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Garrin was always discomfited when she referred to the fact he’d been the last king of the Argorn before she arrived in his time and meddled. He was glad and grateful not to have perished at the hands of the Craadil but he felt the burden of trying to establish a foundation which would enable future generations of his people to thrive. Of course one considered what legacy he might leave in the annals of kings but Dianora’s knowledge of the possible future pressured him if he thought too much about it. “I can only do my best,” he said out loud.
Her eyelids flickered upward as she’d been close to drowsing off, which was her preference after a bout of vigorous lovemaking. “Did you say something?” she asked.
Kissing her cheek, he settled her more comfortably again. “Nothing important, my love. Sleep and I’ll wake you in plenty of time before the servants arrive to feed the fire and start the morning rituals.”
“Time,” she repeated as if it was a question. “I had a plan I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Not now,” he said with a smile. “You’re too tired and we both need at least a little rest before tomorrow.”
“At breakfast then?”
“I’ll be all ears, I promise.”
“It can wait, you’re right.” With a sigh she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
Garrin stroked her hand, staring at the ring of his ancestors, gleaming on her finger. Misgivings rose in his heart over what Dianora might want to discuss. She gave every sign of being content to be here and to live as his wife and queen for the rest of her life and he couldn’t imagine the ring taking her away from him now…but if he were a betting man, he’d take the odds she wanted to talk about the damn ring, which couldn’t be a good thing. He shut his eyes and ordered himself to sleep. He’d find out in the morning so he hoped the cook had prepared a good breakfast—he was sure he was going to need it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Breakfast was a marvelous spread and Dianora loaded her plate with eggs, bacon, toast, hashed tubers and the berries of the season. After a sip of juice, she cleared her throat and said, “I want to go to the future one more time.”
Garrin froze in the act of spreading jam on his toast and then calmly completed the task. “Might I ask why?”
“When I came here the last time, the trip where I ended up in the middle of the battle, I was so focused on bringing practical things like the blasters and the medkit, I didn’t really think through what I might need or want personally if this was going to be my new permanent home.” She blushed and toyed with a strip of bacon. “Honestly? I don’t think I’d entirely committed to life here, so I sort of deliberately left a lot of things behind that now I regret.”
“But you’re committed to me and to Argorn now?” His voice was noncommittal but she was afraid she might have hurt his feelings.
“You know I am. I love you and our life together.” She left her chair and rushed around the table to him. Garrin scooted his chair out and pulled her into his lap.
“I’ll come with you,” he said.
Astonished, she blinked and pulled away from him. “Why? Don’t you trust me to come back?”
“Your word is good enough for me,” he said in a mild reprimand, accented with a quick kiss. “But there is always a chance the ring might not bring you to Argorn again from your own realm. I can’t take the risk of never knowing what happened to you and having to live without you the rest of my life, vainly hoping you might reappear someday. I’d die a broken man.”
“But if you go with me and we’re stranded in the future, Argorn is left without a king.” Dianora was trying to accept the possibility of Garrin appearing in the future and becoming stranded there if the ring did indeed misbehave. The device was ancient after all—who could say if it would continue to work? She reconsidered her desire to travel to her own time once more in the light of this daunting thought.
“I believe the ring will continue to do its duty. Whatever spirits or gods motivate it understood we needed to be together and knew we were needed here,” he said, voice ringing with confidence. “But I’ll not be parted from you.”
“Did you check to see if the ring is here in this time as well?” she asked, thinking if they had two versions of the ring, they’d have a backup.
“Good question. Let us go and determine the answer now before we have further discussion.” Garrin waited while she slid off his lap and then led her to the adjoining room, which functioned as his study. He paced along the outer wall, counting his steps under his breath before pausing and bending over to depress a specific panel in the stone. There was a click and the façade slid aside, revealing a small nook. Reaching inside he withdrew a box.
“The puzzle box,” Dianora said, instantly recognizing the container, although it was in much better condition here. “I found the ring inside this box. Or rather I will find the ring—this all gets confusing.”
“My brain doesn’t want to contemplate the issues at all,” he said, straightening and setting the box on a nearby table. Rapidly he flicked the ornamental trim in the prescribed ways to open the box and the lid sprang open.
“You did that a lot faster than I could. Took me a few minutes to figure it out,” she said nervously. “And?”
He showed her the empty box. “Nothing. It seems you have the singular ring.”
“But yet it’ll have to be in the box so I can find it in a few thousand years.” She had a headache coming on and rubbed her temples. Why did all aspects of time travel have to be so confusing?
“A problem for another day.” He stuck the box in the safe and closed the panel. “If we’re going, let’s get it over with today.”
“I think it’s best to go tonight,” she said, now not sure she wanted to make the trip at all, given the risks. But there were a few personal things she’d been missing.
Eyebrow raised, he waited for further explanation.
