Powerful Magic (15 page)

          
Lancelot came to the wall of trees.
 
Instead of stopping,
 
he plowed right into them.
 
To Megan, it came as no surprise that the trees seemed to part, as if a powerful hand guided them, allowing them entrance.

          
Grim faced, Kenric fell silent and Lancelot, no longer plodding, seemed to prance as they entered the magical place.
 

          
Where, Megan saw immediately with no small measure of relief, it was summer, bright blazing sunshine, blue skies, and all.

          
Kenric, uttering a muffled oath, crossed himself.
 
Behind them, the wall of trees seemed to straighten and reform, blocking out the snowstorm.

          
"You'd best pray, my lady."
 
His voice sounded bitter.
 

          
Trying to restrain her delight, Megan loosened the heavy cloak and held her hands up to the brilliant sun.
 
"For what?"

          
The look he gave her was angry, mingled with pity and disbelief.
 
"Have you not heard the tales of mortals who wandered in to the land of Faerie?
 
`Tis said years pass whilst they, unknowing, are bound by enchantment."

          
He lowered his voice, his eyes sharp, taking note of all around them.
 
"Some never make it back."

          
Since what he said was too close to her present situation for comfort, Megan trembled.
 
For the first time she wondered what she would do if it was not possible for her to go back home, back to Dallas in 2010.
 
Where she had electricity, a snazzy new red BMW convertible, and Roger.
 

          
The thought of her fiance made her shudder.
 
No doubt Roger was furious at her disappearance.
 
Unable to believe that she'd simply vanished when the lightening hit, he probably had employed a team of private investigators to search for her whereabouts.
 
After all, she hadn't changed her will to make him beneficiary as he'd ordered her to do.

          
Lancelot came to a halt, lifting his head to scent the breeze.
 
Stretching his thick neck forward, he whinnied, cocking his ears as if he expected an answer.

          
Dragging her gaze away from Kenric's hard face, Megan looked around her with wonderment.
 
Stretching as far as the eye could see was a summer meadow of verdant green and gold.
 
The long grass waved in the light breeze, and brightly colored birds flitted from the limbs of the leafy trees, their songs joyful and sweet.
 
The scent of wildflowers and hay filled the air.
 
For the first time since the lightening bolt had hit her, Megan felt warm.
 

          
"It's beautiful!"
 
Unable to help herself, she laughed with delight.
 
"Look." She touched Kenric's shoulder, leaning close so that she might whisper in his ear, "Over there.
 
A doe and her fawn."

          
"Beware, Megan of Dallas Texas."
 
Kenric turned to glare at her, his eyes hard and cold as the land they'd just left.
 
"This is a place of danger.
 
Not all is at it appears."

          
She found it hard to believe.
 
"All I know is that I'd much rather have awakened here than in that snowstorm."
 
She sighed, wiggling slightly.
 
"Can I get down?"

          
The big man in front of her stiffened.
 
"No."
 
He barked, his hand going once more to his sword.
 
"You must stay on the horse.
 
Trouble comes."

          
Peering around his shoulder, Megan stared in astonishment.
 
A woman, her long golden hair floating gently around her shoulders, strolled towards them.
 
She wore a long, white robe of some sort of gossamer material, edged with golden thread.
 
Though she was still on the other side of the meadow, by her very presence she seemed to make the place that much more wonderful.

          
"She's gorgeous."
 
Megan breathed as the woman grew closer.
 
She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman Megan had ever seen.
 

          
"Aye, that she is."
 
Kenric said glumly.
 
He held himself the way a warrior does who's about to meet an enemy in battle.
 
"It has been a long time since I've seen her."

          
He knew her?
 
That vision of loveliness who approached them?
 
Suddenly, Megan felt positively dowdy in Kenric's faded, baggy clothes.
 
"Who is she?"

          
His intent stare never wavered from the woman as she drew near.
 
His mouth twisted bitterly.
 
"Her name is Rhiannon.
 
We shared the same mother.
 
She is my half-sister."

          
"Your..."
 
Megan swallowed, hardly able to believe it, "your half-sister?"
 
The idea that this rugged giant had a sister seemed, well, shocking.
 
She shook her head.
 
Everyone
had family, even arrogant warriors.
 
But he'd said before that he had no family, that they were all dead.
 
And, wait a minute, if this Faerie woman were his sister, then what did that make him?

          
About to ask, she closed her mouth as the woman drew near.

          
"Greetings, my brother."
 
With a soft smile, the woman hailed him.
 
Her voice was lilting and musical.
 

          
Kenric slid from the horse, leaving Megan still up on Lancelot's broad back.
 
Tamping back surprise - that she was no longer afraid - and fury - that he should treat her as if she were not even here - Megan copied his movements exactly.
 
She managed to land on her feet, looking almost dignified.
 
That is, until her legs refused to support her and she had to clutch at Kenric's arm to stay upright.

          
He barely spared Megan a glance, his gaze never wavering from the woman who hailed them.

          
"Rhiannon, my sister."
 
Kenric inclined his head, looking every inch the arrogant warrior.
 
"How fares it with you?"

          
Astonished, Megan stared.
 
This was it?
 
This was the way he greeted his sister, who by his own admission he hadn't seen in a long time.
 
Before she had time to think of it, she prodded him with her elbow.
 
           
"Give her a hug."
 
She hissed, close to his ear so that his sister would not hear it.
 

          
One corner of Kenric's mouth lifted.
 
Imperceptibly, he gave a shake of his dark head.
 

          
Megan sighed, giving up. There was no way she could force him to be nice, not without making a scene.
 
She supposed it was none of her business anyway.
 
After all, she barely knew the man.

          
But she'd drawn his sister's attention.
 
Long lashed eyes the color of periwinkles glanced curiously at Megan.

          
"Who is your woman?"
 

          
The way Kenric's sister said the word
woman
endowed the simple word with another layer of meaning.
 
As in girlfriend, wife, lover...
 
Megan could feel her face coloring, especially under the other's curious gaze.

          
Kenric showed no surprise that his sister had seen through Megan's disguise.
 
"She is a displaced lady, searching for her betrothed.
 
I am merely helping her."
 
He clamped his mouth shut, his lips a hard line in a face that might have been chiseled from stone.

          
"And you?"
 
His sister asked softly, her gentle smile never wavering.
 
"What do you get in return?"

          
That seemed odd.
 
Megan frowned, watching the interplay between siblings.
 
Why did Kenric's sister automatically assume he would get something out of helping her?
 

          
Like he knew her thoughts, Kenric shot Megan a quelling look.
  
Straightening his shoulders, he inclined his head.
 
"In return she has promised me a grant of land.
 
In the world of mankind."

          
"Ahhh."
 
The woman's silver eyes, so like Kenric's, softened.
 
"Human land.
 
`Tis what you have always wanted, is it not?"

          
He gave a curt nod, still ignoring Megan.
 
It seemed he had no intention of introducing her by name.
 
Very well, she could take care of that.
 
She was a woman of modern times, after all.
 
"I’m Megan Potter."
 
Stepping forward, Megan held out her hand for Rhiannon to shake.
 

          
With slightly arched brows, Kenric's sister made no move to take it.
 
Instead, she stared at the outstretched hand in apparent bafflement.
 

          
Megan felt herself blush - all over.
 
She lowered her arm slowly.
 
She should have known better.
 
Women in medieval times did not shake hands.
 

          
Kenric grabbed her arm and pulled her into the crook of his.
 
The gesture, meant she felt certain, to be comforting, stunned her.
 
But, she had to admit, it did make her feel immensely better.
 
Proving the hard warrior who'd found her did have feelings.
 

          
"Megan hails from a far away place."
 
Kenric pronounced, as if to explain her strange actions.
 
"Dallas, Texas.
 
Perhaps you have heard of it."

          
Still silent, Kenric's sister watched them.
 
Though she shook her head, a smile curved her generous lips.
 

          
"Nay, I have not heard of this place."
 
Her gaze drifted to Megan's face, her smile deepening.
 
"I’m Rhiannon and I’m from…"
 
She waved a graceful hand at the shining meadow, the sun glinting off her shimmering hair, "Rune."

          
"Rune?"
 
The name sounded unfamiliar, though Megan could have sworn Kenric had told her they were in Wales.
 
"Where is Rune?"

          
"Here."
 
Kenric answered, his tone curt.
 
"All around you. Rune is a kingdom in the land of Faerie."

          
Rhiannon titled her head, studying Megan.
 
This close to the stunning woman, Megan felt old, even though she knew she had to be the younger of the two.
 
And plain.
 
If this woman were to appear in New York City, she'd become an instant Supermodel.
  

          
"Kenric was born here in Rune."
 
Rhiannon said softly, like she had read Megan's mind.
 
"He chooses to disavow this part of his heritage, but it all could be his.
 
If he wanted it."

          
Not sure she understood, Megan looked at Kenric.
 
From his set jaw and grim expression, she saw he would not explain.
 
Still, she would give him a chance before she asked his sister.