to his neck with all her strength. “Easy, love,” he whispered against her neck, holding her just as tightly as she held him, “or you’ll have me fainting from lack of oxygen.” She released him enough to lean back and look at him, searching for any injury. “I was so worried.” She whispered before his lips covered hers in a soft, gentle kiss that was over much too soon. “There was no need.” His words offered assurance, but the husky pitch of his voice told her how her public demonstration of affection pleased him. “Come, love,” JarDan broke their embrace but kept her close against his side, “there is much I must tell my father and the Council of Elders and I desperately need a hot bath before we can continue this conversation in a more private location.” “You go talk to Zeth and I’ll get your bath ready for you.” With a quick kiss, she pulled free of his embrace and hurried into the castle. Melodie sent ArDell to the kitchen with instructions to serve dinner upstairs, knowing the woman wouldn’t come back until morning unless called. Candles and natural sunlight rather than the energy ore lighted the bedrooms, unlike the public areas of the castle. In the gathering dusk, she set candles on every

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

122

available flat surface. Short, squatty, fat ones and tall, skinny ones spread their soft glow through the bedroom and the open doors of the bath. Even the small fire blazing in the fireplace added to the soft, romantic atmosphere. In the bathroom she placed towels on the warming rods and poured her favorite oil into the constantly bubbling water. JarDan would probably prefer something a little less flowery but he hadn’t yet moved his personal items from Dak’s room and with the upheaval in the castle the past several days, she hadn’t thought to do it herself. Melodie would never, in her wildest fantasies, have described herself as a sensuous person, but there was something very special about her fondness for this elaborate tub. The steady temperature came from the energy ore -- which she understood. There were no faucets to add water or any drain to get rid of the water; yet, somehow, the water was always fresh. She couldn’t get a straight answer to her questions about that process from anyone. Trailing her fingers through the frothy bubbles, she grinned. Her plans for the evening did not include a lesson in plumbing. Not sure how long she had before JarDan finished his report to the Council of Elders, Melodie quickly set a decanter of the wine he favored and a silver goblet on the small table beside his chair. The dark red wine tended to make her queasy and that was another thing she didn’t want to include with her plans for the night. She had just finished turning back the bedding when a knock at the door announced the arrival of their dinner. The large tray filled with slices of cold roast meat, fresh fruits, assorted cheeses and sliced bread took up the entire end of JarDan’s desk. Satisfied that there wasn’t anything that would spoil if she delayed their dinner for a while, she turned her attention to herself. Releasing the ribbon from the end of her braid, she combed out her hair, still amazed at the waves that sprang to life. All her life she thought her hair was straight-asa-board as her grandfather so often told her. Satisfied that JarDan would like the resulting cascade of curls, she stripped off her gown and underdress. With only a slight hesitation from lingering modesty, she removed the rest of her clothes and slipped into one of the diaphanous scraps of material left by Talley. She was several inches taller than either of JarDan’s ex-bathers and the garment designed to reach to mid-thigh, barely covered the dark curls at the top of her legs. With a soft smile, she turned from the mirror for one final check of the stage she’d set for seduction. Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps in the hall, she climbed into the tub to wait for her unsuspecting husband. JarDan’s gaze took in the candles, turned back bedding and tray of food in one glance. Reaching behind him, he slid the bolt into place, locking the rest of the world out -- at least for tonight. His official report to the Council of Elders covered only what they found on the mountain trail. He and Dak would tell the king about the traitor tomorrow. Dak needed time to locate a safe place for them to talk. Tonight -- tonight he’d have Melodie to ease the strain and worry from his shoulders. “Your bath is ready.” The sound of her soft voice floated to him through the mist from the open doors

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

123

of the bathroom. The heavy thudding of his heart echoed in his ears. She was waiting for him -- only him. Wife. The word didn’t come close to describing his wife. His warm-hearted, generous wife who never thought of herself first. His strong, courageous wife who faced a killer storm. His beautiful, exciting wife who aroused him with just a smile. With a slow, measured pace, he followed the sound of Melodie’s voice. The light from dozens of candles reflected in the mirrored wall, their light creating miniature rainbows in the mist from the tub. When he stepped through the door, Melodie rose from the water. The sight of her nearly nude body, draped in nothing more than the filmy bathing garment, brought his manhood to instant attention. “Now that’s a sight worth coming home to.” He drawled, leaning against the door jamb. “You look so tired; I figured you might need a little help washing your back -- or something.” JarDan grinned at the blush spreading up her neck. “Define the or something.” Her blush deepened but she never broke eye contact as she reached into the soap dish, scooped out a small amount of the soft cream and slowly rubbed it between her hands. “I guess that depends on just how tired you are.” The sight of all that lather filling her hands and wondering just where she intended to use it took his breath away. Swallowing hard, he had to clear his throat -twice -- before he could manage to speak. “Give me five minutes to shave?” “Take your time. I’ll be waiting right here.” JarDan was amazed that he didn’t cut his throat. Every time he glanced at Melodie in the mirror she was still rubbing that soap into thick lather. He was shaking like an innocent boy and all he could think about was embarrassing himself by exploding as soon as he removed his pants. Wiping the last of the shaving soap from his face, he turned to face Melodie. Slowly, praying he could survive the next few minutes, JarDan unlaced the leather vest, slipping it from his shoulders. When he reached for the fastening at his waist, Melodie’s eyes widened. The candlelight was too dim to see her eyes, but he knew they were purple -- darkened from desire. “I thought about you while I was away.” His husky whisper betrayed his own arousal. “The ground wasn’t hard enough to erase the memory of your softness.” He stroked his arousal through his pants, pushing his already strained control a little further. It was worth it to watch her nipples tighten beneath the damp fabric. “Your heat warmed me through the cold night.” He released his aroused flesh -- and the breath he’d been holding. He didn’t explode but he was damn close. “What do you have planned for all that lather you’re making, love?” “Come here and find out.” JarDan peeled the tight, black leather down his legs until he reached his boots,

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

124

kicking them and pants off and out of the way. Climbing into the tub with his wife was a torture in itself. The churning water caressed his skin like a thousand teasing fingers. When he reached for Melodie, she backed out of his reach, sitting on the edge of the tub. “Not yet. Turn around and dunk you head in the water.” JarDan raised an eyebrow, but did as she requested. Surely she hadn’t gone to all this trouble to actually give him a bath -- and nothing more. As soon as his head came out of the water she was there with her hands full of the fragrant lather. He groaned at the sensual luxury of her fingers massaging his scalp. She loved his hair. Almost as long as hers was now, it covered his shoulders like a thick, soft blanket. She smiled when he relaxed against her knees with a heavy sigh. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, my mighty warrior. When she was certain his hair was squeaky clean, she pushed him under the water to rinse the soap away. Allowing him time to wipe the water from his face, she pushed the hair over his shoulders, baring his back. Another scoop of the soap and she started rubbing the tense muscles along his neck. The man actually purred like a giant cat! Working her way down his back, she used the soap as an excuse to pet and stroke her husband to her heart’s content. Muscles, strong and firm from constant exercise, softened and relaxed beneath her hands. “Give me your hand.” When he did as she asked, she soaped each finger separately before moving past his palm and up his arm. She discovered he was ticklish in the bend of his elbow and filed that bit of knowledge away for another time. It took both hands to completely circle his bicep but no amount of massage softened that bulge. The soft hair beneath his arm was soon as clean as that on his head. “Now the other arm.” She repeated the process on that arm, giggling at the increased moans and groans coming from him. “If I’m hurting you I can stop.” She asked tongue-in-cheek, sliding back into the tub behind him. She couldn’t understand all of his mumbled response -- something about throwing her from the window. “Guess that means you want more?” “Mmmmm.” Supporting his upper body against hers, Melodie reached over his shoulders and soaped his chest, lingering on the tight male nipples until his breathing increased. Combing her fingers through the thick hair, she traced each rib from top to bottom and back again. Placing her hand against his heart, she felt the thundering beats so at odds with his relaxed attitude. “You’re supposed to be relaxing. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode.” Sliding his hands up her arms, JarDan tried to pull her around into his lap. “It’s not my heart that’s ready to explode.” “Not until you finish your bath.” She argued, pulling out of his grip. “I need you to stand up.” “Stand? Are you insane? I’m lucky I can move at all.” “Please? It won’t take long, I promise.” She whispered her plea in his ear, tracing the whorls with her tongue. “The pleasure of this bath may kill me, my love, but I’ll do as you ask.” He lifted

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

125

himself from the water, turning to face her. Melodie knelt in the bubbling water at his feet, eye level with the strong proof of his desire. The water was knee deep on him so she tapped on his ankle until he lifted his foot to the edge of the tub. Rubbing more soap on her hand, she looked up at him and winked. She washed each toe, massaged the arch of his foot, working the soap up his calf past his knee. He was a little slower to change to the other foot. When she reached the same place above that knee she leaned back on her heels. “Okay, turn around.” His expression was almost comical. “Turn around? But I thought … aren’t you …” Shaking his head in resignation, he did as she asked -- again. She knew by his sharply inhaled breath when he realized he was staring at himself in the mirror. Pulling herself to her knees, her head even with the side of his hip, she reached around her husband. Continuing with where she stopped just above his knees, Melodie worked the smooth lather higher and higher with each stroke. JarDan’s right hand flexed in her hair, his left hand tightly fisted by his side. She didn’t think he even knew what he was doing. By the time she reached his groin, his breathing was ragged. Catching his gaze in the mirrored wall, she slowly soaped the hard length of his erection with one hand and gently cupped the sac beneath with the other. It took only a few strokes before he grabbed her hands. “Stop, Melodie!” He demanded sharply. She shook her head. “I’m not finished with your bath. Let go.” Her whisper was more plea than demand. Closing his eyes, he released her hand. “I can’t hold on much longer, love. I’m going to come.” “I know,” she whispered softly, increasing the tempo of her strokes. “Right …” she kissed the soft flesh just above his hipbone, “… now.” JarDan emptied his seed into her hands, his body convulsing in orgasmic surrender. Melodie released him, pulling him down into her arms beneath the swirling water. When his breathing slowed to almost normal, she kissed him gently on his shoulder. “I love you.” She whispered. He pulled her around into his lap. “I knew you were my destiny.” She waited for him to say the words to her, pushing the pain away when he didn’t. She would be as patient with him as he had been with her. He cared for her, she was certain of that. Sooner or later, he’d admit it -- to himself and her. Until then, she’d savor each and every moment they had together. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” It was time to get on with the seduction of her husband. With a deep laugh, JarDan scooped her up in his arms, stepping from the tub. “Excellent idea. Eat hearty, love. You’re going to need all your energy. Next time,” he kissed her deeply, pushing his renewed erection against her, “I get to give you a bath.” “I don’t know …” Melodie purred in his ear “… I’ve got all kinds of things planned.” “This gets better and better.” He sat her on the thick rug near the heat of the fire

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

126

while he retrieved the tray of food from his desk. She took advantage of his distraction and removed the wet garment and pulled her robe round her. He didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned with parading around naked but she wasn’t quite that brave -- yet. Settling himself close beside her on the rug, he asked, “Very well, love, what’s next?”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

127

Chapter Eighteen It was well after midnight of the day after the scouting party returned before the last of villagers left the castle for their own homes and the main hall was again cleaned and virtually empty. A small fire blazed in the central hearth creating a comfortable area for relaxed conversations. Melodie didn’t believe for an instant that the men were relaxed. She couldn’t point to anything specific and say that’s it, that’s what’s wrong. She just had a feeling this whole scene was staged. JarDan sat on the thick rug, his back braced against the front of her chair. One hand, propped against a raised knee, held a glass of warmed wine while the other arm rested possessively across her lap. Dak sat, cross-legged, across from JarDan and Zeth leaned casually against the high back of his chair. It looked like a quiet family gathering. JarDan refused to let her out of his sight and any other time that would make her feel very special. Maybe it was the way Dak watched everyone who came near them, barely breathing until they completed whatever duty brought them close and the person moved away. Or the fact that JarDan hadn’t taken one sip of the wine he requested. Other than a very brief account of their journey and an announcement to the villagers concerning the funeral services for the deceased miners, there was no mention of their trip up the mountain road. And Zeth. Since their meeting in the rose garden yesterday morning, Melodie had caught her father-in-law staring at her with the same intensity he now focused on JarDan. She was worried about him. When Dak leaned back and examined the chimney for the third time in ten minutes, she decided it was time to do something. “Are there cobwebs in the chimney, Dak?” She asked with a slight drawl. “Or are you watching for Santa Claus?” She grinned at the dark flush staining Dak’s face. “You’re all acting strange tonight. What’s up?” When all three men began shifting positions, clearing their throats and looking everywhere but at each other, it was all she could do not to shout ah ha! “Okay,” she said, using the same tone of voice she used on Tiana’s little group of troublemakers, “out with it. I’m tired. We’re all tired; but it’s obvious no one will be getting any sleep until you get this,” she waved her hand to encompass the three of them, “whatever it is out of the way. Now, who’s first?” JarDan’s raised eyebrow and questioning expression were probably very useful in dealing with one of his men. She wasn’t impressed. He looked every inch the affronted monarch, until he ruined the effect with his slow, sexy wink. She giggled, remembering their long night of passion, and punched the arm still resting across her thighs. “Have you found a suitable room?” JarDan asked turning back to Dak. Dak shook his head before allowing his eyes to close. Melodie was fairly sure that was as close to acknowledging defeat as Dak would ever come and his actions scared her more than anything JarDan and Zeth had done all night. She reached for JarDan’s hand, grateful when he closed his fingers around hers. “There’s not any room here that doesn’t have at least one window or a chimney.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

128

From the towers to the dungeon, there’s nowhere we can be assured of complete privacy.” Dak looked at JarDan and shrugged. “Am I to assume there is information so critical that you require unquestioned security for the disclosure?” Zeth waited until JarDan and Dak nodded in agreement before continuing. “In that case, use the language of our ancestors.” That had all three men grinning like idiots. “Of course.” JarDan agreed. “We don’t …” “No,” Melodie argued before he could continue. “If you do that, then I won’t know what you’re talking about.” A sudden thought brought an unusual tightness to her chest. Since she was the only one around she must be the reason for their continued silence. “If you will excuse me.” She whispered, trying to pull free of JarDan’s grip. “I’ll leave you to your secrets.” She tried not to let it hurt, after all hadn’t she accused JarDan of the same thing? JarDan increased the pressure of his arm across her lap until she quit fighting to get free. When she glared at him, her eyes were unnaturally bright. Bringing her hand to his mouth, JarDan whispered against her skin. “I trust you with my secrets, my life,” he paused, wishing they were alone, “and my heart.” Her gasp of surprise raised his temperature a good ten degrees and her smile was brighter and warmer than the summer sun. When she relaxed back into the chair, he returned his attention to his father’s grinning face and Dak’s scowl. “Before we switch to the ancient language,” Zeth interrupted, “I have an announcement I’d like to make.” Taking a deep breath, he leaned across until his hand covered JarDan and Melodie’s entwined fingers. “I’ve spent the past few days thinking about Falcon Tor and the differences between now and when I accepted the crown from my father so many years ago. In three days time we will again fill the castle, only this time it will be by royal invitation. There will be a feast to celebrate your bonding and … to pass the Crown of Tor to you, my son.” “What?” JarDan gasped. “By all the Ancient Prophets, why? You’re still a strong leader. You can rule for many years, yet.” “As I said, it’s something I’ve thought about for a while. The preparations are underway and Raiwan spent most of today putting my records in order for you. At midday tomorrow, I will set my seal to the Archives making it official and irreversible.” His gaze swept from JarDan to Melodie. “Our way of life is changing -- and this is good. Our people need a leader who understands and believes in these changes and can adapt with them. Now,” Zeth turned his full attention back to his son and Dak, “in the old tongue, what has happened?” Concentrating on the complexities of a seldom used language and the horrors of the miner’s camp, JarDan didn’t see the look of understanding that passed between his mate and his father nor did he see Melodie silently whisper thank you. ****

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

129

“Are you going to sleep all day?” JarDan whispered against Melodie’s shoulder. By the time he and Dak told Zeth of their suspicions and made plans to trap the spy, it was dawn. He intended to give Melodie an edited version of the report once they were in their room, but he never got the chance. They had spent most of his first night home making love; and into the next day as well. He didn’t think it was possible for a man to respond so often but he was happy to know it could happen. He should feel guilty for exhausting her with his attentions, but he didn’t. He was male enough to take pride in the fact that he was responsible for her current condition. His sleeping wife never knew when he carried her to bed and undressed her. She lay with her naked hips nestled against his stomach. Her legs tangled with his. Although it was nearly noon -- and despite the number of times in the past two days, it wasn’t food he hungered for... Using the tips of his fingers, JarDan traced her skin from shoulder to wrist and back; over her ribs to the curve of her waist; down the gentle slope of her hip. Melodie moved against his morning arousal with a low sound of pleasure. Encouraged by her response, he reversed the direction of his fingers until they brushed the side of her breast. Cupping the mound in his hand, he tested its weight before softly brushing the tip with this thumb. Her flesh swelled in his hand and he caught the hardening bud between his fingers, pulling in a gentle rhythm. “Don’t you have something better to do?” She grumbled even as she shifted closer to his heat. “Definitely.” He agreed sliding his hand over the satin smoothness of her stomach, stopping long enough to tease the slight dip of her navel. “But I thought …” He kissed her shoulder. “… we’d take our time …” He traced the outer shell of her ear with his tongue. “… and thoroughly enjoy ourselves … His fingers combed through the dark curls between her legs. “… before we moved on to …” His thumb teased the swollen center of her pleasure. “… the best part.” His fingers slid deep into her wetness, keeping time with his stroking thumb. Melodie’s legs tightened around his hand as her release rocked her against him. Her unabashed response almost unmanned him. Fighting for control, he pulled her tighter against his chest, one hand cupping her breast, the other still held captive in the velvet warmth of her body. When she relaxed against him, JarDan released her and rolled until he was on his back, pulling her onto his chest. “That’s some alarm clock you have,” Melodie whispered on a sigh, crossing her arms across his chest and resting her chin on her hands. Sliding his hands into the rioting curls spilling around her shoulders, he pulled her closer. “Just wanted to be sure you were wide awake before I got to the best part.” “You mean that wasn’t your best effort?” She asked in mock seriousness. “Minx.” He growled before plunging his tongue deep into her mouth. JarDan

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

130

used the pressure of his mouth to force hers to open wider for his kiss. He was like a desert bird seeking sustenance from the oasis of her passion. The taste of her was more addictive than any illegal hallucinogen and he knew without a doubt this driving need for his mate would never end. When he pulled back from the kiss, Melodie’s breathing was as ragged as his own. One glance into her remarkable eyes, eyes that mirrored her every thought and emotion, told him her body was once again coming to life for him. Always for him. He flexed his hips, pushing the evidence of his need against her abdomen. With a slow, sensual movement, she pushed against the hard muscles of his chest, tunneling her fingers through the thick covering of hair until she sat astride his hips. JarDan could do nothing more than drag air into his lungs with ragged gasps, fighting the almost overwhelming urge to thrust. “You be sure to tell me when we get to the best part.” She purred, pushing her hips into his groin. JarDan answered her teasing provocation with a groan of unbearable pleasure. Melodie raised her hips until his arousal stood poised at the entrance to her body. Every muscle in his body trembled with the effort it took to control the fire in his blood; waiting while she lowered herself enough to barely take him inside her wetness. “Are we there?” JarDan clenched his jaw at her throaty whisper, his fingers kneading the supple muscles in her thighs. “No.” He finally managed to croak past a throat gone dry. She smiled again and lowered herself another inch. Her rapid breathing told him just how shaky her control was, which eased a little of the burning need for release clinching his stomach. When he tried to raise his hips to meet hers and put an end to this delicious torment, she quickly countered his thrust by pulling back. He knew he could overpower her, but her games of seduction pleased him too much to force the issue. With another moan of pleasure, he relaxed against the mattress. “Is that the best you can do?” He taunted with a wicked grin then almost exploded when she rotated her hips and slid down another inch. “By the Beard of the Prophet, woman!” He gasped. “Another move like that and your game is over before it’s played.” Melodie smiled in feminine satisfaction. Lifting her arms, she slid her hands beneath the curling curtain of hair around her shoulders and stretched, pushing her swollen breasts up and out as she slid another inch lower on his body. JarDan felt the tremors of her arousal pulsing around him. Every movement, every breath she took caused her inner muscles to clench tighter. He recognized the tingling in the small of his back warning him that his climax would not wait much longer. When she rotated her hips again, he lost what little control he had left. He sat up and pulled her gyrating body down hard on his own, thrusting up simultaneously. “I warned you what would happen if you moved like that.” He growled against her mouth as he ground their lower bodies together. When she dug her fingers into the sweat-slicked muscles of his back and whispered I know JarDan rolled until she lay

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

131

beneath him, burying himself completely. Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him tight. Thrusting hard and fast, JarDan pushed them toward completion. The sounds of her climax filled the room blending with his shout. His body kept thrusting until the last tremor faded to a shudder and straining muscles relaxed in total satisfaction. “That was the best part.” He managed to mumble as he rolled his weight to the bed, keeping Melodie close to his side. He took the sound she made to be an agreement since he didn’t have the energy to debate the issue. Every time he made love to her he was sure it couldn’t get any better and yet, every time was better than the time before. At this rate, he’d be dead long before the coronation ceremony. JarDan smoothed the hair from her face and gently kissed her forehead. From the deep, regular breathing, he assumed she slept. “I give my heart to you, my love.” He whispered, pulling the coverlet over their naked bodies. “Guard it well.” Just as he drifted into sleep, he felt dampness against his chest. Before he could question the reason for her tears, he heard her whisper. “Now, that’s the best part.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

132

Chapter Nineteen After two days of preparing for tonight’s feast, Melodie needed a nap. There wasn't a cobweb or dust bunny from highest tower to the lowest dungeon. There was enough food to feed the entire planet for a month. The MediCenter was ready to handle any overnight guests who couldn’t find rooms in the castle. Everything was as ready as she and her staff could make it. The only irritant was Tiana. When word of Zeth’s abdication reached the young woman, she went into a screaming fit the likes of which Melodie had never witnessed in her life. Grandpa would have tanned her backside for such disgraceful behavior. Zeth finally had to restrict her to her room before he could maintain any semblance of peace. Tiana’s ungracious attitude affected Zeth strongly and it broke Melodie’s heart to see his disappointment and pain. Tiana came into Zeth’s home as an infant and he’d showered her with the same love he generously gave JarDan and Dak. The more anyone did for Tiana, the more she expected as her due. Just this morning, Zeth finally threatened to give her in marriage to the first man fool enough to ask for her if she didn’t end this battle of wills with him. Tiana may be spoiled, but she wasn’t stupid. The girl realized she’d pushed Zeth too far. Melodie hadn’t seen JarDan since breakfast when he sent Dak to greet the arriving guests and he disappeared with Zeth into the Council of Elders for the official transfer of power. The coronation ceremony tonight was just for show. “I thought you were going to rest.” ArDell’s accusation interrupted her introspection. “And I thought you were going to go away and leave me in peace.” Melodie mumbled as she snuggled beneath the soft white blanket. “Humph.” ArDell snorted. “Can’t trust you to follow orders. Now go to sleep or you’ll fall over in your soup tonight.” “It won’t do any good. I can’t seem to get enough sleep. Besides, is that any way to talk to the queen?” She ruined her attempt at sounding haughty with a gigantic yawn just before she closed her eyes. Maybe just a short nap. **** “Melodie, it’s time to get ready for the feast.” “ArDell,” Melodie grumbled, “will you make up your mind? You just told me to go to sleep.” The maid laughed as she stripped the blanket from the bed. “That was three hours ago. Your bath’s ready so get up.” Melodie jerked upright, staring at the sun hanging low in the sky. “Impossible.” She argued. “I just closed my eyes.” Seeing the militant expression on her maid’s face, she raised her hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I’m going. Nag, nag, nag.” She muttered, hoping the bubbly warmth of the tub would dispel the lingering traces of lethargy. Between preparing for tonight’s celebration during the day and making love with her husband several times a night, her lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with her.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

133

JarDan was waiting for her when she finished her bath. His warm gaze told her he wished they had time for him to join her in the warm water. “I didn’t expect to see you until later.” She told him stepping into his arms. “The Council is in recess.” JarDan indicated the large box on her vanity with a jerk of his head. “I wanted to be the one to bring this to you.” “What is it?” She asked, tracing the intricately carved panel on the wooden lid. He and Zeth constantly presented her with gifts but she still wasn’t comfortable with accepting such generosity. “The Crown Jewels of Tor.” He replied, lifting the lid to reveal a spectacular array of necklaces, bracelets, broaches and rings bright with the twinkling lights of a thousand gemstones. In the center, surrounded by the gleaming gems sat a golden tiara with a single clear, white diamond the size of a robin’s egg that would rest in the middle of her forehead. “I can’t wear this,” she whispered, “what if I lose it or get mugged or …” He silenced her with a fingertip against her mouth. “Other than the tiara that you must wear on formal occasions, I don’t care if you wear them or not. They have been handed down through countless generations and they’re yours for as long as you are my queen.” JarDan reached for her left hand and traced the ring made from the bonding cord. “This is the only adornment I care about.” Melodie blinked rapidly against the sudden rush of tears. Drat! It didn’t take much to make her cry lately. She raised his hand to her lips, feeling the coolness of the matching band of gold fitted to his wrist, and smiled at him through her tears. “Here, now.” ArDell interrupted the intimate scene between her king and queen. “There’s no time for such dallying. If you want your queen to be ready,” she poked JarDan in his chest, “then you best get on in to your own bath and let me get her dressed.” Melodie laughed at the look of stunned surprise on JarDan’s face. “I’m afraid she has no respect for authority. You may be king, but she’s still the boss.” He left the room grumbling about sassy women. At precisely six o’clock, JarDan returned to escort her to the feast below. She couldn’t stop staring at the man standing before her. His white velvet tunic molded itself to his broad shoulders and thick chest and contrasted sharply with his dark good looks. She wanted to run her hands over the broad expanse to test the difference between the firmness beneath the shirt and the softness of the material. Long, powerful legs, encased in leggings made of buttery soft, white leather, flexed and rippled between the high tops of his white boots and the lower edge of his tunic. A wide white belt with a jewel encrusted buckle emphasized his narrow waist. His hair fell loosely around his shoulders and Melodie realized it was the first time she had ever seen him out of bed without the circle of gold around his forehead. “Do I meet with your approval, my queen?” His wicked grin brought a blush to her cheeks. “You certainly have mine. Your beauty will outshine every other woman present.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

134

Melodie didn’t believe she was beautiful, but hearing him say so made her feel very special. She knew she looked good in the gown Zeth brought to her this morning. The underdress of shimmery gold matched the embroidery around the neck and hem of the white velvet overdress. A girdle of small gold links circled her hips. ArDell worked miracles with her hair. With the curls that formed naturally with the shorter length, the talented maid created a cascade of small ringlets that trailed down the center of her back. For all the intricacy of her hairstyle, the heavy gold tiara would fit securely when placed on her head. White and gold. The colors of the House of Tor. Making a loose fist, JarDan held his arm out to Melodie. “Come, love,” he whispered as she rested her hand atop his, “our guests await our arrival.” With a deep breath Melodie stepped into the hall with her husband. A complement of four guards stood at full attention, waiting to escort them to the hall. For the first time, she didn’t stop to wonder at the light from the energy stone. She focused on the only anchor in her rapidly changing world, the man beside her. Gripping his wrist until she felt the imprint of his bonding band against her palm, she prayed he would never be disappointed in her. With her head held high and a smile on her face, she descended the winding stairs to the sound of trumpets and drums. People filled the main hall. The one hundred and fifty warriors from Falcon Tor and ninety wives of those who were married mingled with at least a hundred guests. Short notice prevented all but the closest of the original five hundred guests from attending. Melodie didn’t know where they would seat them if they did show up. Instead of going straight to the dais as they usually did, JarDan led her slowly to the center of the room where Dak waited for them. In the dark blue leather boots and leggings of his family color and the deep gold velvet tunic in honor of his foster family, he was as magnificent as her husband. Unlike JarDan, Dak wore his formal sword at his side. After a deep bow, Dak turned and led them to the dais where Zeth waited with Tiana. Zeth’s clothes mirrored JarDan’s, the only difference being the formal sword at his side and the heavy gold chain around his neck. Tiana had chosen to wear a gown of metallic gold, cut low in front and fitted tightly to her narrow waist. On anyone else the effect would have been gaudy, but with her auburn hair and green eyes, Melodie had to admit she was spectacular. When Dak reached the base of the steps below Zeth he stepped to the right and stood at attention. JarDan and Melodie knelt on soft, white pillows placed on the step above the floor. While the music swelled and ended with a flourish, JarDan turned his hand enough to catch her fingers in his. Her fingers trembled when he lowered their hands but she returned the pressure when he squeezed her fingers. The amount of courage his wife possessed constantly amazed him. Although still uncomfortable with her position as princess, she would soon become a queen. Her beauty and serenity completely masked her trepidation to all but him and his family. Even Dak was beginning to admire her. “Today,” Zeth began when the crowd quieted, “in the presence of the Council of Elders, I officially relinquished my claim to the Crown of Tor. Tonight, in the presence of this esteemed audience, I pass the Crown of Tor to my son and heir, JarDan.” Zeth

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

135

reached behind him and lifted the crown from its bed of white satin. Holding it above JarDan’s head, he completed the transfer of power. “May you rule with wisdom and compassion.” He lowered the crown, “King JarDan of Falcon Tor.” JarDan hoped his father wouldn’t allow the cheering and clapping to continue for too long. The sound echoed and reechoed through the hall until he could barely hear himself think. He didn’t think Melodie’s illusion of confidence would last too long in this pandemonium. “Rise, King JarDan,” Zeth finally continued, “and name your queen.” JarDan released Melodie’s hand and stood. When his father handed him the golden tiara, he turned to face the woman fate had placed in his life. “You are my queen, Melodie of Tor, for as long as my heart continues to beat.” He felt her shudder when the icy diamond settled against her skin and wished he could toss the tiara back onto the box still on her vanity table. “Arise, my queen.” He lifted Melodie to her feet and turned with her to face their guests in a repeat of her first night on Anderas. Unlike that night, his warriors didn’t draw their swords in a pledge of acceptance. Their formal vows of allegiance would come tomorrow. Tonight they cheered and yelled and clapped an exuberant display of loyalty that brought a genuine smile to Melodie’s face. He led Melodie to the two throne chairs brought from the Council Chamber for tonight’s ceremony as Zeth stepped down and turned to face them. Once seated, JarDan again took Melodie’s hand in his, pleased with how quickly her trembling stopped when he touched her. “As is the custom,” JarDan announced to the settling crowd, “the former monarch may ask a boon of the new king and, if it is in my power, it shall be granted.” He gazed at his father with love and respect. “What is your boon, Father?” “My king,” Zeth bowed his head, “I ask that my foster son, Lord Dak of the House of Beldon, be awarded the title of Prince and be considered your successor until an heir is born to the royal house.” `Since he and his father had discussed this earlier in the day, he was prepared. “Nothing would make me happier than to have the brother of my heart become my brother in fact.” JarDan stood and signaled for Jace, leader of the Council of Elders, to approach. The older man carried the gold circle JarDan himself wore until today. Taking the symbol of the Crown Prince of Tor in his hands, JarDan signaled for Dak. It took considerable will power on his part to maintain a serious demeanor when looking at the stunned surprise on Dak’s face as he knelt on the pillow at JarDan’s feet. “From this day forward you shall be known as Prince Dak of the House of Beldon.” JarDan placed the slender band of gold around Dak’s head. “Until my queen presents me with a son, you shall be heir to the Crown of Tor.” JarDan held out his hand to his new brother. “Now we really are brothers.” Dak stood and grasped JarDan by the arm, in the standard wrist-to-wrist salute of warriors. “I don’t know what to say. Why did he … I had no idea …” As his words trailed off into silence he and JarDan stared at each other until both burst out laughing, grabbing each other in a bear hug and pounding each other on the back. With his arm still around Dak’s shoulders, JarDan turned back to the waiting

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

136

guests. “Let the feasting begin.” The long table where the royal family usually ate their meals no longer sat upon the dais. In its place were three smaller tables just big enough for two people at each. The newly crowned King and Queen of Tor occupied the place of honor in the center of the dais with Zeth and Tiana sharing a table on their right and Dak and Jace on their left. Melodie gratefully signaled for the army of kitchen workers to begin serving the meal. She hated being the focus of so much attention. Using the constant flow of food from the kitchen as a screen, of sorts, she tried to pretend it was no different from any other meal by ignoring the laughter and conversations around her. The aroma of roasted meat, smoked fish and baked fowl filled the air. Pastries stuffed with meat and vegetable mixtures and casseroles made with delicate sauces complimented the meats. Every variety of vegetable available from the surrounding fields beckoned with the bouquet of exotic spices. She didn’t think she’d be able to eat more than a few bites but she allowed JarDan to fill her plate from the dozens of dishes offered to them. She swallowed a small mouthful of boranut casserole, recognizing it from the meal she shared with JarDan aboard his ship. When she glanced up at him, his wicked wink told her he not only remembered, but chose the dish deliberately. Blushing to the roots of her hair, she slipped her hand from her lap to his and pinched him on the inside of his thigh. “Something wrong?” She asked in wide-eyed innocence when he yelped. Before he could reply the soft music changed to a pulse-pounding beat and a troupe of acrobats, jugglers and dancers rushed into the hall. “Oh.” Melodie gasped in delight. “It’s like I always imagined a circus would be. Look, JarDan!” She gripped her husband’s arm as the acrobats balanced themselves, one on top of the other’s shoulders, until they stood six men tall. The burly foundation of this living tower moved between the tables toward the king’s table, weaving a drunken path that had women squealing in fright and men shouting. Melodie laughed at their theatrics until the man on the bottom stumbled and sent the other five flying through the air. Her scream turned to a cheer when all six began tumbling across the floor. The youngest, not more than ten or twelve, ended his routine with a flourish directly in front of the royal couple and presented a wreath of tiny flowers and ribbons to his newly crowned queen. Wiping tears of laughter and appreciation from her cheeks, Melodie removed the heavy tiara with one hand and replaced it with the fairy wreath before she realized what she was doing. With a gasp of shock, she turned to JarDan, expecting him to be angry. “Relax, my love.” JarDan whispered for her ears alone. “It is a great honor you’ve given them by placing their simple offering above your crown.” He lifted her hand and placed a soft kiss across her knuckles. “You make me proud.” She laid her head on his shoulder to hide the tears stinging her eyes. When she looked up, the talented acrobats were gone, replaced by a trio of dancers. The music changed again to keep time with the swaying bodies of the three young women. As they moved back and forth through the hall, leaping and swirling between the tables, their bare feet beat a steadily increasing tempo. The bright, bold colors of their skirts and scarves flashed as they moved closer and closer to the center of the room.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

137

With clapping hands and stomping feet, the audience kept time and encouraged the dancers until the music came to a sudden end and all three dropped gracefully to the floor. “Yip! Yip! Yip! Yip! Yip!” Cried the jugglers in a strange high-pitched announcement. Running from table to table like the acrobats and dancers before them, they picked up silverware, empty plates; one man even pulled a shoe from a woman’s foot, until each man had a variety of items that he began tossing in the air. An unspoken cue started these same items flying between the jugglers in a spectacular display of timing and precision. Everything was happening so fast. The constant leaping and jumping and running and yelling, as exciting as it was strange, made Melodie dizzy. “This is wonderful!” She yelled to make herself heard over the commotion. “I’ve never had so much fun. Thank you.” She leaned over and kissed JarDan on the cheek. “You’re welcome, but I’ll let you thank me in greater detail later.” He drawled. She merely raised her eyebrow in imitation of his favorite expression and turned back to the activity in the hall. As suddenly as the entertainment began, it ended. One minute the entire troupe rushed around the hall, keeping time with the stimulating music. The next, they darted through the door and the music ended, filling the hall with deafening silence. Applause broke out among the guests although the recipients of their praise were no longer there. “Is it over?” Melodie asked, looking around the room, unable to completely hide her disappointment. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities in the next few days to see them perform. Would you care for dessert before we present ourselves to our guests?” For a little while she’d managed to forget the significance of the night. Faced with the prospect of so many strangers, she felt the excitement of the performance drain from her. “I don’t think I want anything.” She whispered with a shake of her head. “We might as well …” The music of flutes suddenly filled the castle with an eerie sound. All around them, people were glancing about in confusion. “I thought you said the show was over?” Melodie asked, rubbing her arms in sudden chill. “It is.” JarDan answered absently, already signaling for Dak to seek out the source of the strange music that continued to grow louder and louder. Silence spread quickly through the hall as the eerie refrain continued. Not even the restless rustle of fabric from the uncomfortable guests disturbed the off-key melody. A sudden flash of light, an explosion and a huge plume of white smoke filled the center of the great hall. Women screamed and men quickly unsheathed the formal swords at their sides, offering protection in the face of this unknown danger. “Melodie!” JarDan barked, pulling her down behind their table. “Stay down! Father? Tiana? Is anyone hurt?” “We’re fine, son.” Zeth, too, held the smaller sword in his hand while he pushed Tiana out of sight.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

138

“Everyone remain calm!” JarDan yelled to the assembled crowd. He and Dak headed for the column of smoke that continued to thicken. Another explosion rocked the room. This time, a man appeared in the center of the cloud of smoke. JarDan and Dak backed away, unable to see through the haze to identify the man. Melodie peeked over the top of the table as JarDan and Dak moved closer to where she hid. “You old fool!” JarDan suddenly bellowed. “You could have been killed with that cheap carnival trick.” The smoke cleared and more of the guests recognized this newest addition to the entertainment and the tension in the room evaporated. The strange man wore a voluminous black robe that covered him from neck to floor, embroidered completely in strange designs and symbols in every color imaginable. He carried a tall wooden staff with a clear crystal embedded in the top. Long, snow-white hair trailed behind him on the floor and a beard the same color covered his chest, reaching past his knees. A magician! JarDan must not have known about his act. No wonder everyone was so upset. An unexpected entrance like that could cause a heart attack. Melodie promised herself she’d speak to the man after he finished his act and request he give a little warning next time. “Bring me your queen, JarDan, King of Falcon Tor!” The voice of the magician thundered through the quiet room. “Why?” JarDan asked looking back to where she stood behind the table. “Bring me your queen!” If this was part of the entertainment, the old man needed to work on his presentation. He totally failed in the amusement category. In fact, he scared the pants off her. Glancing around the room, she noticed that she wasn’t the only one getting nervous. She thought it very strange when JarDan finally nodded at the old coot and held out his hand to her. His damp palm surprised her when she placed her hand in his and she could see the muscle in his cheek clench and release. Whoever this old man was, he had JarDan worried. The strange intensity in her husband’s eyes seemed to beg for understanding but offered very little assurance. “Queen Melodie,” JarDan began in a quiet, formal voice, “I present the Royal Oracle, Raiwan.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

139

Chapter Twenty Melodie stared at the strange old man and tried to hide her uneasiness. “How do you do?” She replied softly. Raiwan’s obsidian stare set off warning bells in her head and she tightened her grip on JarDan’s hand. If she let go, she had no doubt she would bolt for the nearest door. Suddenly, the oracle closed his eyes and began to chant in a voice too loud and strong to belong to someone so old. He appeared to float rather than walk as he slowly circled JarDan and Melodie. “JarDan …” The tightening of JarDan’s fingers around hers silenced the questions she ached to ask. When Raiwan completed his circuit around them, his chanting stopped and his eyes, black and filled with the knowledge of the ages, again focused on her. This time she couldn’t prevent the shiver of fright that shook her. “Fear me not, Queen of Tor,” Raiwan’s voice no longer thundered, but soothed with its gentle timbre, “for we are locked together in a battle as old as time itself.” Melodie opened her mouth but the oracle had already turned his attention to JarDan, leaving her more confused than ever. Locked together in battle? Was the Royal Oracle crazy or just senile? “Take your queen and return to your place of honor, King of Tor,” Raiwan ordered with a wave of one gnarled hand, “and heed my words well.” “Raiwan,” JarDan began, “if you require an audience …” “Silence!” The old wizard roared. “Obey me and all will be revealed! Defy me and all you hold dear will be destroyed!” “You have my undivided attention, Raiwan.” JarDan’s voice held a blatant warning as he slowly backed them to the throne chairs. “Dak,” he ordered without breaking eye contact with the wizard, “stand between my sister and my father.” JarDan waited until Dak was in position before he continued. “Kill anyone who approaches them.” Not by so much as a twitch of an eyelash did Raiwan acknowledge the order. The ancient wise man knew the very instant Zeth drew his sword and stepped in front of Tiana. Raiwan gave a slight smile when Jace passed his short, ceremonial sword to the newly crowned king before backing away from the tense confrontation. “You have great courage King of Tor,” Raiwan admitted, “for one so foolhardy.” JarDan took one step toward the wizard before Melodie grabbed his arm. “Please, is this really necessary?” Her voice quivered in fear. Again JarDan marveled at his mate’s courage. He could feel the quaking of her body even as she stood proudly beside him. Truly a queen worthy of the title. Slipping his arm around her waist, he pulled her tight against his side. For her -- and only her -would he ignore Raiwan’s veiled insults. “Have your say, Wizard.” JarDan relented. Without a sound, the Royal Oracle raised the wooden staff and pointed the glittering crystal at the royal couple. As suddenly as summer lightening, a beam of

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

140

golden light exploded from the stone and bathed Melodie in its radiance. JarDan struggled as the light pushed its way between them, but Melodie no longer feared the old man. The light soothed and calmed her. She breathed deeply, glorying in the wondrous feeling of warmth and security flooding her entire body. Surrendering to the will of the light, she relaxed and let the beam wash over her. The strange beam of light slowly traveled from the top of her head to her feet and started back. When it reached her abdomen, Raiwan raised his other hand. “Behold, King JarDan of Tor,” Raiwan commanded in his thundering voice, “the heir to the House of Tor.” A small ball of the same golden light pooled in the oracle’s hand before slowly growing and expanding until it was about six feet in diameter and floated above his outstretched hand like a wisp of fog. Inside the light appeared an infant with midnight black hair that matched hers and JarDan’s. Curled in the fetal position, a birthmark was clearly visible in the center of the child’s back. The same star-shaped mark that she once thought was a tattoo. Melodie covered her mouth in stunned surprise as tears formed and slid down her cheeks. A baby! She was going to have JarDan’s baby. Suddenly the light no longer kept JarDan away from her and she hurled herself into his waiting arms. With her arms locked tightly around his neck, she eagerly met his kiss as a tidal wave of cheering filled the great hall. When JarDan finally sat her back on her feet, she hid her face against his broad chest in embarrassment. Most couples shared such information in private, not before three hundred people. “Did you know, my love?” JarDan asked softly against her ear. All she could manage was a slight shake of her head. She probably should have known. The unnoticed symptoms were suddenly vivid in her mind. Her last period was right before the auction of her grandfather’s farm, more than four months ago. Her fatigue and the tears that would flow without warning now took on an entirely different meaning. JarDan turned to face Raiwan. “I apologize for …” The wizard didn’t wait for him to finish. With a small, rotating motion of his flattened hand, the ball of light rolled until the infant was laying face up. The gasps of shock from the assembled crowd blended with those of JarDan, Dak and Zeth. “It’s a girl, JarDan.” Melodie whispered in confusion. That’s impossible, her mind screamed. Anderan men can’t father girl babies. That’s why they have to take females from Earth. How can I be carrying a baby girl? “This is impossible.” JarDan echoed her own thoughts, turning to Raiwan. “On my last physical before leaving for Earth, I tested positive for the virus. How …” “I told you she would bring nothing but trouble.” Tiana taunted from her position behind Zeth. “I tried to warn you. She has to die before she gets us all killed.” “No.” Melodie denied, shielding her stomach with both hands and moving closer to JarDan as Tiana advanced on her with her sharp table knife raised and ready for attack.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

141

Tiana no longer bothered to hide her hatred of Melodie. The young woman JarDan called sister got no farther than Zeth and Dak before they caught and held her securely, knocking the knife from her hand. With a scream of outrage, Tiana lunged and scratched and fought the two men until Raiwan intervened. “Silence!” He bellowed, bringing calm to the chaos of the hall. Some part of Melodie recognized the sound of guests seeking their seats. Some voiced their outrage of the actions of the young princess, but most were quiet. Melodie, safe in JarDan’s powerful arms, felt no pity for Tiana when Zeth ordered her taken to her room and kept under guard. The stricken look on King Zeth’s pale face broke her heart. “Do not waste your energies on the child’s jealous accusations, King JarDan.” Raiwan instructed. “You have a grave quest before you.” “Enough of your riddles, old man.” JarDan turned his anger and frustration on the oracle. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble tonight with your carnival tricks? My joy at learning of the child Melodie carries is dimmed by the heartbreak my father just suffered from Tiana’s ranting.” With a sad shake of his head, Raiwan confronted his former student. “It is as it must be, JarDan.” “Then finish your tale,” JarDan sighed in resignation, “and let us finish this … unsettling evening.” Raiwan closed his fist and the image of the infant disappeared. Still pointing the golden light at Melodie, the ancient wizard fixed his dark gaze on JarDan and began his tale. “First, I must tell you of an ancient legend. This legend tells of a warrior queen who will appear at the time of great peril to the land. It is said this warrior queen will hold the power of life for Falcon Tor.” Raiwan turned his intense gaze on Melodie. “Beware, JarDan, King of Tor, for that time of peril is here.” “Me? A Warrior Queen?” Melodie asked in astonishment. “You can’t mean me. Tell him, JarDan.” She looked up at her husband’s stony face. “I can’t even watch you and your men practice without getting sick to my stomach.” Melodie turned back to the strange old man, her voice strong with conviction. “I’m strictly nonviolent. There is no way I can be that warrior queen.” “When the time of need is greatest, my queen,” Raiwan promised with a warm smile, “you will do what must be done. In the meantime, the golden light will protect the infant you carry from the dark powers that, even now, are gathering force around you. “JarDan, my young friend.” Raiwan continued, suddenly looking older than his many years, his body no longer held straight. “Only you can prevent the coming confrontation but it will not be an easy task.” “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my family, Raiwan. Tell me.” “All I can tell you is that you must find what has been lost for countless generations. Remember. Knowledge is power.” “More riddles.” JarDan’s bark of mirthless laughter turned to desperation.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

142

“You’re asking me to gamble the lives of my family on riddles. Speak plainly.” “I cannot.” Raiwan whispered. “To say more would give warning to those who plot your destruction …” Whatever warning the Oracle intended to give never happened. A pair of giant hands, ghostly and opaque, materialized in the air and closed around Raiwan’s stooped body. Shock held JarDan motionless until his old teacher gasped, fighting for air. By the Prophets! Those spectral hands are crushing the life from him! “You are too late with your warning, old man,” A voice declared. “Soon, I will destroy the House of Tor and there is nothing you can do to prevent it.” JarDan stiffened as a face appeared, floating above the transparent hands. “Morandoni!” JarDan yelled shoving Melodie into Dak’s arms and leaping toward Raiwan’s convulsing body. Harsh, maniacal laughter filled the silence of the hall as the hands disappeared, letting the broken body of the ancient oracle fall into JarDan’s arms. His warriors leapt to the defense of their king with swords drawn, forming a barrier between the guests and the royal family. “You are a fool, Tor JarDan, just like your father. Already my Minions of the Dark are at work in the House of Tor. Torak almost succeeded in destroying your beautiful bride. He failed only because of your lust. What he began I will finish -- and before she can deliver the girl child.” With a final burst of crazed laughter, the image faded, leaving a heavy silence in the great hall. Denied the chance of doing battle, JarDan could only stand with Jace’s sword clenched in his fist, his body quivering and no enemy to vanquish. “JarDan …” Raiwan’s faint rasp drew his attention from Morandoni. “Quickly!” JarDan called to anyone in range of his voice. “Notify the MediCenter.” “No … too late,” wheezed Raiwan. “Chest crushed … dying … must tell …” “Don’t try to talk, old friend. Save your strength.” Zeth straightened Raiwan’s broken body, trying to make him as comfortable as possible until the MediCenter technicians arrived. JarDan welcomed his father’s presence. His teacher and his father were lifelong friends. With a feeble flutter of icy fingers, Raiwan motioned JarDan closer until his ear hovered above the older man’s mouth. “Must remember …” JarDan strained to hear the last words Raiwan fought death to impart. When the wizard shuddered one final time, JarDan knew he was dead. “Morandoni will pay for this, Raiwan.” He whispered while closing the sightless eyes of the ancient oracle. Raiwan was like a member of the family. For as long as JarDan could remember, he turned to Raiwan as often as he did Zeth. First as a teacher, later as a friend and confident, the Oracle helped shape the man who was now king. “Come, my son.” Zeth touched JarDan’s shoulder. “We can do no more for him.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

143

Let the medical team prepare his body for burial. You have a roomful of frightened guests to soothe and a queen who needs rest.” JarDan stood and searched out his mate. Dak still protected her as he knew he would. Only now, his brother cradled Melodie against his chest. He knew by her shaking shoulders that she was crying. “Go to her, JarDan.” Zeth urged softly. “I will see to our guests.” “My friends,” Zeth addressed the anxious crowd when JarDan turned toward Dak and Melodie. “I’m sure you will understand that my family seeks solitude at this time. Guards will be provided to guarantee your safe departure from Falcon Tor.” A tall, elegant man with dark, slanted eyes followed Zeth back to the family table and bowed deeply before JarDan. “I cannot speak for the rest, King JarDan, but my entourage will leave immediately for Aisalin Isle. My Empress and I stand ready to help you in any way we can. I would ask that our physicians share in the analysis of the female infant situation. This occurrence could greatly affect all of us, as you well know.” JarDan nodded at Emperor Vos and his wife, his arm still holding Melodie to his side. “Have your physicians contact Doctor Sladal. My queen and I thank you for coming so far on such short notice. Perhaps we can continue this celebration in true Anderan fashion when this business is behind us.” “Most assuredly, your majesty. We look forward to that time.” The Emperor signaled for his guards and ordered the gathering of his people and their luggage for immediate departure. The remaining guests followed his lead and said their goodbyes. “Will you arrange for Raiwan’s burial, Dak?” JarDan asked when the last guest had left the hall. “The medical team should be through with him by morning.” “Of course, JarDan.” Dak agreed his voice husky with emotion. “I don’t know what good guards will do against something like … that,” Dak waved his hand toward where Morandoni’s image once floated, “but I’ll post extra men at each of our doors.” JarDan turned to his father as Dak left. “Is there anything we can do? I know how much you cared for Raiwan … and Tiana.” Zeth suddenly looked old to JarDan. Old and tired and heart sick and there wasn’t anything he could do to ease the man’s torment. He would grieve for the ancient wizard in his own way. With Tiana … as with all parents, his father would deal with her as best he could and hope he did what was right for all of them. JarDan had no doubt his own children would cause their individual moments of grief and worry. Recalling the tiny infant from Raiwan’s magic, JarDan pulled Melodie closer to his side, wanting to protect her from the danger of Morandoni’s threats. Raiwan was wrong. Melodie wasn’t a part of this battle. As her husband it was his responsibility to protect her and keep her safe -- not her’s to protect an entire kingdom. “Come, my love,” he whispered against the top of her head, breathing the delicate scent of wildflowers from the fairy wreath she still wore, “you need rest. We can do no more tonight. Tomorrow we’ll decide what must be done.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

144

PART THREE Chapter Twenty-One Melodie heaved her swollen body up from the bed, ignoring the grumbling of Sibell and Dyana. “Doctor Sladal,” she explained with exaggerated patience, “for months you’ve poked and examined and tested and generally make my life miserable trying to find out why I’m going to have a baby girl. Unless you’ve discovered something new in the last two days, you’re no closer to an answer than you were last summer. Am I correct?” She didn’t wait for his answer before moving to the door to her room. Standing in the open door, she straightened to her full five feet eleven inches. “I’ve had enough. There will be no more blood drawn; no more long hours in an examination tube; and no more of your endless questions. If you need to examine me as you would any other woman who is in her ninth month of pregnancy, then I’ll see you at the MediCenter. Look for your answers in the gallons of blood you drained from me already or ask JarDan. Good day, Doctor.” “We’ll discuss this issue when you’re not so overwrought, my Queen.” Sladal bowed and quickly slipped from the room just seconds before Melodie slammed the door on his retreating form. “I’ll show him overwrought.” Melodie grumbled, rubbing her aching back. “You shouldn’t let him upset you,” soothed Dyana. “If they can discover how you conceived a female it could mean the end of the plague.” “But JarDan still tests positive for the virus and, even here, the man determines the sex of the baby.” “This is why Doctor Sladal continues to examine you. Now, come back and lie down. If you don’t put your feet up, your shoes won’t fit over the swelling.” Melodie smiled at the amused expression on her friend’s face. The friendship between Melodie, Dyana and Sibell, forged in the dust and grime of a potato field, grew stronger every day. Dyana, quiet and practical, always knew when Melodie needed to escape the pressures of being queen or when she just wanted to talk. Sibell, with her ready wit and wicked sense of humor, never failed to make her laugh. Melodie felt very lucky that the first close friends in her entire life were these two very special women. She refused to think about what the past few months would have been like without their support. “Just what I need, skinny feet that I haven’t even seen in months.” Melodie allowed the other women to help her back to her bed. Lately, the bed was the only comfortable place she found for her swollen body. She just wished she wasn’t alone in it so often. “Has anyone heard from the patrol?” Melodie asked, pulling a light blanket over her gown. Although the energy stone kept the room at a comfortable temperature whatever the season, she always felt chilled without JarDan next to her. She didn’t miss the quick look exchanged between Dyana and ArDell before they gathered the delicate garments they were embroidering for her daughter.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

145

“What?” Melodie demanded. “Has something happened?” “No.” ArDell hurried back to the bed where Melodie struggled to get up. “Stay in bed. You need to rest.” “Are you giving your attendants a hard time, love?” JarDan’s chuckle filled the room as he closed the distance between himself and the bed. “JarDan!” Melodie exclaimed, trying again to get off the bed. “When did you get home? Did you find …?” He silenced her with a gentle kiss. “I’ll answer all your questions if you’ll promise to stay in bed.” When she nodded in agreement and settled back with her feet perched on a mountain of pillows, JarDan turned his attention to the other women in the room. “Lady Dyana, I believe Kord is waiting for you in the main hall.” He acknowledged her curtsey then escorted her and Sibell to the door. “You’re free for the evening, ArDell.” He told Melodie’s maid. “The queen and I are having dinner in our rooms tonight and I’ll see to her needs.” When they were alone, he found himself at a loss for words. For the past five months, his every thought and action centered on Melodie and the threat to her life and the life of their daughter. His first action as king was to abolish the law requiring him to remain in the castle compound. He would not stand idle while other men risked their lives. Morandoni threatened his family. Zeth, Melodie and the baby she carried were his responsibility. He would be the man responsible for the destruction of the Minions of the Dark. The tightly coiled knot of worry in his chest, his constant companion since Raiwan’s brutal murder the night of his coronation, loosened when he thought of the baby. A daughter. A tiny embodiment of his love for his wife. A true miracle baby. Picking up the delicate garments left by Melodie’s Ladies-in-Waiting, JarDan traced the band of embroidered ribbons and flowers. Every person on the planet eagerly awaited the arrival of his daughter and the hope for a normal future her birth engendered. Everyone except Morandoni. JarDan knew he had less than a month to find the evil wizard. Oracles must live deep within caves to protect their powers from the disruptive influences of science and technology. Months of searching every cave, grotto and cavern in the kingdom produced nothing but frustration and fatigue. By the Beard of the Prophet, he was bone weary, “You’re shutting me out, again.” Melodie whispered from the bed. He turned with a tired smile, returning a tiny gown to the growing pile in the basket on the floor. “It wasn’t intentional, my love.” He squatted beside the bed before taking her hand in his own. “My thoughts seem to run in endless circles these days.” “You’ve been gone almost two weeks this time.” Melodie rolled to her side and stroked his face with her free hand. “And last time was over a month and before …” JarDan placed a fingertip against her trembling lips. “We have to find Morandoni.” He whispered, stroking the fullness of her mouth. “Already the snow blocks many of the mountain passes. It’s only a matter of days, maybe a couple of weeks, before all travel beyond the hamlet will be impossible until the spring thaw.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

146

Shifting his hand to the mound of her stomach, he felt the strong movements of the child held safe and secure within her body. “Morandoni has promised to kill you before the baby is born.” He swallowed hard past the pain that gripped his heart whenever he remembered Morandoni’s threats against his family. He was running out of time. Melodie was due in three weeks. “I will not allow that to happen.” He vowed fervently. “I give you my word.” Melodie pulled him into her arms, freely giving her love. “I never doubted it for a minute.” She whispered against his neck. “You’ve protected me since we first met, remember?” He thought back to the tornado so many months past when fate took a hand and altered his life forever. The courage to face that storm still lived within her, sustained by her unshakable faith in her God and in him. The fear of breaking that trust was his constant nightmare. “You’re a remarkable woman, Melodie Smith.” JarDan grinned, ignoring the burning sensation behind his eye lids. “I’ll have you know, my name is not plain, old Melodie Smith.” She retorted with exaggerated haughtiness. “I, sir, am Queen of Falcon Tor.” JarDan’s laughter filled the room, banishing the specter of danger, at least temporarily. “My humble pardon, Your Majesty.” He stood and executed an elegant bow. “For a moment you reminded me of someone who used to run barefoot through my rose garden.” Melodie’s answering laughter helped ease the worries that plagued him. “I’m still barefoot most of the time because I can’t get shoes on.” “Is there cause for concern?” His teasing quickly gave way to concern. “I’m fine, JarDan.” Melodie insisted. “The baby’s fine. All God’s children are fine. This is normal and as long as I spend two hours every afternoon with my feet up, I can wear shoes to dinner. Will you help me up, please?” “Are you sure you should be out of bed? Sladal said you needed …” “JarDan …” The King of Tor had no problem understanding the warning in his wife’s tone of voice. Sliding one arm beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, he lifted her against his chest before crossing to the fireplace and the two massive chairs placed nearby. He sat in one of the chairs, keeping Melodie snuggled securely in his lap. “You shouldn’t carry me,” she preached, “I’m too heavy.” He pushed her head back down to his shoulder. “Don’t start.” JarDan relished the feel of her in his arms. The long months spent away from her had cheated them of precious time together. He missed making love to her. Missed holding her in the dark hours of the night. Missed watching her body change with the growth of his child. Morandoni had much to answer for when JarDan found him. And he would find him. “Uh … JarDan?” Melodie mumbled against his chest. “Mmmmm.” He answered, nuzzling the softness of her hair with his cheek. “When was the last time you … uh … had a bath?”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

147

He chuckled. He just spent days on the move with nothing more than icy spring water for cleanliness. His original plan to bathe and change clothes before coming to her got lost in his need to see her. “Are you saying I smell, love?” He asked innocently. Melodie pushed herself to a sitting position across JarDan’s lap. “Sweetheart,” she began in a patient voice, “you’re as tall as a basketball player, and built like a linebacker. You have the face of a Greek god and sex appeal to die for.” “But?” JarDan encouraged with a grin, watching her face turn pink. She had such a gentle heart. “But,” she closed her eyes, “you smell like your horse.” She finished in a whispered rush. Fighting the urge to laugh, he forced his expression into one of shock. “Melodie, my love,” he tried hard to sound upset, “unicorns don’t smell.” “Unicorns?” She blinked in confusion. “I’m talking about that hulking beast of a horse you ride.” Unable to contain his laughter, JarDan gently cupped her face. “Storm is a unicorn, love. The root of his horn was removed just after his birth, as it is with every male.” “Now I know you’re teasing me.” She jabbed her finger against his chest. “Everybody knows only a virgin can capture a unicorn and you, my dear, are no virgin.” “Where did you hear such nonsense?” JarDan laughed but quickly forced the sound into a cough when he caught sight of her narrow-eyed gaze. “Are you laughing at me?” She asked quietly, crossing her arms across her chest. “Never, love.” He quickly assured her. “Tell me what you know about unicorns.” He met and held her probing stare. “Well,” she finally began, “they’re extinct because when God sent the great flood, they were too busy playing in the grass and flowers to answer Noah’s summons to the Ark. They were shy, gentle creatures who feared men. That’s why only a virgin, a woman untouched by man, could capture them. There’s really no such thing as a unicorn. They’re a myth.” He knew by her expression she was waiting for him to laugh at her again. “They are no myth, love.” He assured her gently. “The Ancients brought unicorns here as ground transportation. I have no idea why these animals became extinct on Earth. Maybe it has something to do with why your planet didn’t progress as rapidly as the others colonized by the Ancients. “The females are gentle by nature but because of their delicate bone structure, unsuited for use as mounts even for children. A unicorn stallion is one of the most powerful, aggressively male species on any world. Unlike horses, unicorns mate for life. If left untamed, the herd forms a social structure not unlike a wolf pack, except that all paired animals produce young. “The horn of a female is never longer than ten to fourteen inches. On a mature male, the horn measures the same length as his height at his shoulders. Storm’s horn

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

148

would be well over six feet in length and lethally sharp. These males are extremely territorial and highly protective. They will sacrifice their own lives, if necessary, to protect their mates.” “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” “Sweetheart, everything you’ve known has changed,” JarDan tucked a strand of glistening black hair behind her ear, “and will continue to change as you learn more about my world. We have years to discuss all these differences.” “I like my version of unicorns better.” She mumbled, snuggling closer to his warmth. It was a measure of the depth of her trust in him that she accepted what he told her without question, “Do we, JarDan?” She whispered, leaning into his chest again. “Do we have years?” JarDan held her as tightly as her advanced pregnancy allowed, burying his face in the cloud of hair against her neck, wishing he could give her the answers she wanted. He had never lied to her and he wouldn’t start now. “I don’t know, my love.” He whispered. “If it is in my power, we’ll be old and grey with a hundred grandchildren running around the countryside. Now,” he stood with her still in his arms, “why don’t you rest while I take a bath? When I return we’ll order our dinner and you can show me all the special gowns you’ve made for the baby.” **** Melodie awoke chilled and knew she was alone in the bed. JarDan stood illuminated by the light of the twin full moons of Anderas. The light, reflected from the snow bank below the window, turned his hair to molten silver and ebony shadow and etched the rugged planes of his face. Her heart ached for the man she called husband. So strong, so powerful, he was the living embodiment of every fairy tale hero she remembered from her youth. Yet, for all his strength, he struggled with his failure to find and stop Morandoni. “Did my wiggling around wake you?” She asked, tossing the blanket back. Her daughter enjoyed sitting on her mother’s bladder at odd hours of the night. Smiling when JarDan helped her to her feet, she hurried to the bathroom, knowing he would be right outside the door when she returned. Having satisfied the effects of her baby’s gymnastics, she turned her attention to her husband. Sliding her arms around JarDan’s neck, she pulled his head down for a kiss. “Come back to bed.” She whispered against the firmness of his mouth. “I wish I could, love.” He pulled her close for a brief moment before turning her toward their favorite spot in front of the fire. “A messenger arrived a short time ago so I expect a summons soon.” “Will you have to leave again?” She tried to hide her fear when he nodded but she knew he could feel the trembling she couldn’t stop. How often would he ride out looking for Morandoni before he found him? How many nights could he and his men go with little or no sleep before their skills failed them? If he rode out tomorrow, would he come back to her alive? The flickering firelight intensified the lines bracketing his

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

149

mouth. He looked so tired. “Did you sleep at all?” She asked when he settled on the floor at her feet. “Some.” He answered, resting his head against her knee. “Being home has done me as much for me as a week’s worth of sleep. Don’t worry, love.” He turned to her with a slight smile before lowering his head. Melodie stroked the heavy mane of hair in her lap, soothing her man as only a woman can until she felt him relax against her. His soft snore brought tears to her eyes. She knew Dak would come for him soon, but until then she would savor this chance to offer him what no one else could give him. Dak’s knock, a sound so soft only someone listening for it could hear it, came barely an hour later. “Come,” she whispered, wiping the tears from her face. She met Dak’s questioning gaze and knew this summons was different. “I’m sorry, Melodie.” Dak apologized in a strange voice. She tightened her hold on JarDan’s hair for just a moment before gently shaking his shoulder. “He’s been waiting for you.” JarDan was instantly alert when he saw Dak. “The messenger?” He asked, reaching for his tunic. “I’ve already issued the orders. We leave at first light.” “Wait for me in the hall. I won’t be long.” Dak left quietly, leaving JarDan and Melodie alone. Melodie knew she couldn’t hide her tears from him so she didn’t even try. As soon as he donned the fur-lined clothes he used for winter travel he pulled her into his arms. “Don’t cry, my love.” He whispered wiping the glistening moistness from her face. “This is the last patrol until spring. I’ll be back before the baby comes, I promise. The first touch she feels in this world will be mine.” She tightened her hold, wishing things could be different, knowing she wouldn’t change him even if she could. “I love you, JarDan.” She struggled to stem the flow of tears, at least until after he left. “Please be careful.” With a quick, deep kiss, he left the room as quietly as Dak. She made her way slowly back to the cold, lonely bed. There would be no more sleep for her tonight. She knew it would be hours before she’d be able to stop crying. It happened every time he left on patrol.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

150

Chapter Twenty-Two “Am I interrupting anything, ladies?” Zeth asked the small group of women gathered near the massive fire pit in the center of the solar. “Only my own morbid thoughts.” Melodie smiled sadly at JarDan’s father. “And the endless sewing. These three seem to think my daughter needs a mountain of clothes. Come sit by the fire and I’ll have ArDell bring us some warm wine.” The efficient maid was already heading for the door. “The wine would be nice. It’s bitterly cold outside today with more snow forecast before night. Actually,” Zeth extended his legs toward the blazing hearth, “I’m here as a messenger.” “From JarDan?” Melodie asked hopefully. The patrol left four days ago and everyone was anxious to hear from them. “I’m afraid not.” Zeth shook his head sadly. “This favor is for Dak.” She raised an eyebrow but ArDell’s arrival forestalled her questions until Zeth, Dyana and Sibell each had steaming goblets of the rich, red wine. Although she understood Dak’s initial reluctance to accept her presence on Anderas, their new relationship wasn’t quite as friends, yet. She couldn’t imagine the outspoken Dak sending a message he could deliver himself. “I saw Dak just before the patrol left, why didn’t he deliver his message then.” She shifted against the lush upholstery of the chair trying to find a comfortable position. “Dak is a hard man to understand. Powerful emotions drive him. Emotions he works constantly to hide and deny. Any public display of caring is a sign of weakness to a man like Dak. That’s why he asked me to handle this for him.” “JarDan is very fond of Dak.” She found this entire conversation confusing. A sharp knock on the door brought a welcome intrusion since Zeth appeared more interested in the man ArDell admitted to the room than in continuing his discussion of Dak’s character. “Excellent timing.” Zeth beamed at the stranger. “Bring it in, man, bring it in. Melodie, my dear, close your eyes. Don’t want to spoil the surprise, do we?” “It sounds like you’re destroying the solar.” Melodie chuckled, keeping her eyes tightly closed. She loved surprises and the grunting, shuffling, thumping and occasional foul word hinted at something huge. “What’s going on?” She asked, pushing herself to the edge of the chair. “Can I look now?” “Open your eyes.” Zeth commanded. Her father-in-law filled her line of vision, being almost as large as JarDan. He leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead before stepping to the side. “Ohhhh,” Melodie whispered, “it’s beautiful.” Dak’s surprise was a magnificent canopied cradle. Delicately carved blossoms covered the four support posts, their pastel hues contrasting perfectly with the green leaves and trailing vines that swept up and across the top, creating the canopy. The same pattern of flowering vines formed the bed of the cradle that hung suspended between the thick pillars. Soft, pale pink blankets,

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

151

embroidered with identical flowers filled the bed making a warm, cozy nest for her daughter. “Where in the world did he ever find something like this?” Melodie asked, trailing her trembling fingers across the lifelike flowers setting the cradle into motion. “The workmanship is remarkable.” “Yes, Dak is truly talented with his hands, is he not?” Zeth placed an arm around Melodie’s shoulders. “Does his gift please you?” “Dak made this?” Melodie was stunned. In all her months on Anderas, the only thing she recalled seeing in Dak’s hand was a sword. “This must have taken months to complete. When did he have time?” Tears slid from her eyes when she acknowledged the love that Dak put into this very special gift for her baby. “The design was his and he worked on it whenever he was home; however, he knew he needed assistance to finish the work before my granddaughter arrives. Dak put the final coat of paint on the flowers before he left but, with the cold, it wasn’t dry until today.” “Sibell and I made the linens.” Dyana volunteered. “I don’t know what to say.” Melodie sniffed and wiped at the tears that refused to stop. “Here now!” ArDell moved with her usual efficiency, bringing a handkerchief before taking Melodie firmly by the arm. “Enough of that. I’ve just managed to get rid of the redness from the last time and here you start up again. Come sit and put your feet up on that stool.” “ArDell’s right.” Sibell agreed, wiping at her own eyes. “You cry too much and that makes me cry and I hate it when my eyes swell and turn red.” “Would you like to be alone for a while, Melodie?” Dyana asked. Melodie smiled and nodded to her friend. One of the first changes she made when she became queen was to end the daily required meeting of the Ladies of Falcon Tor. They all had homes and families and she didn’t need constant entertainment. They were always welcome to visit and she made sure each of them had access to the needlework materials and musical instruments, but she enjoyed her privacy. Sibell and Dyana, as her official Ladies-In-Waiting, came every day but seldom stayed more than a few hours. “I, too, will leave you to your own thoughts.” Zeth announced when the others left. “I’ve had word from Emperor Vos. He agreed to the special bonding ceremony. Now, I must break the news to Tiana.” “Are you sure forcing her to marry is the right thing to do? She’s so young. If we just give her a little more time ...?” Zeth shook his head in weary acceptance. “Her unreasonable jealousy of you is unacceptable and she refused all options I offered her before this. I warned her repeatedly that I would not tolerate her tantrums. When Vos’ son approached me with his request for a waiver to the age requirement and asked to bond with Tiana, I hesitated,” his voice thickened, “because, whatever her faults, she’s still my baby.” Clearing his throat, Zeth kissed Melodie’s cheek and straightened. “This is for the best.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

152

“I wish things could be different.” “So do I, my dear. So do I.” **** “Melodie? Are you awake? Melodie, wake up.” Shielding her eyes against the glare of a hand light, Melodie fought the fuzziness of deep sleep. “Tiana?” She mumbled when her eyes focused. “What are you doing here?” Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she confronted her sister-in-law. “What time is it?” “It’s just after midnight. Dress in your warmest clothes, we have to hurry.” “Wait a minute.” Melodie demanded, pulling her arm from the younger woman’s grip. “You haven’t spoken a dozen words to me in months and now you’re pulling me out of bed in the middle of the night. I’m not moving until you explain what you’re doing here.” Tiana rolled her eyes and made that peculiar sucking noise against her teeth showing teenage disdain. “Oh all right,” she huffed, “but if JarDan dies …” “Tiana.” Melodie gripped Tiana’s arm hard enough to feel the bone beneath the layers of wool and silk she wore. “Enough of your theatrics. Tell me. Now.” “You know I’m leaving for Aisalin Isle tomorrow?” Melodie nodded impatiently. “Zeth brought me a box of Arica’s things to take with me. Nothing really special, just a few pieces of jewelry, a miniature portrait of her and Zeth before JarDan was born, and a book on the history of the House of Tor.” “Get to the point, Tiana.” “I was a little emotional and I … uh … dropped the book before I could get it packed.” The slight flush and militant expression told Melodie there was a major temper tantrum involved but she didn’t comment. “The front of the book is silver and it broke when the book hit the floor. Inside … Melodie,” tears glistened in her huge emerald eyes, “I think I found what JarDan’s been looking for all these months.” “What?” It took a couple of heartbeats before Melodie realized this wasn’t about the destruction of a family treasure. “You remember,” Tiana prompted, “the night Raiwan died, when he told JarDan to look for something that’s been lost for centuries, or something. Remember?” “Yes, Tiana, I remember.” A shiver raced down Melodie’s spine. Excitement or fear? JarDan and his warriors searched every inch of the castle compound after Raiwan’s death looking for this mysterious lost secret. Other than dig up the floors and tear out walls, there wasn’t anywhere else to look. Was Tiana’s explosive temper responsible for solving the riddle? “Show me.” Melodie demanded. Her fear for JarDan added urgency to her voice. Tiana reached into the pocket of the cape draped across the foot of Melodie’s bed and withdrew a folded piece of paper, giving it to Melodie with a grin. Although yellowed and brittle with age, the strange symbols written across the

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

153

paper were still legible. “It’s written in the language of the Ancients,” Tiana explained, “but I don’t know what it says. It has to be what Raiwan was talking about.” Melodie carefully folded the fragile paper, holding it close to her heart for a moment in blissful relief. “We have to take this to Zeth right away.” Melodie grabbed her robe and started for the door. “He’ll know how to get it to JarDan.” “No! Wait!” Tiana rushed to block the door. “Zeth’s not here. He’s spending the night on the space station with the ambassador from Emperor Vos.” “Then we’ll find someone else who can arrange a messenger.” “Melodie,” Tiana begged, “think for a minute. I heard Dak and JarDan talking. They believe there’s a traitor here in the castle. Who do we tell? How do we know we won’t betray JarDan instead of helping him? We have to take it to him.” “Are you crazy? There’s four feet of snow out there and it’s still coming down and I’m nine months pregnant. Even if I could manage to mount one of those beastly horses, I’m too near my due date to ride. Besides,” Melodie frantically paced the spacious room, “we don’t know which direction JarDan headed when he left.” There had to be a way to get this note to her husband. Think, Melodie Anne, God answered your prayers. Now, it’s up to you. “I know where he went, and I know how we can travel. Please, Melodie,” Tiana pleaded. “We have to try.” “How do you know the direction of the patrol?” Tiana grinned. “My maid is bonded to one of the stable hands. He overheard Dak talking to Kord the morning the patrol left.” She ran across the room and started pulling clothes from Melodie’s closet. “Hurry and dress.” She ordered, handing Melodie a heavy gown of quilted wool and a high-necked, fur lined under gown. “I’ve arranged for a horse and sleigh to be waiting for us at the kitchen entrance, but we have to hurry.” “No, Tiana.” Melodie argued, tossing the clothes onto the bed. “If we send a message to Zeth, he’ll be here in less than fifteen minutes. He knows …” “You have to make everything difficult, don’t you? You’ve ruined my life, turned everyone against me, and you still aren’t satisfied.” Melodie stared at the sudden change in Tiana. A snarl twisted the girl’s features and hatred blazed in her narrowed emerald eyes. A cold, hard fear gripped Melodie when Tiana pulled a fully-charged slaughter wand from beneath her cloak and pointed it at the mound of her unborn child. “What are you doing? Put that down before you hurt someone.” She backed away from Tiana and the deadly instrument humming with leashed power. “Have you seen what a slaughter wand does to an animal, Melodie?” Tiana’s sing-song voice frightened Melodie as much as the deadly weapon in her hand. “The electrical charge stops the heart -- instantly, but there’s no damage to the flesh. That’s why the butcher likes it. The animal dies -- quickly and with no loss of usable meat. They’re against the law down here, which is a true waste of technology. No one would

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

154

ever suspect me of bringing a few with me from the space station. It makes a sword so -old fashioned, don’t you agree? Think about your precious daughter. Do you think she would survive a jolt from this?” With a careless flip of her wrist, Tiana touched the tip of the two-foot long rod against the pristine white blanket. Melodie jerked when a beam of electrical energy, sizzling and crackling with deadly static, exploded from the tip and burned a narrow path across the material. She racked her brain for a way to escape the room and Tiana’s threats. Were the guards still outside her door? Would they arrive in time to prevent her death or the death of her baby? She couldn’t take the chance. Tiana was desperate and dangerous. “What do you want?” Melodie asked quietly, fighting the urge to run. She didn’t stand a chance against the slaughter wand Tiana slowly waved through the air between them. “It’s not what I want. If the choice were mine, I’d kill you right here. Instead, I’m to bring you to him, unharmed.” “Him?” Melodie asked, stalling for time. “Whose orders are you following?” “No more questions! Get dressed or freeze to death in your nightgown.” Melodie caught the bundle of clothing Tiana tossed in her direction. As quickly as her unwieldy body would allow, she changed into the dress, struggling with the awkward process of lacing the sides without ArDell’s assistance. “You won’t get away with this. JarDan will find me.” “I know.” Tiana’s beaming smile did nothing to calm Melodie’s fears. “I have a special message for him.” Without taking her eyes off Melodie, Tiana slipped a single black rose from beneath the folds of her cape and placed it in the middle of Melodie’s pillow. A small roll of white paper, tied with a blood-red ribbon lay nestled against the leaves. “JarDan will know exactly where you are and will come to rescue you. Of course, it will be too late, but don’t worry; I’ll be there to offer him all the sympathy he’ll every need to get over your loss. Now, let’s go. Remember, one sound to alert anyone and I’ll discharge the wand’s full blast and kill you and the baby.” Melodie’s fear for JarDan equaled her fear for the safety of her baby. Could she risk her daughter’s life at the expense of her husband’s? Did she really have a choice? Melodie donned her matching fur-lined boots and cape, a gift from JarDan on the day of the first snowfall. Slipping quietly from the room, Tiana followed Melodie through the silent castle. Her guards were gone. No one stirred, not even when the energy stone illuminated their passing. Once in the kitchen, Tiana stopped long enough to slip a loaf of bread and some sliced meat into a cloth bag and grab a flagon of water. With a quick check of the kitchen yard to make sure no one saw them, she motioned Melodie forward. Within minutes, Melodie settled against the padded seat of Tiana’s sleigh and wrapped herself with additional furs. “It will be late morning before we reach our destination.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

155

Melodie held her breath when Tiana flicked the reins and the horse started forward with a shake of his head. Tiana couldn’t drive and hold the wand at the same time and she relaxed when the girl tossed the instrument aside. She thought about escape, but already the sleigh was moving much too fast for her to risk jumping. Shaking her head in silent misery, Melodie strained to hear any sound that would mean their discovery. Other than the muffled plodding of the horse and shoos of the sleigh’s runners through the snow, she heard only the silence of the cold winter night. No one knew she was gone. Once past the hamlet, Tiana increased the pace of the horse, sending stinging sprays of snow crystals into their faces. Burying her cold nose in the warm furs surrounding her, Melodie forced herself to relax. There was nothing she could until they reached him. Stealing a glance at the young girl beside her, she wondered at the change in her. A fierce determination worthy of any warrior replaced the petulant pout normally seen on her face. The hypnotic effect of the smoothly gliding vehicle soon had Melodie nodding, fighting the urge to sleep. Unable to keep her eyes open, she snuggled deeper into the furs and closed her eyes. A brilliant sunrise and the insistent kicking of her daughter brought Melodie out of a deep sleep. The snow had stopped during the night; the fresh layer glistened like diamond dust in the morning light. “How long before we reach this mysterious man?” Melodie stretched her cramped muscles, looking for someplace that might offer a little privacy. “Can you pull into the next gas station? I have to go.” “Go where?” Tiana snapped. “There’s nothing out here.” “Never mind.” Melodie sighed. “It was a bad joke, but I do need to stop for just a minute.” “We’re almost there. Can’t you wait?” “Not unless you want to ride the rest of the way sitting on a wet seat.” Some things happened, no matter how testy Tiana’s temperament became, but at least she was stopping the sleigh. “Hurry up. He won’t be happy if we’re late.” Melodie turned, one foot in the snow, the other still in the sleigh. Did Tiana really think she cared if he was unhappy? Shaking her head, she continued with her most immediate needs, scanning the countryside for any possible assistance. There was nothing but empty, open fields buried under a blanket of winter whiteness. Her increased girth made the process awkward but Melodie hurried as fast as she could. She was still standing on the floor of the sleigh when Tiana slapped the reins against the horse’s rump, sending them flying across the snow with a jerk. “We won’t get there at all if you dump us in a snow bank.” Melodie grumbled once she managed to get herself settled on the seat. The only answer she got from Tiana was that annoying sucking sound and a thinlipped glare. Ignoring her sullen companion, Melodie pushed her troubling thoughts aside and filled her mind with images of JarDan. Looks like Raiwan was right after all, I do hold the power of life for Falcon Tor. She held it in her pocket. Unless the scrap of

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

156

paper was as phony as Tiana’s concern. She wouldn’t think negative thoughts. Everything was going to be fine. JarDan would find her as soon as he finished with Morandoni and once Morandoni was history, he could stay home with her and wait for the arrival of their daughter. “We’re almost there.” Tiana’s voice vibrated with excitement, dispelling her earlier sour disposition. Melodie looked around but could see nothing but more the same flat, empty, windblown landscape in all directions, leading right to the edge of the sea. The only marks on the pristine whiteness of the fresh snow were the twin trails of the sleigh’s runners behind them. Not even the tracks of winter animals broke the surface of the surrounding area. “The caves are at the bottom of the cliff.” Tiana announced bringing the vehicle to a stop. “We’ll have to walk from here.” “Cliff?” Melodie squeaked. She could barely make it up the staircase of the castle. There was no way she could climb over the face of a cliff. “Don’t worry.” Tiana smiled thinly at Melodie. “I’ll help you over the rough spots.” Leaning on the younger woman’s arm for balance, Melodie trudged through the knee-high snow. When they reached the edge of the cliff, she spotted a crude staircase built against the rock face, but it wasn’t relief that caused her heart to pound in her chest. Sea spray, whipped by the ferocious winds and frozen by the sub-zero temperatures, covered the steps and railing with a thick glaze. A narrow ledge dissected the face of the cliff about halfway between the top and the churning ocean below. Melodie focused on the dark entrance of the cave near the bottom of the staircase. “There is no way I’m going down there, Tiana.” Melodie argued, pulling back from the edge of the cliff. Without the slaughter wand, Tiana had no weapon so she figured she had about an even chance of winning if Tiana decided to attack. With that thought firmly in mind, she turned and started back toward the sleigh. “No!” Tiana screamed. “We have to go down the stairs.” A hard shove sent Melodie face down into the soft snow. When she managed to roll to a sitting position, Tiana stood over her with a dagger pointed at her breast. The lethally sharp blade wasn’t nearly as frightening as the light of insanity blazing in Tiana’s green eyes. “Get up!” Melodie rolled back to her hands and knees, struggling against the heavy burden of her baby and the deep snow until she managed to stand. “Morandoni’s waiting for us down there.” Tiana jerked her head in the direction of the cliff. “I want you to get that bag of sand under the seat of the sleigh. And don’t think about trying to escape. We need you to bring JarDan here.” She waved the glittering blade in the air for emphasis. “Morandoni said I couldn’t kill you but he didn’t say I couldn’t hurt you a little bit.” Melodie shuddered at the hatred pulsing in Tiana’s voice. She had no choice but to do as Tiana ordered, for now. There might be a chance of escape before JarDan

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

157

stepped into the trap laid for him. Forcing her expression into a blank mask, Melodie struggled through the snow to the waiting sleigh with Tiana only half a step behind her. With the small bag of sand from the emergency supplies, she turned back toward the cliff, praying she survived long enough to attempt escape -- and stomp Tiana’s butt for putting her family through this nightmare! Scattering a handful of sand on the first few steps, Melodie started down, only to slip on the first step. Tiana jerked her back into the trampled snow before she fell. “I’ll go first.” After carefully taking of couple of steps and scattering the remaining sand over the rest of the staircase, Tiana turned back and offered Melodie the hand not holding the dagger. “I won’t let you fall,” she smiled. “Trust me.” Said the spider to the fly. “Not on your life.” Melodie grumbled. Seated on the frozen ground, she inched forward until she could grip the ice-encrusted railing. Sliding forward enough to drop from one step to another, she slowly followed Tiana down the steep incline. Not the most graceful descent in history, but certainly safer than putting her trust in Tiana.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

158

Chapter Twenty-Three The gusting wind swirled around the entrance to the cave, wailing like the demons of hell. Clinging to the rough rock wall, Melodie waited for strength to return to her trembling legs. “What is this place, Tiana?” She demanded, struggling to control her ragged breathing, stalling for time. “You ask too many questions. Now, come on.” She grabbed a torch from the wall and pushed her down the long tunnel. Melodie made slow progress through the tunnel, fighting her fears and her shaking limbs. Was Morandoni really waiting for them? She told herself she had little choice but to follow Tiana’s orders. With the dagger still in her hand and the perilous staircase outside, her only hope lay in the cavern at the end of the tunnel. Without rest, she knew she’d never make it up the ice encrusted staircase. “Can’t you walk any faster?” She ignored Tiana’s ill-tempered snarl. Concentrating on the task at hand, she placed one foot in front of the other, careful of the loose rocks and uneven flooring. The tunnel was more than tall enough for them to stand upright and two men could walk sideby-side without crowding. It reminded Melodie of the lava tubes she saw on a nature show about Hawaii years ago. The further they traveled from the cliff side entrance, the darker it became. The eerie wail of the winter wind was only an echo along the shaft and the light from Tiana’s torch a beckoning guide. “I think we’re almost there.” Tiana’s excited voice reverberated. “I can see light ahead.” Melodie was cold, tired, and hungry and the dull ache in her back worried her. She was too close to term for hiking and mountain climbing. Only positive thoughts, Melodie Anne. You will not deliver your daughter here. With dogged determination, she focused on the growing sphere of brightness ahead of them. Tiana pulled Melodie into the lighted cavern. The brightness of the room after the near darkness of the tunnel left her momentarily blinded. Afraid of what she would find when she opened her eyes; she prayed this was all a nightmare. She would wake up in her own bed with ArDell fussing. She opened her eyes and knew this nightmare was real. The glow of the energy stone brightened a cavern as large as the main hall of the castle. Huge tapestries hung around the stone walls, creating an illusion of hominess at odds with the rest of the décor. Cabinets of varying heights sat around the room, their open shelves filled with jars and bottles. Peering closely at the assortment, Melodie slowly scanned the strange room. The smell of dried herbs and pungent oils warred with the thousands of incense sticks burning throughout the room. Tiana shoved her rudely into the center of the room. A wave of dizziness forced Melodie to grip the edge of a massive stone table for support. Towering candlesticks stood sentinel at either end of the table. Desperate to find a place to rest, she leaned

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

159

against the cold stone. The same sense of dread that followed her through the tunnel was stronger than ever, urging her to flee while she still could. Melodie watched as Tiana bent to a low table sitting between two ornately carved chairs and straighten with a piece of crusty bread. She ground her teeth in frustration over Tiana’s actions. Why did she plot against her own family? What purpose did it serve to lure her from the castle? Was this Tiana’s way of becoming queen? Even if she died out here, JarDan would never marry anyone else -- especially a girl raised as his baby sister. No man could bond more than once. Tiana would never be Queen of Falcon Tor. A sudden wrenching pain in her lower abdomen drove all thought of Tiana’s betrayal from Melodie’s mind. She had to get back to the castle, quickly. Someone else could deal with Tiana. Her only thought was the safety of her daughter. Focusing on taking one careful step at a time and keeping her breathing slow, she started for the gaping mouth of the tunnel. Intent on reaching her goal, she didn’t see the man emerge from the shadows until she walked into his arms. “Leaving so soon, my Queen?” He asked, tightening his arms around her. Shock held Melodie immobile as she stared into the handsome face above her. “Morandoni.” She whispered, fighting the blackness threatening to engulf her. She couldn’t faint. Not now. Not here. Like most men of Anderas, Morandoni was powerfully built and strong, his body still heavily muscled despite his age. Unlike Zeth, Morandoni’s hair showed no trace of silver among the dark brown strands. He was devastatingly attractive. A fallen angel. Lucifer. “So good of you to accept my impromptu invitation.” One hand lifted to caress her cheek, fingertips trailing down the column of her neck. A shudder of revulsion racked her body, bringing a deep chuckle of amusement from Morandoni. “Tiana, my pet,” Morandoni drawled in a soft, voice, “I don’t think our guest likes me very much. What do you think?” “Why should she like you? You said you would kill her. Do it Morandoni. Do it now before JarDan discovers her absence.” Tiana’s hatred, no longer softened by the presence of Zeth and his family, burned out of control. Nausea roiled in Melodie’s stomach. “Ah,” Morandoni breathed, tracing the fullness of Melodie’s lower lip, “the impatience of youth. You must learn to savor revenge, my pet.” Morandoni spoke to Tiana but he never took his eyes off Melodie. “Like rare wine, the sweet promise of fulfillment grows even sweeter with restraint. A sip …” He kissed the corner of Melodie’s eye. “… instead of a gulp. A nibble …” He gently bit the lobe of her ear. “… is but a prelude to a feast.” “Let me go.” Melodie struggled in his arms. “You won’t get away with this. JarDan will find me.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

160

Hampered by the child she carried and almost crippled with fear for the baby’s safety, she was no match for Morandoni’s strength. When her feeble attempts at escape failed, he lifted her unwieldy bulk in his arms and carried her back to the stone table. His laughter, the same laughter she remembered from the night Raiwan died, echoed through the chamber. Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. JarDan, please find me. “Yes.” Morandoni grinned at Melodie. “I know. I’m counting on it. And, in case he’s a little slow in understanding the situation, Tiana left him a note telling him exactly where you are.” He suddenly turned to Tiana, his black robes swirling around him like a malevolent fog. “You did leave the note, did you not, my pet?” Tiana shrank against the padded back of the chair as Morandoni’s voice changed from enticing to deadly cold. “On her pillow, with a black rose.” Tiana whispered, nodding her head. “Just like you told me.” “Excellent, my pet.” He crooned in a soft voice. “I want you to sit here and be very quiet until I finish with the queen, then you’ll have everything I promised.” “What did he promise you, Tiana?” Melodie, hating the quiver in her voice. “What prize do you get for destroying your family?” “They’re not my family!” Tiana yelled. “They were never my family! Zeth didn’t care enough to adopt me and he wouldn’t let anyone else adopt me, either!” “Zeth loves you.” Melodie argued. “If he adopted you, you would have been in line for the throne. Only natural born children of the House of Tor can rule. You know that. The law …” “I know all about the law. I’m not an Anderan so I can’t be a ruling queen. But I will be queen, Melodie. That’s my reward. I will rule Falcon Tor for as long as I live.” Melodie had no point of reference for dealing with such total, obsessive ambition. Her grandfather taught her to believe in the basic goodness of her fellow man. You are definitely out of your league, Melodie Anne. She had to escape before JarDan found Tiana’s note. Before he walked into a trap. A trap with her as the bait. Now was her chance, while Morandoni soothed Tiana. The table was too high for her feet to reach the floor and jumping was out of the question. Maybe, if she could scoot close enough to the end without drawing his attention, she could use the heavy candlestick as a ladder. The intricately carved design would provide a foothold. “Not leaving so soon … are you?” Morandoni’s silky question jerked Melodie back from the edge of the table like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Damn! “I … persuaded Tiana to get some sleep.” He glanced over his shoulder at Tiana, curled into the cushions of the chair and covered with her cloak. “The sleeping potion will give us time to get better acquainted.” Straightening her spine, Melodie met his piercing gaze with her own. She would not cower before this weasel. From the corner of her eye, she noted the slow glide of his

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

161

hand across the black stone as he moved closer to where she sat. Gripping the edges of the cloak she still wore, she concentrated on breathing, willing her limbs not to shake. Her heart pounded in her chest. Each breath she took struggled to find its way into her lungs then fight its way out again. Morandoni smiled and on anyone else, she could believe it was a sincere offer of assurance, a silent symbol of friendship. But not from him. His eyes gave him away. Dark. Cold. Empty. Dead. “Let me take your wrap.” Ignoring her protests, he released the clasp at her neck and dropped the cloak to the table. With surprising ease, he lifted her with one arm around her waist and pulled the fur-lined garment from beneath her, tossing it to the floor. His gaze focused on her distended abdomen. “The process of creation fascinates most men.” Melodie closed her eyes, refusing to acknowledge the oracle and his terrifying power over her. When he touched her stomach, she slapped at his hands until he gathered both her slender wrists in one powerful hand, holding her captive. “Don’t close your eyes again. Do you understand?” He tightened his grip on her wrists until she felt the bones rubbing together. The crushing pressure increased until she doubled over with a strangled cry. Only then did Morandoni ease his hold. “A woman, ripe with child,” he continued, “obviously looks different; but, you sound different, even smell different.” He forced her legs apart, stepping between them despite her struggles. She was powerless. With her hands imprisoned she couldn’t strike out at him. His firm stance between her parted thighs prevented using her feet to fend him off. She refused to believe he was evil enough to rape a pregnant woman. A woman in labor. “I’ve often wondered if you taste different. Did JarDan notice, Melodie? Does he relish the flavor of your feminine essence now as he did before he impregnated you?” When his free hand caught the hem of her gown and slowly lifted the material, she couldn’t prevent the whimper of fear that escaped her clenched teeth. “What, by all the Ancients, is this?” The last thing Melodie expected was outrage. Morandoni had her skirt tossed across her lap and was staring in confused anger at what she wore beneath her gown. “Long-johns.” She answered when the crushing pressure on her wrists became unbearable. “They keep my legs warm.” She remembered the furor she created by requesting the quilted trousers to wear when the weather got so cold. “Take them off.” Gone was the soft spoken charmer. The man holding her prisoner was fully capable of every despicable act he stood accused of ordering. Where she feared the seducer, this madman paralyzed her. Somehow she found the courage to shake her head in denial of his demand. It wasn’t much in the way of defiance but even that small feat shored up her faltering determination. She would go down fighting with everything she had in her. “Do you think to prevent me from taking what I will?” His sneer hissed across Melodie’s skin, making her shudder. “Zeth thought to keep me from what was mine and

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

162

he paid the price. The price of his mate. Are you prepared to do the same? Will you sacrifice the lives of JarDan … and your baby to the shrine of your virtue?” “You’re going to kill us anyway.” Melodie whispered, fighting the numbing cold settling around her. “I’ll still fight you when I draw my last breath into my body.” “Ah-h-h-h-h,” Morandoni moaned softly, “I love a good fight. Arica fought me, too; but in the end, she belonged to me. I have what Zeth grieves for every day of his life.” “Arica’s dead and Zeth carries her love for him in his heart.” She jumped at the chance to shift his attention to something besides her. Morandoni laughed, smoothing her skirts back over her legs, acknowledging her tactic with a slight bow of his head. “That’s the beauty of my triumph, Melodie. Arica’s not dead. She’s here, with me, as she’s been for the past twenty years.” “Wh-a-t?” She stuttered. “You lie! Arica would never choose you over Zeth.” Releasing her wrists, Morandoni lifted her from the black table and set her carefully on her feet. “Would you like to meet your mother-in-law?” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled her across the cavern until she stood before a magnificent tapestry. The battle scene embroidered in such painstaking detail was vivid in both color and description and she recognized the faces of Zeth and JarDan among the combatants. “It’s amazing how the men of Tor continue to favor each other through the centuries. I saw the light of recognition in your eyes when you thought you spotted JarDan. This battle took place more than three thousand years ago. Uncanny, don’t you agree?” Before Melodie could grasp the details of what Morandoni was telling her, the man reached up and jerked the tapestry from its rod, revealing a small chamber in the rock wall. Once before she remembered being this terrified. Aboard the Destiny when she discovered JarDan and his crew were aliens she experienced this uncontrollable shaking; the thunder of her own heartbeat in her ears; the scream building in her throat. As blessed darkness closed around her, the scene in front of her burned itself into her brain -JarDan’s mother, a little older but easily recognized from her portraits, encased in the clear glass confines of a sleep chamber. Alive.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

163

Chapter Twenty-Four “Whatever will we tell the King?” Wailed ArDell, tears running down her face. “It’s my fault. I promised him I’d take care of her and now look at what I’ve done.” “There was nothing you could do, ArDell.” Soothed Sibell, her own eyes redrimmed from crying. “Kord went to the space station to bring Zeth home and they should be back any minute. He’ll know how to reach JarDan. The King won’t let Morandoni harm Melodie.” “JarDan’s here.” Announced Zeth as he and JarDan stepped from the light of a teleport beam into the early morning brightness of the bedroom Melodie shared with her husband. “Show me the note.” JarDan wasted no time in polite small talk. His father just violated a two thousand year old decree by ordering the teleport crew to locate him and beam them both back to the castle. He knew he could do the same thing with Melodie -at the cost of his daughter’s life. He still had occasional nightmares when he realized how close they came to losing their infant daughter even before they knew of her existence. His cowardice in dealing with Melodie when she awoke from space sleep made him order her transported to the castle while still in the sleep chamber. The protection of the sleep chamber through the teleport beam saved his daughter’s life. It was too high a price to pay for the easy way out of this. Besides, JarDan knew Morandoni would only try again and again until he finally succeeded. ArDell pointed to the bed and he heard his father’s gasp even as his own heart stumbled in his chest. There on the pristine whiteness of her pillow lay a perfectly formed black rose. A rose identical to the one left beside his mother’s bloodied gown twenty years ago. A blood red ribbon threaded between the leaves and thorns held a small scrap of paper. Your sister traded your wife for the Crown of Tor. You’ll find them in the caves beneath the summer grazing meadows. “Tiana. What have you done?” JarDan’s harsh whisper filled the silent room as he stared at the missive. “If Morandoni speaks the truth, there is nothing we can do to protect Tiana from her actions this time.” Resignation and pain dulled Zeth’s voice. JarDan gripped his father’s shoulder in sympathetic understanding. Traitors were exiled to a penal colony, but if harm came to Melodie or the baby, Tiana would be executed. Zeth’s shoulders shook with the loss. No matter the outcome of Morandoni’s plot, Tiana would be lost to the House of Tor for the rest of her life. As much as JarDan loved the spirited imp who became a sister to him, he loved Melodie more. He would deal with Tiana’s betrayal when Melodie and his daughter were safe. “Our camp isn’t far from the caves. I’ll teleport back and we can be there in under an hour.” JarDan reached for the comm-unit he used aboard the Destiny. “I’ll do what I can to bring them all back alive,” he told his father, “but my first priority is to Melodie. Can you understand that?” He couldn’t hide the sorrow that thickened his voice.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

164

“That is as it should be.” Zeth wiped at the tears on his cheeks. “I know you will do the best you can. We will all have to live with the consequences of Tiana’s actions, whatever the outcome. Hurry, my son.” Zeth urged. “I do not trust Morandoni to keep them alive too long.” “Kord will sound the alarm when he returns from the teleport center. I’ll return as soon as possible.” Without waiting for an answer from his father, JarDan activated the comm-unit and ordered the teleport operator to return him to his original destination. **** Melodie slowly awoke to a less-than-gentle patting on her cheek. “JarDan?” She mumbled, trying to focus on the shadowy form bending over her. “Hardly, my Queen.” Morandoni’s sarcastic voice brought her memories rushing back in vivid detail. She must have fainted. That explained why she was on the floor. Jerking her head around, she spotted the sleep chamber. She couldn’t see the woman inside from her position on the floor, but Melodie had recognized her. “She’s alive?” She whispered in stunned amazement, struggling to a sitting position. “All these years you’ve let JarDan and Zeth believe she’s dead and you have her in a sleep chamber?” She stared in growing horror at the calm face of the evil wizard. “How could you do that? How could you cause so much pain and anguish to other people? That’s insane.” “Who’s to say what measure of sanity we use when judging others? I prefer to think of myself as gifted, possibly even brilliant.” Melodie pulled against the cruel grip of his hand around her arm as he hauled her to her feet. “Don’t fight me, Melodie.” Morandoni threatened his soft whisper thick with menace. “Arica fought me and this is what she got for her efforts. You will do as I tell you or I’ll disconnect the power source and leave her there to die. The choice is yours.” She fixed her gaze on Arica’s serene face. She hardly looked any older than JarDan. Zeth, JarDan and even Dak had suffered so much grief for such a long time and for no reason except the whim of a lunatic. There was no choice to make. She would do whatever Morandoni demanded of her if it meant keeping JarDan’s mother alive for him. “I’ll do what you want.” She finally answered, slumping in defeat. “Excellent!” Morandoni beamed. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you sit and rest until the king joins us?” He indicated a chair placed against the wall near Arica. “Would you care for some refreshment? Something to eat or drink?” The thought of food made her nauseous. Remembering the drugged wine he gave Tiana, she shook her head. She needed JarDan tucking her into his huge bed. She wanted ArDell hovering and fussing. At least her back no longer ached. Her daughter seemed content to wait just a little longer to arrive. “Why do you care if she eats?” Tiana’s petulant voice announced that she was awake. “Once JarDan gets here, she’ll be dead anyway.” Melodie’s stomach knotted as much from Tiana’s tone as her words. There was no guilt or remorse in her attitude. She felt nothing about the betrayal of her family.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

165

Poor Zeth. He truly loved the girl and now she was the instrument of his defeat. “Ah, my pet,” Morandoni crooned in a soothing voice, “I see your nap has failed to improve your disposition. You must learn tolerance and compassion if you wish to be queen.” Melodie was grateful when he left her alone and joined Tiana across the chamber. With him no longer looming over her, she could concentrate on a way of getting out of this mess without anyone getting hurt. She would watch and wait for an opportunity. There had to be a way to warn JarDan before he walked into Morandoni’s trap. “Let the Elders and Holy Men practice compassion.” Tiana tossed her head in arrogant disregard. “I intend to rule.” “Do you indeed?” Morandoni questioned coldly. “You promised!” Tiana stomped her foot in aggravated frustration. “You said if I helped you bring down Zeth I could rule as Queen of Falcon Tor.” “And so you shall, little one,” Morandoni soothed, stroking Tiana’s face, “for as long as you live. But,” he paused, tracing the outline of Tiana’s mouth, “there is still the matter of your final commitment to me.” Melodie took advantage of his interest in Tiana and scanned the area around her. Other than the hundreds of bottles and jars on the shelves there was nothing that resembled a weapon. If she could find a knife or even a hammer of some kind, she could conceal it in the folds of her gown. Eventually, Morandoni would turn his back on her. A low moan from across the room drew her attention away from her search for a weapon. Glancing at the couple, she was shocked to realize Morandoni was seducing Tiana. He might be as old as Zeth but he kissed Tiana with all the passion of a much younger man. Melodie shuddered with disgust when he pulled Tiana’s skirts up and over her head, leaving her naked in the subdued glow of the energy stone. Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore the intimate encounter across the room. She covered her ears with her hands but she couldn’t shut out their voices. The sound of shared passion echoed around the stone chamber until she feared she would lose her mind. When silence suddenly descended on the room, Melodie risked a quick glance in the direction of the black stone table and wished she hadn’t. He was as naked as Tiana as he lifted the girl in his arms and laid her on the altar. Before Melodie could duck her head Morandoni turned to face her. With a smile of confident superiority, he stroked his own arousal, laughing heartily when she gasped and covered her face. He knows I can hear them. He’s not making love to Tiana because he wants her. He’s showing me how little regard he has for anyone except himself. Suddenly, his promise to Tiana flared like a bonfire in her memory. For as long as you live. Dear God in Heaven! The maniac would kill Tiana! Melodie jerked her head up, her gaze locked on the couple across the room. Tiana screamed when he tore through her maidenhead with one powerful thrust and Melodie winced with compassion. There would be no special memories of first love for Tiana to savor through the years. Despite the pain, Tiana was eagerly participating in the obscene act with the diabolic wizard. There were no love words, no endearments spoken between them. This was pure depraved lust.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

166

Trapped in the horror of what she feared would happen to Tiana, Melodie watched, as if in slow motion, as Morandoni slipped a knife from a sheath beneath the ledge of the table. Light glittered and bounced along the razor edge of the long, snakelike blade. No! Oh, dear God, no! Paralyzed with fear, barely able to draw air into her lungs, Melodie blinked past the tears blurring her vision. Do something, Melodie Anne! Forcing her trembling legs to support her, she took one step toward the macabre act of passion across the room. With a high, keening cry, Tiana found satisfaction and her body convulsed beneath Morandoni’s. With the first shudder of pleasure, Morandoni raised the wicked blade and sliced Tiana’s throat. Her fading cries of fulfillment, the harsh gurgle of air through an open airway, and the spurting blood from severed arteries combined to trigger Morandoni’s violent climax. Melodie screamed but the sound was lost in his inhuman roar of pleasure. The sight of his sated body draped across Tiana’s lifeless form, both dripping with blood, knocked her to her knees. Nausea overwhelmed her and she retched until there was nothing left in her stomach. With her stomach cramping from the dry heaves, she blindly crawled for the entrance to the tunnel. She had to escape. Now. While he was still weak from his recent orgasm. Fighting the darkness closing in on her consciousness, she focused on the image of JarDan she carried in her heart. His lopsided smile, his dimples, his eyes dark with love, these were her only links with sanity and she held on with the tenacity of a pit bull until the spots floating in front of her eyes faded and her fear of fainting passed. When she reached the entrance to the cave, she chanced a quick glance at the altar table. He hadn’t moved. He still lay atop Tiana’s body, his hair matted with congealing blood, his face relaxed in sleep. If she could make it to the top of the cliff where the horse and sleigh still waited, she could find JarDan or one of his patrols. Arica! Melodie prayed JarDan’s mother would be safe until she could return with help. If she honored her word to Morandoni, none of them had a chance of survival. This was the only way. The only chance any of them had against the wizard and his malevolent plans. Using the stone wall for support, she pulled herself up from the floor. Weak from shock and nausea, she leaned against the tunnel wall, using the strength of the stone to compensate for the shakiness in her limbs. Once clear of the chamber, she hurried as fast as the darkness and her advanced pregnancy allowed. Without a torch, the stygian darkness of the tunnel was complete. Several times she twisted her ankle on a loose stone and fell to her knees, scraping the tender flesh from her hands when she landed. Why hadn’t she paid closer attention when Tiana brought her here? Ignoring the pain in her arms and legs, unaware of the tears streaming from her eyes, she continued her rush through the blackness. The gradual lightening of the darkness from pitch black to foggy grey brought a bubble of hysterical laughter from her heaving chest. With every step toward the entrance, the light became brighter and brighter until she could make out the clouds floating in the sky above the sea. The wind wasn’t as fierce as it had been when she and

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

167

Tiana entered the tunnel earlier this morning. Has it only been a few hours since our descent into Morandoni’s hell? Pausing in the bright sunlight, Melodie filled her lungs with the clean, cold, crisp ocean air. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she leaned against an outcropping of rocks, willing the strength back into her legs. Uncertain how much time she had before Morandoni realized she was gone and unwilling to chance him catching her on the narrow ledge, she forced herself to start up the long, steep staircase. Gathering her skirts in one hand, she tossed them over her arm, freeing both hands to grip the railing. The wind no longer threatened to toss her into the ocean, but the narrow steps glistened with several inches of slick, polished ice. Taking one step at a time, like a toddler just learning to climb, she started her ascent, counting the steps as she went. “One. Two. Three.” She didn’t want to know how far she was from the top and she definitely didn’t want to remember how far it was to the bottom. The physical demands of carrying her distended body up the steep incline and keeping her balance on the slippery surface sapped what little energy she had left. “Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine.” Her voice was little more than a ragged whisper as her lungs fought to draw enough oxygen into her exhausted body. Her legs shook from her exertion but her numb hands gripped the frozen metal rail. “Forty-nine. Fifty.” She mouthed silently, no longer able to provide enough air for breathing and speech at the same time. The brilliant white of the snow covered meadow was so unexpected it took Melodie several seconds before she realized she was looking over the rim of the cliff. Crawling on her hands and knees over the edge into the snow, she collapsed in tears. She made it. The horse still stood where Tiana left him. All she had to do was get the sleigh turned around and she could find help for Arica. “M-e-l-o-d-i-e!” Roared the voice of Morandoni near the mouth of the tunnel. “You will not escape me!” Struggling to stand, Melodie gathered her skirts above the knee-deep snow and stumbled toward the waiting horse. She couldn’t fail now. She was so close. Just a few more yards and she would reach the horse. Her frantic struggles through the snow caught the horse’s attention, making him dance nervously. She saw the flared nostrils and wideeyed stare and knew the animal was going to bolt. Whispering encouraging nonsense, she prayed the horse would stand still until she reached the sleigh. Her prayers went unanswered as Morandoni cleared the top of the cliffs, his below of rage the final assault on the horse’s high-strung nervous system. With a strangled cry of defeat, she watched the horse race across the open field, the empty sleigh rocking from side-to-side behind him. Why didn’t Tiana park the sleigh closer to the cliff? “I told you I would never let you escape,” Morandoni yelled from across the frozen field, “but you didn’t heed my warning, did you?” Melodie straightened her shoulders with effort and turned to face her nemesis. Like the tornado so many months ago in Missouri, she knew Morandoni was going to kill

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

168

her. Only this time, JarDan wouldn’t appear in a flash of light to rescue her at the last minute. She would face the wizard with the same courage she used to face the storm -the courage that came from faith. Her heart cried out for JarDan and the daughter she would never deliver. “Kill me now, Morandoni!” Melodie yelled. “I will never go back down those stairs.” Before Morandoni could reach her through the snow, she heard the sound of thunder so close it shook the ground beneath her feet. No. Not thunder. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Spinning around, she spotted two mounted horsemen racing toward her. JarDan and Dak! She prayed he would come and prayed he wouldn’t. “JarDan!” Melodie screamed, pushing her exhausted body toward the advancing warriors. “The game is not over yet, my Queen.” Morandoni called from his position behind her. “JarDan has answered my summons. My destiny will be fulfilled.” His diabolical laughter floated in the frosty, morning air. In her relief at seeing JarDan, she turned her back on Morandoni -- and his plan to kill her husband. It was too late to warn him. They were close enough for her to see the flaming red eyes of the war horse glowing with menace through the fog of their heavy breathing, hear the creak of leather as riders shifted against saddles. JarDan hit the ground running before the massive black stallion came to a complete stop. His sword drawn and ready. His eyes on his mate. “Melodie.” JarDan whispered against her hair, his left arm pulling her tight against his chest. “I feared you would be … dead.” He could barely force himself to say the word. From the moment ArDell found the note pinned to Melodie’s pillow and summoned his father from the space station, JarDan had lived with the fear that he would be too late to save her. His brash declarations aboard the Destiny that his mate would never suffer the same fate as his mother haunted him across the seemingly endless miles, “I knew you’d come.” She cried against the chain mail covered expanse of his chest. “And I prayed that you wouldn’t.” She looked up and he saw the anguish in her shadowed eyes. “It’s a trap, JarDan. He’s already killed Tiana.” The earlier pain of discovering Tiana’s part in the plot against his family helped him deal with the added blow of her death. Tiana, his spoiled, bubbly, little sister, had paid dearly for her dreams of power. “He used you to bait the trap.” JarDan acknowledged, rubbing his cheek against hers. “Did he harm you?” “No. I’m cold and tired, but I’m okay, and so is the baby.” JarDan stroked the side of her abdomen, feeling the strong movements of his daughter snuggled securely within Melodie’s body. “Ah, the loving husband here to rescue his beautiful wife.” Morandoni smiled. “I didn’t expect you until later this afternoon. You made excellent time.” JarDan turned until Melodie was no longer between him and the man who threatened his entire domain. Tightening his grip on his sword, he lifted the blade in preparation for battle.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

169

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Morandoni taunted. “So eager to meet you doom, JarDan. So,” the oracle focused his powerful gaze on the young king, “how is my dear brother, Zeth.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

170

Chapter Twenty-Five “My father is no longer a concern of yours, Uncle.” JarDan informed Morandoni in chilled tones. “You gave up that right when you killed my mother.” “But JarDan,” Melodie interrupted, “she …” “Dak.” JarDan ignored Melodie’s voice. He had to concentrate on the battle to come with his uncle. Never breaking eye contact with Morandoni, he handed his wife into Dak’s keeping. “See that Melodie is safe.” Melodie’s soft cry of protest ripped at his heart. “And Dak.” He added. “This is my fight. Stay out of it. If I don’t survive, do whatever you must to insure the safety of Melodie and the child.” “You have my word, JarDan.” “JarDan,” Melodie cried, “you have to listen. Morandoni didn’t …” “Dak! Get her out of here!” “You should listen to your queen.” Morandoni advised with a sneer. “She’s trying to save your life. Not that she has a chance of succeeding. Did you know that your mother was promised to me? The bonding agreement already signed and the celebration planned when our father decided to pass the crown to Zeth before Arica and I bonded. Once he was king, Zeth seduced Arica with the crown your mate now wears. She was mine, but she chose to be queen over the life we could have had together. You should have been my son -- not Zeth’s.” Morandoni’s hatred spewed forth like acid from his soul. “My mother loved my father.” JarDan argued quietly. “That’s something you’ll never understand. She didn’t care about being queen any more than Melodie does.” JarDan grabbed the hilt of his sword with both hands, readying himself for battle. “Are you going to talk me to death or are you ready to fight me as a man? On my mother’s grave, I vowed to kill you.” Morandoni smiled as he stretched his arms wide at his side. “That is the beauty of this confrontation. I have no sword and your vow is as empty as my hand. Arica is alive, JarDan!” Morandoni shouted in delight. “She’s been my devoted companion all these years. Of course,” he acknowledged with a shake of his head, “I’ve had to take certain measures to insure she didn’t find her way back to Zeth, but she hasn’t complained.” “You lie!” JarDan focused on the feel of his sword in his hands, pushing the numbing pain away before it became wild hope. “Ask your lovely queen if you don’t believe me. She met your mother while a guest in my home.” “He’s telling the truth, JarDan.” Melodie’s soft voice confirming Morandoni’s boast sliced like talons into heart. “She’s in a sleep chamber in the cave at the base of the cliff.” A primordial growl rose in JarDan’s throat and exploded from his chest. His arms shook with the effort it took to contain his rage. “Dak, throw this animal a sword.” He heard the sound of metal sliding and

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

171

smiled coldly. “JarDan, JarDan, JarDan.” Morandoni mocked as he accepted the sword. “Do you really believe you can defeat me with mortal weapons? I am an Oracle. My powers are far beyond those of that fool, Raiwan.” With a flick of his wrist, and a few mumbled words, JarDan’s sword tip began to vibrate. As if heated in the blacksmith’s forge, the metal warmed until it glowed red with heat, spreading down ever closer to where he gripped the leather-wrapped hilt. Plunging the blade into the snow, JarDan smiled flatly at his uncle. “Magician’s tricks? Is that the best you can do?” When his sword no longer hissed and sizzled in the melting snow bank, he raised it again. With a careless shrug, Morandoni raised his own blade. “It was the first thing I thought of. I’ll do much better next time.” JarDan laughed the sound empty and cold. “Fair enough, Uncle. I heed your warning. You remember that Dak and I studied the ancient writings as well, do you not? I believe I have a trick or two that might interest you, as well.” “I’m impressed.” Morandoni bowed slightly as he and JarDan circled each other in the snow. “To show you and your loyal shadow that I will be a benevolent ruler, I’ll give you the first opportunity to show me your feats of magic.” “You were too late in killing Raiwan. He lived long enough to pass along an ancient secret. A secret that will be your destruction.” JarDan lunged, swinging his blade against Morandoni’s. “Yes, Tiana told me of your frantic search of the castle, seeking the answers to riddles.” He countered JarDan’s initial thrust with one of his own. “She also said you found nothing but your efforts made it so easy to insert that worthless scribble Melodie carries in her pocket. She was so eager to save your life that she never questioned if it were real or false.” In a loud, clear voice, JarDan recited the ancient verse Raiwan whispered in his ear the night he died. Take the good and lose the bad. Demand from him all that he had. My final breath into your soul will enable you to achieve your goal. Passed down for untold centuries from one Ancient to another, the spell was punishment for taking the life of a brother Oracle. It cancelled all magical powers bestowed on the guilty Oracle for as long as the speaker lived. This was Raiwan’s final gift. “You young fool!” Morandoni roared in helpless rage. “You have no idea what you’ve done! When did you locate the spell? Tiana kept me well informed of the activities in the castle and she assured me you still searched for the scroll.” “There was never a scroll to be lost. The retribution was passed orally to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.” JarDan thanked the Ancient Prophets the spell worked. Not even the strength of all his warriors could defeat an Oracle possessed of full powers and Morandoni had the added potency of his dark magic. Now, as a mortal man, JarDan would defeat him. “The spell can only be used if the natural balance between good and evil is

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

172

disturbed. You did that when you destroyed Raiwan the night of my coronation. His dying words were the ones he knew I would need to destroy you.” JarDan assumed his battle stance. “Now, fight me!” “Your family will pay dearly for what you have done this day.” Morandoni promised as he prepared to meet JarDan’s attack. “When you die, my powers will return and I will have my full measure of vengeance. Every member of the House of Tor will die a horrible death and the future generations of Falcon Tor will suffer mightily for your arrogance.” The slush of fresh snow melted by the rising sun and the footprints from their battle made maneuvering over the hard-packed older snow difficult. Sword clashed against sword as each man fought for an advantage, seeking the weakness that would assure victory. Melodie bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out every time Morandoni’s sword came too close to JarDan. For a man who spent the past fifty years relying on magic, he fought well. Amazingly well, considering he was twice JarDan’s age. When JarDan slipped on the packed snow, only Dak’s restraining arm kept her from rushing to his side. “Do not distract him, Melodie,” Dak whispered against her ear, “and he will not lose this battle. You are his only weakness. The rest of the patrol is right behind us and should be here soon.” JarDan regained his footing without missing a stroke and she released the breath she was holding. As the minutes dragged on and on, both men showed signs of fatigue. Muscles strained and bunched beneath their sweat-stained tunics as the men struggled against the bone-jarring effects of steel against steel. The King of Tor attacked, pushing Morandoni toward the edge of the cliff, JarDan’s ragged, labored breathing audible over the clash of the blades and the grunts of pain from Morandoni each time their weapons connected. Suddenly Morandoni dropped and rolled to the side, coming to his feet several yards away from JarDan. “Melodie! No!” Morandoni called out. Melodie watched in horror as JarDan turned in her direction. “No! It’s a trick! Don’t look at me!” She saw Morandoni’s intent, but she was too late. JarDan’s actions left him open to Morandoni’s attack and the Oracle’s blade caught him on the back of his head. She watched her husband slump to the ground in a lifeless heap. “N-o-o-o-o!” Melodie’s scream startled Dak enough that she escaped his protective hold. Running and stumbling over the packed snow, she raced toward JarDan, Dak following close behind her. “JarDan,” she whispered, lifting his head onto her lap, “can you hear me? Please wake up.” When she smoothed the hair back from his face, her hand came away covered in his blood. Rocking him gently, she cried her anguish to the heavens. She was dimly aware of Dak lifting her from the frozen ground. Morandoni stood a few feet away. Leaning over with his hands on his knees, he struggled to draw air into his overworked lungs. So much pain. So much grief. And all because of one man. He had to pay for all he’d done. There had to be justice for those who suffered at his hands.

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

173

Zeth and Arica. Tiana. She and her unborn daughter. And JarDan. Her beloved JarDan who believed in her and thought she was beautiful. The man who gave his heart, and now his life, for those he loved. Melodie stared at the sword in her hands. JarDan’s sword that she didn’t remember taking from his hands. Morandoni was too intent on recovering from the exertions of the battle to notice her slow advance. “You have to pay.” She whispered, lifting the heavy sword above her head. Morandoni looked up when he heard her voice and she knew the instant he realized he was dead. Without a word, she brought the blade down with all the force of her grieving heart. The look of surprise remained on Morandoni’s face as his head rolled across the snow and dropped over the side of the cliff. Watching the blood from the wizard’s neck pool around her feet snapped what little control Melodie had left. Tremors shook her limbs and sobs racked her body as the horror of what she’d done registered on her numb senses. She had taken the life of another human being. No matter how evil, no matter what his sins were, she had killed a man. “Give me the sword, Melodie.” JarDan whispered softly. She jerked her gaze from the ground to the man standing in front of her. She couldn’t believe it. JarDan. Covered with blood but alive. JarDan. Smiling at her with his heart-stopping smile. She lifted trembling fingers to touch the warmth of his cheek. Wiping the tears from her face, JarDan gathered her close against his chest. “It’s over, my love.” He whispered, lifting her in his arms. “Close your eyes. I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

174

Epilogue JarDan never tired of watching Melodie play with Elizabeth. At six months old, everything that moved fascinated his beautiful daughter. Elizabeth seemed more interested in the dozens of butterflies that danced among the blossoms than in learning to sit pretty for her mother. The bubbling giggle of the little dark-haired baby never failed to twist his heart. They came so close to losing her. When Melodie went into labor on their way back to the castle, no one knew it. Because of the shock she suffered from Morandoni’s death, it wasn’t until JarDan felt the gush of warm water across his legs as he rode with her in his arms that he knew something was wrong. By the time they reached the castle, her natural birthing water ran pink with blood. “Hey, no frowns allowed.” Melodie scooted closer to where he lay across the blanket she spread for the baby. “Why so somber?” “Just a few bad memories.” He smiled and kissed her gently. “Nothing a little tender, loving care from my wife wouldn’t banish.” And word from Dak’s ship. “I think I can come up with something pleasant.” She leaned across his chest, pressing her mouth to his. He instantly fitted his lips to hers, deepening the kiss. “Pa --Pa.” The childish words uttered with complete confidence in their reaction, brought JarDan straight up off the blanket. “When did she learn that?” He asked, scooping his tiny daughter into his arms. Cuddling the baby close to his heart, he inhaled the clean, powdery smell of her skin. “That’s the first time I’ve heard her say it.” Melodie grinned at her gentle giant, his powerful hands cradling their baby with love. “We’ve been coaching her for weeks.” Zeth announced as he and Arica joined them beneath the limbs of the willow tree. “We wanted it to be a surprise.” “It is definitely a surprise.” JarDan laughed, tickling Elizabeth under her chin. “And I admit I like the sound of it.” “I’d like to hold my granddaughter, if you don’t mind.” Arica held out her arms to the laughing baby. JarDan smiled fondly at his mother, sitting close beside his father on the stone bench. She didn’t look a day older than when she disappeared from their lives. The first few weeks after Sladal awakened her from the sleep chamber were a nightmare for her. Her muscles refused to support her body after being dormant for so many years. She endured long hours of painful physical therapy to regain their use. It would be a long time before she completely healed. His mother thought only a few days had passed since Morandoni kidnapped her from the rose garden. The shock of discovering it had been more than twenty years was traumatic. Through it all, his father never failed to be there with her. “We’ve come to tell you that we’re planning a little trip.” Zeth announced after he received his share of wet, baby kisses. “I’d like time to get to know my wife again. We have many memories to catch up on.” Arica leaned her head against Zeth’s shoulder and JarDan smiled although his

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

175

heart was heavy. His mother, so recently returned to his life, now planned to leave again. He understood why they wanted some time together, but the little boy in him still wanted to cling to his mother – afraid she might go away and not come back again. And Dak. Where was Dak? The trip to Earth to retrieve Logan should only take ten weeks -- twelve at the most. In the four months since his departure there had been no word from him. The Venture, leaving two weeks ahead of Dak and the Rendezvous, reached Earth, retrieved the infants from the compromised collection station, had returned more than a month ago. Dak never made it to Earth. Was he still alive -waiting for a rescue ship to find him? By all the Ancient Prophets, just let him be alive. As if sensing his pain, Melodie stood and slipped her hand into his, squeezing his hand in silent understanding. “Where will you be going?” She asked. “We haven’t decided, yet.” Zeth grinned at his wife. “Maybe Earth. Your mother thinks she’d like to she what Melodie’s home is like. Wherever we go,” he glanced up at Melodie with love in his eyes, “I feel confident my kingdom will be safe in the hands of the legendary Warrior Queen.” Melodie blushed. She didn’t like to remember her part in ending the reign of terror Morandoni spawned. Her conscience still bothered her over the taking of a life. Covering her discomfiture with activity, she stooped and began gathering Elizabeth’s toys and blanket. “Did Sladal find you, son?” Zeth asked, breaking the silence. “Yes, but I’m not sure what he expects me to do with his information.” “You have to admit, it’s the only solution that fits the circumstances.” Zeth took the baby from Arica’s arms and rocked her against his shoulder. “Why don’t we take this little angel up to her room? She looks about ready for a nap. You and Melodie can probably use a few minutes to yourselves. Why don’t you tell her what Sladal is hypothesizing?” “Tell me what?” Melodie asked when Zeth and Arica were out of hearing range. Stacking the baby’s things on top of the blanket she brought for her and JarDan, she slipped her arm through JarDan’s and pulled him down on the bench. “You know that in the past six months there have been more than two dozen baby girls born here.” Melodie nodded encouraging him to continue. It looked like the plague that threatened to destroy Anderas was finally over. She was glad, especially since it made Elizabeth’s birth less of a phenomenon. “Well, according to Sladal’s tests, all of the fathers were on the Destiny’s last voyage, and like me, still test positive for the virus. After questioning every member of the crew, me included, until we were hoarse from answering his infernal questions and studying the ship’s log, he believes he knows what caused the female births.” “Does that mean the plague is officially over?” Melodie asked, tracing the design of his bonding band with her fingertip. “No, we still test positive. The only difference in our trip and all the others is that it lasted for more than a year. A Travel Craft carries provisions for a crew of two hundred for two years, but it can only carry enough water for six months. I landed twice

JARDAN, THE KING

C.J. Johnson

176

and took on fresh water. Once in northern Canada and again in western Montana. Although, the medical teams haven’t figured out exactly what significance the water from Earth has on the conception of females, at least it’s a start. It’s the first real clue they’ve had in more than two thousand years.” Melodie stared at her husband for a full ten seconds before she burst into laughter. Every time she looked into his bewildered expression, her laughter erupted again. “Would you mind sharing the joke?” He asked dryly. “I’m sorry.” She gasped, wiping the tears from her face. “It’s just so funny. You stopped for water!” Again she doubled over in laughter, unable to continue her explanation. When she could catch her breath again, she looked out over the rose garden instead of at him. She’d never control her silly giggles if she looked at his face. “One of the first rules of traveling anywhere on Earth is you do not drink the water in a strange place. Travelers use the phrase it’s the water for every ailment ever encountered on a trip. There’s even a beer company that uses it in its slogan. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of anyone getting well from drinking strange water.” JarDan shook his head at her humor. The joke must be indigenous to Earth. He certainly didn’t see anything funny about the situation. “Come, my love.” His voice dropped to a sexy drawl. “We have two hours to test the theory of Sladal’s discovery. Is it the water -- or does it take something more?” “Oh, I definitely think it’s something more.” She whispered, sliding her hand down the front of his body. “A lot more.”

The End