Chapter Six #2
I inhale sharply, forcing logic to override instinct.
Of course he’s acting differently—we woke up in some unknown place.
He’s rattled. I am too. Who wouldn’t be?
And what, I’m suddenly suspicious because he smiled at me and decided to go for a swim to clean his body after a night of drinking and sex?
I need to get a grip.
I turn away before I can talk myself in circles. “I’m taking another minute.”
“Wait!” he calls after me, but I don’t stop.
I don’t want to think about this. I don’t want to consider the fact that something inside me is screaming to run.
“You forgot—”
“I don’t care!” I throw the words over my shoulder, quick, breathless as I duck into the shadows of the forest. I just need space. A minute to clear my head, to breathe, to stop feeling like my world keeps falling out from under me.
I don’t know how long I walk before I realize I’ve gone too far, that the sound of the river has faded and my surroundings look even less familiar.
I retrace my steps. Or at least, I try to. But the forest twists and folds in on itself, the shadows growing heavier. My breath quickens. I’m never finding my way back.
Then I hear it—the faint, distant rush of water. Relief floods me, and I pick up my pace, weaving through the trees toward the sound. The forest opens and sunshine greets me as the river and the path along its edge come back into view.
I stumble out of the trees and stop dead in my tracks.
Alder stands by a boulder, his back to me, tugging a pair of fitted breeches up over his hips. The leather fits his frame like it was made for him, though it’s far from the tailored slacks he was wearing earlier.
My pulse stutters. Wait…what?
I blink, my gaze tracking the rest of the outfit laid out on the rocks—a deep burgundy coat, intricate gold embroidery forming a five-pointed star enclosed in a circle. A matching vest, an elegant, high-collared white shirt, the kind you’d see in a museum exhibit, not on Alder Hawke.
This…this isn’t his.
A chill slides down my spine, but I push it away. There has to be an explanation.
“What are you doing?”
Alder turns at the sound of my voice, one brow arched, as if I’m the one acting strange.
“There are no roads, no power lines, no sign of anything from the twenty-first century.” Alder’s voice is even, unshaken.
Like nothing about this situation unnerves him.
Like he isn’t even considering the possibility of being afraid.
Because Alder doesn’t do fear. He does control.
“And the fisherman back on the dock?” he continues, pulling my focus back to him. “He looked like he walked straight out of the Dark Ages. These”—he gestures to the clothing draped over the boulder—“might help me blend in when we finally come across someone else.”
I can’t stop staring.
The pants look too perfect on him. Like they weren’t abandoned but made for him.
A nagging voice in the back of my mind whispers that something isn’t right—but I shove it down, bury it under the comfort of Alder’s confidence.
“What about the man they belong to?” The man who’s out here naked in the woods. But…that was Alder. It had to be. Any other explanation will prove that I’ve lost my mind and this whole situation is a hallucination, and that is something I cannot handle right now. “What happens when he comes back?”
“I haven’t seen anyone.” He holds my gaze as he slides his arms into the white shirt, the fabric settling over his shoulders, clinging to every sharp line of muscle like it was tailored for him. “Have you?”
A small knot tightens in my stomach, but I swallow it down and shake my head. He’s the only person I’ve seen out here…right?
“We’ll be long gone by the time whoever owns these clothes comes back.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then he picks up the coat and slides it on. The way the deep maroon fabric falls over his shoulders like he was born into royalty, the way the embroidered sigil gleams in the shifting light—he looks right.
Not just like he belongs in them. Like they belong to him.
His lips curve into a slow, knowing half-smile, his blue eyes sparking. “Like what you see?”
I narrow my eyes at him to hide the way my pulse spikes. “This isn’t a game, Alder.”
His smirk fades as he steps closer. “You think I’m not taking this seriously?”
I swallow hard, my throat tightening, but I don’t look away. “You’re certainly not acting like it.”
Alder leans in, so close I feel the warmth of his breath when he speaks. “Gemma, I am doing exactly what needs to be done to ensure you’re taken care of and that you’re where you belong—with me.”
The air between us crackles, and my heart pounds in my chest as I search his ocean-blue eyes. Before I can respond, heavy footsteps crash through the underbrush behind us. My heart leaps into my throat, and I spin around.
A group of armored guards bursts through the trees, their polished breastplates glinting in the sunlight.
Their heavy boots churn up the forest floor, swords swinging at their hips.
The leader—a broad-shouldered man with a close-cropped beard and sharp eyes—scans the pathway before his gaze locks onto Alder.
“There you are, Lord Lockhart!” His voice booms with relief as he strides forward. He stops a few paces away before dipping into a deep, practiced bow. The others follow suit, their heads dipping in perfect synchronization.
Lord Lockhart?
I glance up at Alder.
He doesn’t react right away. Just a slight tension in his jaw before he smooths it away, his expression settling into something unreadable. Then, like flipping a switch, his gaze sweeps over the guards, assessing, calculating. “Yes, you’ve found me. What seems to be the problem?”
I gape at him. What seems to be the problem?
The lead guard’s gaze flicks to me, and he flashes Alder a gap-toothed grin. “My lord, you could find a lady to sweep off her feet in the middle of a cyclone.”
Alder’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk. “You know me well.”
What the actual fuck is going on?
The guard gestures farther up the path. “We must resume our travels, my lord, if we’re to reach the Kingdom of Cups before nightfall.”
The Kingdom of what? My mouth opens, ready to protest, to tell them they’ve got the wrong guy. Alder is not a lord, and this isn’t some medieval fairy tale. But before I get the words out, Alder’s fingers press against my shoulder.
It’s not a warning—not exactly. It’s the action of a man who expects to be listened to. And it’s enough to make my words stick in my throat.
“Very well.” Alder inclines his head without hesitation. “Lead the way.”
My heart pounds as the guard nods and starts back up the path.
The others follow—but then, one hesitates. His gaze shifts to me, then back to Alder. “And the lady?”
“She is mine.” It’s a statement of fact. A simple truth. “And as her knight in shining armor, I am duty-bound to protect her.” Alder casts a glance down at me, his mouth just barely curving at the edges. “A noble cause, wouldn’t you agree?”
The guards chuckle. “A noble cause, indeed, my lord.”
On the surface, the words are sweet, charming. But I hear the weight in them. It’s a statement of ownership, of certainty.
I stare up at him. I’ve made my choice, and there’s no turning back now.
Slowly, my hand finds his arm, slipping into place right where he expects it to be.
The guards march ahead, their armor clinking with every step, their boots crunching against the forest floor.
Alder leads, and I try to keep pace, but my mind is spinning, my pulse hammering in my throat.
“What is going on?” I whisper under my breath.
One of the guards glances back, his bushy red brows knitting together.
Alder’s hand tightens where it rests on mine. The silent message is unmistakable. Not now.
We follow the guards down an offshoot of the narrow path, the dense forest gradually thinning until the trees break and we emerge onto a wide, beaten dirt road lined with wildflowers and scattered boulders.
My steps falter as my gaze lands on the carriage waiting ahead. Its dark wooden frame is carved with swirling patterns of golden pentacles that glitter in the sunlight. Ruby embellishments are embedded at each corner and gleam like hot coals.
The horses hitched to the carriage are just as dreamlike. Their glossy black coats gleam like polished onyx, and their braided manes shimmer with threads of gold. They paw at the ground, powerful hooves kicking up dust as they snort and toss their heads impatiently.
This can’t be real.
My heart pounds as I take it all in, my mind struggling to make sense of what feels like a scene from a book.
A guard opens the carriage door and gestures for us to climb inside, but my feet stay planted. I don’t move. I can’t. My legs refuse.
I glance back to the forest, toward the path we took to get here.
I’m having a psychotic break. That’s what this is.
But then there’s the ache in my legs. The raw blister on my heel. The dirt under my fingernails. The sharp scent of horses. The solid weight of Alder’s grip on my arm.
This isn’t a hallucination. This is real.
And I am so, so far from home.
Alder’s palm presses against my lower back. A silent command wrapped in the illusion of guidance. “After you.”
Now is not the time to question. Alder isn’t, and I won’t either. And then, before I think too hard about it, before I let the rising panic overtake me—
I step inside.