Then she turned and strode away, into a darkened foyer. A door clicked open, then shut. Jak leaned back on the pallet, realizing his breathing was slightly labored, but not simply because of his debilitated physical condition. Nefron had exerted a strange influence over him, and he didn’t know how or why.
He looked over at Kela. “Who Nefron?”
She shrugged. “She is my princess. I do her bidding. She holds the key.”
Jak remembered Danielson’s story of Pharaoh and how he had disowned his daughter, stripping her of the right to assume the throne. He wanted to ask what Kela had meant about Nefron holding the key. Instead, he found himself more concerned with his erection. It hadn’t abated with the departure of Nefron. Grunting, he shifted position, to ease the pressure.
“Are you in pain?” Kela asked.
He shot her a quick, abashed glance and said dryly, “Not exactly.”
Stone-faced, she inquired, “In discomfort, then?”
“Little, yes.”
She moved toward him. “Nefron charged me with attending to your comfort.”
Kela’s hands went to his belt, unbuckling it so swiftly and deftly he had no opportunity to say anything. When her fingers undid the snap-catch on his pants, Jak decided there was no point in saying anything. Instead, he reached for her.
Chapter Sixteen
Krysty opened her eyes and stared in wonder at the chamber around her. Silk tapestries adorned the walls, rich rugs were on the floors and the ivory chairs, benches and divans were littered with satin cushions.
The canopy over the bed in which she lay was hung with gauzy draperies, softly stirred by an intoxicatingly sweet breeze, scented like orange blossoms.
The delicate aroma made her feel languorous and lethargic, as if she had just awakened from a deep, soul-restoring sleep. Stretching, she turned over on her side, wondering why Ryan wasn’t beside her. She longed to feel his hard body pressing against hers, his hands fondling and caressing her. Krysty bolted upright in the bed, pushing herself into a sitting position. Memories returned to her in a flooding rush—the redoubt, the trek, the fight and finally the capture. She looked around wildly. The chamber was identical to the one in her jump dream, and for a split second her careening thoughts turned to the possibility that she was still hallucinating. She looked toward the great bronze double doors at the far end of the room. As in her dream, she saw no knobs or handles.
Climbing out of the bed, she saw she was naked.
Snatching up the brightly colored bedspread and draping it around her, she saw that the chamber walls were made of huge, white-faced stone blocks, perhaps limestone. The ceiling was exceptionally high. Light shafted it through slotlike skylights, filtered by the colored panes of glass. The air was heavy with the familiar scent of orange blossoms. The stone floor was covered by large woven mats. There were wall hangings with designs that complemented those of the bedspread. The furniture was of varnished wood, of an extremely advanced level of craftsmanship.
She walked cautiously to the massive double doors, a feeling of primitive fear and an unreasoning panic in the pit of her stomach. She fought to control it, employing a breathing exercise taught to her by her mother.
Krysty closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply and regularly. The terror ebbed a bit, but when she opened her eyes again, the double doors were still there. She heard nothing on the other side of them and started to turn away. Then the locking mechanism clicked and slid aside.
Krysty dropped into a combat stance, clenching her right fist, stiffening her left wrist, locking the fingers in a half-curled position against the palm so as to deliver a leopard’s-paw strike.
One of the doors opened just enough to admit a young woman. She wore a short linen tunic, and her shining black hair framed a startlingly beautiful face. Her eyes were lined with dark pencil. She carried a covered tray of food in her hands.
Appearing not to notice Krysty’s fighting posture, she smiled wanly and walked past her to place the tray on a low table. “How are you feeling?”
Krysty answered the question with two of her own. “Who are you? Where am I?”