Protector of the Flight. Robin D. Owens

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      Her breasts were flattened on the mattress, but they looked round and full. He eyed her butt and legs, muscular, like a rider’s would be.

      He’d heard there were no volarans in the Exotique Land, but that there were horses. She had the tone of horsewoman.

      A frisson of awareness raised the hair on the nape of his neck. He lifted his gaze from the woman to find four beady eyes fixed on him. Marrec tilted his chin at the two beings who hunched on either side of the injured woman’s head, still staring at him.

      Then Marrec realized what they were—magical shape-shifting beings called fey-coo-cus. One had become Alexa’s companion after she arrived, the other had originally come from Exotique Terre with Marian. Today they appeared as foot-long rabbits, brown and white with dark patches over their eyes and noses as pink as the horsewoman’s lips.

      They should have looked harmless, fluffy. They looked dangerous and threatening.

      The door opened and several Chevaliers walked in, including Faucon and Lady Hallard.

      “This is a good time to switch singers,” the medica rasped. “We have lowered the web through our patient and it is below her. We can swap people, then raise it one final time through her body. That should be enough.”

      The rabbits turned their combined gazes to Faucon. He stopped under the weight of their scrutiny, then nodded. “Salutations, feycoocus.”

      The magical beings twitched their ears, radiating welcome. Even they wanted Faucon for the woman. What chance did Marrec have?

      3

      Calli woke to foreign singing. Muzzy-headed, she didn’t know where the sound came from, but it was a lot better than the chanting of her tinnitus. She felt good, except a little cramped, and her face was squashed into something so soft she had trouble breathing.

      She stretched, long and slow. Her mind caught up with her body. No pain! She rolled over to her back, eyes wide open…

      And saw a bunch of strangely dressed people standing around her whispering, and not in English. Her insides clutched and she was suddenly afraid to move. These folks were armed. Those who wore richly colored poncho-like robes had chain mail underneath and a sheath on each hip. The people in leathers had swords at their sides.

      She gulped, realizing they looked a lot like the people she’d glimpsed in the crystal on the hill for years. Riding flying horses—like those winged horses who’d come to look at her, speak to her in her mind.

      She remembered falling through the face of the hillside—how could she do that?—and…and…being greeted by someone.

      Glancing around, she saw that same someone, a small woman with silver hair, smiling at her from the right side of her bed.

      “Hi, welcome to Lladrana.” Her face clouded. “It would have been better if you’d told us you were hurt as soon as you came.”

      “Urgh,” was all Calli could manage.

      A woman’s laugh came. “Give her a break, Alexa. Don’t you remember how it was?”

      Calli struggled to sit up, strong hands grasped her shoulders from behind and lifted her easily. She heard a tinkling song. She eyed the people around her. They were all tall and beautiful, with golden skin and dark hair and eyes, not quite Asian looking. Other.

      “You’re not in Kansas—well, Colorado—anymore,” the other woman said.

      Alexa chuckled and patted Calli’s hand. “You’re not in Oz, either. This is Lladrana, another dimension and I’m Alexa Fitzwalter.” She beamed.

      Calli must be dreaming.

      A tall, auburn-haired woman, plump and pretty, came to stand next to Alexa, the second woman who’d spoken in English. “Hi, I’m Marian Dumont, late of Boulder, now a Circlet of Lladrana.” She touched a golden band she wore around her forehead. The hammered design showed clouds and lightning.

      Sticking out a hand, Alexa said, “I came from Denver in the spring. Pleased to meet you, Ms.—”

      Letting her gaze roam, Calli figured out that the rest of the folks were watching intently and not talking because they didn’t understand English. She wondered what language they spoke. She looked at Alexa’s hand, put her own in it and received a surge of warmth that flooded her and left her fingers tingling. She licked her lips and tried her voice. “I’m Callista Torcher. Calli.”

      The redhead jostled Alexa aside in a teasing manner and held out her hand. There was something about the gesture, maybe the way Alexa and Marian stood, that warned Calli that she was being tested somehow. Besides the incredible little surge of…something…she’d felt from Alexa, the smaller woman’s grip had been firm and strong, her hand callused.

      Calli shivered and slid her fingers against Marian’s. This time she felt a heady zip that made her head buzz. She shook her head to clear it. Marian released her fingers and chuckled, a richer sound than Alexa’s.

      Large hands squeezed her shoulders, making her aware of them once more. Man’s hands. Thumbs brushed her shoulder blades, then the hands vanished as a man to her left circled the bed she was on. He wore leathers the color of butterscotch that were obviously expensive. He made a flourishing bow to her. “Faucon Creusse,” he said, and she decided that was his name.

      Never in her life had a guy bowed to Calli. She nodded at him, but too-handsome men made her a little wary. They usually had great expectations of a woman and didn’t return much. At least the rodeo cowboys she’d known tended to be that way.

      “So, how much French do you know?” Alexa asked briskly, drawing Calli’s attention back to her right.

      “Uh, none,” Calli said.

      Marian nodded. “How good are you at languages?”

      Calli shrugged. “Pretty fair. I have quite a bit of Spanish.”

      Alexa made a face. “I’m terrible. I’ll have a bad accent for the rest of my life. I chose to stay here on Lladrana.”

      Calli froze. She wasn’t ready to accept she was in a different place—who would? And if, by some impossible chance, she was somewhere else, she wasn’t ready to cope with that, either. The hurt of her father’s rejection still shadowed her heart, echoed in her mind.

      An older lady spoke, and the language was French sounding, for sure. This woman wore tough, dark brown leathers. She walked up the right side of the bed to stand next to Alexa and did a half bow. “Nuaj Hallard,” the woman said.

      Again Calli nodded. Who knew what they did as greeting here? From the long robe with no armor that Marian wore, they might even curtsey. Like bowing, curtseying had never been an item in Calli’s life.

      “Lady Hallard’s right,” Alexa said. “Callista doesn’t need to know Lladranan to get a tour of the Castle.”

      Lady? Castle? Uh-oh. Sure didn’t sound like Colorado.

      With glee in her eyes, Alexa smiled at Calli, and Calli braced herself for a zinger. “How would you like to see the winged horses again?”

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