The Wind used to tell him that once a man was marked, the animal spirit shared the man's body. It was only fair to give him his head from time to time. And his father had, disappearing sometimes for hours, even days, on a wild flight.
For years after he was marked, the hawk had demanded more freedom, but Hawke refused. The hawk spirit had never entirely forgiven him. But he wasn't giving rein to that kind of wildness again. Not after what happened to Aren.
The last echoes of the fury slipped away, leaving him with nothing but thoughts. And regrets. There were so many things he'd hoped to do with his life. Things lost to him now.
He'd been born with an insatiable thirst for knowledge and had studied the natural world extensively, but there was so much more to learn. So much more to know. The humans were discovering things every year, every day, and he wanted to know them all.
Trapped in that miserable darkness, he thought again of the dream he'd held close for decades. A dream of a mate of his own. He'd never been like many of his brothers, who'd been determined never to be tied to one woman for eternity. Though, of late, four of them had fallen to that fate, hadn't they? It was often like that. Watching that kind of love in another had a way of softening a man's heart. Of making him wonder what it would be like to know that kind of contentment.
He'd always wondered, always hoped he'd someday find the one meant for him. A woman with eyes that flashed with strength and intelligence, and turned liquid with love when she looked at him. Only at him.
Pain turned to agony, stealing his thoughts.
The other animal spirits, too, cried or roared with distress. Were they really in pain, or merely raging against the loss of more Feral animals to the trap?
Were they even there at all?
They were like ghosts in the room, leaving him to wonder if all he was hearing were the echoes of their death cries from hundreds of years ago.
Chapter Sixteen
Ariana paced the solar in the Crystal Realm, frustration lending a weight to her steps. Why had she expected anything to go right? She'd remembered the Crystal of Rayas being stored in the jewel-encrusted box that sat upon one of the bookshelves that lined the walls of the room. But when she'd opened it, she'd found nothing. Empty.
Dammit.
Kougar stood at the window overlooking the garden as she paced, trying to come up with another memory of where it might have been moved.
Of all the rooms in the Crystal Palace, the solar was perhaps the most Earth-like, with its rows upon rows of books, brown velvet sofas, and plush, vibrantly colored floor rugs. It even boasted a window with real glass. Only the floating crystal lights might have looked out of place in a mortal's home.
The room had been her gift to Brielle more than a century ago, knowing her friend's insatiable appetite for books, an appetite many of her maidens shared.
Those same maidens were turning the palace inside out looking for the crystal while she sorted through the jumble of memories, trying to make some kind of sense of them.
With a frustrated sigh, she went to stand beside Kougar, looking out on the grounds behind the palace, a sea of rocks and waterfalls. She called it the garden, but no plants, no trees, no flowers would ever grow there. It was the Syphian Stream itself that possessed a scent reminiscent of pine.
Kougar's hands gripped the windowsill until his knuckles had turned white.
Ariana slid her hand across his back. "You're thinking of war, aren't you?"
"I'm thinking of all the ways I'm going to kill that sorcerer."
"I know that waiting to go after him is driving you crazy."
"You have no idea," he growled.
A sharp pain pulsed in her temple as another of the myriad memories crowding her head broke through. She groaned at the revelation.
Kougar lifted a brow.
"We can't kill Hookeye, not while I still hold the poison. It will absolutely ensure I'm never free of it."
Kougar pushed away from the window. "Hell."
"Another queen faced something similar." She turned, talking to his back as he paced away. "The queen sent her mist warriors to destroy the sorcerer. But the poison killed her the moment the sorcerer died. I'm afraid if you kill him, you'll kill me, and possibly yourself, too. If I die, the poison will escape and infect my maidens. We'll all die."
He swung around to face her. "You can't know that. It might not be the same poison."
"No, I can't know for sure, but what she suffered was hauntingly similar to what I'm going through except that the poison she'd taken never spread to her maidens."
Kougar looked at her quizzically. "I thought you said the Mage had never attacked your race before we were mated."
Ariana frowned. "I didn't think they had. I didn't remember." She made a sound of frustration. "There's so much I don't remember."
The memories flitted and fluttered, brushing the insides of her skull like bats fighting to be free. All she could do was hope the answers were already in her head, because returning to the temple was impossible now, with Hookeye waiting to snare her, body and mind.
What she needed to do, as she had in the temple while Kougar slept, was take some time to sort through the new memories, to take each one out and look at it, replaying it fast-forward style. It would take time for the mass of thoughts to filter into her brain and become part of her consciousness. And time was something she didn't have.
Kougar had given her twelve hours to come up with an answer, and only ten remained. But Hookeye could attack again at any time, if he hadn't already. She feared that his insidious poison might be working on her even now, in ways she couldn't begin to guess. How long did she have before it bloomed? The thought terrified her. But she wasn't without warning this time. A thousand years ago, she hadn't known what was happening. She hadn't known she was under attack until far too late.
And by the time she knew what was happening, she'd no longer had Kougar by her side.
Her gaze caressed the man, his strength the only solid thing left in her world. And she knew she wouldn't make the same mistake again. Though she had no illusions that his primary concern was saving himself and his friends, she knew deep down he wouldn't turn away from her when she needed him.
He was her strength, her rock.
"They're lighting the festival lights," he murmured, back at the window. "They think you're on your way to beating this thing."
"Brielle's no fool, Kougar. She knows we're far from safe. But an Ilina celebration empowers us, don't forget. Beautiful lights, music, dancing. All feed the Ilina, body and soul, and we're likely to need all the strength we can come by. Brielle was looking for an excuse, and my renewed memories serve her purpose. We have the possibility of victory locked inside my head. And that's worth a celebration, a badly needed lift of spirits."
He turned to her, his gaze pensive. Thoughtful. Slowly, his pale gaze moved down her body, a physical caress. "Will you dance?" In those eyes, she saw a memory of another time and the echoes of that pleasure.
"Perhaps. Once I find the Crystal of Rayas."
"Once we find it."
"I thought you might enjoy watching the celebration."
"I go where you go." He closed the distance between them slowly, moving with the silent grace of the cat he was inside, and came to tower over her, a solid wall of muscle and willful male. He closed his hand around the back of her neck. "Who knows when you might feel in need of strengthening." Though he said the words without inflection, a gleam shone in his eyes.
A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. "You think you have what it takes to pleasure me, Feral?"
The gleam brightened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I do." The hand at her neck slid into her hair as his other arm snaked around her back, hauling her against him. He covered her mouth in a hot, luxurious kiss, a tangle of tongues that ended far too soon. But the passion of those few brief moments did, indeed, energize her.
He pulled back, but didn't release her, watching her with a look that questioned, demanding acknowledgment of his skill, if not outright praise.
She smiled at him with a quick roll of the eyes. "You do, Feral. You absolutely do have what it takes."
He watched her with keen eyes, his hand moving to her face, his thumb stroking her lower lip as if he'd forgotten what her smile looked like.
Goddess, how I need this man. "My life would have been so much easier these past centuries if you'd been part of it." She hadn't meant to verbalize the thought, but the growl in Kougar's throat was all agreement.
"You should have told me." The words were more growl than voice, but his thumb continued to play with her lower lip with exquisite tenderness.
"I know. A hundred times I nearly sought you out, once I was myself again. I missed you terribly."
How would she live without him if he died? Even if he lived, she had no doubts that their responsibilities and their lives would pull them in opposite directions even if they wanted to stay together. And Kougar had said he didn't. He'd said that he wanted nothing to do with her when this was done. Whether that was merely anger speaking or the truth of his heart, she couldn't be sure. At that moment, she'd felt the same.
Now, she felt nothing but empty at the thought of them going their separate ways. And yet, at its heart, their relationship had never changed. Kougar was still as closed and contained as he'd ever been. If they tried again, he'd still wind up shutting her out of his world as he always had.
As her mind traveled that dismal path, another memory popped out of the fog, whole and bright.
"The Crystal of Rayas," she murmured.
Kougar raised a brow.
Ariana pulled out of his arms. "Come. I've just remembered where it is. Or another place where it was." She started to turn, to lead the way, then found herself turning back and reaching for his hand.
Their gazes met, his eyes so hard to read, but his hand went around hers firmly, filling her with a sense of rightness as together they walked through the wide doorway and back into the Grand Corridor.
Melisande floated toward them, her body mist, her expression at once demanding and vulnerable with hope. Ariana started to pull her hand from Kougar's, knowing how much Melisande hated to see her with the Feral; but he held fast, refusing to let her go.
Melisande didn't seem to notice either way. She barely seemed to notice Kougar at all, forgetting even to scowl at him.
"Did you really do it, Ariana? Did you learn how to beat that asshole? Hookeye?"
Ariana hesitated, unable to lie to her second, yet hating to dash her friend's hope.
Melisande read the truth in that hesitation. And more. Her expression turned grim. "The situation's that bad, is it?"
Ariana opened her mouth, then closed it again, unable to deny it. "I don't know, Mel. He's attacking me again. We had to leave before I'd finished receiving the memories. And, no, I haven't learned what I need. Yet. But that doesn't mean I won't. I have thousands of memories I didn't have before, but they're still a jumble." She glanced at Melisande's feet. "How long did it take you to get free of that chunk of temple floor?"
Her friend's brows drew together, her expression almost bemused. "About an hour. I tried to turn to mist and couldn't, not with my feet bound. Lyon suggested we wait. If the magic didn't wear off in a couple of hours, he'd call the Shaman. But the magic dissolved on its own, suddenly. One moment my feet were bound in stone, the next, the chunks fell away, littering the chaise and the patio, nearly knocking over one of the pitchers of lemonade. Olivia grabbed it just in time."
Ariana lifted a brow. "Pitchers of lemonade?"
Melisande shrugged diffidently. "They had questions. They wanted answers. It's not like anyone's seen an Ilina in a thousand years."
"So they plied you with lemonade."
Melisande scowled, changing the subject. "What now, Ariana? How do we stop the poison?"
"The answer will come to me, we have to believe that. In the meantime, enjoy the celebration, Mel. Soak up all the pleasure you can."
"While we can?" The words were quietly said.
"Yes."
With a grim nod, Melisande turned and continued down the corridor. When she was out of earshot, Ariana looked at Kougar. "Tell them thank you for me. Lyon and Jag for getting Mel out of there, and Olivia, or whoever offered her the lemonade. Did you notice she didn't scowl at you?"
"I noticed."
It pleased her. Melisande's violent objection to Ariana's mating a Feral a thousand years ago had poisoned the entire race's feelings toward Kougar.
Ariana led Kougar up the wide stair to the observatory, then turned right and led him down a long passageway to the room that had always been her favorite, the place she'd missed most during her long absences, forced to live her life as flesh and blood.
The observatory was round and not overly large, furnished as it had always been, with a profusion of pillows in various sizes, covered in bright silks, the walls long ago painted with a full-sized mural of a lush, tropical garden, the flowers seeming real enough to pluck from their stems.
But the thing she loved the most was the ceiling, for there was none. The Crystal Realm might sit in the clouds, the sun shining bright and warm, the stars glittering brilliantly at night. But the air, air that shimmered with myriad colors, remained a constant temperature. Never was there wind or snow or rain.
In the middle of the room stood the great golden urns of Barse, the fourth queen. And if the latest memory proved correct, in the middle one, at the very bottom, lay the Crystal of Rayas.