Cursed by Diamonds (A Dance with Destiny Book 1) Read online

  With Every Piece of My Breaking Heart,

  ~ Jenevier

  She carefully placed the locket atop the letter and hurriedly began packing all she would need. She packed the book of spells and marks, a bottle of fresh rosewater, some clothing, and the potion #4. That little treasure was Marlise’s rarest magic indeed—painstakingly crafted to be perfect for her and her alone. Thus was the greatness of such a gift.

  She packed a few hair ribbons, all of the other heirloom jewels she had inherited, an old dagger Marlise kept hidden in a trunk, and what little money she had managed to save up. Jenevier wished desperately to pack some of the sweet cakes she could smell Jezreel making. The aroma alone made her tummy growl. But she knew they would never allow her to leave once they realized her intentions.

  She stood, silently listening to the faint whispers coming from the kitchen. She wanted to give Jezreel a big hug. And the thought of kissing Alastyn goodbye caused a tingling quiver down deep within her. They had been denied their kiss. And the thought of what it would feel like—his perfect lips pressed against hers—left her a bit light-headed.

  Perhaps, one day, my beautiful warrior, she thought.

  Closing her eyes, Jenevier took a deep breath. Lightly placing her hand on the door, she sent up a small prayer for her two friends.

  Still wearing her party dress from the night before, she quietly raised the window and lowered her bag of treasures to the ground. As she climbed upon the sill, Jenevier looked back longingly just once more before slipping gracefully to the ground.

  She froze when she heard a soft rap on her bedroom door. Her heart raced, fluttering like an injured butterfly. Back pressed firmly against the cold stone wall, she held her breath as Alastyn called out her name. Only when the quiet returned did she dare move.

  Feeling the moist morning dew on the lush grass, she realized she’d forgotten to put on her shoes.

  Aww… bloody hell. You can be such a twit sometimes.

  She looked up at the open window. It was just too high to climb back in without making an awful lot of noise. Mentally punishing herself for being so foolish, she determined to face whatever perils her journey cast before her—bare feet or no.

  The farm behind Marlise’s modest home belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Trinken. The kindly couple didn’t go out much. She didn’t know them very well at all, but they had always waved to her when she was outside playing.

  Marlise had spoken well of the Trinkens. She had mentioned many times how Mrs. Margy had the gift of sight, but was far too timid to let it be known. Mr. Wynford Trinken took care of the farm and did all their regular shopping. Margy was rarely seen around the village. But if you ever happened upon her, she was a very pleasant lady. Always holding fast to her husband, as if she was to release his hand but for an instant, she would find herself forever lost.

  Jenevier had only gone a few paces when she came to the Trinken’s barn.

  Thank goodness no one’s stirring yet.

  As she passed by the half open barn door, her heart leapt at the sound of Mr. Trinken’s slow, drawing voice.

  “Leaving, are ya?”

  He didn’t look up from his work as he spoke. After she caught her breath and steadied her nerves, she found her voice.

  “I believe it would be best, yes,” she said, shakily.

  “Hmm… reckon so.”

  Mr. Trinken was concentrating on the table in front of him, carving an intricate floral design into each corner.

  “And barefoot as well,” he added.

  Jenevier looked down and softly laughed with embarrassment. “Yes, well, that was a bit foolish and hasty, I do admit. But I can’t go back now.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at their little stone cottage.

  “Nope, guess you can’t. Don’t reckon you’ll get very far like that, though.”

  She started feeling trapped, helpless. Mr. Trinken saw the doubt growing in her eyes.

  “Come on in, Miss Jenevier. Maybe I can help ya.”

  She took one step into the barn as the coming tears burned the backs of her eyes. She desperately tried to hold them in.

  “I don’t know what else to do, Mr. Trinken. I cannot stay here. I know I am ill-prepared for the journey. But it seems that Fate’s left me alone in this trial… and I know not which way to turn.”

  The tears began to spill over then, rolling slowly down her cheeks. She felt her determination and resolve fleeing, seeping out along with her burning tears.

  Mr. Trinken had walked into the shadows in the back of the barn while she’d been speaking. Hearing his footsteps returning, she strained to see him in the dim light of the clouding morning.

  “This here’s Epona—fastest horse in the village. She’s a bit headstrong, to be sure, but she’s all I got.”

  Her tears now poured forth uncontrollably. She ran to Mr. Trinken and threw her arms around his neck.

  “Calm yerself now, Milady. Don’t let yer fears master ya so.”

  Jenevier stepped back and hurriedly wiped her eyes.

  “I’ve already saddled her up for ya. Go ahead and pack yer stuff while I go fetch a little something from the house.”

  He handed her the reins and headed for the barn door.

  She carefully wrapped all her fragile treasures up inside the few clothes she’d brought, securely packing them away in the roomy saddle bags. She kept out a single golden ring. She knew not its story nor to whom it had once belonged.

  But does any of that really matter now?

  Mr. Trinken returned with a mug of hot spice tea, a warm loaf of bread, and his arms loaded down with goodies. She smiled gratefully and ran to help him. He half smiled in return as he placed the tea and bread down on the same table where he’d only just been working.

  “Sit down there and fill yer belly, Miss Jenevier. You’ll be needing more strength than this’ll provide before yer day is over.”

  She thanked him and greedily began to eat. The hot tea felt incredible as it ran throughout her body, warming and rejuvenating every cell. She closed her eyes and smiled, enjoying it wholly.

  “The missus just took the loaves from the oven. She bakes ‘em with cinnamon and honey right inside.” The older man looked at Jenevier and winked. “I reckon I married the finest cook in the village.”

  She laughed. “I reckon I agree with ya.”

  She noticed then that he was tying a blue blanket to the back of Epona’s saddle. A large wine skin was already hanging from the horn.

  “Please, don’t trouble yourself so, Mr. Trinken.”

  “No trouble a’ tall, Miss Jenevier. No trouble a’ tall.”

  She finished up the tea and bread about the same time he finished packing up the horse.

  “The missus said you’d need a good blanket and some wine along the way. She also sent enough bread to do ya a few days. She wrapped it up good so it’ll keep for quite some time—if’n yer careful with it. Mrs. Trinken saw ya coming this way… and how poorly prepared ya were. She saw ya mostly safe unto the hills of Thralldom. After that, twern’t nothing but blackness. Not real sure what that means.”

  He looked at Jenevier then, worry in his eyes.

  “Your kindness is more than I deserve, Mr. Trinken.”

  “No, Ma’am, it ain’t. My Margy would’ve never made it through childbirth if’n it weren’t for yer Aunt Marlise. Nope, I reckon I owe ya a great deal more than this.”

  “I beg you, Mr. Trinken. Please, take this as payment for use of your horse, then.”

  She held out the oversized golden ring. He took a step back.

  “No, Ma’am, Miss Jenevier. No, Ma’am. I can’t take that.”

  “But why, Mr. Trinken? I feel like such a burden to you already. If it were not for your incredible kindness this day, I would have surely perished on my journey. I owe you more than this old ring. I will owe you my life before this is done.”

  “A life for a life then. I have my Margy’s life thanks to yer Aunt Marlise. And now ya have ye
r life thanks to my Margy. Debt’s all paid up and even as far as I can see.”

  The old man walked over to a trunk pushed up in the corner of the barn and pulled out a pair of hand-stitched boots.

  “They ain’t much, Miss Jenevier. But they’re warm, and better than nothing.”

  Her broad smile sparkled. She gave him a big hug.

  He blushed. “Go on now. Try’em on. Let’s see how they fit.”

  She laced the soft leather up her legs, stood up and smiled.

  “Well?”

  She giggled. “They fit like they were made for me.”

  “Well, maybe they were.” He winked at her then. “Ya can’t never tell.”

  Wynford handed her Epona’s reins and she walked the horse out of the barn, silently thanking the gods for Margy’s gift of sight. Once outside, she took a deep cleansing breath and tried to prepare herself for the unknown path laid out before her.

  “I can never thank you enough, Mr. Trinken.”

  She reached for the saddle horn to mount Epona when Wynford grabbed her arm and looked at her, deep pity in his eyes.

  “We’re powerful glad ya made it through the night, Miss Jenevier, powerful glad. I should say yer the first. There must be something extra special in yer future, little lady. God give ya speed.”

  And with that, he turned to the house and left her standing there. She watched silently until the back door closed behind him.

  God be with you as well, old man.

  Mounting up, she took one quick look back at her house, and then she was off.

  She paced Epona and let her stop often to drink and graze. While the horse ate, Jenevier relaxed. She decided they should both rest as much as possible during the day and ride hard at night, when the wraiths would be out searching.

  “I do not wish them to catch me unawares. And whilst sleeping, no less,” she told the horse.

  After traveling many miles from Tamar Broden, Jenevier realized that if she didn’t find sleep soon, she’d fall off Epona’s back. Satisfied she was far enough from her home so as not to be found by her friends any time soon, she pulled back on the reins and brought the horse to a stop under a couple small winslet trees near a stream.

  “Ahh… This looks perfect, girl.”

  She patted the mare’s neck while she secured the reins.

  “Wow, you are a truly beautiful horse. But you already know that, don’t you, girl?” She chuckled softly. “I have never seen your equal, Epona. As majestic a creature as I have ever known.”

  The horse snorted in response.

  Jenevier took out a bit of bread before untying the blanket and spreading it out on the soft grass. After she had eaten a few bites and drank some wine, she laid down for some long overdue rest.

  Sleep fell upon her hard and fast. And with it, came the dreams.

  Chapter 14

  Dante

  (DON-tay)

  Dante broke their passionate kiss, pulling back to gaze upon her lovely face. He was entranced with the austere distinction of her fair ivory skin pressed against his sun-darkened abdomen. Mesmerized by how the soft moonlight seemed to blacken out his form while making hers glow all the brighter. He ran his finger down the edge of her face, just so he could clearly see the stark contrast between the two of them.

  I am the night… She is the dawn.

  He wanted to devour her, pull her so hard against him that only the color of their skin marked where they were two separate bodies.

  “Do you truly think I could make you happy?” he whispered. “I would very much like the chance to try.”

  Jenevier didn’t respond.

  “Are you thinking about it?” He smiled teasingly down at her. “Or are you planning how best to dismiss me?”

  She only gave him a faint smile. Admiring him, she ran her fingertips across his forehead and down the side of his face.

  What an incredible man, she thought.

  She decided he was a gift, a blessed gift sent to her at the very moment she needed him. And that was what scared her. Trust had never been one of her stronger attributes, at least not where men were concerned. And this man… he terrified her. He was too perfect.

  If you are a gift, Milord, from whence did you come? And to what end will you go? She sighed, brushing the troublesome thoughts aside.

  “It’s as if… someone looked into my mind and found you there,” she whispered softly. “Digging deep within me, they withdrew my ultimate desires—pieced together all the things that stir me, and made you. Created you… just for me.”

  “Is that so?” He gave her a smirking sort of smile. “Well, then. Do you accept me?”

  Hearing those four little words made something inside her click. Something or someone was in her head screaming, Danger! Beware! Get away!

  She pulled back, sitting up. “Wh-what did you say?”

  “I said… Do you accept me? Is this what you want, Jenevier?”

  He smiled playfully as he motioned toward his bare chest, moving ever closer to her. But she drew further away, startled, reaching blindly for her robe.

  “A lovely wrapper does not guarantee a lovely gift, Milord. And I must admit, this has been one seriously strange day.” She slid off the bed. “My mind is spent, Dante. Perhaps it’s simply that the wine is getting to me. Apologies, but I feel I probably need rest more than I need company this night.”

  Dante followed her into the kitchen. She was standing at the sink, looking out the window. He walked up behind her.

  “I should be the one apologizing, Milady,” he whispered. “I moved too fast. Tried too hard. I have spooked you—caused your guard to go up.” Pulling back her long golden curls, he lightly kissed her bared shoulder. “I never meant for that to happen.”

  She turned to him and spoke as honestly as she could. “I have tried to remember my life. No, wait. That sounds too strange. How can I put this?” She pressed against her temples. “My mind screams at me constantly of danger, caution, peril, deceit. I have tried desperately to recount why. Why all the warnings? And… where the hell are they coming from?” She slowly turned back to the window. “Alas, I cannot. All I can remember are the dreams, and only parts of them.”

  Dante reached out to touch her, but she pulled away.

  “I feel like this place, this paradise, this life—it isn’t all there is to me. I feel that what I am now, the woman you see before you—is not the whole of me. Nay, not even the smallest piece. But… the rest seems to be lost to me somehow. It’s as if my wits have been stolen.”

  She walked out onto the stone patio and breathed in the cool night air. Dante followed her, but stood at a distance. Running her hands along the rail of the banister, she gazed, unseeing, out into the darkness. He spoke not a word, only cautiously waited.

  “My life is seemingly perfect, is it not?”

  He didn’t answer and she didn’t want him to.

  “Well, it is perfect. At least, most of the time. I have a lovely place to live—peaceful and serene. I am blessed with loving animals, beautiful nature, and quiet days. And at the same time… I am cursed with dreadful, dream-filled nights. Demons, darkness, and blood… that’s what fills my sleeping mind.” She sat down in the swing, sighing wearily. “Why do I not have friends, Dante?” She looked back up at him. “I believe I used to. Yet, I cannot remember. Not for certain. Perhaps I didn’t. Perhaps I have always been alone.”

  “Perhaps you are simply thinking too much,” he mumbled.

  “And perhaps I do not think enough. Perhaps I just choose to let the peaceful days roll by, one right after the next, simply because that’s all I want—peace. Perhaps I don’t want to think too hard upon it because I do not truly want to remember.”

  She collapsed back onto the cushions, pulling her feet up under her. Dante looked at her for a moment… then started toward to her, to comfort her. She quickly stood up.

  “I have a busy day ahead of me tomorrow. Please excuse me, Milord. I need to get some rest.”


  “Busy day?” His eyes grew wide. “Tell me. What is it you have planned to do?”

  Jenevier turned, carefully searching those haunting gray eyes—bells and warnings were ringing loud within her.

  “In truth, I wish to be alone. I want to read. I want to change the whole house around. I don’t know, Dante. I need to do something.” She blew out an exasperated sigh. “I only wish I could remember what it was. I feel it was extremely important.”

  He visibly relaxed at her answer. She wondered why.

  “So… you are feeling the need to change, are you?”

  She saw his blatant smirk and rolled her eyes. “I’m not actually feeling the need to change as much as needing to feel the need to.”

  “What?” He chuckled. “Now I don’t understand.”

  She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I want the day alone for meditation. There’s an important answer lurking at the edge of my mind. I just need time to think; time to search out what is intentionally hiding from me.”

  Dante seemed more than just a little surprised by her answer. That worried her as well.

  “I’m hearing only feeble excuses,” he said. “You desire me, this I know. I want to be near you.” He grabbed her hands. “Jenevier, my love, you have taken me hostage. You have teased me mercilessly, irrecoverably captured my trembling heart, and tilted my world completely off its axis. Now… now you want to withdraw, to run away? Why are you doing this? You say that I cannot even see you for more than a day. How could you think that would even be possible me? Tell me. What are you trying to hide?”

  His desperate reaction—combined with the strange vibes she was getting on the inside—was starting to make her angry. She crossed her arms, waiting for his retraction. None came. Dante only stiffened, focusing on something unseen in the distant darkness.

  Jenevier sighed and looked away. She didn’t want to fight, not truly. She was actually beginning to care about this man. She may not remember much of her life, but she knew what she was now feeling was a rare thing indeed. Such emotions should never be ignored… or toyed with.