The Necklace Read online

  Snarling in frustration, she walked toward the massive entryway of the bedroom.

  Fingering the handle, she debated the merits of leaving. She’d never ventured outside these doors without Tylan by her side. Grimacing, she clenched the golden-tooled doorknob realizing the truth.

  I have never ventured anywhere without the big brute by my side.

  How in the world did that happened, she wondered.

  She was an independent woman. She didn’t need a man to shelter her from life.

  So, what in God’s name are you doing stuck in this room then, girl?

  Marissa nodded her head, agreeing with the silent voice in her head. She wasn’t helpless, but if she stayed in this room any longer she might as well start her own daytime drama.

  God, I hate soaps.

  Grasping the handle firmly, she wrenched on the knob. “Dammit! Move!” Marissa huffed, bracing her feet against the smooth marbled floors, using all her weight to pull the large panel open.

  No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much force she exerted, the stubborn furnishing didn’t budge.

  “Who in the world makes doors that weight a million friggin’ pounds?” She yelled aloud, frustrated beyond belief.

  After several more futile moments of trying, Marissa finally gave up, leaning her head against the cool metal in annoyance. At least now she had a more valid excuse for why she had never left on her own.

  I can’t even get the damn door open. But it’s not impossible to get the thing moving.

  Meija had no problem, though come to think of it, she had never seen the woman open it physically.

  “Dammit!” Marissa snarled.

  Staring, she narrowed her eyes and focused on trying to make the door open, picturing the huge panels swinging wide and letting her out.

  That was how Tylan said he did it. He visualized what he wanted, and concentrated on making it happen. It couldn’t be that hard.

  There were a few moments of rattling, but slowly the large metal doors moved just enough for her to move through them.

  You can do this, girl. Keep it going!

  Not willing to miss her opportunity, Marissa ran through the breach before her mental concentration faltered and the huge, damaging entrance shut closed behind her.

  “Thank God,” she sighed, staring around.

  She’d been in the hallways leading to the room plenty of times over the past three weeks. But, strangely, without Tylan dogging her every step, everything looked different.

  “My Lady, is there something you need?”

  Marissa nearly jumped three feet into the air. Whipping around, her long hair flying about, she stared at the guard. “N-No. I just wanted to take a walk,” she murmured, wondering how she could have forgotten about the warriors—they dogged her steps more than Tylan did.

  “As you wish, your Majesty.”

  Marissa nodded back in reply, still a bit uncomfortable with the “majesty” thing, and started to walk down the hall. She hadn’t taken two steps before three more guards, who she hadn’t seen, appeared in front of her.

  Good Lord! “Guys, I just want to take a walk. Do you think I can take this one … alone?”

  “We have orders, my Lady.”

  “Orders from whom?” She shot back.

  “His Majesty, King Tylan, wishes for you to be protected at all times.”

  “But, I don’t wish for you to protect me at all times.”

  The tall warrior stilled, a huge, confused frown creasing his face. She imagined his brain working overtime trying to dissect two pieces of incongruent information.

  “But, my Lady, there are rumors of spies in the palace. You could be in danger.”

  The young man looked beyond flustered. Though, Marissa amended, he probably was much older than she, since Eritrean young meant in between one hundred and two hundred years old. Anything less, like her, was really considered pubescent.

  “I am not in any danger. Besides, it’s not like I’m about to leave the palace. I just want to take a walk … unaccompanied,” she stressed.

  The guard’s bushy brown brows rose in bewilderment. He looked like a lost puppy not sure of its master.

  “I-I don’t know, my Lady. The King gave specific orders.”

  Marissa exhaled nosily. “Look. I’m not planning on going anywhere. I just want to walk around a bit, stretch my legs. I’ve been in that damn room…” Anxious, Marissa squared her shoulders, tired of defending herself. “Why are we even having this discussion? I am the Queen, right? And I say I want to walk … ALONE!”

  Immediately the warrior stiffened, his back going ramrod straight. “As you wish, your Majesty.”

  “Thank you,” she retorted, striding off before the fool could change his mind.

  Shaking her head, she moved quickly through the passageways, not even glancing at the other guards smattered about.

  When she reached two humongous double doors, Marissa stopped short.

  “Damn,” she whispered, staring up.

  Somehow she’d made her way to the throne room, the first point and last stop on the way to the private royal chambers. Frowning, Marissa realized there was no way she would be able to move those things by herself.

  Frustrated, she raised her hand, wanting to pound against the thick metal, but deciding rapidly that she might actually break bones, she lowered her clenched fist to rest at her side.

  “Double damn,” she exclaimed.

  “My Lady, are you in distress?”

  Now, somewhat used to the deadpan, monotone voice from the guards, after the near death experience outside the bedroom, she turned slowly, wondering how many of them were hiding about this time.

  “No. I-I … I.” She stopped short, her eyes widening. Smiling, she could almost see the light bulb flashing above her head. “Yes, I can’t open these doors. Can you do it for me?”

  Marissa kept her tone sweet, inquiring, so as to not raise any suspicions. The guard looked at her for several moments, before bowing in acquiescence.

  She savored the saccharine smell of victory as the doors swung open with a speed Marissa wondered if she would ever be able to muster.

  “Thank you,” Marissa murmured, moving quickly inside.

  A bang sounded behind her, and she sighed loudly. Looking around at the elaborate artwork and murals lining the walls, she breathed in air that felt convincingly sweeter than in the room she shared with Tylan. For once there were no guards hounding her steps. There was no overbearing male attached to her hip.

  Marissa smiled thinking of the wonders she could explore, alone. From the throne room, she might be able to venture outside. Make her way into the heart of the city. She felt just like a little kid sent on an errand to the store, finally able to ride her bike without the training wheels.

  “Where am I going to go first?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “Ve don’t need those stankin humans to do anything for us, bor do we need those chreacherous ramps or rycans. Ve can take care of shourselves.”

  “I know … ve are schmighty.”

  “What?”

  “I … schmaid we can take care of shorselves.”

  “Damn right, ve can!”

  Of all the places to end up.

  Marissa stared at the drunken revelers, refusing to acknowledge the fear winding through her belly.

  She wasn’t really lost. She had just missed a turn…

  Somewhere.

  Yet, as her gaze roamed around the dingy, darken bar, she wondered when and where she had missed that turn.

  This didn’t look like any of the places Tylan had showed her on his tour. It looked like the dankest, shabbiest hole-in-the-wall imaginable, like some bar she might find in Podunk, Nowhere, USA. Someplace, unfortunately, where the worst criminals, lowlifes, and nothings called home.

  “Ohmygawd,” Marissa whispered, hoping she could sneak out without causing any attention.

  She wasn’t one for bars, not of any type, but she esp
ecially wasn’t one for bars of this type. Backtracking, she almost had a grasp on the knob when a loud, drunken voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

  “Ver you going lil’ mernia?”

  Ohmygawd.

  “I-I went into the wrong place. I got to get home. You know … sick grandmother and all.”

  “Grandschmother! Naw!” The large man burped loudly. “Come ere. Ve’ll buy schyous a drank.”

  Marissa warily eyed the thick, red bits of foam ringed along their empty glasses.

  “I’m okay. Thank you for offering though. I-I appreciate it, but I have to go.”

  “Now way! Come ere and ‘ave a drank.”

  Oh God.

  “No really. I have to go.”

  The thicker of the two men jumped from his seat. Marissa reeled back, a little more than afraid for her life.

  “Comeon lil’ mernia. Ve got free drinks for ya.”

  “Uhhh … I-I have an appointment. I just re-remembered,” Marissa stammered.

  “Schyou can scstay has long schas ve wont,” the larger of the two men stated, nearly falling from his bar stool.

  Ohmygawd.

  “The Lady is with me. You two will have to find someone else to party with.”

  Marissa would have sworn at that exact moment a choir of angels started singing in her head. Sighing in relief, when the intoxicated lout ambled away, she turned to meet her savior, the owner of the deep, masculine voice.

  “Oh man, th-thank you…” Her words trailed away as she peered up. Something about the man seemed awfully familiar. “You were at the reception tonight, weren’t you? You’re Zaron of … of something, right?”

  A slow smile spread across his face, and Marissa thought he was actually quite handsome when he wasn’t frowning so fiercely.

  “My Lady has quite a memory. I’m surprised you even remember.”

  “I remember,” she remarked, thinking back to his sour demeanor, and Tylan’s hostile response.

  “So, now that all the small talk is out of the way, will you tell me what you are doing here, my Lady?”

  She was glad he didn’t start with the “majesty” thing, though as she looked around, she figured he probably did it deliberately since it didn’t seem like such a smart idea. A sudden picture of being hog tied with a note pinned to her chest appeared in her mind, and she shook her head to clear her thoughts.

  Just then the door swung open, ushering more revelers inside. Moving back quickly, she started at the gentle pressure on her arm, guiding her to a table in the corner, tucked away from the bar. Once she had seated herself, she nodded at Zaron, grateful for his quick thinking.

  “If you don’t mind me saying so, my Lady. This is no place for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me? What about someone like you?”

  Zaron raised an eyebrow. “So your husband is aware of the fact that you like to frequent bars? I didn’t know you two had a relationship like that. Forgive me, if I thought that during these perilous times a lady of your quality should not be in a place like this.”

  Marissa snorted. “Perilous times. You’re kidding right? If I hadn’t seen this, I wouldn’t have even thought you guys knew what crime was.”

  “Oh, there is crime here, my Lady.”

  Zaron frowned, his eyes scanning the bar. She got the impression that he was here to meet someone. Glancing around at the shady looking patrons, she wondered what sort of person a man of his stature could be meeting. The word corrupt came to mind, but she quickly banished the idea, working to keep the outer layers of her conscious blank so he couldn’t read her thoughts.

  “What sort of crime?” she asked.

  “Probably not the sort you are used to, my Lady. But with the Dissident scum hiding in nearly every corner that … is up for debate.”

  Marissa frowned, her hackles rising a bit at his subtle slight. “What’s a dissident?” she asked, ignoring the need to defend the place she had called home for twenty-six years.

  “So he hasn’t told you about them,” Zaron remarked in a low voice.

  “Told me about what?”

  “About the threat to our way of life. About his continued refusal to do more than just talk about it.”

  “I’m-I’m still not following you. What is a dissident?”

  “I think the more appropriate question, my Lady, is who are the Dissidents?”

  God, do they have what are questions down to a T? “Ooo-kay. Who are the Dissidents?”

  Zaron sighed loudly, and once again his dark blue eyes roamed around the crowded bar, before returning to her face. “The Dissidents are exiles who were banished to the caves over five thousand years ago, after trying to stage a coup to overthrow the royal family.”

  Marissa’s eyes widened, and she blinked several times. Exiles, banishments, coups—it sounded like something from the French revolution. “What happened to them?”

  “It was believed they had all died, but they resurfaced about two hundred years ago, my Lady. Now, they are bolder and more dangerous.”

  “And I bet they still want to take over.”

  “Yes. Though your … husband refuses to believe that. Already thousands have died, and he still will not take action against them!”

  “Well, what do they want? I mean, wouldn’t it be best to avoid bloodshed if possible? Perhaps that’s what Tylan is trying to do.”

  As soon as the words left her lips, Marissa frowned, wondering why in the world she felt the need to defend the secretive lug. This was one of those things he should have told her about. She’d been in Eritrea for three weeks, but she hadn’t heard anything about these Dissidents.

  A swift dose of anger worked its way through her veins, as she stared across the table at Zaron.

  “I take it you’d rather see them lined up for the firing squad,” she snorted.

  “Firing squad? I don’t know what that is, but if it means I want them all destroyed then, yes. They are scum.”

  Marissa nodded, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. Zaron’s hostility toward the Dissidents bordered on the fanatic, at the most, and overzealous, at the very least.

  There had to be more to this than he let on.

  Again his eyes roamed furtively around the room, pulling her thoughts from his fervent antagonism.

  “Are you waiting for somebody?”

  Zaron straightened his shoulders. “No, this is a very disreputable establishment, my Lady. I am protecting your safety.”

  She laughed breathlessly, watching the muscles bunch between his eyebrows. The man was an incredibly bad liar.

  “Sure, and don’t think I don’t appreciate it,” she responded, her voice full of syrupy sweetness.

  The corners of his mouth twitched before he shook his head, the fierce frown she’d come to associate with him taking up residence once more.

  “Obviously someone has to look out for your well being, my Lady,” he said, waving an arm around the room. “Had I not arrived when I did, you might not be sitting here so smugly.”

  “Is that right,” she retorted, somewhat enjoying their banter.

  “Absolutely.”

  “So why aren’t you hauling my butt back to the palace then if you are so worried about my safety?”

  Zaron laughed, his first real laugh of the night. “I expect your husband to arrive at any moment, guards in tow. After that my protection won’t be needed.”

  Marissa felt the blood drain from her face. Good Lord. She’d totally forgotten about Tylan. When he’d left their room, he had said he wouldn’t be gone long. She hadn’t figured out how he could penetrate her mind, determine not only her thoughts, but also her every movement. Yet she’d seen it demonstrated enough during these past three weeks to know he could definitely do it.

  He could be here at any moment.

  “Don’t worry, my Lady. He’s not here yet.”

  Marissa frowned, sighing in anger. “I am so sick of you guys getting into my head. Can’t a girl have a little privacy in her thoug
hts?”

  “I didn’t read your mind, my Lady. I didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”

  She gave a very unlady-like snort, just to let him know what she thought of that. “So, what’s your deal? I already know you don’t like Tylan, and you love to frown. But there has to be something else underneath all that muscle.”

  “Something like what, my Lady?”

  “I don’t know. You’re too young to be so angry. And that’s written all over your face.”

  Zaron grimaced, staring at her with a cold, hard look. “My entire family was killed by the Dissidents, my mother raped and beaten. My father’s body was dragged through the streets.”

  Marissa jaw dropped, a silent whiff of air escaping. Through her new, burgeoning powers she could literally feel the pain emanating across the table.

  “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be offensive.”

  Zaron nodded. “It’s old news now. You would have found out eventually. Everyone else knows.” He paused, looking away at a grime-streaked wall. “Y-you remind me of my sister. We were never able to find her body. She had the same color eyes…”

  Suddenly, Zaron stiffened. Seconds later the door to the bar flew open, gusting in a strong breeze. Warriors she recognized from the palace streamed through the doors, one after the other, with their swords raised and ready to strike.

  Zaron quickly rose from the table, pulling a large knife she hadn’t known he carried from the folds of his long cape, his posture and pose clearly one of defense.

  A moment of absolute silence passed, before Cowan and Keanan stepped inside the dingy bar, followed closely by what appeared to be an enraged Tylan.

  Excited murmurs sounded, before everyone, except for Zaron, herself, and the crowd preceding Tylan, kneeled in deference.

  Marissa closed her eyes, wanting to lie low, but knowing nothing in the world could hide her from her mate’s keen, piercing gaze. She stood, stepping in front of Zaron, afraid, though she desperately tried not to be.

  Tylan walked toward her quickly, not acknowledging anyone else. When he reached her, his large hands grasped her face gently, and he bowed his forehead against her face.

  “Don’t ever do this again,” he whispered, his voice thick.