Chapter 7
Sylvan
I shudder with humiliation when my stomach growls again, not only making my insides tremble but also cutting through the buzz of the engine. Unbelievable. At this rate, my promised might decide I’m gross and unworthy of his time.
I pretend it didn’t happen and instead focus on the paper map as the vehicle shakes on the uneven road. “Go right,” I say, sinking deeper into the seat. Hawk insisted on traveling down the least frequented routes we could find, so I have to remain alert and tell him the way. Fortunately, map-reading is a skill that doesn’t differ much across the realms.
There are dense woodlands wherever the eye can see, but the road we are about to enter is covered by asphalt instead of gravel, which will be an improvement.
“You okay? Don’t know about you, but I really need coffee,” Hawk says as I shift away from the sun’s rays darting inside through the window. After Hawk told me black clothes absorb the heat of the sun, I changed into Mrs. Moore T-shirt. The new garment is white, with flowers printed at the front, and hugs my body, unlike most of the shapeless garments the humans seem to prefer. And while I do feel less hot now, my skin is pink and burns from too much exposure to the damn star hanging in the sky.
Hawk, on the other hand, seems unaffected by the bright glow and whistles happily when he points at a road sign. “Gas station! We might just get some food!”
“How are you this cheerful when we have so little?” I sigh in exasperation, fanning myself with the map. I’m not made for this weather, but I refuse to show him all my weaknesses. I’m already worried the only reason he’s talking about food is because he heard my stomach growling. Then again, yesterday, he did eat enough for four, so maybe someone his size needs more nourishment.
“See, I never had much, sweet cheeks, and now that I have a car, a boy at my side, and enough money to buy gas and lunch, I feel that’s plenty,” he says, winking at me.
I suppose he cannot understand how difficult it is to lose one’s rights and status, so I bite my tongue and adjust Mrs. Moor’s pink sunglasses, which help me deal with all this brightness, but I still try to focus my eyes on shade.
It takes us another fifteen minutes to reach the isle of civilization buried in the endless sea of trees. As young as those woodlands seem in comparison to the forests surrounding the Nocturne Court, I’m surprised by their vastness all the same. A small home with laundry hanging in the garden stands on one side of the large parking lot surrounding the gas station. There’s just two more cars around, other than ours, and a single truck parked in the very back of the lot, which makes it less likely for anyone to identify our stolen vehicle.
Hawk is rummaging through the glove compartment as I slide out, stretching my legs and seeking refuge in the shade. He emerges moments later, with the bottom of his face covered by a fabric mask featuring a cartoon bear and hearts. Between that, the baseball cap, and the huge shades, he’s unrecognizable. Save for his sheer size of course.
I consider my words, but I am no stranger to conflict, and he doesn’t seem skittish. “Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” I ask, standing straighter even though my ridiculously bright top doesn’t lend me any dignity.
“Why would you think that?” he asks and offers me his hand.
Now it’s me who hesitates if it’s appropriate to walk hand in hand, but I eventually allow it. “The mask confused me.” I do wonder if I can afford a better hat myself. I left the straw one in the car, too embarrassed by how it looks, but now I worry about getting blisters on the parting in my hair.
The air smells faintly of gasoline, but the nature around us, and the elusive aroma of the hot ground overpower it as we walk toward the shop. A family with two teenage kids sits by a wooden picnic table at the side of the building, all eating hot dogs, but when one of the young girls nudges her sister, staring straight at us with a small smile, I feel self-conscious.
Since coming to this realm, I have learned that some humans have an unhealthy focus on other people’s love lives, and their attitudes toward men and women who prefer their own gender vary in ways I find unpredictable.
A giant bear carved in wood flanks the door to the gas station on one side, but at least the interior is pleasantly cool. I wonder how far my twenty dollars and thirty cents will stretch. I will need to study all the prices before I make my purchases, as I’ve learned the hard way that the tax added at the counter can inflate the cost substantially.
“I need to assess the offerings,” I tell Hawk as I slip my fingers out of his grasp. He does have such nice hands. Thick, warm, slightly hard to the touch in places.
“Sure,” he says as we enter the small shop which has everything. A claw machine stands in the corner next to tourist brochures, but there’s also basic groceries, and even a small selection of hot foods on offer.
The proprietress of the establishment zeroes in on us with a frown, and Hawk releases the raspiest, most unhealthy-sounding cough I’ve ever heard. She clears her throat, appearing flustered, and grabs a remote before raising the volume of the small television mounted behind the counter.
I struggle with some of the foods in the human realm, so establishing which ones might be to my liking is difficult. I don’t like when they’re too greasy or too spicy, but also too mushy, like porridge. I also dislike soup, but only if it’s hot. Warm drinks are acceptable as long as they don’t have bits . My co-worker at BBB introduced me to cold tomato soup, gazpacho, one time, and I appreciated him for it. He had made fun of me for being a picky eater, but then also made a game out of trying to find foods I like, which was kind of him.
If I were to say what I do like, it’s things that are salty and crunchy, like pretzels, natural cereal, all types of waffles, hard vegetables and fruit, but also crispy meats. I also love milkshakes and smoothies as long as they're completely blitzed, which I discovered while working at BBB. The Nocturne Court also offers a whole variety of sea foods I enjoy that don’t exist here.
Oh and bat wings. How I miss crispy bat wings with grief salt.
Even beginning to explain my tastes can become awkward, so when pressed, I do just eat what’s offered and bear it.
I begin to rummage through the shelf filled with packaged snacks, looking for something that has the chance to appeal to me. I discreetly squeeze some bags to check if the food is hard or soft.
Close by, Hawk lets out a laugh, which he then follows with more coughing. “Look at this. Perfect for a prince,” he says, showing me a children’s play set featuring a tiara with fake blue gems, a plastic necklace, and a scepter topped with a heart.
I’ve been in the human world long enough to recognize that while plastic can sparkle, it is easy to destroy and of little value.
I raise my eyebrows. “Truly? Is it?”
Hawk stalls, and while I can’t see his expression behind the mask and shades, he seems somewhat deflated. “Well, you have no crown, and doesn’t every royal need one?”
“I have a crown. Back home. I chose not to take it so it’s safe.”
It’s like he’s pointing out that I have nothing. I put my foot on the bottom shelf and use it for leverage to climb toward the top shelf where I can already see the massive jar of my favorite pretzels.
The edge I’m holding on to digs into the flesh of my fingers, but then two strong hands close on my waist and lift me, so I’m level with the familiar packaging.
“Hey!” I yelp in panic, feeling like a child’s toy in his grip. I grab the pretzels anyway since I am already up here. “I was managing!” I mumble when he casually puts me down.
“You might have slipped.”
“Then I would have suffered the consequences of my own actions, as is appropriate.” I glance to the side and, of course, the cashier is snooping on us. “Are you trying to humiliate me?”
“Why are you upset?”
The fact that I can’t see much of his face only frustrates me further. “Because I am perfectly capable, and you are suggesting I’m not.”
Hawk spreads his arms and leans over me. “Jesus, I was just trying to help. What’s your problem?”
“Do not hover over me like I’m a child.” We need to establish some boundaries, even if it’s unpleasant.
He takes a step back, showing me his palms. “Fine, I won’t be spoiling your shopping with my help,” he says and storms off toward the counter, leaving me to contemplate the food in my arms.
I’m pretty sure I upset him, and now that fact is hanging over me like a dark cloud. I may have learned about customer service at Best Burgers Bonanza, but dealing with my promised, my lover , is proving much more challenging. I wish I could just already have the experience.
I flinch when he buys his food and stomps out. Should I apologize? I’m the one who’s feeling patronized.
With my jar of pretzels and a bag of carrot sticks, I approach the shopkeeper. I’m torn about how to make amends to my promised, but then I spot a pin with a hawk among other wildlife-themed decorations. I have to give up on the carrot sticks to afford it, but I hope it will make him smile. It does have Hawkward written on it, and everyone likes a good word game.
“Crazy how even with all the modern technology, someone snuck into the MET and just snatched that thing. So many pricey paintings in there, and only this antique gets stolen? Bet some rich fuck made a special order. Like it’s not enough that the elites harvest blood for their face masks,” the shopkeeper says, resting her chin on the heel of her hand.
I follow her gaze to the television screen, and the pin almost drops from my hands as I face a picture of the greatest of the missing Nocturne Court artifacts, the Sunwolf Crown. Lost in the aftermath of the Night of the Bloodknife, centuries ago, it was thought to be gone forever, yet the powerful relic I’ve so often seen in a fresco at the back of the throne room stares at me from the screen with onyx eyes. Shaped like the skull of a huge wolf, yet molded to rest on a human’s head, it has crystal teeth and symbolic sun rays shooting up from the smooth part meant to rest on the wearer’s scalp. It’s made of solarin, not platinum and gold, and much more priceless than the TV presenter discussing the “bold robbery” could ever know. She claims it’s been found by archaeologists in Mexico just two years ago, and I cannot believe it’s been in the human realm this whole time.
So many times, my mother has mentioned that if only one of us Goldweeds claimed it, the Lord of the Nocturne Court would fear us enough to share his power. But if I could put my hands on such a prize and offer it to Lord Kyran, my banishment—
“Breaking news! The missing truck moving two dangerous prisoners has been found. It seems that the driver lost control of the vehicle, but one of the convicts murdered the other survivors in cold blood and seems to have escaped, so remain vigilant. He is dangerous,” a presenter speaks as I hand over all my cash. The shopkeeper’s gaze trails down my top in a way I can’t decipher, and as she opens her register to deposit the money, I raise my gaze to see a familiar face on the screen and I can no longer think about the Sunwolf Crown.
“If you see this man, do not approach him, he may be armed. Instead, alert the sheriff’s department.” The person on the TV reads out a phone number as I stare at Hawk’s likeness. He looks much more imposing in the picture, without even a hint of smile, and the harsh lighting isn’t doing him any justice.
But I shouldn’t be considering whether his depiction is handsome or not when I’ve just learned he has escaped prison and murdered several people.
My mouth is dry, and only a moment later do I hear the woman point to the few cents of change she put on the counter.
“Y-yes, thank you. Good day.” I turn, hugging the plastic jar of pretzels like a lover.
This can’t be happening. My Dark Companion. Wanted.
And much more dangerous than I ever expected. Am I really such a bad judge of character? Am I naive?
I walk out of the shop and stand on its porch, sucking in air as I attempt to get to grips with this new reality. So this is the reason why he didn’t want to be seen by Mrs. Moor. So this is why he’s wearing that stupid mask. And he’s told me nothing, because he likely believes he can toy with someone as inexperienced as me.
He has no idea who he’s playing with. I’m Prince Sylvan Goldweed, and even with the damn collar around my neck, in a world so new to me, I am capable of—
“Hi there, it’s a nice day, aint it?” a male voice says, and when I spin around, I’m faced with a man who’s taller than me but not freakishly so, and who’s watching me with a smile behind his neatly-trimmed mustache. He’s relatively young, though with some creases at the eyes, and he offers me a friendly nod.
I take a glance around, but Hawk is nowhere to be seen. The car is still there though, which means he hasn’t abandoned me.
“If one considers sunshine nice,” I say with the tiniest nod back.
He laughs, shrugging. “You’re funny. That your lunch and dinner?” he asks, pointing at my pretzels.
“Sadly. Everything is vastly more expensive than it should be.”
The stranger sighs, and his gaze slides down my chest. “My truck’s parked behind the building. If you need some cash, we can make that happen.”
That piques my interest. Finally. My luck changes. “That would actually be very helpful.”
His brows rise, and he clicks his tongue, stepping off the porch. “This way. You’re looking nice, by the way.”
As we walk together, I compliment his mustache in return, since a man who wants to give me money deserves that much.