Page 4 of Tashama
“It’s…it’s heading this way!” She ran to Balthazar and shoved her finger out to him, urging him to transport her to their world using his magic. “Hurry! We must go…now!”
“Your clothes! You must change them at once!”
“There’s no time!” she shouted. The roar of the freight train grew closer as Balthazar touched the shimmering light from his finger to hers. The light pricked her skin. The glass from the kitchen window shattered in an explosive crash.
“Balthazar!” she screamed, her heart hammering when the high wind slammed into them, breaking the spell that he attempted to cast, ripping them apart.
Instantly, sharp pain swept through her head, and a quiet blackness swallowed her whole.
2
Aleron, ruler of the Maldovians, paced across his courtyard at the royal palace of Banff, his mood darkened by sleepless nights.
“Sire,” Carissian said, his voice deeply exasperated. “As your advisor, you must tell me what ails you today. We have made much progress against the Karthlanders. The war seems to be finally shifting in our favor?—”
“Damn the war. We win a battle, and for what? To lose the next one?”
“There’ll be no peace, my lord, not with the current ruler of Karthland, who is adamant that he wishes to rule us or kill us. Our choice.”
Aleron shook his head and stared off toward the mountains ringing the valley. “I cannot sleep properly.”
He continued to pace again, infuriated that the golden-haired nymph with the emerald eyes intruded upon his sleep, night after night, without fail. So real he could taste her sweet skin and smell the floral fragrance she wore, but no matter how much he prepared to bed the woman, he would find she was nomore than an illusion, and her body, none other than the goose down pillows of his bed. He growled.
“Sire, if it’s the woman that still plagues your dreams?—”
“Your potions don’t work, Carissian. What kind of a sorcerer are you, that you cannot give some solace to your ruler?”
“I beg your forgiveness, my lord, but if you would but take a woman…”
Aleron glared at the sorcerer. “Maldovian women don’t have blonde hair or green eyes.”
“No, sire. Only the Karthlander women do.”
Aleron began to pace again. “I cannot have anything to do with a Karthlander witch.” He faced Carissian. “She must be a witch, do you not agree? How else would she be able to visit me at night in my dreams like she does?”
“I’m sorry, sire. I have tried everything in my power to learn who she is and how she’s coming to you in your dreams. But I cannot stop her, nor have I come any closer to determining who the wench is. She must be a Karthlander. However, to relieve some of the…tensions plaguing you until you take a bride.”
Aleron cast him a look of annoyance.
“Sire, once you are crowned king, you must choose a mate and produce an heir, or lose your title. Then your cousin?—”
“I know the details.” Aleron waved his hand, dismissing his advisor’s comment on the subject.
“Several women have applied to be deflowered by their prince. The honor is theirs, sire, and they’ll be received with higher regard by their intended mates. I beg you to reconsider. ‘Twill benefit all around.”
“Nay, ‘tis not my desire at the moment.”
“You wish the siren, Your Highness. She’s like the mermaid of the sea. Beautiful, alluring, and deadly. Take one of our Maldovian ladies. Bestow upon them the honor of being beddedfirst by their prince. Then choose a bride. This is the way of our kings.”
Aleron blew out his breath. “Fine. Find me the fairest eligible lady who has requested this of me. I’ll see her first thing before the evening meal.”
“To—”
“See her. I will make my decision then.”
Carissian grunted. “The fairest of our women will have the lightest of brown hair. And hazel eyes, my lord. None will be blond-haired with green eyes. Of that I can assure you.”
“Then perhaps we should storm Karthland in search of this woman.” Aleron ground his teeth. “I will not have the woman haunt my dreams further.”
