Beyond the Highland Myst(557)

Oh, God, she thought, horrified, it sounded like someone was trying to break in!

She listened a few more moments. Yes, that was it. She could hear the metallic grating as someone tried to pick the lock. She counted her blessings that she'd bestirred herself from grief enough to flip the inner lock when she'd come in.

Oh, for heaven's sake, she thought, suddenly exasperated, what is this? My year of misery? Is every bad thing that could possibly happen to me, going to?

She was not going to be victimized again. Period. Chloe Zanders had had entirely enough. There was only so much a girl could tolerate. She was suddenly dangerously furious at whoever was outside that door, daring to mess up her life even further.

How dare anyone give her more grief?

Dimly aware that she might not be acting quite rationally, but beyond caring, she slipped from the sofa, snatched the claymore from the prongs above the hearth and crept toward the door.

She briefly contemplated pounding on it, in hopes of scaring the intruder away, but swiftly decided that as isolated as the penthouse level was, the intruder might break in anyway and she would have sacrificed her advantage of surprise.

So she stood quietly behind the door and waited. It wasn't long before she heard clicks as the tumblers slipped and the lock turned. Sucking in a shallow breath, she balanced on the balls of her feet, crouching low for a solid stance, and raised the heavy sword with both hands.

The door opened slowly and a dark shape slipped in.

Swiftly, and perhaps harder than she'd intended, Chloe whipped the blade of the sword to his throat. She heard a swift intake of air, and suspected, as sharp as the blade was, she'd cut him.

Good, she thought.

"Och, Chloe-lass, please put the blade down," Dageus said softly.

Chloe screamed.

*****

Keltar mates ne'er come easily to their men. Some travel distances too vast and strange to fathom, others travel but a short path, though a far distance in their hearts. Most resist every step of the way, yet for each Keltar, one woman will make that journey. 'Tis up to the Keltar to claim her.

Silvan lay the tiny tome he'd found in the chamber library upon his lap. It was the only tome he'd risked removing from the chamber before sealing it. Now, ensconced in what had once been his bedchamber and private sanctuary—the tower library one hundred and three steps above the castle proper—he'd finished reading it. The book did not name its scribe, as did most in a request for a blessing upon he who'd scribed the words therein, and was comprised of only a few dozen tiny sheets of parchment. Yet those few sheets, a compendium on the mating of the Keltar males, had been fascinating.

And why haven't you claimed your mate, old man?

The answer to that was complicated, he brooded, glancing about the tower chamber.

Fat pillars of candles scattered across several small tables burned brightly, flickering in the warm night breeze, and he smiled, looking around his peaceful haven. As a lad, he'd delighted in everything about the tower, the spiraling stairs, the stones walls with their myriad cracks and crevices covered with thick tapestries, the breathtaking beauty of the view from the tall window in the spacious circular room. As an old man, he found it no less enchanting.

He'd sat in this same deep chair gazing out into the night as a man of a mere score of years, then two, and now three plus a few odd ones. He knew every wrinkle and rise of the land beyond his window. As much as he loved it, however, the solitude he'd sought as his salvation had in time become his prison, and he'd been more than ready to leave it a few years ago when he'd wed Nell and moved down into the castle proper.

Still, there were evenings, like this one, when he craved the lofty heights and a quiet place to think. Dageus and Chloe had left nearly a moon before, and he wondered how much time would have to pass before he finally accepted that he would ne'er know what had become of his son. Though he believed Dageus would do aught that must be done, not knowing the final outcome would plague him to the end of his days.

And Nellie too. The atmosphere in the castle had been somber indeed since they'd gone.

Nellie. How she'd blessed his life. Without her, he'd have lost both his sons and been living alone high atop the Keltar mountain.

Anon, he would blow out the candles and make his way down the winding stairs. He would go first to the nursery where their sons would be slumbering by now. He would sit beside them as he did every eve, and marvel over them. Marvel over the second chance at life he'd gotten when he'd least expected it.

He flipped open the tome to the page where his finger held the place.

The exchange of the binding vows will seal their hearts together for all eternity, and once mated, they can never love another.

And that was the crux of his problem. He'd not fully claimed his mate because of the age difference betwixt them. He knew he would die before her. Possibly long before her.