I’ve decided to change up these weekly snippets and go through my backlist, sharing the first meeting between the two main characters in each book. It’s always fun for me to revisit the books and I hope it will be for you too! Or if you’ve never happened to read a certain book, maybe I can entice you into giving it a try.

This book was a very different one for me, starting in the Sectors and then it became a portal story as the two main characters escape certain death by venturing into a new world from which there’s no return. I was trying to pay tribute to the way Andre Norton’s characters would sometimes have to make similiar choices. I played with the concept of there already being an identity waiting on this world for the desperate pair…I had a bit of  time travel, I showed a glimpse of the Outlier Empire and there was this ancient civilization type world into which they’d plummeted and innediately took sides, for better or worse. Part of the plot was inspired by a 3000 year old Egyptian mirror I’d seen  in a museum and never forgotten…Yeah, a lot going on. I’ve never yet circled back to write a sequel but the main romance does reach a Happy for Now conclusion in the book.

Universal Mind series. Visually pleasing composition of human head and fractal clouds to serve as background in works on mind, dreams, thinking, consciousness and imagination

The excerpt:

Alessandra stood, straight and imperious, across the chamber from him, her face set in grim lines but showing no fear. Her luminous blue eyes were wide, and she was breathing rapidly, but she faced him with open defiance. A maid cowered behind her.

“You.” Pointing at the servant with his free hand, Mark gestured toward the door. “Out. This house is about to become a death trap, and the men downstairs won’t leave any witnesses. I advise you to run.”

Hunching over to make herself less of a target, the woman edged along the wall until she passed Mark and bolted into the corridor.

Mark stared at the princess, Seeing her again after all these years was like a hallucination. The changes in her face—older, a few lines, but still beautiful by any standard—fascinated him. Annoyed, he realized just being in the same room with her dangerously distracted him from the job.

“You can tell your master I won’t agree to anything,” Alessandra said in Outlier, voice cold but tremulous.

“I’m not one of Kliin’s boys.” Mark removed the helmet, setting it on the bureau amidst a clutter of jewelry and trinkets. Catching a whiff of her delicious perfume, the same she’d always worn for him, Mark felt a moment of vertigo. “I’m here to get you out.”

Eyebrows raised, apparently puzzled by his words, she studied his face.

Mark moved forward. As if engaged in some macabre dance, she stepped back, one step and then another as he advanced, until her shoulders hit the wall with a thump.

“Sandy, damn it, it’s me, Mark Denaltieri.” Unaccustomed emotions battering at him, he regretted ever agreeing to this venture. Some things were best left permanently in the past.

Eyes narrowed, lips thin, she glared at him. “What kind of a fool does Barent Kliin think I am? Or is this some new plot of my grandmother’s?” She grabbed a vase from the table beside her and threw it at him. “Mark is dead.”

Dodging the missile, he retreated to the door, cracking it open a sliver. “Your aim is as bad as ever, I see.” He heard the rumble of voices from the floor below. Barent evidently wasn’t done toying with poor, deluded Portuc. Over his shoulder, Mark said, “Who the seven hells ever called you Sandy besides me?”

When he eased the door shut and turned, she’d sunk onto the sofa under the windows, slumped on the cream and blue floral cushions. She wiped away tears.

Crossing to the couch, he stood in front of her. Taking fierce control of his own emotions, he pitched his voice lower and injected more calm into his tones. “Your Highness, this isn’t a plot or a trick. I’m Mark.”

She shook her head in pained denial, closing her eyes as if to avoid the sight of him. Tears coursed over her cheeks. “My grandmother had him tortured and killed. I saw the records. You’re not him, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Tortured, yes. Killed, no.” He blew a gusty breath. “It’s a long story. We haven’t got time for explanations. Barent Kliin is downstairs, about to murder Portuc. His plans for you aren’t much better. Will you trust me to get you out of here in one piece? Once I have you somewhere safe, you can make your own decision about what to do next. Word of a bogatyr. Sworn on my family’s honor.”

Cheeks red, dark blue eyes flooded with tears, she stared at him, seeming lost in grief. “I knew, even when Portuc claimed to have found him, it had to be a lie. Grandmother never would have let Mark Denaltieri live. I wanted it to be true so badly.”

Mark knelt, placing one hand over hers. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

“Prove who you are, or I go nowhere.” Hand fisted, she shoved his shoulder. “I’ll scream and bring them running. I’d rather trust Barent than an impostor.”

Had he changed that much in twenty years? He’d never been able to forget her face, why didn’t she know his? Maybe she was blocking the memories. Or maybe he hadn’t mattered as much to her as he’d believed. Either way, he was committed to this action, no time for doubt. “If I convince you I’m Mark, will you let me get you out of here?”

She nodded. “But you can’t prove such a thing.”

Impatient, he threw off the heavy Kliin overcoat and yanked the left side of his blue tunic free of the pants, revealing his abdomen. “We met when I took a force knife meant for you, in the Spring of a year long ago.”

Fingers trembling, she touched the long, white scar running parallel to his ribs, near his heart. Even when he’d been severely injured in the Special Forces, requiring time in the rejuve resonator, he’d demanded the medtechs leave the scar. It represented the last pitiful link to his past. Proof he had indeed been someone else, with a far different destiny than the one forced upon him. Now he shivered, flinching from even the lightest touch of her hand. Too many memories. He endured the contact for a moment before pulling away and jerking the tunic into place as he stood. “You have a birthmark shaped like a heart in a very intimate place, Your Highness. If you require further proof.”

“I’d wandered off from a family picnic in the gardens at Nemalpaue.” Alessandra stared at him, eyes wide. “You’d recently been assigned to the house guards as a cadet, and you were lost, confused by your first time in the imperial gardens—”

“We were in the gardens at Tsiolovad, and you were reading a book by yourself,” he said, temper growing short as she continued to test his claim. “I was in the wrong place at the right time. In time to see the assassins entering the garden. I’d no chance of getting help, so, being young and stupid, I tried to take them on all by myself.”

“No, you were so brave, displayed amazing courage through the entire fight.” Staring at him, she massaged her temples as if to soothe a massive headache. Unexpectedly, she grabbed his chin, tilting his head until the lamp on the wall bathed his entire face in merciless light. Leaning forward, she peered into his eyes, then released him and fell against the cushions a moment later with a gasp. “It is you—that tiny fleck of gold in your left eye always fascinated me. I’ve never seen anything like it in anyone else’s eyes.”

He walked to the bureau and donned the helmet, visor retracted. “We have to go. Trust me, don’t trust me, believe me or not, but if we don’t leave this room right now, you’re going to be Barent Kliin’s prize. I’m not waiting around to go over old times in the cadets with him. Are you coming?”

“All right.” Her measured tone gave nothing away of her inner thoughts. “We can put aside the need for explanations temporarily. I always trusted you. You were the only one I could rely on.”

“Still am, at least to get you out of here. Trust me tonight.”