Surprise rippled across his features. “How did she…?”
“I don’t know.” Roseâtre sighed. Relief at letting it out relaxed her and she settled her body against the long length of him, a masculine cushion to the harsh reality of her condition. She indulged in the way her curves seemed to fit to him, the lazy possessiveness of his leg thrust between hers, the heat of his thigh nestled against her sex.
A week ago, she would have snorted. This moment, she could imagine no other way. Her mother would kill her. But she banished the queen from her thoughts.
“Tell me,” he murmured, stroking his hand through her hair. He was petting her like she was one of his cats and, odder still, she enjoyed the soothing display of ownership.
“Cerveau’s real name is Jaimela.” The answer easier to speak than she imagined. “We were raised together, trained together and in every way, she is my shield-sister. Her shield. My sword. We were inseparable. But at our majority, it was knowledge she longed to conquer, not the battlefield. I didn’t mind the change of direction. In fact, I admired it. She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. Her mind deciphers puzzles the way Castilian steel severs flesh.”
The story flowed from her easily, bearing no hiccup of shame. That ease, more than any mark his sexy mouth left on her flesh, revealed the imprint their mating left on her soul. A flash of regret died a simple death at the happiness cascading into her heart. She would never be alone again. Her shield-sister and her mate would bracket her, protect her from all sides.
Her mate.
She rubbed her hand against his belly, tracing the ridges of his abdomen. She would mark him here. Where it would be plain to all.
He was hers.
“Ruth?” Her name sounded both delicious and odd on his lips.
“Ruthie,” she whispered. It was an almost shy confession. “That’s what my friends call me.”
“Ruthie.” He tested the syllables. “Ruthie. I like it. Softer. Sexier.”
She laughed. It was hardly a sexy name, except that it turned her inside out when he said it.
“Jaimela loves knowledge,” he prompted.
“Yes. She visited the Oracle at Delphi and spent several nights in the temple of Athena. She told me that the goddess visited her dreams.”
“A rarity in these times.” His understanding unlocked another seal inside her heart. He was quickly nesting himself inside of her, becoming as vital to her existence as air.
“Yes. A great honor. When she came before my mother and begged leave to quest, the court was stunned. No Amazon had been called to quest in five hundred years, since the time my grandmother ruled. It was without question that Jaimela would be granted the leave to go.”
“And you took the oath to go with her. To protect her on her quest.” Of course he understood.
Gods, she loved him.
She loved him.
“Yes.” The emotion rolled through her, a pervasive wind that shattered what remained of the wall. “Her quest took us around the world. We visited temples throughout Asia Minor, the Pacific and deep into South America. We watched the sun climb the sides of Machu Pichu and the moon achieve her zenith over the lost jaguar temples of the Maya. But we pushed on, forever roaming, as Athena’s messages arrived in the form of owls.”
“Until you arrived here.”
“Yes.” Roseâtre dropped her head to lie against his chest, the thump of his heart beating in her ear a sweet reminder of shared passion. Her heart echoed the cadence of his. He was everywhere inside of her, she could almost feel the sprout of his fur, caressing her, comforting her.
“What happened when you arrived at the Arcana Royale?”
“I don’t know.” The confession hurt, but truth often did. “We walked inside the lobby. Jaimela practically bounced with excitement. She kept murmuring ‘it’s here, it’s here’ and then she just went still. Her eyes glazed. Her mouth slackened and nothing I did could rouse her.”
Her throat clogged with remembered frustration, anger and even a tinge of fear. She’d been faced by nothing to battle, nothing to strike down, only the empty eyed face of her sister. Helpless.
Anthony’s arms caged her, his hands stroking and petting. Tears slid down her face in earnest. The loss as poignant now as it had been then. “The Overseers summoned me before them. Jaimela had broken a covenant, stolen knowledge, and by the laws that govern this place, she would serve until she surrendered what she had taken, returned it to its rightful place.”
“Why doesn’t she just do it then?” It wasn’t callousness or anger in his tone, but true question.
“Because, she doesn’t remember. The person she became—Cerveau—she doesn’t remember what Jaimela did. It’s as though another exists there—she is and is not my sister.” Roseâtre lifted her head, sniffling back the tears. “Despite their claims and what I heard, she offers no recollection of what happened that morning when we walked in and barely remembers the life we shared before that moment. It’s as if Jaimela died when she entered the lobby and only Cerveau remains.”
“She’s not dead.” He stripped away the veil of sadness.
“What?” Lifting her head, she gazed at him, searching. “Why do you say that?”
“She came to me and she smelled different—looked different—hell, she even sounded different. She told me to take you away from here, to convince you to go. But then she went cold again, ice in her eyes and the other told me you would never leave.”
He’d spoken to Jaimela. In all their years here, she’d seen almost no evidence of her sister. Only the hard possession of the other.
If she woke now—what did that mean?
He caressed her cheek, smoothing her hair back and tucking it behind her ear. “So they consigned her to serve as a showgirl?” Bafflement creased his expression.
“It was the safest route they offered.”
“And your slave bands?”
“I wouldn’t leave her. I won’t.” There. She’d confessed it. The oath that bound her to the sister who couldn’t even remember the crime she’d supposedly committed. The sacrifice of her own freedom to remain at her side. The interminable journey with no light at the end.
“You’re amazing.” Anthony’s words startled her as did the fierce kiss he stroked over her lips. “Abso-freaking-lutely amazing.”
“Why? Because I failed?”
“Hardly.” His expression hardened. “You’ve maintained your oath, given up that which is vital to the existence of a being, willingly tendered your body and soul to stay at her side and I love you for it.”
His declaration decimated the fragments of the wall around her. She could almost feel the cat stretching inside of him, purring up against her skin.
“But you can’t serve this oath like this any longer.” He pressed his fingers to her lips, stifling the objection. “If you’re right and your sister has been locked beneath that other all this time and she’s rousing—who’s to say that your staying in those damnable bands is not holding her captive as well?”
Logic and reason collided with fierce emotion. Her gut choked at the idea of leaving, her heart rent in two and yet… “How could my staying affect her?”
“I don’t know.” At least he was honest. “But you’ve trapped yourself to protect her and if you won’t leave, maybe she won’t either. You don’t know if she understands why you’re here. And if she wants you to go…does that not release you from your oath?”
The twisted suggestion appealed to her. “What if that’s just what I want to hear? What if I just want a reason to go so I don’t feel like an oath-breaker?”