Heart of the Flame (40 page)

He was about to call out to him when Rand suddenly came out of the chancel antechamber. In his hands, he cradled the golden bowl of the Chalice treasure. Abruptly he noticed Kenrick standing before him, and his head snapped up.

"You left it back there," he said, a note of accusation in his voice. "
Calasaar
was remarkable on its own, but together with this second cup--"

"
Vorimasaar
," Kenrick said, his eyes holding steady on his old friend. "The one we found today is called
Vorimasaar
--Stone of Faith."

"The two cups melded together into this one?"

Kenrick nodded. "They were drawn toward one another with a force no man could contain. The power of the Dragon Chalice will increase with the recovery of each stone."

"Amazing," Rand mused, "Goddamn bloody amazing."

He held the cup out before him, turning it to and fro, and watching as the stones caught the scant light of the torches bracketed on the walls. Prisms of red and white reflected back in his face, illuminating an expression that was more bitter than bedazzled. When he spoke, his voice was grim with purpose.

"If we push the horses, ride all night, we should make the western coast by sunrise. It will be faster to sail than travel on land, so we'll hire a boat once we get there. We'll put in for Scotland before either le Nantres or de Mortaine catches wind that we've been here today." He paused in his careful admiration of the mated cup that was both
Calasaar
and
Vorimasaar
, and turned a gauging look on Kenrick. "What say you, Saint?"

"It's a good plan," Kenrick agreed. "Save for one thing."

"What's that?"

"Haven."

A scowl darkened Rand's brow. "What of her?"

"She's too weak from this ordeal today--from much of what she's been through of late. She is putting on a brave front, but that's all it is. She will never make the trip."

Rand grunted. "I wasn't aware that she was part of this." His gaze was hard, unforgiving. "She is a shifter, my friend. You have seen the treachery of her kind, just as I have. Nothing will change what she is. For Christ's sake, it is unnatural what she is--inhuman."

Kenrick balked internally at the assertion that Haven was less real, less human, than he himself. "She is flesh and blood, the same as you and I. She feels natural enough in my arms. Her heart beats the same as any other."

"She has bewitched you into thinking so. Cut her loose while you can, Saint. She has bound you to her with her shifter's magic."

"Yes," Kenrick admitted. "Perhaps she has."

Rand stared at him incredulously. "I do not believe what I am hearing now! Nor can I credit the looks I have seen pass between the both of you. God's wounds, Saint--tell me you don't love her."

The swift denial he grasped for could not be summoned to his tongue. His feelings for Haven went deep, far deeper than he wanted to acknowledge. To Rand or to himself.

But love?

There was no logic at all in the idea that he might be in love with Haven. They had passion together, but there could be no future for them. She was a shifter, forbidden to be with him and by her own account a fugitive from her clan. He had to think of Clairmont, and the recovery of the Dragon Chalice. The least sensible thing he could do was surrender his heart to Haven.

And yet....

"You and I are standing here now because of her," he told his old friend, neither confirming or refuting the stunning realization. "If not for Haven's help, we would be the ones lying bloodied out there, not those shifter guards. We owe Haven our lives today."

"Today, yes, I'll grant you she proved more than useful. But she is a hindrance to your quest for the Chalice and you know it," Rand countered. "She will slow you down, make you careless. You will never get close to the Dragon Chalice so long as you are torn between protecting her and seeing this thing through."

He was right, of course. There was no arguing the logic in Rand's assertion. But to Kenrick the alternative hardly seemed fair, let alone palatable, particularly after all he and Haven had shared.

"What would you have me do, leave her here?"

The fact that Rand did not immediately reply was answer enough. "You have spent much of your life reaching for this prize. You must do what is right. One piece of the Dragon Chalice remains--perhaps no more than a fortnight's travel out of your grasp, by your own guess. You want the Chalice; I want de Mortaine's head. We can both win, Saint."

"Are you sure this is about doing what is right?" At Rand's rigid look, Kenrick let out a sharp exhalation. "The only way to ensure that Silas de Mortaine never gets the Dragon Chalice is to destroy it. That is all that will stop him--and the beasts who ride at his command. If we take that cup from this hill, then we should take it out to sea as far as we can and drop it to the very bottom. Where no one will ever find it."

Rand twisted the cup between his fingers. "I would sooner see de Mortaine choke on it as I shove it down his throat."

Hearing the fury in his old friend's voice, Kenrick understood the depth of Rand's ruthless drive. "Having your revenge means that much to you?"

"It's all I have left. It's all de Mortaine left me with." Rand lifted a bleak gaze on him, his broad jaw set with firm resolve. "I'm taking this cup, and I'm heading north to find the final piece. And when I do, I will use it to lead the blackguard to me, and I
will
have my revenge."

Kenrick nodded, unable to hide his resignation. "You have thought this over for some time."

"I have," he admitted soberly. "Every waking moment of every endless day, I have thought of nothing else. My decision is made, Saint. All that's left is yours."

* * *

Haven's arms felt leaden, her body drained and wrung out. It was all she could do to grip the reins of her stolen shifter's mount and hold herself in the saddle as the palfrey galloped through the marshy field that spread out at the base of the Tor's labyrinth mound.

Her heart ached for the way she had left Kenrick. Not even a word of farewell, but she knew that had she lingered any longer, she would not have had the will to leave at all.

And she had to leave.

Her own safety meant little, but now that she was turned Shadow, there would be no sanctuary for her or those for whom she cared. Finding her--destroying her--would be the goal of every Chalice Seeker who prowled the cities and sleepy bergs in league with Silas de Mortaine.

Her love meant death now.

What happened at Greycliff was terrible; what would be visited on Clairmont as payment for her transgressions against the laws of her kind was sure to surpass the most horrific nightmare.

That unbearable thought urging her on, Haven put her heels to her mount and turned the horse onto the road leading away from Glastonbury Tor.

She knew not precisely where she would go, nor how long she could ride when every bit of strength seemed sapped from her. The illusion she had effected in the chapel had taken too much out of her. Never had she felt so weak and helpless, so devoid of power.

She could scarcely stay upright. She did not think she could make it much farther.

The steady gait of her mount was all she knew, the only sound she could hear. Her head lolled on her shoulders. She was fading quickly now, too drained to continue. Her shoulders began to slump, her spine slowly slackened, too weak to hold her.

"Kenrick," she whispered, her last conscious thought rooted on the man she loved more than life itself. "Faith, let him be safe."

And then she was slowly sliding into darkness...falling.

Falling....

* * *

Amid a steady pattering of rain that boded a coming storm, Randwulf of Greycliff put his heels to his mount and sped away from the chapel on Glastonbury Tor. He did not slow, nor did he look back even once. His course was set.

And so was Kenrick's.

The palfrey saddled beneath him snorted into the misting spring air as Kenrick turned in the opposite direction of his friend. He looked toward a fresh trail that cut a clumsy path down the other side of the hill.

Haven was gone, fled on one of the horses down that steep road not long before. She meant to leave him, and the loss hit him harder than any physical blow.

Kenrick knew what he had to do--even before Rand had pushed him to decide. He was just realizing it now, feeling it more deeply than anything he'd ever known in his life.

He loved her.

He loved Haven more than anything else in this world, and before another moment passed, he needed her to know that.

With a snarl of pure male determination, Kenrick sent his mount in a brisk gallop down the tor.

Chapter 35

She came awake fighting.

The instant consciousness roused, her eyes flew wide open. Every muscle in her body went taut with strain. Under the blanket that covered her body, her limbs bucked with a sudden burst of rage. She twisted violently, her back arching off the cushion of soft bedding that lay beneath her.

"Easy now, Haven. Be still, love. You are safe."

She turned her head and looked into an intense blue gaze she knew like her own heart.

"Kenrick."

His name was little better than a sigh on her parched lips. Never again did she think to see his handsome face, or to hear the soothing rumble of his voice. It was him, really and truly, gazing upon her with such affection.

"I have missed you, sweet witch. All of Clairmont has been awaiting your return to us."

Elation soared within her, then swiftly crashed as a bird on broken wings.

"Kenrick--" She raised herself up on the bed, her eyes wide with fear. "What have you done! You should not have brought me here. I tried to tell you, it is too dangerous--"

"Where did you think I should take you?" he said, slowly shaking his head as he smoothed a damp tendril where it clung to her cheek. "When I caught up to you on the road below Glastonbury Tor, you could scarcely lift your eyelids. You needed care."

"You should have left me there," she said, pushing him away when all she wanted was more of his touch, more of the comfort just seeing him gave her. "You should have let me go. Don't you see? I am Shadow now. The others will hunt me wherever I go."

"Because of your affection for me?"

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Because of my love for you, yes."

"Then it only seems right that I stand beside you, whatever may come." When she turned her head away from him, fearful of that eventuality, Kenrick gently coaxed her back to him with his fingers at her chin. "My arm and my life, lady. Both are pledged in your service."

"But you don't understand..."

He did not let her finish, silencing her with a tender kiss. "My arm and my life. And now my heart, if you will have it."

Haven said nothing at first, afraid to speak for the foolishness that might leap from her tongue. She hardly dared think it. Hardly dared to hope.

Staring at him in wild anticipation, she could take the wondering no longer. "Your...heart?"

He gave a deliberate nod. "I love you, sweet witch. I have been waiting for you to wake so I could tell you just how much."

Haven's breath faltered, a small sob catching in her throat. "You love me?"

"With all my heart and soul. I was too fool-headed to credit it, until I thought I'd lost you at the tor."

At first she did not believe she heard him right. But he was looking upon her with such tenderness, such deep emotion, Haven knew her ears had not deceived her.

The weight of what he was saying--the realization of what it truly meant, in light of what had occurred at the Glastonbury chapel--settled on her like a blanket of warm, downy wool.

"Oh, Kenrick. It was you," she said, astonishment all but robbing her of her voice. She felt tears well in her eyes--hot, joyful tears that spilled over and ran down her cheeks in twin trails of moisture. "It was
you
. The wall of fire did not burn us--
Calasaar
did not consume me as it would any one of my kind--because of you."

A note of skepticism flickered in his schooled expression. "You give me overmuch credit, my ladylove. What did I do, after all, save put my faith in the power of that accursed Chalice?"

"You put your faith in me, my lord." She lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to the strong fingers that felt so right wrapped around her own. Now that she was touching him again, she never wanted to let him go. "Don't you see? At that very moment in the tor's chapel, you finally trusted me. You believed in me."

"Ah, love. I have not been fair to you. I did not want to believe...to hope that what we shared was real. I was afraid to trust my own feelings, and so I barred you from my heart for too long. Will you forgive me?"