"If you don't spit it out, man," Aeron said, seething, "I will cut you into pieces where you stand."

"My lord," the man said, quaking, "Victor Alexander is gone."

Aeron glanced sharply at Ryan, who did not look up, the only indication that she had heard the slightest trace of a smile about her lips.

The man continued, his words tumbling out. "The doctor and her son are gone as well."

Aeron did not take his eyes from Ryan, who appeared immersed in the game board. "It's your move," she murmured.

"Where are they?" he asked, tightly controlled fury in his voice.

Ryan turned to look at him with her unblinking gaze. "It's your move," she said pointedly.

Aeron was furious, but knew he would not get a response without patronizing her. He reached down and moved the queen again, slamming the piece down.

"Where are they?" he again demanded, seething.

Ryan glanced up, amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes. "I don't know," she said simply.

Aeron was about to explode, but then realized that the girl was telling the truth. There was no deception in her reply or in her mind.

Ryan casually lifted a knight, moving the piece its few s.p.a.ces over and up. She spoke quietly, still amused, but with a subtle amazement in her words as well. "Whomever took them was powerful enough to come here unbeknownst to either you or I, someone powerful enough to move about completely unrevealed." She leaned back. "It's your move again."

Aeron looked down at the board, but his concentration was interrupted by the man who was still cowering nearby.

"My, my lord-," the man stammered.

"What?" Aeron said, biting off the syllable and fighting the urge to tear the man in two.

The man held a simple white envelope extended from his shaking hand.

"What is this?" Aeron demanded, s.n.a.t.c.hing it from the man's grasp.

"I don't know, my lord." He nodded, indicating Ryan. "It's from the doctor, and it's addressed to her."

Aeron glared at Ryan, ripping the envelope open. He removed a single sheet of paper, staring at in incomprehension. He looked back up at her.

"What is this?" he demanded.

Ryan was still studiously ignoring the entire situation, her attention on the chess board. "I don't know," she said for the second time. "It's still your turn."

His fury was immense and growing. He wanted to tear the girl in two, but again he sensed that she was telling the truth. He leaned, down, slammed his queen into a new position, and thrust the piece of paper in front of her face.

Ryan took the paper, still engrossed in the board. She took her time, again moving her knight before turning her attention to the paper. She studied it for a long moment, noting a familiar, unique pattern, then lowered it as if it were no matter. "It's your turn again."

Aeron was seething at the implied blackmail. Her infernal sense of humor was going to get her killed, because he was out of patience with the entire situation. He again quickly examined the board, staying with his strategy. He moved his bishop into position to take out the knight that was aggravating his queen.

Ryan glanced up at the servant who was still quaking in the doorway. "You are dismissed," she said.

The servant turned on his heel, gladly obeying the absolute authority in that voice. This incensed Aeron further, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed the letter from Ryan's hand.

"What is this?" he again demanded.

Ryan leaned back, thoughtful. "Do you know what mitochondrial DNA is?"

Aeron's reply was scathing. "No, my dear. I knew just enough of DNA to pay someone to create the pathogen that targeted your beloved father."

Ryan nodded, still thoughtful. "And me as well."

Aeron smiled. "And you as well, although it did not have quite the desired affect."

Ryan examined the chess board. "In theory, it shouldn't have affected me at all since mitochondrial is pa.s.sed entirely down the mother's line." Ryan leaned forward, moving her knight. "But Victor and I are so genetically similar that I did inherit his."

"Obviously not enough," Aeron said.

"Not enough," Ryan agreed. "Not enough to affect me the way it did him."

Ryan was silent for a long moment. "It's your turn."

Aeron's irritation was lessening. He would find Victor, as well as the one who stood against his will. It was a short list. He looked back up at Ryan. And he would keep the girl with him, one way or another. He thought of their recent prolonged coupling. He could think of a few ways to restrain her right now. He moved the ivory bishop.

Ryan examined the move, continuing her conversation. "It was quite a brilliant plan though. Mitochondrial DNA can be quite common among people, and so specifically targeting it with a pathogen could be risky." Ryan moved a p.a.w.n. "Except when dealing with someone like Victor, who is so genetically unique that the target is precise."

He leaned forward, moving his castle. "So what is in that letter?" he said, still irked.

Ryan examined the move. "It's a DNA profile." She moved the p.a.w.n again, then looked up at him. "Yours."

Aeron felt time stop for him. The chess board seemed very far away, too far away for him to reach. Ryan conversationally asked a rhetorical question.

"Who knew that you and Victor were so close?"

Aeron felt the blood begin to pool in his extremities. "What are you saying?" he asked quietly.

"It's your move," Ryan said, gazing at him intently.

With a slight feeling of numbness, Aeron leaned forward and moved the bishop, knowing otherwise he would get no reply.

Ryan glanced at the board, then back up at him. "Apparently you and Victor had a common maternal ancestor," she said with some amus.e.m.e.nt, "not a mother, not a grandmother, but probably within three or four generations."

The numbness seeped into his lower extremities as the girl continued. "With that close of match, I am fairly certain the pathogen will affect you the same way it did Victor, since you have basically the same profile."

Then, very slowly and very deliberately, she leaned forward to move her rook for the very last time. She looked up at him, preternatural amus.e.m.e.nt in her unblinking eyes.

"Checkmate."

Aeron stared down at the board, stunned. It seemed impossible that it could have come to this. The pieces seemed to swim before him. He counted backward the moves that had transpired since the day she had so audaciously told him to surrender.

"Twenty," she confirmed for him.

He slowly raised his head, understanding but still disbelieving. He thought through every move that he had made, every contingency. He stared at the girl across from him. When he finally spoke, his words had a tinge of incredulity, a hint of resignation, but for the most part were amazingly matter-of-fact.

"You are in love with me," he stated.

Ryan said nothing, but did not deny it.

"-And yet," he continued, intrigued, "You would destroy me."

Ryan leaned forward, tipping the ivory king onto its side. She leaned back, steadily holding his gaze. "It seems to be my way," she said simply.

"And so what will you do with me," he asked, sarcasm creeping into his voice, "Place me on a pedestal next to your corpse of a father?"

Ryan smiled a wicked smile. "Perhaps." She appeared to give the matter great thought. "Or maybe I will bury you at the bottom of the sea, in the chamber a mile beneath where we sit right now."

A dangerous glint appeared in Aeron's eyes. "Then perhaps you will go with me."

Ryan shook her head ruefully. "I'm afraid not. I have other engagements, including my coronation."

There was a lethal edge to Aeron right now. He was not going into the blackness alone. He would take the girl one way or another.

"The pathogen will not affect me that quickly," Aeron said. "I have more than enough time to settle with you."

Ryan again appeared regretful. "No, actually I'm afraid you only have," she paused, c.o.c.king her head to one side, "About four seconds."

It took two seconds for Aeron to process what she was saying, one second for her to get to the balcony's railing, and half a second for him to lunge and miss, feeling her slip through his grasp.

And then the world exploded.

CHAPTER 23.

THE VESSEL EASED INTO THE SHALLOW WATERS. Several men jumped out, dragging the craft up onto the beach. One turned and politely helped a young, red-headed woman from the still rocking boat. She stepped onto the beach, her expression grim, as was that of the older, patrician gentleman who joined her.

"Dear G.o.d," Susan whispered under her breath. Although Edward was silent, he shared her a.s.sessment.

The island was destroyed. Where ma.s.sive cliffs had once risen above the sea, there were now huge piles of rubble. Where there had been a waterfall, there was a great gaping black hole. There were no longer trees or plants or gra.s.s, or any type of stone edifices. Everything was flattened. The destruction was total.

A second vessel brushed into the sand, and there was a great deal of commotion as the men on the beach prepared for the next arrival, whom they greeted with great respect and reverence. The largest among them positioned themselves to help the beautiful older woman step onto the beach, who, despite her appearance, exited with effortless grace.

Susan turned to Abigail, wanting some type of rea.s.surance, but Abigail, as always, was impossible to read. Her expression was unfathomable, tranquil but not encouraging, serene but not inspiring. The men quickly spread out in a search pattern.

In light of the fact that Susan was the only human occupant on the island, it was surprising that she found the object of their search before any of the others, and very quickly.

"Here, over here!" she yelled. She kneeled down to the severely-injured, unconscious figure, placing her hands on the artery in Ryan's throat. She couldn't feel a pulse, but that didn't mean anything. Edward came up behind her.

"Help me get these rocks off her."

Edward required no prompting, he was already hurling boulders from his master. He inwardly flinched when he saw what he uncovered. His master was grievously wounded. He did not see, or sense, any life signs from her. He was joined by several burly men, who also began flinging rocks from the p.r.o.ne figure.

Abigail approached on the arm of her consort, elegantly picking her way through the rubble.

"Here, stabilize her legs and spine so we can roll her over," Susan ordered. The men complied without hesitation. Susan took position at Ryan's head, stabilizing the neck.

"Ready. One, two, three."

The crew rolled the figure over with a gentleness that was astonishing, considering their rather fearsome appearance. Susan again felt for any life signs, frustrated because she didn't find any, frustrated because that didn't mean anything. She turned, looking up at Abigail, as did everyone who stood there.

Abigail stared down at the lifeless body, a.s.sessing.

"She lives," Abigail said at last.

Susan let out an audible sigh of relief, as did Edward, although his gesture was more from habit than need. Abigail nodded to her consort, who let loose several commands in a language that Susan had never heard. A troupe quickly a.s.sembled, two abreast and four deep. A platform was brought forward and set down next to Ryan's p.r.o.ne form. Then gently, with great deference and ceremony, the eight men lifted the girl and lay her on the platform. They then lifted the platform shoulder-high and began to slowly, solemnly carry it through the rubble, preceded by Abigail on the arm of her consort.

Susan followed the a.s.sembly, which seemed so filled with ritual and meaning, she felt she were following the funeral procession of a king.

EPILOGUE.

JASON RAN THROUGH THE WELL-MANICURED gardens of the palatial estate. He particularly liked the maze in the ornamental gardens, because he could get lost in all the twists and turns. He could hear his mother calling him, her voice filled with exasperation. He giggled and sprinted into the maze.

He had rounded only the third hedge when he ran headlong into a man, tripping over his feet He would have fallen had the man not caught him.

"Hey there sport, better watch out."

Jason blushed. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't see you there."

The man leaned down so that Jason didn't have to look up so high. He smiled a brilliant smile, his teeth white against his ebony skin. "That's okay." He c.o.c.ked his head to one side. "I think I hear your mother coming, better be quiet."

Jason giggled, leaning against the hedge with his now fellow conspirator. He could hear his mom coming, too.

"Jason, if you don't get back here right this min-"

Jason jumped out at Susan just as she rounded the corner.

Susan gave out a little yelp, more to satisfy Jason than anything else. She could hear his giggling a mile away, and even if she hadn't, he was hardly enough to frighten her, considering what she had been through.

She was embarra.s.sed, however, when she realized Jason wasn't alone.

"Oh, hi," she said, brushing her hair from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I hope Jason wasn't being too much of a nuisance."