She allowed herself to be helped inside the dark, circular space and then she felt Lock’s hands on her, gentle and competent. Finding her way forward, she leaned against him and whispered in his ear, “Xairn says be ready to fight or run the minute this is over. He says the AllFather will be off guard, but only for a moment.”
She felt Lock nod. “I’ll let Deep know.”
“Let me know what?” Deep said in a low voice.
There was the soft growl of masculine voices in the dark, too low for Kat to hear, and then Lock positioned her against the curved wall and started buckling her in with some kind of safety harnesses. “What’s this?” Her voice echoed emptily in the hollow interior of the drum and she made an effort to lower it. “Why do we need to be strapped in?”
“Because among other factors, the psychic-knife uses centripetal force to cut the bonds between Kindred and their brides.” Deep was already strapping on his own harness.
“Seriously?” Kat gave him an incredulous look. “We traveled halfway across the galaxy to cut this damn bond when we could have just found a traveling fair back home and gone on the tilt-a-whirl? I mean, who needs the AllFather’s evil inventions when you’ve got an all day ride pass and a semi-sober carnie?”
“I said among other things,” Deep growled. “I would not be subjecting you to this if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”
“But why?” Kat peered at him, trying to make out his features in the gloomy interior of the silver drum. “Why is this so important to you, Deep? Why do you hate me so much that you can’t stand even the thought of being tied to me?”
“I don’t hate you.” His deep voice was suddenly hoarse. “If I hated you, or cared for you even a little less, I wouldn’t hesitate to complete our bond, little Kat.”
“You told me you felt nothing,” she said, her voice trembling despite herself.
“I lied,” he whispered.
“Deep doesn’t hate you, my lady,” Lock said, sounding bitter. “He hates himself. And we all must pay for his self loathing.”
“I’m sorry,” Deep said in a soft, agonized voice. “Lock is right—forgive me for all I have put you through. But please don’t think any of it is because of you, my Kat. I bear this blame alone.”
For some reason his last words seemed to echo in her head. I bear this blame alone…I bear this blame alone…The words seemed important somehow, like something she had heard before and forgotten. Something she must remember…
And then the door slammed shut and the ride began.
It didn’t take Kat long to be glad she hadn’t eaten much for breakfast. Earlier that morning, Sophie and Liv had arrived at the docking bay yawning and bearing donuts. Despite the fact that she’d been tempted by a chocolate covered Bavarian crème and a jelly filled glazed donut, Kat had only accepted one plain one. And as the drum of the psychic knife lurched and began to spin, she knew that if she’d eaten more it would have come right up.
Kat loved scary rides but the psychic-knife soon attained a speed and force that put anything she’d ever experienced at any amusement park to shame. Flattened against the wall with her head pressed to the side, she struggled to breathe, her heart pounding frantically.
Oh God, I’ll never go on the tilt-a-whirl again if you just let me live through this. Hell, I’ll never even go on the merry-go-round. I could kill Deep for getting us into this. This is all his fault… And again his words echoed in her head. I bear this blame alone…What had he meant by that? When had she heard those words before? What…?
Suddenly a picture began to form in her head. Kat didn’t know if it was a side effect of the knife or just her mind’s desperate attempt to distract her from her fear. But whatever the reason, the vision was clear.
A doll on the bed…a life-sized doll with dull blonde hair and wide blue eyes. But not a doll—a girl and she’s dead! She’s dead! Deep kneeling by the bed, taking the blame, saying that it is all his fault, swearing that it will never happen again…
And then it all came back. The dream—I dreamed about the dead girl but it must be real, Kat realized. We were dream sharing again last night, just like we were when he took my pain. My God, this is why he wanted us to be separated. He was afraid he’d hurt me—ruin my life or kill me. That I’d die like that poor girl, Miranda, who took her own life rather than be with him. But what would make him think that? He ought to know by now I’m not the type to commit suicide…
Another thought flashed through her head. The memory of the way she’d almost died before Deep had taken her pain and Mother L’rin had cured her. And the way she’d fainted during the ceremony on Twin Moons while Deep was making love to her. Surely the sight of her limp body, her illness caused—so he must have believed—by him alone, had affected the dark twin. Could it be that Deep had somehow convinced himself she would die if he stayed with her? If he allowed their bond to become complete and permanent?