Beauty's Curse (44 page)

“Is the prince's chamber at the end of the hall?” she whispered.

“Nay, 'tis King Richard's room.”

“Someone just went inside. Is there a peephole?”

“Nay. I made the mistake of telling Richard about the passageways, and he had the hole to his chamber blocked.”

“Smart man,” she sighed. “Since I hardly think the king is secretly staying in his own room, I wonder why Prince John would violate his brother's privacy.”

“He's trying to steal his brother's throne. What is a bed compared to that?”

“Now who's being sarcastic?” She took a deep breath. “Which door leads to the treasury?”

“It isn't a real treasury, but Jamie and I called it that because of all the private jewels the family kept there. The real treasury is in London.”

She put her hand to her throat. “Hardly convenient when choosing a necklace.”

“The life of a royal isn't simple,” Rourke said with a straight face.

Gali giggled before getting back to the subject at hand. “So what do you propose? Dashing across the hall and barreling down the door of a locked room?”

“Too noisy.” He unhooked a length of tightly coiled rope from his belt and handed it to Galiana.

She took it. “What is this for?” The ring flashed with mystical blue fire. It looked like trapped lightning, and she could almost smell the rain from her vision. “We must hurry.”

“I feel the urgency, too.”

They stared at one another before Rourke asked, “Are you sure you want to do this? I've bullied you into it. You can walk away right now, and I won't hold it against you. My fight is not your fight.”

She curled her upper lip in a deliberate mean face and shook the rope. “I'm tough,” she growled. “'Tis my king we're saving. And what kind of guardian will I be if I'm not willing to die to keep the stone safe?”

Rourke stepped back from her mock fierceness. She was wonderful, and he could feel the power radiate from her being. Her eyes glowed, and he saw a bright, unearthly light flash within them.

He frowned. “Are your eyes green?”

She sniffed in answer. “Rourke. The rope? Am I supposed to wear it? Toss it? Hang myself from it?”

Disconcerted, he grabbed the coil back. “You'll drop into the room from above.”

“What?” She rubbed her hands together. “I'm not fond of heights. And I definitely don't care for broken bones.”

“You won't break any bones.” He waved her complaints to the side, remembering how he and Jamie had crawled between the floors to find a way inside the room. If the queen had found them out then, they wouldn't have survived till their next birthdays.

By memory alone, he showed Galiana where to climb.

“You won't fit, Rourke,” she said.

“Aye, that's why you're going. Keep the rope in your left hand, Gali. You can do it. Quiet, though, so John won't hear you.”

He heard her crawl along the ceiling, then find the loose panel leading down into the treasure room. She put it to the side with barely a peep, and then he could do nothing but listen helplessly as she tied the rope around a stud in the wall.

“Must I tie it round my wrist?” she whispered. “What if I fall?”

Taking a calming breath, he answered, “Can you climb down it without slipping?”

“I wish I had my gloves,” she said. “You should have told me to—”

“Shh!”

“Sorry,” she answered in a hushed tone.

Rourke tugged at the hair falling over his eye. It would be a bleedin' miracle if they got out of this alive.

Every tiny inch she moved tore at his gut, and now he worried she'd skin her palms. He should have suggested gloves. A master spy thought of every possibility. He'd never worked with a novice before.

He waited, holding his breath, wondering if she was sitting on the edge of the ceiling too afraid to grab the rope and descend into the room below. Rourke started to climb up after her, when he heard an impossible sound.

The door across the hall was open, and she was waving to him to come across if he could.

Rourke grinned. She was damn good for a novice. He peeked out the hole as far down as he could, when he saw the door to King Richard's chamber open.

John was coming. His belly clenched tight, and he waved his hands in front of the peephole even though he knew she couldn't see him. Damn, damn—he'd put her in danger.

Was it the prince? He couldn't tell since a heavy cloak with a fur-lined hood blocked his already shadowy view. The blurry person walked with masculine strides, and Rourke put all of his energy into sending Gali a message to shut the door before she got caught.

Miracle of all miracles, she slowly closed the door to the treasury just as the man walked by. As if sensing something out of place, the hooded figure straightened, glancing at the treasury door. Had he heard something? Galiana hadn't made a sound.

Two heartbeats away from jumping out of his hiding spot and slaying the man, royal or no, Rourke watched the man continue on and walk down the stairs, leaving the private apartments.

He'd seemed so familiar. The way he'd held his arm, as if it were sore …

Franz.

Rourke let out the breath he'd been holding. Why would Franz be in Richard's room?

Rourke searched the hall again.

Empty.

He slowly opened the painting, and stepped out on the carpeted floor. Gali silently opened the door, and he raced on ghostlike feet across the expanse of wood and carpet to where his wife awaited.

“That was too close,” he said, grabbing her to him and planting a kiss on her full mouth.

“Aye,” she agreed, kissing him back.

“It wasn't the prince in King Richard's chamber; it was Franz.”

“I thought I smelled his cologne. 'Tis sweet, for a man.”

“Sweet?” Rourke stilled. “You don't think …”

Galiana lifted a shoulder. “I don't know. Mayhap they met on crusade.”

“But I've seen Franz with women,” Rourke protested.

“Some people like both,” Galiana said in a pragmatic tone. “Look at King Philippe.”

Rourke snapped, “I don't. 'Tis women only for me.”

“Women?” There was no mistaking the frosty nip in her tone.

“Never mind.” He moved across the room, which was more crowded than he remembered. Or perhaps he'd gotten bigger, or his vision was playing with his memories. “'Tis different,” he said, careful to keep his eyes down so he didn't trip on anything.

“I don't see anything that could be the Breath of Merlin.”

“Let me look.” If it wasn't here …

“Richard's room,” she said as if reading his mind. “The dust here hasn't been disturbed in a while. All of this seems to have been forgotten.”

“How will we get in? The rafters aren't open above the other chambers.”

She held out a group of keys. “I found a whole ring in the lock on this side of the door.”

“I'll do it,” he said, taking the keys. Dread whispered across his shoulders at being in the open hall and not at his stealthy best.

“We go together. We must be together. I feel it.” She lifted her hand again, and Rourke could see the eerie glow coming from the ring.

He couldn't argue with old magic.

He opened the door and peered out into the hall. Becoming a shadow, he stayed close to the wall as he ran swiftly toward the kidnapped king's chamber. Galiana copied his every move. Stopping at the very last door, Rourke let the calm that he always felt as he did a job take over. He closed his eyes and let his fingers trace each key until he touched one that felt right.

Opening his eyes, squinting against the pain in his forehead that even dim light brought, he put the key into the lock and turned until he heard a satisfying click.

“How'd you do that?” Galiana's warm, minty breath fanned his face. He almost kissed her again.

“'Tis luck, my lady.”

“Nay, some sort of skill. Mayhap a touch of magic. You have beautiful hands, Rourke.”

He opened the door and leaned inside, hoping Franz hadn't been having an assignation in the king's chambers.

“A man doesn't have beautiful hands.”

She sniffed and followed him inside.

“It's rather gold,” she said with awe laced through her tone. “I thought it would be—”

“Plainer?”

“Well, he's never here. It seems a waste to keep a chamber in perfect readiness for someone who might not ever use it.” Galiana closed the door and locked it.

“A king is not just ‘someone,'” Rourke said, somewhat defensively. His entire life had been about pleasing the royal family. “Well-trained servants dust the room on a monthly basis.”

“This would be the perfect place to hide what everybody is searching for,” she said, seemingly mesmerized by the frantically flashing ring on her hand. “You would think this would burn, it glows so bright.”

“If it hurts, take it off,” he ordered with alarm.

She wore a smile as she shook her head. “It doesn't. Besides, I've never felt so close to my sisters before.”

“Your sisters?” He looked around as if they'd materialized somewhere in the room.

“They have magic; I told you. Boadicea's magic.”

“That.” He hadn't believed her at the time. Considering she was wielding a magic ring, and they were in search of a magic stone created from a sacrificial lion cub and a male infant, whose souls were trapped in Merlin's breath … He never should have doubted her.

“And now I have it, too.”

He heard the pride in her voice. “Magic. Does it change who you are?”

“I don't know, yet. I felt something similar to this while creating my perfumes, and when we …”

He followed her as she turned the corner, waiting for what she would say next. Had she felt the power, the magic, when they'd made love?

“Sweet Mary! Ah, Rourke, good heavens—you see this, don't you?”

He shook his head to clear the images of Galiana with her back arched in passion. The point of her index finger glowed with blue magic. A strand of lightning went from the tip of her finger to the murky opaque object in the center of the king's canopied bed.

His knees locked together, and he had the insane urge to kneel before the sacred globe. Now that he knew the history behind the orb, it held a malevolent feel. Were the two innocent babes trapped forever? What would happen if the large orb broke?

Shivers dotted his skin with goose bumps.

Were their infant souls restless? Did the babes choose who would be blinded forever and who was worthy? Fear coated his tongue. Even the gray and brown vision he had now was better than nothing. Dare he risk losing everything?

“Come here, Rourke,” Galiana said without a trace of fear. “Look at the way the light shimmers and jumps from one side to the next. The opaque part is clearing; it's like it is welcoming us. You.”

“Me?”

“Mayhap it remembers you, from …” She frowned. “From before. But that can't be right, can it?”

“Let's grab it and get out of here.”

“What's wrong?”

His head pounded, and the blue light from both the ball and the ring seared into his brain. He walked forward, unable to stop himself. He wanted to destroy the orb, to make the agony go away.

“This hurts, damn it.” He scrubbed at his eyes, but the pain worsened until he finally dropped unwillingly to his knees.

He knew without looking that he was at the edge of the bed. The damn orb wanted him kneeling in supplication, and God's nails, he was doing it.

“Rourke?” Concern pitched Gali's voice higher than normal. “What are you doing? Nay—don't touch it!”

“I can't help it. It's drawing me to it. My head …” He leaned forward, his forehead on the mattress, his fingers inching toward the Breath of Merlin, though his muscles strained to keep his hands at his sides.

“It could blind you,” she breathed, her words thick with fear.

“Aye.”

A calming sense descended over him for a second, and no more—but it offered respite from the pain in which he could think clearly. “I have to know if John would be king, or if William should have it all. This is a chance in a lifetime. My father would want me to do it.” He thought of all the things he'd taken for granted. All the times he'd worked and sacrificed for the crown, for the royals in his life. It seemed fitting that they drive him mad, in the end.

“I want to do it. Protect yourself, Galiana! Get out of here.” He fought to keep his hands on the cover of the bed, his muscles burning as sweat popped out along his brow. Mayhap madness would be a relief from the constant pain in his head.

“I'll not leave you!” she cried.

“Knowledge is power,” he breathed out like a tourney horse at the end of a joust. “I would save you if I could.” Then it was too late for speech as his hands clasped the globe. It was cold. So cold his teeth chattered hard enough to crack. He was going to die, he thought clearly, and what legacy had he left for his kin? He had no family, he'd not shared his heart with another, and he realized he'd neglected life's true gift. Not power, but love.

His soul leeched from his body into the glowing blue circle of light. The mocking laugh of Merlin echoed in his ears. How had he ever considered himself worthy?

And then Galiana's hands covered his.

Warmth, fiery red and passionate, battled the cold blue for his spiritual essence. Lush greens, so deep and rich he'd never seen them before, wrapped leafy tendrils around his feet. He stood against the wind, and he felt rain, cool rain, not ice any longer, dash his cheeks. He was in the orb, but he wasn't alone.

Galiana stood next to him, and he saw her. She was so beautiful; tears slipped from his eyes. Tall, stately, elegant. She shone with an inner light. Her heart was pure. In the vision, inside the orb, they held hands and walked side by side.