Chapter 25 #2
“Well… not exactly, but maybe some of the stories we tell in our books are inspired by what people saw in the Nightmare Realm when they accidentally ended up here? You know, like that old lady you helped back into my world. What are your novels about?” I ask, once again angry that I wasn’t curious.
In fact, I’ve read nothing that wasn’t unicorn-related.
“All sort of things,” he says, but then goes a little quiet.
“Honestly, I’ve not really read much. When I was a child, my mother read stories to me about knights and mysterious creatures of the sea, about rulers past and Dark Companions.
Both my sister and I always found the idea of the human realm so intriguing.
But while she delved deeper into her love of books, I wanted to do all these exciting things.
And since I had a talent for shadow wielding, my father took me under his wing and we trained together a lot. ”
“Do you see your parents often?” I ask, realizing he doesn’t mention them much. It might be unreasonable, but I never really considered that a magical being with wings also must originate somewhere.
“My mother likes to travel and writes about that, so I get letters from her every now and then, but my father died almost ten years ago now. He was a knight and protected the Nocturne Court at its time of need but paid for it with his life. It was a time of great turmoil, as the then-Lord also perished, along with many royals. As the crown prince’s guard, my role grew in importance, so I…
I guess I focused on that. But I do miss him. ”
I stumble, my hand squeezing his as regret weaves itself around my chest. Oh God. I’m so stupid. He told me his father died. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s fine. Time has passed. I rarely get to talk about him.
He was an honorable man, and funny as well.
He… His Dark Companion brought out the best in him, as he was very protective of her.
Her name was Gene, and she was an insatiable flirt.
My father was very careful in the way he used her shadow, left her on the shore during the battle, but after he died, she waded into the sea and was bitten by despairs.
There was no way to save her after that. ”
I feel like an idiot when my first thought concerns the nature of the relationship between Tristan’s mother, father, and his Dark Companion, because he’s just shared something important, and here I am, selfishly considering information that has nothing to do with me.
Well… technically it does. I am still his promised, and if I pursue him after breaking our shadow bond, he might want to make someone else his Dark Companion, and then I might just die out of jealousy.
“At least you have memories. That’s important.”
“Do you remember your parents at all?”
We go through the small side door, and for a moment my heart stalls in panic at the darkness of the corridor. I’m so frustrated with my own reactions, with how easily terrified I get, and how my mind spirals back to that pit of despair in Gloombane’s tower.
But Tristan is here with me, and he lights a torch on the wall.
“Sadly, not really. I was too young, but my grandparents are amazing,” I say, leaning some of my weight on Tristan. I’m not in pain, but even with the torch, and the moonshard glasses, the shadows are deep, and I worry I might misstep. “I think I should maybe contact them soon.”
“We can arrange that,” he says in that soothing warm way after which I expect a kiss to the side of my head. But it doesn’t come, because I asked him not to flirt. So why am I disgruntled about it? “You don’t have any siblings then?”
Out of the dark corridor, we emerge into one with tall latticed windows to one side.
They let in lots of silver moonlight, revealing the snow-covered garden.
And there are people! In the bright glow coming from above, the silhouettes of elves wandering between snow-capped fountains and flowerbeds are like an enchanting shadow play, and I grin at Tristan.
“I wish! No, they had plans for two more kids, but… they didn’t have the time. But I had a dog. And several cats. And mice… plenty of company.”
Lady gives a happy bark, as if she understands what I’ve just said. Could the creatures in a magical realm possibly grow to be more sentient than in mine? I’m excited when I imagine myself spending a lifetime researching this question, but then again, I’m not planning to stay here.
“I’m glad to know your grandparents took good care of you. I never even met mine, as they left for other lands long before I was born.”
I have to remind myself that he’s fifty-seven, which should make us incompatible yet he acts like someone my own age. Maybe the possibility of indefinite lifespan prevents people from exercising the caution so typical in those of more advanced age?
“They were great. My grandmom was the first person I told… about my sexuality, and she understood. She told me she suspected as much and supported me. That meant so much, because in my world, this is not always accepted,” I tell him as we continue down the corridor.
“Another reason to stay,” he teases, but then redirects my attention to the clothes.
“There’ll be warmth provided where we are dining, but later, we will need these.
” Tristan gallantly pulls a long coat off the hanger and holds it out for me to wear.
“It’s wool, so nothing was killed for it,” he reassures me, and while this doesn’t exactly meet the principles I’d choose my clothing by back in my world, I know the Nightmare Realm doesn’t have vegan alternatives for warm outerwear.
This is the best choice available, and I appreciate the thought behind it.
“You always remember,” I say, sliding my arms into the sleeves.
Tristan smiles and puts the fluffiest grey scarf I’ve ever touched around my neck.
“I try. And this is all cobweb yarn,” he adds with so much pride I force myself to keep a straight face, despite dreading that there’s a stray spider about to crawl up my neck.
The coat is relatively simple for Nocturne Court standards, as its decorative trim is discreet, but I can’t say the same about the hat Tristan puts on my head.
It has pleated fabric descending the sides and getting longer toward the back, and a large shimmering brooch above the forehead.
“So… how do you coerce spiders to produce this much webbing?”
“I never thought about it much. I think they get fed to do it. I can get you to meet the people who gather the yarn. Or the spiders even! They’re massive, and each has sixteen multi-colored eyes. True beauties.”
A reminder that I’m not ready for the full scope of Nocturne Court aesthetics. An awkward laugh leaves my mouth when I imagine my ‘meeting’ with a herd of arachnids bred for their ‘yarn’, but then Tristan’s on his knees, pulling a pair of warm, soft boots on my feet.
I have to give it to him that no man has ever treated me so attentively.
Maybe this is just decorum, a ritual he’s learned throughout his life at this fantastical court, but that doesn’t make me enjoy it any less.
Soon enough, Tristan is dressed in an exquisite tailcoat in dark red, and we finally leave the safety of the walls.
The cold is a shock to the system.
Icy air pinches my cheeks, rubs at the tip of my nose, and breathing feels like swallowing ice cream before it can melt on my tongue, but as my feet start growing roots, Tristan puts one arm around me and leads me along a quiet pathway made private by two rows of evergreens.