“You . . . damn it.” She looked around, but he wasn’t sure if she was seeing the cave or fighting back tears.
“Myr . . .” He reached out to her.
“Don’t.” She held up a hand. “Just don’t, okay? Like I said, it’s probably better if we go right to the spell. It’s not like us talking about it is going to change anything.” She paused, lifting her little wand. “Ready?”
No. “Yeah.”
And, as they had practiced a hundred times over the past ten days, she unblocked the magic, letting it flow from her into him.
Power washed through his head and heart like an old, familiar friend. Suddenly, he was himself again; the cold places were warm, the empty places filling as his magic sizzled through his veins, back where it belonged. The flames changed, gaining red along with the green as his talents came online, his mind-bender’s magic vibrating against hers like it knew what they were about to do.
“Breathe in the smoke and cast the spell,” she said. But then, echoing along their shared magic, he heard her whisper, I don’t blame you for any of this.
Ah, damn it, he thought, as a one-two punch thudded beneath his heart. He wanted to call it off, wanted to hold her, tell her everything was going to be okay. That would be a lie, though, because no matter what happened next, things were going to be anything but okay. And this was one of the best chances he was going to have to protect her, or at least get her out of the direct line of fire when the Banol Kax came for him. So he leaned in, opened himself to the mind-bending magic, and breathed in smoke that was laden with the scents of patchouli, vanilla and ginger. And, as the world spun around him, going faster with each rev, he said the short spell, his words echoing a nanosecond behind hers.
Magic flared between them, lacing the air with sparks of red and gold. His perceptions went swimmy and indistinct and then lurched, and it suddenly felt as if the universe was moving past him while he sat still, more like a teleportation spell than mind-bending. He braced himself to enter her thoughts, but he didn’t.
Instead, he dropped into the mind of a long-dead king.
CHAPTER EIGHT
One second, Myr was diving into the mind-meld . . . and in the next, she found herself in the middle of someone else’s thoughts. But she wasn’t in Rabbit’s head, and she wasn’t in the winikin’s cave anymore. Instead, she was wearing full battle gear and seeing out through the eyes of a Nightkeeper queen.
And oh, holy shit, this wasn’t what the spell was supposed to do.
Summer Solstice, 1984
The tunnels beneath Chichén Itzá
“Door,” King Scarred-Jaguar snapped over his shoulder, sending his adviser, Two-Hawk, out of the circular chamber to guard the hallway and keep the stone slab from closing. The plan was for the king and Asia to form a blood-link and open the intersection, as the dreams had said. After that, the others would join in for the spell that they hoped would seal the barrier for good. If they succeeded, there would be no more countdown, no end-time war.
Please gods, Asia thought, not even sure they would be able to manage the blood-link. Not the way things were between them right now.
The king watched his adviser leave, then glanced sharply at her. “At least he doesn’t think his fealty oath only counts when it’s convenient.”
“There was nothing convenient about it.” Gods, how she wished she could go back a half hour, to when they had arrived at the site and, seeing how damn worried he looked, she had told him what she had done to protect their children, thinking it would reassure him. Instead, he had taken it as a slap, a lack of faith.
“Well it wasn’t a shining example of loyalty, either,” he growled.
With the huge chac-mool altar behind him and a row of screaming skulls lining the ceiling of the chamber above him, he was surrounded by symbols of the war he was determined to prevent. He looked very much a Nightkeeper, very much like a king and the man she loved with all her heart. But he also looked very, very pissed.
Then again, so was she.
She moved between him and the altar, so he had to look at her. “We’re on the same side, damn it.”
His jaw locked with the familiar jaguar stubbornness, which had been magnified to near deadly proportions over the past few weeks as he’d become obsessed with following the dreams the gods had sent him. “Then stop trying to undermine me.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? And I’ve been right behind you every step of the way. I believe in you, Jag,” she said, using the nickname that was hers alone. “But I couldn’t let Strike and Anna . . .” She trailed off when he stiffened, eyes going cold.
More, she was all too aware of the minutes passing, the solstice approaching, time running out. She had distracted him—both of them—with her ill-timed confession. Which wasn’t the work of a queen or a warrior. Not when they had work to do, a prophecy to fulfill.
“We need to get started,” he said, almost as if he’d read her mind. Except he couldn’t have caught her thoughts, even through the mated bond. Not with them so out of synch.
Exhaling, she stepped aside and turned to face the altar. Thy wills be done, she thought, and offered him her bloodied hand. “You’re right,” she said softly, trying to channel the warrior’s calm that kept eluding her. “Let’s do this.”
She had made her choice—she was there, with him. They all were, nearly a thousand Nightkeepers and three times that many winikin, filling the tunnels and spilling out into the ancient courtyards, ready to add to the uplink and block the Banol Kax from the earth, once and for all.
Gods willing.
He looked at her for a three-count, as if measuring her sincerity. Then he nodded and took her hand. “Ready?” His voice was tough and tight, that of her king, not her husband.
No. “Yes.” She opened herself to him, added her magic to his, and put her faith in him, in his dreams and his plan.
“Pasaj och,” he intoned, his voice resonating through their joined magic. The connection formed, jacking him into the solstice-thinned barrier and bringing her along through the uplink. Power flared through them, ramping quickly from a hum to a jaw-aching buzz. But it didn’t stop there, didn’t level off the way it always had before. Instead, it kept going, flooding her and amping higher and higher.
They hadn’t yet opened the intersection, yet already there was more energy here than she’d ever wielded before. Suddenly, the magic was the stuff of legends, the kind of power their ancestors had used to drive the Banol Kax from the earth plane and create the barrier.
Wonder seared through her, because the magic had to mean that it was real. It was all real—the dreams, the gods’ promises, the potential to avert the war—all of it.
Gods. Tears prickled behind her closed lids, and one hot drop slipped down her cheek.
“Asia.” Jag’s energy was suddenly different, stronger and more vibrant than it had been, not just since her confession, but for days now, weeks. Heat thrummed through their blood-link, sharp and prickly with desire, but tempered with a deeper, softer warmth that wrapped around her, feeling like his arms. Feeling like love. His voice caught as he said, “Open your eyes. Please.”
She didn’t want to lose the moment, didn’t want to see the coldness in him. But when she looked up at him, she saw the man she’d been missing. “Oh, Jag.”
The magic coiled around them, sparking the air red and gold as he moved in and locked his lips to hers.