Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends #1)(85)
The box had been the first bread crumb, the wall another. Both led to a riled discussion with the yin–yang angel brothers who’d stacked my deck with more questions than answers.
Markers in my journey, every guidepost had simply showed me the way. I went down the path, choosing right or left at forks in the road, but the doorways did not define me. My actions every step of the way determined my course, revealing the person that existed inside.
Before I fully embraced who I’d become, the one I continued to discover daily within myself, I needed answers about the factors that had influenced my journey.
I needed the information Iain still withheld from me. I needed to know everything.
CHAPTER Twenty-nine
The wall hummed behind me with residual energy, powering down while my mind charged up. Sometime after my exhaustion-induced, post-reunion nap with Iain, I’d somehow made it down to Iain’s map room and entered into another plane . . . by pure intention. Or had I?
Although I couldn’t remember opening the wall for my angel meet-and-greet, the moment I wanted to return from the other side, mere thought had manifested a dark gateway inside the sparkling wonderland. Orion had said I’d left the portal wide open—he’d meant the wall.
I stood in the empty study, considering my stark nakedness, wondering how I’d arrived there in the middle of the day without attracting attention. Hell, maybe I hadn’t. Midday in the castle tended to be like Grand Central Station.
In spite of any potential scandal I might have already unknowingly caused, I closed my eyes, wishing my body back to the warmth of our bed with every ounce of mental intention my mind could muster. I cracked an eyelid open. Yeah. Nothing.
Streaking had to be the farthest thing from ladylike behavior, but since I couldn’t conjure up clothing, or a study-to-bedroom gateway, I had no viable alternative. I took a deep breath, preparing for round two of “Castle: Wild and Scandalous.”
With my peripheral vision blocked into an ignorance-is-bliss mode, I burst through the door, strode down the dark hall, and raced up the great hall steps two at a time. If anyone happened to notice what I’m sure would pop open even the sleepiest eye, not peep had been wisely made.
Our bedchamber door, the second one on the right, stood open a few inches. Iain would never have done such a thing, lending weight to the whole you-bared-while-unaware theory. I pushed the heavy door open far enough for me to squeeze through the space, a loud creak alarming out from the dry hinge. How I’d not tripped the medieval security system the first time, I had no idea.
Iain shot upright, jumping out of bed, eyes zeroing in on me. A gravelly voice croaked from his throat. “What’s goin’ on? Where’ve you been?”
I laughed. “Apparently, I walk in my sleep. Into. Other. Dimensions.”
Iain scowled, gears sticking in his sleep-blurred mind. “What?”
He tugged me into his warm embrace, pulling me under the cool sheets of our bed. His mumbled, incoherent words that followed had something to do with my lack of clothing again, my not listening, and his handling of some random village issue. I shrugged, nestling against him, turning on my side. He wrapped his body in every way possible around me as I gave the best explanation I could offer.
“I woke up in the mist surrounding the castle . . . above the castle.” I pointed to the ceiling. “That’s not all. I talked with two men. With wings. They looked like warriors, but I think . . .”
Even with all the unbelievable magick Iain accepted as everyday reality, I hesitated. The list of fantastical kept growing. The limits of reason continued to be tested. Iain gently rubbed my forearm, so I forged ahead, sharing with the only other person I could.
“They seemed like angels. Only one had black wings and seemed not at all heavenly. His twin brother had wings of pure white. They showed me things—astonishing eras where they’d gifted the box to other cultures. I’ve seen the dark angel twice in the past, with the Picts.”
Iain remained silent. My only clue that he hadn’t fallen asleep behind me was his continued caresses up and down my arm.
“Iain, I have to know. The secrets stop now. I’m in too deep. What the hell is going on?”
His sigh feathered warm air across the shell of my ear, firing goose bumps down my spine. “We’re stewards of their magick. My clan has held the box and this castle for as long as I’ve pulled air into my lungs. Our lore is passed down from father to son and mother to daughter.
“They exist in a framework that holds time linear, even though the actual passage of it exists only for us, not for them. They step through dimensions where separate events happen all at once, each layered upon the other.”
I shook my head. “How? A person is born, ages, and dies. Time progresses.”
“Aye, Isa. A man, as he ages, sees the hands of time pass. He remembers what’s happened, experiences the present, and looks forward to a future. Everyone does. But to someone outside, each moment is crystallized. All are grains of sand in an hourglass, happenin’ when scheduled from each person’s vantage point, occurrin’ all at once in totality.”
Whoa. My head spun. I’d married a warrior and philosopher. My mind balked at his concepts, even with recent events. I sighed, wondering, yet again, how I fit into the game. But Iain continued, pulling me out of analysis.