Key Of Valor (Key 3)

And saw, in the fading moonlight, the portrait that hung over the bedroom mantel.

After the Spell. That was the name of it, Zoe remembered. The Daughters of Glass lying in their transparent coffins.

Not dead. Worse than dead, she thought with a shiver.

Why shouldn't she say it? They were one reason, she knew. But even they weren't the heart of it. Kane couldn't see what was inside her—not what was deep inside her. He could neither see nor understand.

So she would keep it there, and keep Bradley as safe as she could, a few days longer.

"You put the portrait here."

"Damn it, Zoe." He yanked her back, then snapped out another oath at the plea on her face. "Yes, I hung it here."

He let her go.

She touched a hand to his shoulder. "I know I'm asking you for a lot."

"You're fucking testing me."

"Maybe I am. I don't know." She dragged her fingers through her hair. 'This has all been so fast for me. So fast and so big, sometimes it seems like I can't keep up with my own feelings. But I do know I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to fight with you. I have to take this at my own pace, and part of that's tied up with them." She gestured to the portrait before she rose and reached for her robe. "I can't help it."

"You think because there's some similarity between my background and James's, I'll turn away from you?"

"I did." She looked down as she belted her robe, then shifted her attention to him. "I did think that. And I thought maybe I was attracted to you because of those similarities. But I know better than that on both counts now. There's still a lot I have to work out, Bradley. I'm asking you to wait until I do."

He was silent for a moment, then reached over to flip a switch. Light washed over the portrait.

"When I first saw that, it was like being grabbed by the throat. I fell in love—in lust—whatever

the hell it was, with that face. Your face, Zoe. When I first saw you, I had exactly the same reaction. But I didn't know you. I didn't know what was inside you. I didn't know how your mind or your heart worked, or what made you laugh, what irritated you. I didn't know you liked yellow roses and could handle a nail gun as well as I can. I didn't know dozens of the little details of you that I know now. What I felt for that face isn't a shadow of what I feel for the woman it belongs to."

She was afraid she wouldn't be able to speak. "The woman it belongs to has never known anyone like you. Never expected to."

"Get things worked out, Zoe. Because if you don't, I'm going to work them out for you."

She let out a small laugh. "No, never anyone like you. This is a big week for me, and by the time it's…" She trailed off as she looked at the portrait again.

Her heart began to thump. "Oh, God, could it have been that simple all along? Could it have been right there?"

Trembling, she walked toward the hearth, staring at the painting, her gaze riveted now to the three keys Rowena had painted, scattered over the ground by the coffins.

She stepped onto the hearth, held her breath, and reached up.

Her fingers bumped canvas.

She tried again, closing her eyes first, imagining her fingers reaching into the painting, closing over the key as Malory's had done.

But the painting stayed solid, the keys only color and shape.

"I thought…" Deflated, she stepped back. "For a minute, I thought maybe… It seems so stupid now."

"No, it doesn't. I tried it myself." He walked to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "A few times."

"Really? But it's not for you to find."

"Who knows? Maybe this one's different."

She kept her eyes on the portrait. "It isn't one of them. Rowena painted those keys, years ago. And they're, well, they're despair, aren't they? And loss. Not hope or fulfillment. Because they lie there where no mortal can find them, and no god can use them. It's not despair that leads to my key. It's getting through it. I understand that."