Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
ISLA
W hat began as a nightmare doesn’t seem so bad once I stop fighting against whatever is happening to me. Cain, as he finally introduced himself, leads us out of the cave and we emerge into a utopia plucked from the pages of a storybook.
The air is crisp and invigorating against my skin and the twilight above is a tapestry of dusky blues and deep amethyst. Twin moons shine brightly amongst the darkening sky and an explosion of stars seem to just be coming to life. I’m transfixed by the sight and a serenity, both profound and unfamiliar, settles over me, at least for the moment.
“Right this way, Princess.” Cain’s gentle prompt nudges me back to the present, his voice a soft echo in the quiet of the night.
I peel my gaze away from the sky and remind myself that I should be paying more attention to what’s around me as opposed to what’s above.
We walk a smooth, stone pathway that leads over a grass-covered hill. At the top, I pause once again to appreciate the striking view before me. Rolling hills of greenery continue until they turn to a darkness that seems never-ending. Structures, most with their lights off, appear often enough to resemble a quaint town, but it’s the opulent castle that seizes my attention most.
The shimmering silver building, highlighted by the moon’s glow, sits on the highest point that I can see. There are several levels to it, giving it a cascading effect. The tallest portion has two turrets—both concealed by the seamless stone with few windows—and a domed area between them made of glass and a steel frame. Beneath that, there’s a broader section with smaller windows spaced out and one large set of double wooden doors that stand out, even from this far away.
“Your Highness.” Cain clears his throat. “We really shouldn’t linger.”
“Are you taking me there?” I point toward the architectural marvel, the tightening of my throat betraying a nervousness that I try to swallow away. The chances of waking up back in my bed should be higher if I just play along. Right?
Cain’s green eyes spark under the moonlight as he nods. “Yes, that is where King Asher is and where I’m instructed to bring all unexpected arrivals, Princess Isobella.”
“It’s—never mind.” Isobella, Isla. Doesn’t matter, it’s not like this is real. Though I can’t deny, I’ve never had a dream this vivid. My senses are on overdrive and I’m not a fan.
Out of nervous habit, my hand reaches up to twist a section of my hair and I wince when I’m reminded that not even my long strands are as they should be.
“To the castle we go, then,” I say with a smile that has tension draining from Cain’s shoulders.
He leads the way down the path and as we start to pass modest homes made from smooth stucco in varying shades of tan, I begin to wonder where all those who occupy these houses are.
“How many people live here?” I ask to fill the silence and ease my racing thoughts.
Cain keeps his voice low. “There are around five hundred of us on this island now, Your Highness.”
“You know, you can stop calling me that,” I tell him kindly. “Even if I’m a princess, there’s no need for formalities.”
A flush of humility paints his cheeks. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to keep with our customs…Your Highness.”
“All right, then.” I sigh, hoping this isn’t about to get any more awkward when I meet the king and have no clue how I’m supposed to act. “If five hundred people live here, why does it feel as if we’re the only two out right now?” I know it’s nighttime here, but the sky is hardly dark. It can’t be that late.
“It’s the middle of the night, Your Highness,” he says, still keeping a low tone. “Your people are resting before the new day.”
Considering this isn’t real, I push down my surprise that their night doesn’t get as dark as nights back home. Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s also trying to politely tell me to be quiet.
The castle grows closer and its stature is magnified by our proximity. I’m forced to crane my neck back to see the top of the turrets and I wonder how incredible the view will be from up there.
Shaking my head, I clear those thoughts from my mind. I won’t be here long enough to find that out because none of this is real.
The path we’ve been following opens to a wider road that curves left toward our destination. There aren’t any other homes in this part of the town. The bigger buildings appear to be shops with interesting names like Bianca’s Bountiful Books, Claren’s Charming Crowns, and Walker’s Wolfish Wears.
Wolfish? Odd descriptor, but it works because if these places were open, that would be the first one I’d check out.
The road begins to incline, and we pass under a stone arch that leads into the lowest level of the castle. Inside the tall, grey brick walls stand two guards wearing the same midnight-colored garb as Cain, but they’re also covered in silver armor. Though they hold no weapons. Weird.
The moment they see us, both men drop to a knee and murmur my name. “Princess Isobella.”
Well, my dream name.
I don’t reply, half because I’m still confused about what’s happening and because another set of wooden doors I couldn’t see before start to open without anyone touching them.
What kind of drugs is my imagination on?
“Where is she?” a man’s deep voice booms, echoing from all directions .
My head turns left, then right, but I don’t see anything or anyone.
Cain bends to his knee and I start to do the same, not wanting to offend anyone, but he whispers, “You should bow when King Asher appears, not kneel, Your Highness.”
This princess thing is sounding a little better.
I attempt to do as Cain suggests, but my posture remains unyieldingly straight and my hands are clasped before me, a show of strength that I’m not certain I possess. Though it’s a position that innately feels appropriate for the situation.
From the lurking shadows, a pair of sapphire eyes start to materialize until a tower of intimidation steps out from the darkness. His shoulders broad and tense, a man I assume to be King Asher appears before us—though, he’s younger than I expected, maybe just a few years older than me—clothed in regal blues accented with silver threads.
The moment our gazes clash, my stomach churns, likely reading more into his stare than I should. One that feels like a storm of emotions directed right at me—disdain and annoyance, briefly replaced by something softer I can’t identify before going blank.
He stops several paces away, his darkening eyes raking over me and confirming my previous thought.
“Isobella.” He says my…name without addressing me as ‘princess,’ but more importantly with a layer of awe. Except the comfort of his tone doesn’t match the unease in his face as he appraises me with a glare, or the fact that his singularly spoken word makes my skin pebble.
Though that doesn’t stop me from giving him the same treatment. I take in his impressive height, the smattering of dark hair covering his cheeks and tight jawline along with the disheveled strands atop his head. I drag my stare over his broad chest, down to his thick thighs that are hidden by loose, black pants before I force my eyes back to his face.
“Asher.” His name falls easily from my lips as I smirk at his glowering presence.
What is wrong with me?
“It is you.” His eyes narrow and he tenses, crossing his arms. “How nice of you to return home after all this time.”
I tell myself to keep quiet, that commenting on his rudeness will get me nowhere. Yet unsurprisingly, my mouth seems to have other plans.
“How nice of you to think you can come charging out here and act as if I’ve done something wrong when I’ve never even met you.” I stand taller, my chin out, and let my arms fall loose at my sides.
My retort seems to shatter some of his hard edges instead of infuriating him, and I breathe a little easier. After being treated like trash and expected to be grateful for whatever scraps I received throughout my childhood, I made a vow the moment I was able to take charge of my own life. One that meant I wouldn’t put up with being spoken to like I’m nothing ever again. Apparently, that’s carrying through even in my dreams.
Cain rises from his bowed position. “King Asher, I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, but it seems Princess Isobella does not recall her time here.”
“Five hundred years is a long time, but that’s impossible,” he says, staying only slightly calmer than before. “Maybe some sleep will fix her…mind. Cain, take he r to her room.” He glances at me once more. “I’ll speak with you in the morning.”
As the imposing—not at all sexy—king casually turns around and walks away, my terror returns.
Did he just say ‘five hundred years’ and send me to my room like I’m some sort of child?
What the hell is this guy talking about? Not only does he sound crazy, but his gravelly voice makes me envision a prison cell, not a swath of comfort. My hands start to shake and the tension filling my body makes it hard to do anything other than watch the arrogant king disappear into the shadows, even when Cain lightly touches my shoulder.
“I’ll show you the way, Princess Isobella,” he says as the other two guards go back to their sentries.
I can’t move. I’m frozen in place as my mind races. Where the hell am I and why does everyone think they know me, but not a single face is familiar? Worse, why does all of this feel so damn real?
There’s pressure in my chest as my mind fights to insist on this being a dream and my head begins to pound the second I ask myself, What if I was wrong in my assumption before?
I’d been in my car. There shouldn’t have been any way that I went from driving across a bridge to appearing in a cave guarded by a man telling me I’m a lost princess.
Yet with Cain still staring at me, waiting for me to unfreeze from my current position, the world around me is too vivid to deny. The rough texture of the stone wall beside me, the crunch of the pebbles beneath my heeled shoes, the moons shining down on us from above. Hell, even my emotions are heightened, as if I can feel everything, including the pulsing of the energy from the earth around me.
The cool night air, the racing of my heart, the warmth of the stranger’s comforting touch, the contempt from the king. Each one pierces through my skin, making me question my sanity.
“I want to go home,” I say, my voice barely audible.
“You are home, Your Highness.”
I finally look at Cain again and his green eyes plead with me to understand, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that.
My head shakes. “Home is in Portland with my empty apartment, my crappy car, and a job that kind of sucks but pays the bills.” My hand waves around the castle. “This…grandeur…it has to be a fantasy, a dream.”
“Please, follow me to your room, Princess Isobella. Maybe you’ll feel better there.” Cain’s eyes cast toward the two guards before lowering his voice. “And I would advise that we continue this conversation elsewhere.”
I drop my shoulders and my chin lands on my chest as long strands of hair cascade around my face in soft waves. Tears burn in my eyes and I want to scream, but instead, I take a deep breath and raise my head, grasping on to that air of confidence I felt in front of the king. Then I nod because I really don’t have another choice. “Okay.”
Cain takes a step forward, then glances back, waiting for me to follow.
The moment I walk under the arch of the doorway, a shiver runs over me, easing my tension but increasing the rate of my heart. I blink several times as a sense of déjà vu hits me.
There’s still nothing familiar about this place, but this feeling of giving in, that isn’t foreign to me. Sure, I gave in plenty to the abuse of foster parents, but this is different, bigger. I don’t understand how or why, but maybe Cain will help me figure things out.
With heavy feet, I step forward and head for the shadows of the castle. As we walk, I tell myself that everything is going to be fine. I’ve overcome worse situations…haven’t I?
Even if this is real, I’m a princess, according to the name I’ve been called. They won’t hurt me. At least I’m going to keep telling myself that. Maybe I can convince Cain to take me back to that cave and send me home the way I arrived. I don’t care if my car has been towed away, I’ll walk back to Portland if I have to. I just want to go home. I want to call Elodee, describe all this to her so she can tell me I must have been smoking something crazy, and then quit my job. It’s time for me to move to Seattle with her.
This whole scenario has to be a mental breakdown caused by being without my best friend for these past few weeks. That would make more sense than this being real, but the moment I start to doubt the legitimacy of this place, my tension comes back tenfold.
Maybe I just shouldn’t think for now.
Cain is about fifteen feet ahead of me, so I do my best not to linger long. Plus, I want to make sure I know where I’m going if I need to find my own way to escape later.
As we walk through the dark corridor, lights begin to illuminate on their own. Creepy, but not abnormal. Motion sensors are a thing. Except when I glance back, expecting the glow from the lamps to spread, everything is back to being dark behind us .
I’m okay. I’m not being led to my death. Everything is fine .
Scenic paintings hang on the wall with ornate silver frames around them. Each one appears hand-painted and showcases varying nature settings: flowers, mountains, rolling hills, an ocean with…something scaly and large swimming in it. I stop looking too closely after that for my own sanity.
The walls are made from a white brick and put off a coolness, but I don’t shiver, which surprises me because I’m literally always cold unless I’m outside under the sun. I even call blankets my second best friend.
Our soft footfalls echo over the wooden flooring as we continue down the wide hallway. Another hundred or so feet and Cain turns toward a set of stairs. “Your quarters are on the third floor, Your Highness. These stairs are the best way for us to get there.”
This is a castle fit for a king and there aren’t any elevators? Well, that’s mildly disappointing. At least my desire to hike showed up this morning. Well, so long as that drive stays with me.
The steps are made of a blue-hued stone, smooth without cracks. The railing on my right is sleek and silver metal. They seem to favor these two colors and I’m tempted to ask why that is until we get to the next level.
In the open corridor, there’s a flag hanging on the back wall. Enormous in size and blue and silver, of course. At the center is a silver wolf, howling into the air, standing on top of what reminds me of the rolling hills I saw when exiting the cave.
Above that are the words, Polaris, Lunara . Beneath that, in smaller print is Pride, Strength, Resilience .
“Is that the name of this place?” I ask, then I try to sound out the word. “Lun-air-uh?”
Cain pauses and smiles softly as he glances up at the flag. “Lu-narr-uh, Your Highness,” he corrects, putting more emphasis on the R . “And yes, we reside in Polaris, the largest of the islands that make up Lunara.”
“How many, uh, islands are there here?” I ask as we keep moving to the next set of stairs. I’m doing my best not to freak out over the confirmation that I’m surrounded by water, lessening my chances of escape.
“There are four territories, Your Highness,” he replies. “Polaris, Venaris, Altaris, and Selaris. We used to be one land, but now the sea separates the four kingdoms. King Asher is very proud of our home. He’s spent a large part of his life dedicated to keeping us safe.”
He speaks of the king as if he were someone to be worshiped, but that man came storming in and confronting me like the world’s biggest asshole. Just my luck.
I stop asking questions because most of them will likely lead back to King Asher and I don’t like the way my heart races when his name graces my thoughts. Instead, I mentally keep track of the few turns we take to get the next set of stairs. By the time we reach the third level, I expect to be out of breath, but I haven’t even broken a sweat.
I guess new hair, new body? That’s at least one thing I don’t have to complain about.
“Your room is the second on the left, Your Highness,” Cain announces before touching the double set of handles.
Two wooden doors open with his gentle touch and the lights inside the room begin to illuminate, casting a glow into the hallway. I step forward and peek around but stay beside Cain.
There’s a four-poster bed with silver tulle draped from the wooden corners, connecting one to the next. The bed is covered in a thick, blue comforter that looks heavenly to sleep on.
The walls are cream in color with more of the same art gracing the walls that I noticed in the hallway, but they seem solely focused on white, pink, and yellow lilies—my favorite flower—in varying depictions. Not odd at all. Nope.
An open door that appears to lead to a bathroom is opposite of the bed and another one is only five feet beside that but remains closed. A small sitting area is set up next to another set of doors with glass windows that lead to a balcony.
My skin tingles and I close my eyes, breathing in this moment and trying to understand what’s happening to me and why I feel as if…I’ve been here before, yet nothing looks familiar.
“Are you ill, Your Highness?” Cain asks quietly.
“I’m something,” I mutter before entering the room.
Another cursory glance of the space brings my attention to the bedside table, where a single framed photo sits. Three people, including an older man with his arm wrapped around a woman whose blue eyes are eerily similar to mine, but more than that, they’re standing next to… me .
The new hair I now have hangs in waves over the shoulders of the woman in the photo, but it’s the face staring back at me that captures my attention most. There isn’t a single detail that varies from what I saw in the mirror this morning. My light-blue gaze is the same, my wide smile, my round nose—everything is as I’ve always known it except the rose-gold hair with white and auburn highlights, almost making the strands seem pinkish.
“This is me,” I say with reverence. “When was this taken?”
Cain steps closer and looks over my shoulder. “About a month before your disappearance, Your Highness.”
I shouldn’t ask this next question, but I can’t help myself, considering something King Asher said before that I chose to mostly ignore. “How long ago did I disappear?”
He pauses, making me tense for his answer. “Five hundred and four years ago, Your Highness.”
My heart sinks. I want this to be some sort of cruel joke, but the longer I stare at this photo, the more I see the faces of the people—no matter how impossible my brain is telling me this is—my heart feels a connection to these strangers. With every rapid beat in my chest, I come closer to accepting that maybe— just maybe —this isn’t a dream after all.