The rain pattered on the roof. Jason stood by the window, looking out over the palace grounds. The sky was gray, the grounds drenched in rain. He had never been in the palace, but he felt at home here, and more at ease than he had the last time he'd visited this country…all the danger had leeched out of it. It was free now. Yes, in part, due to him, but mostly due to Tasha and James. The King had rebuilt his country into something remarkable over the past 17 years.
Seventeen years! Jason couldn't believe it. He felt a twinge of annoyance that he was so old. He'd only been in his early twenties last time….close to the age that his beautiful bride still was.
He turned away from the window to see Connie still asleep, lying in the grand, four-poster bed. She was all tangled up in the sheets, her hair tousled, her bare leg twining around a purple velvet blanket. She looked entrancing. I have a queen of my own, he thought, and stepped toward her as if drawn by a magnet.
Her brown hair framed her face, some of it twined across her neck. Carefully, he lifted a strand from her forehead, sliding it back to admire her incomparable beauty. As beautiful as she was now, she was even more so when her green eyes snapped with delight, when her mouth curved upwards into a smile. In a way, it didn't really seem fair to her to just admire her without her knowing, as if he was taking something from her without her permission. She should be able to look at him too, equally—admire him, or not. He needed the dynamic Connie, not the one in repose. The whole of her, not this quiet, external version that only hinted at the astonishing being she was.
Though he longed to look into her gorgeous eyes, see the love he didn't deserve shining from them, he didn't want to wake her until she was ready. Part of this was a vacation, after all. A second honeymoon after the horrible darkness that had torn them apart—an agony he never wanted to go through again, never wanted to even think about.
He sat down on the bed and slid under the covers, intending to read until she awoke. Despite his caution, she stirred and flipped over to face him.
"Hey, Jason," she said.
"Hey my beautiful Connie."
He drew his fingers gently along her cheek; she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Kissed the side of his hand. Just that kiss sent thrills through him, reminding him of last night, the second time since the absence that they were fully husband and wife again. He'd tried to be slow and deliberate at first, but at some point his passion had taken over and he could hardly remember anything but her kisses, her hot skin against his, her furious love.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and tipped his forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes.
She moved her head slightly up and down so it looked like her eyes were see-sawing.
He laughed.
"My mom used to do that when I was little," she said.
"Mine too." A flash of memory, of his mother's twinkling eyes, her fiery hair.
"Mom liked you, you know. Respected you. I think…she'd have liked that we're married."
"My mom too. I wish…she'd have gotten to know you."
"I wish I would've met her. She sounded amazing."
"So are you."
She nodded, looking a little pensive. "I never feel…quite in your league."
"Connie! You are—more than I could ever hope for. More than I could have ever dreamed." He kissed her cheek. She nuzzled his face, gave him light little kisses next to his ear.
"You are my amazing Jason," she whispered.
He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her closer, the silky nightgown sliding against his chest. Delicately, he traced her shoulders, back to the indent of her spine, going up and down with the feather-touch of one finger.
She closed her eyes and tucked her face into his shoulder. "Mmm," she said.
"You like this?"
She nodded. She ran her hand through his hair, down the back of his neck. He drew in a sharp breath.
"You okay?" she said.
"Yeah. You're just—amazing." He kissed her cheek fervently. "I need all of you—but at the same time, this is more than enough." He took her wrist in his hand, kissed it.
She sat up against the pillows, the sheet falling to her waist. She traced his cheekbone. "It's funny how you look like him. The king, I mean. He's like you if you were older."
"And better-looking." He slid up to sit beside her.
"Stop it, Jason! You're perfect. But what if you're some long-lost royalty or something?"
He laughed. "That would be…interesting. My father said we might have once had cousins over here."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up.
He shrugged. "We've never really looked into it." Even though she was part of the family now, he didn't want to assume his father wanted him to tell her the secret, the time as a young man he'd been a king for a day to save a nation.
"I don't know if I'd want to be royalty…I want you all to myself." She slid out of bed, the pink silk nightgown draped regally over her body.
"Are you cold?"
She nodded.
He headed over to the fireplace, surrounded by comfy chairs, and stoked it back to life, added some logs. Soon it was radiating glowing heat.
Connie lounged in the puffiest chair, a soft blanket pulled up to her neck. "I suppose we should get up and get dressed."
"If you want. They serve breakfast all morning in the adjoining room."
"Wow. It's like a grand hotel!"
"James sure is treating us. I suppose we shouldn't take too much advantage of his hospitality. We're here on a mission, after all."
She flung out one arm. "Can we dance?"
"Sure." He took her hand, kissed it. Swirled her onto her feet. He imagined slow, beautiful music and led her in a dance over the soft carpet.
She leaned her head on his chest, traced one of the knife scars on his shoulder, then kissed the jagged mark. "I wish I could erase your pain somehow, make it so it never happened."
"I don't mind the scars so much anymore, now that I know you love me with them. The worst scars are—here." He pressed his hand over his heart. "They're not gone, just faded. But maybe some good can come out of them, if I let it."
She looked up at him, her eyes shining. "That's another thing I love about you, Jason. You can find good even in pain. Such horrible things—I can't even think about it without it hurting my heart. I hope you never have to experience anything close to that again." She kissed the scar on his cheek.
"I never want to either. I don't want the chance I could ever be torn from you." He kissed her on the mouth. Lifted her up in his arms, still kissing her. She shrieked, never quite pulling away from his lips. He twirled her around and she laughed, the fireplace and the rainy sky whirling past them.
"My Connie." He swept her closer and kissed her again.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and their kiss deepened. He needed her—needed more of her—nothing else mattered.
A knock on the door. He almost dropped her, but set her down gently, his mind in a haze. He only wanted to be with the one he loved. Maybe they should just pretend they were still asleep….
The knocking became more insistent. "It's me, Tasha," said a muffled voice.
Jason's heart thumped hard. He scrambled for the bathroom and swept his bathrobe over his chest, tying the sash tight around his waist. Then he dashed to the door and opened it.
"Hi," said Tasha. "I'm sorry to bother you but—"
Connie peeked from behind him. "Hi, Tasha."
"Hi, Connie." Her face flushed; she dropped her eyes. "I can't find Gray. I went to check if he was awake but he's gone."
"Gone?" Jason's heart flipped. "He's not in his room?"
She shook her head. "I came to you first—I want others to know as little as possible about what he's gone through. But if he can't hold it together, they'll find out anyway."
"Don't worry. I'll help you."
"Me too," said Connie.
Jason stepped out into the hall.
Tasha blushed, unusually coloring her pale complexion. "Um—Jason—maybe you should get dressed first."
"Oh. Right." He shut the door and pulled on some jeans and a shirt. Connie slipped into a white dress with a flowing skirt that fluttered past her knees.
They joined Tasha in the hallway. "How far have you gone?"
"Just our suite, including the bathroom. I don't want to go where we're not invited, but I also don't want anyone else to find him in case…something's gone wrong."
"I'm sure James won't mind us exploring the palace. He said as much last night."
"Yes, but I don't want to take advantage of his generosity."
"We don't really have a choice."
She nodded grimly and Jason followed her. His hand sought Connie's. "I hope he's okay," she said. "It…feels strange to want that."
"It means you've started to forgive him."
She nodded.
Tentatively, Tasha knocked on one of the other doors—tall, made with dark wood, an ornate frame with scenes of clashing armies, galloping horses carved across it. The door swung open; no one was inside.
They tried the next few doors with the same result. Until they came to one of the doors toward the center of the hall.
"Just a minute!" said a muffled voice. A moment later the door opened and a face peeked out. A teenage girl with beige skin, masses of dark brown hair tumbling over her shoulders, soulful brown eyes. "Hello," she said in a soft accent. "What's going on?"
"We were just wondering if you've seen a man—"
Her eyes grew wide. "No, I haven't seen any men. Not since I got here of course, last night with my brother."
"Thank you. We'll keep looking."
She opened the door wider, stepping out in a lacy lavender nightgown. "Who you looking for?"
"Just—the man I'm working with."
"You're not Tasha, are you?"
Tasha nodded.
"Uncle James told me about you! So did Mama and Papa. You helped get Papa out of jail. And you must be Jason!" She took a step toward him. "You look like Uncle James."
"Are you…." He racked his mind for the name, buried deep in memory. "Zara?"
She laughed. "No, don't be silly. Zara's like, five years older than me. She's in college. I'm Luna."
"Oh. I don't think I remember you, then."
"Yes you do!"
"I do?"
"Mama was pregnant with me when you guys came to visit us and rescued Uncle James."
"Oh. I do remember that. Your mom's Marija, your dad's Stefan?"
She nodded vigorously. "They're coming later. Me and Stefan—my brother—got here last night. We don't want to miss the festival!" She looked at Connie. "Who're you?"
Jason wrapped his arm around her. "This is my wife, Connie."
"Hi," said Connie, holding out her hand. "It's nice to meet you."
Luna shook her hand. "You weren't here last time, were you?"
Connie laughed. "No, I was just a kid back then."
"Yeah, you don't look that old."
"But I do," said Jason.
"I didn't mean—Oh, I'm always saying the wrong things!"
Jason laughed. "That's okay. I'm kidding. We really need to get going though."
"I'll get dressed and help you find your friend." She dashed inside and closed the door.
Tasha looked at Jason, a wry smile on her face. Then she led the way down the hall, knocking on doors. The rooms were either locked or empty.
Finally they reached the end and opened a larger door onto a huge room with marble floors, flanked by colonnades, decorated with statues and elegant portraits. Beside the large main doors, filigreed with gold, stood two men, their voices echoing, indistinct.
Jason, Connie and Tasha approached them. As they got closer, Jason realized it was James and a young man with curly dark hair. Probably Luna's brother, he thought. Only two years old when I left. Seeing all these kids grown up does make me feel old….Connie's closer to their age than mine. He glanced at her; she smiled. He marveled again that she'd chosen him, of all people.
"Good morning, your Majesty," said Tasha, bowing.
"No, please don't stand on ceremony with me. You're the reason I'm here, after all. My honored guests." He gave a swift, elegant bow. The young man beside him did the same, the hint of a smile on his lips, his eyes dancing with good humor and mischief.
"This is Stefan, my—well, they always call me uncle, though we're not related. He's here with his sister, Luna. I'm sure you remember their parents, Marija and Stefan."
"Of course," said Tasha. "We remember you as well. We met your sister a moment ago."
Stefan laughed. "Luna's up already?"
"We might've woken her up," said Jason. "We're looking for—the man we came with, Gray."
"Oh, that's who he is?" said Stefan. "I ran into him a little bit ago."
"Where did he go?" said Tasha.
Stefan waved a hand vaguely toward the front doors. "Strange man. He looked as if he were afraid of me. But then, I did run into him, literally. And I'm afraid I hurt him." He frowned. "Maybe he had a right to be scared of me. It's just that—he looked terrified. Or sick. Maybe he did need help."
"You didn't think to tell me this?" said James, an eyebrow raised.
"I forgot, till just now. Mama called, like I was telling you, and they're bringing Grandpapa too because he's feeling better and—Well, anyway. I'll make up for it by helping you find him."
"We can handle it," said Tasha.
"You sure? I mean, it's kind of my fault."
"It might be best if…someone he knows found him."
Stefan nodded. "If I may ask, what happened to him? He had a bandage on his arm."
"He's been through some…terrible things that I'd rather not go into."
"What can I do?"
"You can be careful around him. It's men who have hurt him. And—don't mention this to anyone."
"Sure."
"You can go anywhere you like, indoors or outdoors," said James. "Let me know if you need anything. I can lend you my guards."
"That would be…less than ideal, at least—for now."
He inclined his head graciously.
"Some umbrellas would be nice," said Jason.
"Your wish is my command." James sent Stefan for the umbrellas and in a moment he returned with three of them and handed them out.
Jason and Connie followed Tasha out into the porch and popped up their umbrellas. Then they headed out into the rain.
"I think we should split up," said Tasha. "We'll cover more ground that way."
"Should I approach him alone? After what happened on the plane…."
"Use your discretion. It's true that what Stefan inadvertently did might have triggered a panic attack….You have your cell phone, right?"
Jason nodded.
"If he looks too distraught to go near, call me. He's learned to trust me to a certain extent."
"Is he…suicidal at all?"
"He has been," she said grimly. "But he seemed to regain a bit of hope when I told him about this mission. If he'll be able to follow through with it, it'll help him recover."
"It's too bad he had to go back into the field so soon, though. I mean, his injuries aren't even healed; you can't expect his mind to be healed."
"His more recent injuries were self-inflicted." Tasha turned and walked off toward the rolling hills, a forest hinted, misty in the rain, mountains vague outlines in the distance.
"Do you think Tasha meant we should split up too?" Connie asked.
Jason shrugged. "We can do what we want, since we're freelancers. She's not our boss; we're just working with her."
"I'd rather stay with you. Unless—you think I should go off on my own. I just…don't really feel comfortable doing that, especially since I left my phone in the room."
He slung an arm around her waist. "I don't ever want you further than this, you know that." He kissed her forehead. "Besides…it might be better for you to approach him, considering his problems with men. If you're okay with that."
She nodded. "I'll try….I'm not terribly comfortable with it, but I do want to help in whatever way I can, and let him know I want to help him."
They walked down a stone path that led to a great arbor, like a tunnel, that had flowering vines crawling all over it, so thick they blocked out most of the rain.
"I can hardly believe Gray would actually go that far, to actually...hurt himself," said Connie. "I had friends that struggled with self-harm in high school, but Gray seems like he wouldn't be that kind of person. I suppose it does make sense considering what he's gone through."
"Before, he seemed almost invincible to me. I can't imagine what...what happened...would do to someone, no matter how strong he was."
"Do you think he'll ever get back to normal?"
"I hope not. I mean, I don't want him to keep suffering, but I hope he'll be able to beat this, and become a better person through it."
Out of the tunnel, huge bushes lined the path like walls. Further on, the bushes were carved into sculptures of many different shapes. Then they ended in a vast field covered in roses in a rainbow of colors. As dramatic as they looked now, they must've been stunning when it wasn't raining. In the center of the rose garden sat a large white gazebo—and inside, Jason could just make out the shadowy form of a man.
"If that's Gray, I'll see if he's okay with me going near him. If not, I'll let you try."
Connie nodded, her green eyes wide, anxious.
His heart pounded as he reluctantly let go of Connie's hand and walked toward the gazebo, his shoes tapping on the wet stones.
As he got closer, it looked more and more like Gray. He was sitting on a bench, his back to Jason, wearing a white T-shirt. He was bent over, but Jason would know those broad shoulders, that slim but powerful figure and amber-blond hair anywhere.
Jason crept toward the steps, then realized it probably wasn't the best idea to creep up on him. But he didn't want to startle him, either. He really had no idea if he had come out in fear or was just out here to enjoy the garden in peace.
He cleared his throat. Gray whirled around, crouched as if ready to run, terror emblazoned across his pale face.
"It's all right. It's me, Jason."
"J-Jason?" said Gray.
It was then that Jason noticed the blood dripping down Gray's arm.