The Golden Key Chronicles by AJ Nuest

Author:AJ Nuest
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007591596
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2014-04-10T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Thus my angel comes…

Clear liquid spilled over the rim of a golden chalice, splashing his shoulder, his torso. It moistened the line of his lips. Water. Thirst. Yet his dim glimpses of the celestial being that tended him so resembled his beloved Rowena—the slim column of her throat, the white-blonde cascade of her hair, the tender touch of her kiss to his forehead and cheeks—he fought at first to rebel.

Pain screamed through his shoulder whence he struggled to deflect her nurturing and bid her away.

“Shhh, my prince,” she murmured, returning the cup to his mouth. “Drink.”

Fury turned his fingers in on themselves even as agony gnawed at his consciousness. Did Helios despise him so much, the fiery god sought to torment him even in death? Curse the traitorous father and his malevolent ways. The fires of hell reaped no punishment compared to eternity spent clasped to the bosom of a seraph that embodied everything he’d lost, everything he’d sacrificed.

Tears scalded his closed eyelids and slid down to merge with the waterline lapping his temple.

A pool. Drifting. The suffering eased.

Darkness…sleep…

Caedmon blinked and squinted at the strange formations suspended above him. Fragile blue and pink light played off the crystalline rock, in constant motion as if water sprites frolicked along the faceted tines. Down the shimmering façade of a roughly hewn stone wall, rivulets of water trickled and gullied in shallow iridescent pools.

He licked his lips, yet no dryness parched his tongue. His muscles lay relaxed and well rested. A feathered mattress provided his comfort, thick pillows cradled his head and the woolen blanket covering his legs lay neatly folded at his waist. Warm air easily stretched his lungs with his deep inhalation and he pressed three fingers to the small wound in his upper chest. No blood, no soreness, only the faintest hint of a scar…

He frowned and grasped his shoulder, working the joint and flexing his fingers. Not a bit of stiffness lingered.

’Twould seem his attending angel had healed his physical ailments. He sighed in resignation and closed his eyes. Her spiritual balm, however, had not stemmed the profound ache in his heart. He’d breached the gates of eternity, yet rapture had not been granted as his reprieve. Indeed, how long would he linger in this ethereal plane before the goddesses deemed the sins of his earthly deeds had been compensated? How many eons would pass before he and his love were reunited? Whatever the duration of his interment, paradise would evade him until such a reward had been bestowed.

“What the hell is this thing?” A loud clang resonated against the stone walls and he scowled, tipping his head. That voice. It sounded like—

“Useless piece of trash, if you ask me.”

Another cacophony of crashing metal and he sprang to sitting. Across the span of a damp, uneven floor, the delicate frame of a fair maiden sat hunched over a large stockpile of weapons, carelessly flipping various pieces of armor aside. Silver hair tumbled like a waterfall past her slim shoulders, veiling her face from view.

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