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Legend, love, and honor collide . . .
For Lucan Roarke, failure is not an option. If he fails, Earth perishes. Ancient clues have led him to the planet Pendragon, the last known resting place of the mythical Holy Grail—Earth’s last chance.
Lady Cael, high priestess and the only dragonshaper on her world, is destined to live a life untouched by love and mate. When she agrees to aid Lucan in his desperate search, she must fight the passionate attraction growing between them. She’s been less than truthful, and if they succeed in recovering the Grail, she will be honor bound to betray Lucan. And Earth.
When Cael finally admits the terrifying truth, she shatters Lucan and threatens his mission. To save humanity, he must make a catastrophic choice.
Will he choose honor or love?
Susan Kearney, a native of New Jersey, writes full time and has sold books to the industries' top publishing houses — Grand Central, Tor, Simon & Schuster, Harlequin, Bell Bridge Books, Berkley, Leisure, Red Sage, and Kensington. As an award winning author, Kearney earned a Business Degree from the University of Michigan. Kearney's knowledge and experience spans throughout the romance genre, and her fifty plus books include contemporary, romantic suspense, historical, futuristic, science fiction, and paranormal novels. She resides in a suburb of Tampa—with her husband, kids, and Boston terrier. Currently she's plotting her way through her 54th work of fiction.
"A sexy, exciting futuristic series.” Bookloons.com
Prologue
The precious
myths of our heritage are our way of understanding things greater than
ourselves. They are tales of the inexplicable forces that shape our lives and
of events that defy explanation. These legends are rooted in the spilling of
our life blood, in the courage of brave
hearts, in the resilience of humanity’s tenacious spirit.
—Arthur
Pendragon
In
the near future
SLOW DOWN, MARISA,”
Lucan Roarke warned his twin. They were deep inside the cave he’d discovered in
the Welsh countryside in the shadow of Cadbury Castle, and his helmet light had
settled on a gaping crack in the compacted clay of the cavern’s floor. "Don’t
step on that—”
"What?” Marisa
looked back at him just as the ground opened beneath her feet. Falling, she
flailed her arms and clawed at the cave wall for a handhold, but the loose
earth crumbled beneath her fingertips, and gravity dragged her down through the
crevice into the darkness below.
Lucan lunged to
grab her, but the unstable earth lurched and dipped under him, throwing him off balance, and his fingers missed her by
inches.
"Marisa!” The
sound of splashing water drowned out his cry.
Lucan had
brought his sister to Cadbury Castle for a vacation, and he’d been excited to
show her this cave—his latest discovery in his quest for the Holy Grail.
Although many dismissed the Grail as mythical, his years of exploration and
research had convinced him the vessel actually existed.
Lucan peered
through the gloom into the chasm, but his helmet light couldn’t penetrate the
blackness. Even worse, the earthen sides of the
hole made a steep vertical descent. Reaching for the heavy-duty flashlighthe carried in his back pocket, he yelled, "Marisa? Talk to me, damn it.”
Nothing but
silence answered him.
Closing his
eyes, Lucan inhaled deeply and concentrated on linking his mind with hers, a
telepathic communication the two had shared since they were little.
Marisa. Where are you?
In the water. Help me. I’m cold.
Heart racing,
Lucan shined the flashlight into the darkness and spotted her head above the
rushing water.
"Lucan. Here.” Smart
enough not to fight the powerful flow of water that tried to sweep her
downstream, Marisa swam for the wall at an angle and clung to a rocky ledge.
"Hang on.”
She coughed and
sputtered, then shot back, "If I let go, it won’t be on purpose. Hurry. It’s
freezing.”
Lucan reached
for the rope in his backpack and cursed himself for bringing his sister into
the bowels of the cave. He’d sweet-talked her into coming along, desperate to
break her out of her funk. Since her latest miscarriage, she’d been fighting
off depression. He’d hoped this excursion would take her mind off her loss, at
least for a little while. He hadn’t intended to distract her by risking her
life and scaring her to death.
He uncoiled the
rope, then leaned over the hole to see her lose her grip on the ledge. The
current pulled her under. "Marisa!”
A split second later, a pale hand broke through the water and clutched a rock jutting from the wall. Marisa
pulled her head and shoulders above the torrent, spat water, and forced her
words through shivering lips. "I knew... I should have
gone... to Club Med.”
He looped the
rope around the biggest boulder within reach. Then he tossed the line down the
narrow shaft. "Grab on and I’ll book the next flight to Cancun.”
Marisa stretched
for the rope. And missed. Water surged over her head. Again she swam to the
surface, but the current had carried her too far downstream to reach the
lifeline.
With no other
choice, Lucan jumped into the dark shaft. He fell about twelve feet before
frigid water closed over his head and ripped away his glasses. His flesh went
numb, but he managed to keep a grip on his waterproof flashlight. His lungs
seized and his vision blurred. Forcing his shocked limbs to move, he kicked for
the surface. And heard Marisa’s scream. Turning around, he swam in the
direction where he’d last seen her.
Already his teeth chattered. He struggled for breath, and his waterlogged clothing and boots weighed him down.
The raging current swept him under, but his concern was for Marisa. She’d been
in this icy water too long. Clenching his teeth, he kicked harder until he was
finally close enough to grab Marisa’s shoulders. They had only minutes to find
a way out before hypothermia set in.
He pulled her
close. "I’ve got you.”
When she didn’t
reply, fear poured through his system. Fighting to lift her head above the
surface, he shined his light around the cave in search of a shoal or a shallow
pool.
Marisa lifted a
quaking hand. "There.”
Just ahead, the
river forked. One side widened, the other narrowed.
Using most of
his remaining strength, he steered them toward the wider fork, praying it
wouldn’t take them deeper underground. His prayers were answered when they
rounded a bend and the water leveled out onto a dirt embankment.
He pulled Marisa
out of the river, and together they lay on the bank, panting, shivering, and
exhausted. When she didn’t speak, he aimed the light on her. Her eyes were
closed, her face pale, her lips blue. He wrung some of the water from her
clothing, then rubbed her limbs with his own freezing hands.
Her eyes
fluttered open. "One word... about my hair, and I’ll s- smack
you upside the head.”
"You look good
in mud.”
She slapped at
his shoulder but didn’t have the strength to land the blow.
He smoothed her
hair from her eyes. "Save your strength. I don’t want to have to carry you.”
She needed to walk to keep the hypothermia at bay.
"W-wuss.” She
crawled up the bank until her back rested against a dirt wall.
Lucan focused on survival. "We’ve got to get moving or we’ll freeze.”
"You wrung the
water from my clothes. What about you?”
"I’m fine.”
"Of course
you’re fine. J-just like when y-you were in Namibia and that black mamba bit
you?”
"I lived.”
"Barely.” Marisa
took his hand and tried to stand, but her knees buckled. She grabbed the wall
behind her for support and it began to collapse on top of them.
Lucan lunged and
threw his body over hers, shut his eyes, and prayed they wouldn’t be buried
alive. Clumps of cold mud cascaded over them and bounced aside. "You okay?”
Lucan asked.
"Oh, now I’m
really having f-fun.” Marisa spat dirt. "So glad you s-suggested”—her teeth chattered uncontrollably—"th-this little
vacation.”
Lucan shoved to
his feet. "Think what a great adventure story you’ll have to write.”
"I don’t want to
be the story.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. "But you love this shit. You’re
probably getting off on—”
Wow. Her
telepathic thought interrupted her words midsentence. And her amazement came
through in waves—surprising waves that peaked with astonishment.
"What?” He spun
around to see exactly what had shocked her, and he froze. He focused his
flashlight on the unearthed urn, hardly believing his eyes or his luck. The
intricate design made dating the piece easy. "It’s Tintagel ware.”
"Tinta-who?”
"Tintagel ware is an ancient indigenous pottery. Fifth or sixth century. More
evidence that Cadbury Castle really was King Arthur’s home base.”
They both jumped
aside as another slice of wall and more pottery crashed down, revealing a
hidden room. At the sound of breaking terra- cotta, Lucan winced. An ancient
scroll poked from the shards, and he dashed to pull the paper from the muddy
earth before the dampness reached it.
Old and fragile,
the antiquity had survived in amazing condition. He balanced the flashlight
between his shoulder and chin, unfurled his find, and squinted, wishing for his
lost glasses.
Marisa peered
over his arm, her reporter’s curiosity evident. "What is it?”
Lucan stared,
his pulse racing in excitement. The astrological map revealed the Sun, the
Earth, planets. And many stars. But what had his heart battering his ribs was
the line drawn from Earth to a star far across the galaxy. He was looking at an
ancient map of the heavens. His mouth went dry. "This is a star map.”
"Why do you
sound so surprised? Even the most ancient cultures were into astrology.”
"Astronomy,” he
corrected automatically. "I’m no astronomer, but this
looks... far too accurate for its time. King Arthur,
remember. The Age of Chivalry.”
"Yeah, right.”
Lost in thought,
he ignored her sarcasm. "This map has details the Hubble telescope might not
pick up, yet it’s thousands of years old. It’s unbelievable.”
"So it’s a
fake?”
"I’ll have to
perform tests...” He squinted at the map. His gaze moved on
to the distant stars and their planets. "Hell.”
"What now?”
He pointed to
the map. "This moon is named Pendragon.”
"Wasn’t that
King Arthur’s last name?”
He nodded and
squinted. "And written right under Pendragon is the word Avalon.”
"Avalon? Is that
significant?”
"Avalon was a
legendary isle ruled by a Druid priestess called the Lady of the Lake,” he
answered. "She helped put Arthur on the throne. And according to the stories,
Avalon was also where King Arthur left the Holy Grail.”
"The Holy
Grail?” Disbelief filled her voice.
"The powers of the
cup are legendary. If the myths are true, the cup might cure physical
ills—cancer, heart attacks, and...” He hesitated before
breathing out the word. "Sterility.”
Though neither
his sister nor her husband was officially sterile, like most of Earth’s population,
they couldn’t have children. Her recent miscarriage had been her second in as
many years. If the cup truly existed and he could find it, his sister—and
hundreds of thousands of others—could finally carry a child to term.
"Throughout the ages,” he continued, "many men, including Arthur’s own Knights of the Round Table, have
searched for Avalon and the Holy Grail. Legendary stories of the Grail’s
healing properties exist in many cultures, yet no one has found it.” He pointed
to the small moon on the ancient map. "Maybe that’s because Avalon wasn’t on
Earth.”
"You’ve lost
your mind.” She sighed, but the catch in her voice exposed her wishful thinking
that after all this time despairing, she might be able to hope again.
"A search for
the Holy Grail might be the most exciting thing I’ll ever do.”
"It might also
be the last thing you ever do. Didn’t you learn your lesson when you went in
search of Preah Vihear antiquities?”
"The golden
statue of the dancing Shiva I found in the Khmer temple was worth—”
"Ending up in a
Cambodian jail?”
"Just a little
misunderstanding. We got it squared away.”
She cursed under
her breath. "You sure you don’t have a death wish? Or are you just an
adrenaline junkie?”
She was fussing
only because she loved him, so he ignored her rhetorical questions. Besides,
he wasn’t the only twin who took calculated risks. As a reporter for the St.
Petersburg Times, Marisa had placed herself in danger often. They were some
pair. She wanted to report the present to change the future. Until now, he’d
believed humanity was headed for extinction, and he had studied the past
because the future looked bleak. But if he could find the Grail, the past just
might offer hope.
Marisa sighed.
"We need to dig out of here.”
He carefully
rolled up the parchment and placed it in the dry sample bag he’d pulled from
his backpack. Then he shined the light on the broken pottery. Kneeling, he
began gathering as many shards as he could carry.
He reached for a
particularly large piece, covered in an array of signs and symbols, when he
spied daylight glimmering through a tiny opening on the far wall of the hidden
room. A way out. "Time to go.”
"Now you’re in a
hurry?”
"Don’t you want
to find out if this map’s authentic?” She sighed. "I’m more interested in warm,
dry clothes.”
"Do you realize
what we may have found?”
"We? Just you,
my brother. Avalon? The Holy Grail? A cure for cancer? The idea is more than
crazy. It’s nonsense. But knowing you, you’ll find a way to follow that map to
Avalon.”
"If the star map
pans out, you’ll want first dibs on the story—don’t deny it.”
"You’re a
restless, adventure-seeking fool. That stupid map is going to take you straight
to outer space.”
He could only
hope.
Chapter 1
As they deny the world, not only in the spirit realm but in the
material plane, the world will
cease to exist.
—The
Lady of the Lake
Eight years later, half a galaxy
away...
GAEL WAS GOING to
die. Not with the dignity a High Priestess was due. Not even with the respect
afforded a physician.
And it was all
her own fault. When she’d thought she’d seen her owl, Merlin, flapping
frantically in the cooling conduit, she’d foolishly attempted a rescue. That
had been mistake number one. Instead of calling maintenance for help, she’d
grabbed a ladder, yanked off the outer grid, and crawled into the ductwork.
Mistake number two. She’d forgotten to take a flashlight. Mistake number three.
And now she was stuck in the dark conduit, half frozen, her hair held firm by
the intake valve, her hand caught in the mesh screen meant to keep out rodents.
She’d shouted
for help, of course, but no one had heard. With her robes and feet dangling
into the hallway, she would have been hard to miss, but her coworkers never
came down the hall to the High Priestess’s office.
Being High
Priestess wasn’t all it was assumed to be. Yes, she lived in a magnificent
residence, free of charge, and her people revered her, even enacting a special
law to allow her to be both priestess and healer, but the average Dragonian
wouldn’t think of stopping by for a chat, never mind asking for her medical
opinion.
While she
believed her empathic ability was a gift that enabled her to use her healing skills wisely, her people too
often looked at it as a curse. A curse that might blast them if they
looked at her the wrong way... so most preferred not to look
at her at all.
To her regret,
she’d treated only a few patients since she’d joined the Avalon Project’s team
of specialists, which included astronomers, archeologists,
physicists, engineers, geologists, and computer technicians. Unless they
had an emergency, her coworkers preferred other, less daunting healers. And if
she didn’t turn up for work in the lab tomorrow, she doubted anyone would
search for her. They’d assume she was attending to her High Priestess duties.
So she was
stuck. Alone as usual.
And Merlin
wasn’t even here. Mistake number four. Had she imagined that the owl had needed
her help? She should have known better. The bird was crafty. He wouldn’t fly
into a conduit that had no exit. He wouldn’t get stuck as she had. It would be
just her luck if she died here of dehydration.
"Damn it.” She
pounded on the metal wall with her free hand and yelled. "Just turn off the cooling coils, hand me a knife, and I’ll cut
myself free.”
No one answered.
The suction from the intake valve threatened to snatch her bald. Again she
wrenched her wrist, but the mesh held her fingers in a clawlike grip. Tired,
cold, she closed her eyes and dozed.
"Lady?” Someone
tugged on her foot.
She awakened
with a jerk and almost yanked her hair out by the roots. Teeth chattering, her
side numb, she figured she must have been dreaming of rescue.
Then she heard
the same deep and sexy yet unrecognizable voice again. "Are you stuck?”
What did he
think? That the High Priestess slept here because she liked being frozen into
an ice cube? "Please, can you get me out?”
A warm hand
grasped her ankle, and an interesting tingle shot up her leg as he tugged.
"Ow! My hair is
caught in the intake valve, and my hand got stuck in the mesh when I tried to
free myself.”
She was about to
ask for a pair of scissors or a knife, when she heard the duct metal creak and
a thud. Then a man’s chest was sliding over her legs. And his movement was
tugging up her gown.
Holy Goddess.
She’d never been
this close to someone before. No one dared touch the High Priestess.
Yet he’d crawled
right into the duct with her and was inching his way past her hips. Both her
hearts jolted as if she’d taken a direct electric charge. His heat seeped into
her, and the feel of his powerful, rippling male muscles had her biting back a
gasp of shock.
It was impossible not to feel the heat pulsing between
them. Studying the signs of
arousal in a medical book was one thing. Experiencing them was quite another.
The
stranger was edging up her body, and her senses rioted. Never had anything felt
this indescribably good. She wished she could see his eyes and his expression.
Even her empathic gift was failing her. Her own excitement was preventing her
from reading him. Was he enjoying the feel of her as much as she was him? Did
he have any idea that her hearts were racing? That her skirt was above her
knees?
Ever
so slowly, he crawled to her waist and his head slid between her breasts, his
warm breath fanning her flesh. His mouth had to be inches from
her... oh, sweet Goddess.
"The
air duct really isn’t made for two,” he joked.
Her
pulse leaped. Her nerves were on fire. "There isn’t enough air,” she gasped.
"It’s
fine.” He wriggled until his cheek pressed hers and she could feel the fine growth
of a beard one day past a shave. His broad chest warmed her. Her hips nestled
his, and she felt him harden against her.
She
stiffened. So he wasn’t unaffected, and that fact secretly pleased her.
Although it shouldn’t have.
Apparently
not the least embarrassed by his physical reaction, he chuckled, his breath
warm and tantalizing in her ear. "Don’t worry. It’s not like we have enough
room in here to get any closer.”
She
squeezed her eyes tight. "You don’t know who I am.”
"You
feel... beautiful.” He reached above her head and ran his
hand along her hair, his fingers strong and gentle. "I’m going to remove the
grate so we don’t have to cut your hair.”
His
muscles flexed, and he popped the vent from the duct. "Now let’s free your
hand.”
He
skimmed his other hand up her body, lightly teasing her waist, the side of her
breast, her cheek. She sucked in her breath as a ripple of pleasure washed
through her.
"I’ll
be happy to do more of that after I get you out of here,” he murmured and ran
his fingers up her arm to her trapped wrist. "Hmm. I’ve got a screwdriver in my
back pocket. Think you can reach it?”
She
licked her bottom lip and moved her free hand across his firm hip to his curved
buttock. Her fingers itched to explore. After all, she had to find his pocket,
didn’t she?
"Try
a little higher, sweetheart,” he urged, his voice amused.
"If
you want to live, don’t call me that,” she said in her best High Priestess
voice. But instead of sounding authoritative, her tone was breathy and light.
She fumbled her
fingers over his buttock, enjoying the hard muscle and the sensuous curve, and
finally found and unsnapped the pocket. Oh... my. The
material inside that pocket was so thin she was almost touching his bare, warm
flesh. At the thought, her breasts tingled and, certain he could feel her
nipples hardening against him, she flushed.
"What should I
call you?” he teased.
She hesitated.
If she told him her name, he might not finish freeing her. "I’ll introduce
myself once we’re out of this mess.”
"Honey, we’re way
beyond the need for formal introductions—not when your sexy little hand is
grabbing my ass.”
She snatched the
screwdriver from his pocket. "Got it.” He gave instructions with an easy
self-confidence that told her he was enjoying himself.
"Reach up my back, over my shoulder, and place the screwdriver into my
hand.” She did as he asked and found herself admiring his broad back, the
muscular shoulders. She was wrapped around him, and the feel of his hard male
body had her trembling. She hadn’t known a man could feel so good.
His maleness was erotic, exotic. Exciting. Her blood rushed through her veins with a heat that made her
feel more alive than she’d felt since she’d first taken to the skies in flight.
"You’re awfully
quiet.” The rough texture of his words was almost as exciting as his muscles
straining over her. "Am I too heavy?”
Too heavy? He
was perfect.
She swallowed
hard. "How much longer?”
"Until we’re
done unscrewing? Now, there’s a question I haven’t been asked before.” She
could hear the grin in his wry tone and was grateful
when he changed the subject. "How’d you get stuck in here, anyway?”
Every time he
turned the screwdriver, his pecs tensed against her breasts and his erection
pressed hot against her thigh.
She tried to
distract herself by talking. "I thought I heard a bird trapped in here.”
She expected him
to tell her she was silly, but he paused in his handiwork. "So you’re the
adventurous type?”
Was she? She had
no idea. From the moment she’d been born, her destiny had been set. The Elders
had trained her as High Priestess. It was her duty to perform religious
ceremonies, to bless babies, to mediate high-level disputes. But she’d wanted
to connect with people, so she’d insisted on becoming a healer, too. That was
the reason she worked on the Avalon Project, hoping to find the Holy Grail and
cure her world of all illness. Was that the same as adventurous?
He popped out
the last screw, and she tugged her hand free. Her fingers landed in his thick,
soft hair. "Sorry.”
"Don’t be. I’m
not.”
"You might be
really sorry—once we get out of here.”
"Why’s that?” He
began to wriggle down her body. "Are you married?”
"I’m never
getting married.” The High Priestess wasn’t allowed to wed. Even if it wasn’t
forbidden, who would want a woman who had the strength to kill her own mate?
"You have seven
big protective brothers who’ll want to beat me up?” he teased.
"There’s just me
and my two sisters.” She couldn’t keep the wistfulness from her tone.
"No husband. No
brothers. And you don’t want to marry. Honey, you’re ideal,” he said, his tone
soft and husky. Finally, he jumped down, and she found herself missing his
warmth. Then his strong hands slid up her legs.
"I can get
out... by myself.” She tried to wriggle away but couldn’t, of
course, with the duct restricting her movements. "Is anyone else out there?”
"No one. It’s
past midnight.”
"Thank the
Goddess.” His large hands almost spanned her waist. He lifted her from the
conduit and set her down on her feet. Her skirts dropped to the floor, and she
smoothed them while avoiding his gaze.
As the
ceremonial robes swished around her legs, her customary decorum returned.
"Thank you. You saved my life. But I won’t tell anyone, so please don’t
worry...” She raised her head and met his eyes.
"I’m not
worried.” Cocking his head to the side, he’d spoken as if he found the idea
absurd. He smiled as if he was seeing Cael the woman, not the High Priestess,
and it charged her with intense awareness. Of him.
In the dim light
she recognized him. Lucan Roarke.
The new archeologist
on the team had dark hair, compelling blue eyes, and a sculpted jaw. And he
wore glasses. Obviously he needed a new prescription, since he didn’t seem to
recognize her.
"If anyone
learns that you touched me, the State will execute you.”
"Really?”
"The only
exemptions are during my healing duties or for blessings bestowed in religious
ceremonies.”
She expected him
to back away, tremble, even grovel as others in his position would have.
Automatically, she braced for the normal blast of fear, but instead he leaned
toward her, his voice seductive. "Lady Cael”—obviously he did recognize her—"I
wouldn’t mind if more than my fate was in your hands.”
LUCAN HAD SCREWED
up. So much for keeping a low profile. He knew better than to flirt with any
woman... much less Pendragon’s High Priestess. So much for
taking an inconspicuous walk around the complex to clear his head. What had he
been thinking?
That she was
soft and toned. That her hair was like silk. And her scent...
her scent reminded him of summer rain. Lucan had seen some unusual things
during his thirty-two years, but nothing as unsettling as Cael’s irises, which
he could have sworn had flared with tiny golden flames.
"Get back to
work,” he told himself.
He couldn’t let
the experience sidetrack him. It didn’t matter that she was the most
fascinating woman he’d met... ever. Or that every time he
closed his eyes the memory of her soft curves pressing against him made him
forget how much work he had to do. And how little time he had left to do it.
His career had
taken him to dozens of ancient archeological sites and thrown many puzzles his
way. But Lucan had not spent five years flying across the galaxy, then three
more learning a new language and establishing himself as a respected Dragonian
linguist, to settle for anything less than the Grail. He’d endured years
without the companionship of his friends and family, the taste of spicy
Buffalo wings and cold Corona, the smoky sounds of hot jazz, and the smooth
roar of his Classic Harley, deprivations he’d tolerated, all for the sake of
finding the Grail.
He shifted his
gaze to the large observation port that filled one side of the lab. Just beyond
the wall of glass and illuminated by floodlights, Avalon punched into the night
sky, an alien gray marble obelisk. Only a third of the massive structure was
visible above ground, and the entire edifice was shielded by a mysterious
energy that allowed no one and nothing to penetrate its secrets. Lucan was
certain the Grail lay behind the shielded wall.
"The answer to
breaking through that shield has to be right here in front of me.” He scowled
at a copy of the ancient, alien glyphs that the Avalon team had discovered on
the obelisk’s wall earlier the previous day.
These same
glyphs were on the star map he’d found on Earth, suggesting that there had been
travel between Earth and Pendragon over fifteen hundred years ago. According to
Arthurian legends, King Arthur left the Grail in Avalon. But this Avalon was
across the galaxy from Earth. The idea seemed outrageous, yet Lucan couldn’t
ignore the facts. This moon bore Arthur’s last name. And the ancient Dragonians
had named the imposing obelisk Avalon.
Coincidence?
Lucan didn’t think so.
"Think.” He
glared at the symbols, willing them to respond. Was he looking at an alphabet,
or did the glyphs stand for individual sounds? "What are you hiding? What’s
your secret?”
"If only I had a
coin for every time someone asked me those questions.”
Holy hell He’d
assumed Cael had left for the evening. How long had she been in the lab? What
had she seen?
Like an idiot,
he’d left the star map in plain sight. Had she seen enough to recognize the
parchment hadn’t originated on this moon?
Forcing his mind
out of a tailspin, Lucan leaned over his desk and deliberately knocked over his
mug of tea. Then he whisked the damning star map into a drawer while the dark,
hot liquid oozed into papers of much lesser value.
Lucan forced a
smile at Cael, as if he welcomed her interruption. "Few have secrets?”
