8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
R aven chooses to go sleep in the Lycan Forest, carrying in her beak the bag of berries I saved for her during the wedding. For a moment, I just keep standing there in near darkness. Then I take a deep breath, lift my skirt off the floor and start climbing.
What a great plan this was. First I fake marry some wild card so I could avoid having the Academy Guard throw me in prison, then I spend the day starving myself so I could ingest an utterly useless plant. And now, after everything has blown up in my face, I have to climb a gazillion steps just to amuse my fake husband.
But hey, at least no one can say I’m having a dull day.
Putting step after step behind me, I slowly turn serious. What’s done is done, and I’ll figure out some other way to get the three of us out of this mess, but now that I’m finding myself lodging with the royal grump, it’s worrying me how little I know about him.
Gods, I’m so tired, hungry and disoriented. It doesn’t help that the elaborate dress, the steep incline and the lack of a fence are all conspiring to force me to keep my eyes fixed on the steps in front of me.
I decide to turn it into something pleasant. I guess it could be meditative? So I just keep climbing, trying to enjoy the monotony of it all, the silence, the fresh air, my muscles burning, my slippers starting to feel too tight…
Finding myself out of breath, I stop climbing for a moment. I look up, desperation flooding my body when I realize I haven’t even come a fourth of the way.
Goddamn it, and I’m already feeling like I can’t keep going. But it’s no wonder, considering the events of this past week. Or is this only the second day of my nineteenth-century adventure?
Nevermind, I tell myself. Just take it one step at a time, literally, and use this opportunity to reevaluate the situation. That should keep the mind off the hunger and the pain and the sheer desperation.
I keep climbing. So… I don’t have my powers and the portal is closed. I obviously won’t be able to use the plant to help me induce them. And I have no way to reopen the portal or find out the time or the location of the next one.
That’s about it when it comes to my options. I should know — I’ve already gone through all the materials that could help with either my Aurora powers or time portals.
What about possible next steps?
Think, Anna, think.
Literally nothing comes to mind.
I just keep climbing for a while, this drowsiness starting to overwhelm me despite the physical strain.
Then something nudges me to look up at the top, where I think I see a shadow standing on the edge, watching.
It disappears, making me feel as if all this is just a dream.
The next thing I know, I’m slipping, my stomach doing a violent flip, but my hands move of their own accord, grabbing onto the step in front of me until I’ve regained my footing.
I get up and dust myself off. Phew. That was close.
And it sure as hell wasn’t pleasant, but it got the mind working again. All of a sudden, as I keep climbing, my next step becomes so clear to me.
Sure, I’ve gone through all the materials that could help me, but not in this time. Who knows? Maybe in 1849, there’s a book that didn’t survive the following century and a half.
So the first thing I should do tomorrow is the very thing I do best — going to the Library to do some research.
My lips curl into a smile. I guess it will come in handy after all, the Librarian job that my ‘husband’ said he’d arrange for me. To make it even better, it’s just at that moment that I climb the last step, finding myself on top of Graf Hill.
The sight before me erases every thought from my head, drawing my eyes from the flat, stony surface of the hill so high up that I have to tip my head back. The structure I’m staring at is shrouded in darkness, blacker than the night sky exploding all around it. It’s enormous, linear and clearly sturdy yet somehow ethereal, giving the impression of a hole in a canvas showing a star-dotted sky.
It’s a hiss coming from somewhere near my feet that makes me snap out of it. I look down only to find a pair of bright yellow eyes narrowing at me in hostility.
Apart from the eyes, the sight is black fur against dark gray stone, so it takes me a moment to realize it’s a cat I’m staring at.
A cat. Hm.
Bending, I try to pet it, but that only makes it duck out of my reach and throw another hiss at me.
“Suit yourself,” I tell her as I stand straight again. I have a strong impression it’s a her.
Then I turn my eyes back onto my fake husband’s home and get moving for the huge double door that I presume will lead me inside.
There’s no knocker, so I grab the doorknob and push the heavy door open, raising my eyebrows when the cat darts inside.
I step over the threshold and close the door behind me, finding the little creature stopping under a simple commode in the corridor I’ve found myself in. Of course, she only does it to hiss at me some more.
A pet? Even if that’s not what she is, she sure seems too acquainted with the house for this to be her first time in it.
I let my eyes sweep over my surroundings, my eyebrows pulling down. Even if I tried, I couldn’t imagine a bigger contrast to the princesses’ quarters. From the unusually wide, bare corridor with dizzyingly high ceilings and dim lights set into the sandy walls, my gaze sweeps down rows of doors and unadorned archways all the way to an empty circular space shrouded in shadows. There, I see a silhouette of a simple set of stone stairs without any kind of railing, winding up into the darkness.
But what strikes me as truly odd is the stone the entire structure seems to be built from. Curiosity nudges me to approach the wall to my left, squinting.
Sand. it’s all huge blocks of tightly pressed sand.
Alright, where could I find the master of this strange home? I think I should like to get to know him a little better.
I start walking down the corridor, sensing the cat keep following me like a tiny ninja on a big mission. It’s only after I pass a couple of closed doors to my left that I spot an archway.
I glance down, seeing the cat narrow her eyes at me.
I narrow mine back. Then, with a smug smile, I walk inside, stopping midstep when I find the prince leaned against the chair in what looks like a dimly lit kitchen.
He clicks his tongue. “A whole hour you made me wait,” he drawls as his eyes drag down my body and stop on the dirty hem of my wedding dress. His lips curl into a smirk. “But I suppose it was worth it, wife.”
*
The cat pads over to him and weaves between his legs with a purr.
I fold my arms and say, “I’m happy to hear my suffering amuses you.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Cross with me, already ?” he demands in a mocking tone.
I ignore this, choosing to try to get some sense of the man at least, as quickly as possible, so I can finally go to bed. “It’s a lovely home you have,” I say, keeping my eyes locked with his.
“Is it? Thank you, I built it myself.”
I frown. “How come you don’t live in the Ydril Tower, with the rest of the students?”
He blows a laugh through his nose. “Yesterday, all you cared about was your research. Earlier today, you seemed more inclined to talk to my mother than myself. And now… Was it climbing all those steps that stirred the curiosity, wife?”
“Don’t call me that. You didn’t marry me, you entered into a deal with me. Now, why were you banished here?”
He raises his eyebrows. “ Banished ? What a harsh way of putting it.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him.
For a second, he only stares at me. Then he shrugs, but I do detect slight gritting of his teeth. “I may have killed a couple of students.”
I frown. Is he being serious? “A couple?” I ask mockingly. “The event doesn’t even merit you remembering exactly how many?”
“So it would seem.”
He’s being serious.
“How did it happen?”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared all of a sudden?” he asks. “I have to say it would go against the impression I’ve gotten from you thus far, wife .”
I don’t bother replying. He obviously won’t be answering my question either, but does it even matter now? My suspicions have been confirmed. This is not the kind of man I should let anywhere near me.
“Why don’t we discuss the specifics of our deal?” I ask flatly, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.
He just looks at me for a second. “The specifics of our deal? By all means.”
“When will you arrange for me to get the Librarian position?”
“It’s done. I keep my word.” His eyes narrow. “You, on the other hand… Do you really still want it?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’re my wife now. You’ll be a wealthy woman even after you divorce me.”
“That has no impact on my desires whatsoever.”
For a second, he just observes me in silence. “And what would those desires be?”
“Let’s just say they fall outside the scope of this arrangement,” I say, sticking to a flat, brusque tone. “What about those functions you mentioned?”
He blows a laugh through his nose. “It’s like doing business with a bank official.” I throw him a flat glare, making the smile slide off his face. “You’ll be notified in advance. Is there anything else you’d care to discuss?”
I think for a second, Farryn’s words entering my mind. I hope I won’t be staying here long, but… “Yes. It’s been made known to me that your mother is in a rush to get you to ‘sire an heir’. I’d just like to make it clear that under no circumstances will that be part of this deal.”
He gives me a slight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, his jaw clenching almost imperceptibly. “What a gentle approach you’ve decided to take in disclosing this. Will you be as considerate to the man you take as your real husband?”
“Nothing like that will ever happen.”
“That’s a very categorical way of putting it.”
“I already had a mate.”
Surprise flashes through his eyes. “A mate ?” He shakes his head in confusion. “I’m sorry, had ?”
“He died and I’m never marrying again, not for real at least,” I reply flatly. “Well? Will we be able to reach an agreement?”
He gets up and goes to pour himself a glass of dark liquid, the first one I’ve seen him have.
For a moment, the smell of scotch takes me elsewhere.
He takes a sip. “You can relax,” he says, a touch of bitterness in his voice. “ Not gifting the mighty House Olarel with an heir is my preferred outcome as well. Now…” He locks eyes with me, an indecipherable look on his face. “I should like to go to bed soon. Do you think that will be possible?”
“Just show me where I’ll be sleeping.”
He shrugs. “Take whichever room you want. You’ll find no servants here, so you’ll have to manage on your own.” He pauses to throw me a more serious look. “And whatever you do… stay out of the West Wing.” And he turns to walk away.
“I’ll be staying away from you in general,” I tell him, “and I suggest you do the same. I’m sure you understand.”
He turns to stare at me with gritted teeth. “Of course. As long as you have the decency to at least play your part when we’re not alone, unlike you did today.”
“Of course.”
“Then yes, it seems we’ve come to an agreement.”
*
I guess that went as well as I could have expected it to. Once he’s gone, for a moment, I just keep standing there, letting the airy, shadowy silence envelop me.
Then I take a moment to indulge my curiosity and glance around the kitchen. It’s enormous and practically empty, just like the rest of the house, but it still seems to be fully equipped — the kitchen table at the center, cabinets along the walls, a sink under the window opposite the entrance, some kind of primitive stove to my left and what I believe to be an ice box to my right.
Then there’s the bunch of food on the table. I grab some, my eyebrows pulling down.
No servants, he says. Does that mean he… cooks?
I shrug it off, suddenly eager to find a bed to sleep in. I leave the kitchen to start my search. Choosing the row of doors to the right of the front door, I stop before each of them to check for any sounds coming from the other side. After all, he didn’t tell me where his room is, and I have no intention of finding out. Once I’m sure it’s an empty room, I open the door and…
Well, I mostly find spaces that are either completely empty or being used as storage for the weirdest things — shelves of metal scraps, boxes of crystal formations, bags of… dried excrement?
Finally, I stumble on an actual bedroom that doesn’t seem to be in use. I walk inside, close the door behind me and press my back against it. Alone at last, I feel all my muscles almost instantly starting to relax.
Though part of it seems to be the effect of the room as well. To my left, there’s the bed, to my right, the closet. That’s it. But right across from me, there’s a double door — huge, some kind of matte glass, opening onto the barren stretch of Graff Hill with the most magnificent yet peaceful view of the starry night sky.
It makes me unable to resist. I cross the room and open both sides of the door, a gust of fresh air sweeping over my skin and making the gauzy drapes billow in its wake.
Despite the night calling out to me, I don’t step outside. It would be too reminiscent of the night I rode his fox to enjoy this exact same view.
Swallowing around a sob I know wouldn’t bring any actual tears, only more frustrating hollowness, I turn away from the door and start getting undressed.
I’ve taken care of Lorcan and Raven, at least for the night, I think as I get in bed. Tomorrow I’ll start work on getting a set of Runes so I can awaken my powers again. And I’ll find information that will help me get us all back to our own time. Even if the Library doesn’t have it, I’m the prince’s wife now. I can go wherever I want and there have to be materials or people who can help me out there somewhere.
My eyes round. People…
This is not the time I came from. And every time has an Aurora and her mate. Could I find them and get them to help?
I frown, remembering what Lorcan said to me ages ago, during one of those meetings that Jericho attended with me. He said that the Baldur’s curse meant that the Aurora stopped being born, until I came along for some unknown reason.
I let out a sigh. That won’t be an option then.
Then she crosses my mind. De Groot. There’s always de Groot. If it comes to it, I might not even have to leave the Academy in search of help.
Content with this as an option, at least for now, I decide to check one more thing off my list before I let myself start with my bedtime ritual.
Now that I’m alone and not in danger of it backfiring, I try to use Sight again. I take a deep breath. Then I close and open my eyes again.
My breath catches. I can still see the room around me, so clearly, so vividly, just not exactly the way I did a second ago. Instead of the usual outlines, there are these blurs of energy emanating from everywhere around me — the sand in the walls, the wood in the closet, the fibers in the drapes… the sand, again , in the glass?
Is glass made from sand?
I linger on this, fascinated. The more I linger, the clearer I see it. The tiny grains of sand vibrating in place yet sticking together to form the flat surface that is the glass door.
Next my eyes get drawn to the sky. It mesmerizes me — the fact that I can see it even through the walls, the sheer expanse of it, the energy it’s emanating... Static yet swirling, subtle yet immensely powerful.
I close and open my eyes again to use my regular sight. What I just did was fascinating, but it was also just as confusing and draining the first time around.
But I’ll get the hang of it.
Yes, everything will be alright, I think as I get my phone and start scrolling through the pictures.
Soon, my eyelids grow heavier. The world around me turns softer, my own body warmer and my breath shallower, until I can do nothing to stop my eyes from closing.
It’s an endless midnight sky that my dream births. Transfixed, I keep staring at the expanse, watching the swirls of stars bloom into flowers.
All of a sudden, I find myself on a moonlit path through a dense, wild garden. The path weaves, through fragrant foliage, leads past crumbling stone structures and turns straight back into the dense bushes.
My heart skips a beat, when amidst all the flora, I see something else entirely.
A silhouette of a man. There’s a man here with me, silently and motionlessly watching me from the shadows. The intense longing that floods me the moment I lay my eyes on him tells me exactly who he is.
It’s my Jericho.
Still, the need to make out his features is irresistible. The pounding of my heart filling my ears, I start making my way over to him, knowing he won’t leave but rushing nevertheless.
It takes my breath away, when I come to stand in front of him and the moonlight hits his face.
He’s so beautiful, like some Greek statue come to life — a mix of strength, elegance and sensuality in the dark eyebrows, the strong nose, the full lips, the sharp jawline… But it’s the eyes that are the most striking. Not just the bright amber color of them, but the way they seem to strip you bare.
I reach out my hand to touch his face, but the moment I do, he disappears.
I open my eyes and push myself up, finding myself in the bed in which it all started, my breathing heavy and my heart filled with unbearable longing.
For many long moments, I keep sitting motionlessly, replaying the dream I just had.
It doesn’t even bother me, that he appeared to me in the prince’s body. Minds can be random like that.
What’s important is that it was him , and that the dream made me feel more hope than I’ve had in a very long time.
I lie back in bed, but I keep my eyes open, my mind buzzing and my heart soaring.