16. Chapter 16
16
BEATRICE
Still dancing, my partner maneuvered us toward a door, then ducked through it, pulling me along, our hands still clasped. I felt as if we were invisible; no servant or guest we passed even noticed the King sneaking out of his own coronation ball.
“You do have magic.” I couldn’t remember which of my maids had called it, but she’d been correct.
He paused in the hallway to look me directly in the eyes, laying one gloved forefinger over his lips. “Soon.” The word was both a request and a promise. A minute or two later, we stopped at a blank wall, and a door appeared. I scarcely batted an eye as he politely ushered me through it into golden daylight.
Sweet scents soothed my spirit even before I noticed the flagstone path amid irises, roses, begonias, peonies, and banks of blooms I couldn’t identify. Flowering vines draped gates and climbed trellises, creating masses of vivid color as if to compete with the glowing sunset sky.
“This is my private garden,” he told me, “a retreat of sorts. No one else comes here.” He smiled, but when he glimpsed my face, concern flickered in his eyes. “Is something disturbing you? If you prefer to return to the ballroom—”
“No, no . . . it’s just that . . . a discussion between my maids this morning led me to believe that enchanters are explicitly barred from ruling countries in this time period.”
He nodded, looking hesitant. “You are . . . from the future?”
I hadn’t expected that question and stopped abruptly to think about it. “I have no idea, but”—I indicated my ballgown with a wave—“the styles here appear to be from around a hun—”
“Please don’t give me exact details!”
I stopped short, my mouth still open. A shiver ran through me.
Wide-eyed, we both spoke at once: “Oh! I beg your—” and “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
Then we stared at each other until he raised one hand, shaking his head. “The fault is entirely mine. I shouldn’t have asked . . .” He turned, paced a few steps away, then returned to me. “No, I dare not risk asking more.”
Confused, I watched as he removed his gloves, stuffed them into his trouser pockets, and pressed his fingers to his eyes. We’d moved only a few steps from the door . . . I glanced back and saw a solid wall where it had been. Questions swirled through my head, but I didn’t dare ask them now. Hoping to lighten the tone, I asked, “Are you done arguing with yourself?”
He lowered his hands and peered at me from under his brows with a contrite smile. “I apologize for rudely leaving you out of the debate.”
“Apology accepted. Now, can you explain any part of your dilemma?”
“I fear explaining too much or learning too much,” he admitted, his voice a soft rumble. “I don’t know the rules for this type of magic. I’ve hunted everywhere, searched through hidden libraries around the world, but the rules regarding Fated Mates are ambiguous.”
A thrill ran through me from head to toe, and I didn’t know why. “Fated Mates?” I managed to echo.
“You don’t recognize me at all?”
“Recognize you? No.” My heart pounded in my chest.
“We met once, years ago.” Somehow, his voice soothed me a little. “Starfire and Comet introduced us. We played in the lake with Bo.”
My mind rolled those words around for what felt like forever before comprehension occurred. “Othniel?” I gasped.
He nodded. “I go by Niel now, for short. Siegfried III is my official name.”
“You told me Othniel means ‘God’s Lion.’”
His expression brightened. “You do remember! It was my maternal grandfather’s name. My mother says I would have a thick gold lion’s mane like his if I let it grow.” Niel held my gaze, his eyes expressing a blend of fear and hope. “If you doubt my word, I could call Starfire.”
“He’s still alive?”
“Oh, yeah.” Niel grinned. “He’s the most powerful cinder sprite in . . . well, nobody knows how long. Those little beasties can live a very long time if they make it through their first few years without flaming out.”
I opened my mouth to tell him about the new magic potion that revives cinder sprites, but he rushed on as if afraid I might try to stop him: “Okay, here’s the deal. I know this sounds crazy, but when I was christened, a seer appeared, announced that I would become a powerful sahir, and prophesied . . .” A frown twitched his brows. “I don’t know the exact wording because my parents immediately hushed it all up due to the law about magic and royalty. To be fair, that statute is ambiguously worded, but no one has bothered to amend it in several hundred years because none of the heirs have had magic in their blood. Until now.”
“The current Queen of Auvers is a carovna-level mage,” I observed. “Not as powerful as a sahira like my aunt, but—”
When he stiffened, eyes wide, I instantly pressed my fingers to my lips, releasing them only long enough to ask, “Was that TMI?”
He quirked a brow. “TMI?”
“Too much information?”
His lips twitched. “A useful initialism. And . . . yes, it was.” He offered his arm. “Walk with me?”
“Certainly.” I laid my hand on his forearm, and we strolled along the path.
After a few steps, he resumed the tale: “The part of the seer’s prophecy my parents did tell me was that my magic would cause trouble for Adelboden in the future. According to my maternal grandmother, they concealed from me the part about how I would help save the world from a great evil.”
“But if no magic exists in the royal line, how do you have it?” This conversation seemed so disjointed that I struggled to keep up. Was I allowed to talk about magic or not? And what did Fated Mates have to do with anything?
“When my father chose to marry my mother, whoever researched her bloodlines overlooked a strain of magical blood from several generations back. Soon after the prophecy was made, a cousin of mine from that side of the family, on her seventh birthday, turned one of her party guests into a pig because he ate one of her gifts, a box of sweets, when no one was looking.”
I gasped, then let out a most ungenteel snort.
He chuckled. “Yeah, Arabella is decidedly avant-garde. You can imagine the chaos involved in covering that up! Anyway, only a few people in our inner circle know about the prophecy, and I’ve been told since before I can remember to never, ever use magic.”
I nodded. “Except, you do use it.”
“Yes, well . . . when it comes to magic and its use, hypocrisy is rampant. Sure, I was forbidden to use magic . . . but I’ve also been trained in its use. My cousin and I were secretly tutored by a retired member of the Magic Council.”
Frowning, I pondered this. “After I played with Othniel . . . with you in your garden, I tried to tell my father about visiting you, but he believed I had an overactive imagination. Only my grandaunt took my story seriously.”
“As soon as I met you, I knew you’d come to my garden by means of magic. And then I discovered you could understand cinder-sprite language and even told me their names! Honestly, that was one of the best days of my childhood. When you never came back . . .” He frowned. “It took a few weeks to work up the courage, but I finally told my magic tutor about you. He got all excited and told me about the Fated Mates prophecy and where I might find the redacted records in the palace archives, just to verify its existence.”
“And you read them?” I asked when he paused.
His smile made me think of a sunrise. “Of course! And since then, I have studied the phenomenon extensively.”
Of course, I could guess where his story was leading. Even so, his words, his expression, the implications . . . it felt like one of those dreams that start out delightfully but inevitably devolve into something disturbing.
I stopped, folded my arms, and took a step back to look up at him, eyes narrowed. “Are you using magic on me?”
He faced me, his expression open, curious. “No. Why?”
I braced myself and blurted, “The way we met tonight. The . . . the instant attraction. The way time seemed to stop.” My face burned. “Things like that don’t happen in reality. Not to me.”
He huffed a little laugh. “And here I thought you might be enchanting me in some way I couldn’t identify.”
My stomach dipped, and I felt almost ill. “Certainly not! I can sense other people’s magic and understand cinder sprites if they talk to me, but that’s the extent of it.”
He frowned in thought. “Whatever the cause, you and I seem to be experiencing the same singularity. This mutual attraction we feel is genuine, and to me it feels natural. How could any man look into your eyes and not fall head over heels?”
I read only truth in his eyes, and his magic felt warm and familiar. So, maybe this dream, or whatever it was, wouldn’t turn into a nightmare after all. In a quick reversal, I suddenly wanted to test its parameters.
When I took a step forward, Niel’s face lit up, and he met me halfway, gently taking my gloved hands and pressing my palms flat against his chest so that I felt his pounding heart. He gazed into my eyes, and even though I’d never been kissed or embraced by any man in a romantic sense, I felt no fear at all. Everything about this man seemed perfect to me—his height, his voice, his features, his build, and his expression, which was currently a blend of awe, wonder, and excitement. He slipped his arms around me, and I melted into him, my head tucked beneath his chin. I felt valued, even loved, and it all felt so right!
His voice rumbled near my ear: “Beatrice, I have a confession to make: last night I decided to defy Fate and never marry at all.”
My heart twinged, and I peered up at his face. “You did?” My voice quivered, but the gentle warmth of his embrace stopped me from pulling away.
“Yes. The thought of a loveless political alliance sickened me.” He drew an unsteady breath. “After so many years, I feared you were an impossible dream.” I felt his arms tighten slightly around me. “I am happier than words can express right now, because you’re the only woman I will ever love. My future wife.”
“I don’t believe in Fate anyway,” I admitted as joy gushed through me like a fountain . . . until a flash of my plaguing practicality pulled the plug. “But . . . is any of this real? I mean, what if it’s only a dream?”
I felt his embrace tighten as if his strength could influence reality. “Can two people dream the same dream? How did you arrive here?”
“I fell asleep in a cave, then heard someone speak to me. I opened my eyes and found myself in a canopied bed in a guest room. Two maids helped me prepare for the ball.”
“Hmm. Sounds like you’re visiting me in your sleep.”
I stiffened, leaning back enough to see his face. “Then it is only a dream? None of this is real?”
“Beatrice, you’re no phantom or vision. I’m wide awake. This is my world, my time, my coronation ball.” When he gently cradled my face in his bare hands, heat rushed into my face. “You’re really here.” His low voice rumbled through me, and his breath was sweet. “This is very real.”
“But . . .” I shook my head. “ How am I here?”
His eyes glowed in the deepening twilight. “I have no idea, but I fully intend to learn everything there is to know and do everything that can be done so that we can be together permanently.”
When his hands threaded through my hair, I closed my eyes, half-hoping it might tumble down. How romantic that would be! But although my emotions ran wild and free, my brain and mouth remained practical. “But . . . I don’t exist. I mean, not here and now.” My voice was ridiculously breathy. “Except for . . . now and . . . here.”
When his breath stopped, I peeked. The corners of his eyes were crinkled, and as soon as my gaze met his, he turned his head to keep from laughing in my face. I couldn’t help chuckling with him at my own expense. “You know what I mean!”
“Oddly enough, I do.”
Sobering, we studied one another at close range. The set of his jaw and the resolve in his eyes dissolved any doubt of his intentions. I both felt and heard him draw a quivering breath before he spoke: “Nevertheless, here and now that I’ve found you, I don’t care whether our love is fated or otherwise. There will be a path. We cannot change the past or determine the future, but our choices set aspects of the future into motion. Your dream is my reality , now and here. We’ve been offered True Love, and a path will certainly be provided for us to fulfill it. We will find each other again.”
“I don’t understand this at all . . . but I will look for you too, in my future.” I frowned. “ If I remember any of this when I wake up.”
“If you don’t, I will remind you. I’ll find a way.” His thumbs brushed my jawline as he cradled my face. “I sense that our time is short, so I’ll talk fast: I’ve waited for your return all these years, Beatrice de Callen, and I will continue to wait until we can be together forever. May I kiss you?”
A quick nod was all I could manage. I glimpsed his perfect smile before his lips gently touched mine. I felt a flash of heat and perfection, closed my eyes, and then . . .
My hands were no longer spread across Niel’s chest. Someone was shouting, and something on my belly was very heavy.
I blinked and squinted at an eerily glowing face suspended in darkness. Gradually, the shouts I heard synchronized with the mouth’s movements: “Let go! Put it down! What do you think you’re doing? You might have killed it! Oh, I’m dead! I am so dead!”
Arabella
We were two days into the Magic Council War, as I’d begun to call it, with no sign of Pukai or her intended rescue team. What could be keeping them? At present, the battle was pretty much a stalemate. A few of our troops had vanished, more likely enchanted than killed, but the enemy had also sustained losses. So far, our defenses were holding, but whenever I tuned in closely, I sensed how the enemy’s magic constantly searched for weak points, working to convince our allies that joining the all-powerful Mirror was both desirable and inevitable.
Concern for Beatrice distracted me more often than I like to admit. Had she found the eggs and their nanny? I couldn’t sense her anywhere, so I decided she must be inside the Forbidden Lands. For all I knew, she’d been at the palace for days or weeks. I could only hope and pray for her safety and wisdom, adding maybe one or two pleas for the Almighty to give the girl the wisdom she needed and bring this situation to a happy ending. I knew Beatrice was deeply attached to the Gamekeeper, but to fall in love with and promise to marry a shadowy not-quite-human? That was asking a lot. I desperately wanted—no, needed her to look past appearances to his courageous, loving, faithful heart, but I also empathized with the “eww” factor. I mean, he was a large magical beast who was human . . . and yet not .
And whose fault was that?