10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
T he sitting room in the princesses quarters is like a veritable explosion of candy colors, one half of the room furnished for lounging around and writing letters, the other for sitting down for dinner. The twins are already at the table, along with two male faes I believe I was introduced to at the wedding. Cousins who are freshmen at the Academy.
I stop in the doorframe, no one seeming to notice me. They’re all busy watching one of the cousins get drop after drop of water out of a pitcher, make them float high above their heads and then freeze them.
Smiling, I keep watching the snow fall from the ceiling, until he fixes his eyes on the pitcher again and starts freezing the water while it’s still inside.
“Stop it, Oryn,” Sylmarilla warns in a scolding voice, “you’re going to break it.”
“Evening, everyone,” I say, making all heads snap in my direction.
I guess there’s nothing more effective at making one feel old as a group of twenty-somethings stopping their shenanigans as soon as you enter the room.
The moment I do, a servant appears as well. “If you please, Your Grace,” he says as he walks me over to one of the chairs around the table.
I give him a smile and take my seat. While the cousins keep playing with water, Farryn throws me a cautious smile and Sylmarilla narrows her eyes at me.
I choose to speak before she can. “Isn’t your brother coming, Farryn?” I ask. And I’m nonchalant about it, but I’m asking because I’m annoyed at the bastard for not telling me about these little dinners. As soon as he’s here, I plan on expressing that annoyance.
“He’s often detained,” his sister tells me.
“Aren’t classes over for the day?”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Brother doesn’t go to classes. He’s… well, he’s Orpheus.”
This only makes my annoyance grow. “Right, but isn’t part of the point of his attending the Academy to lead by example? I don’t see the other royals shying away from the classroom.”
“So, in your opinion, sister-in-law,” Sylmarilla cuts in, “your husband should be attending Runology, studying with the other students, attending exams…?”
“Of course he should.”
“Interesting,” she drawls. “Well, I guess it might not hurt. Maybe he’d catch a few spelling errors in the books he wrote. You should make a suggestion.”
Now, I most certainly didn’t have the information she just provided, but I sure as hell won’t give her the satisfaction of making it known. Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion that the best way to shut little miss perfect up is simply to be persistently kind to her.
I take a moment to look at her, putting myself in the shoes of a girl who’s had the misfortune of being raised by that block of ice they call mother. “Maybe I will,” I say, with genuine warmth in my voice, “what a splendid idea.”
I almost fail to stop myself from laughing, when I see the look of confusion on her face, however fleeting. “Yes, do that,” she persists. “I myself would love to hear your very first fight as a married couple. Come to think of it, shouldn’t you be the one to know whether he’s coming, sister-in-law? Or is there trouble in paradise?”
“Oh married life is pure bliss, Sylmarilla, thank you so much for asking.”
What ensues is a long moment of silence that Farryn ends up breaking. “How are you finding your accommodations?”
I turn to smile at her. “They’re perfectly alright. My only problem so far seems to be the cat,” I say with a smile.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Nymeria?”
So that’s her name. I don’t get the chance to ask why it’s so surprising, that said Lady Nymeria is giving me trouble. Because the next thing I know, there’s the mother herself entering the room, making everyone except for me squirm in their seats.
“Evening, Mother.”
“Evening, Aunt.”
It’s almost in perfect unison that they all greet her.
She throws us all the slightest smile and turns her focus onto the spread. “Why are there this many flowers on the table?” she demands. “Have we somehow found ourselves stuck in the eighteenth century?”
“Right away, Your Grace,” that servant appears to correct the mistake.
Content, Urryse takes a seat, her eyes sweeping over the gathered children and myself. “Well?” she asks. “I know it’s the very first dinner of the year, but I’d still like to know how my children are doing. Farryn?”
“Yes, Mother,” Farryn rushes to reply, the sound coming out a little strangled. She sits straight, waiting.
Damn, it’s like witnessing an interrogation.
Urryse quirks an eyebrow at her. “If my memory serves me, you’re starting Eastern Runology this semester.”
“I am.”
“And?”
“It’s an interesting field of study. There are plenty of elements I find fascinating.”
“How are you ranking , child?”
There’s a moment of silence before Farryn replies, discomfort in her voice, “I’m in the bottom quarter, Mother.”
“Didn’t we spend a small fortune on tutors this summer?”
“We have, Mother.”
Urryse doesn’t say anything, but the silence is one of obvious displeasure. And everyone knows it, most of all Farryn.
She turns her eyes onto the older twin. “Sylmarilla?”
Looking as if she’s been eagerly waiting for this, Sylmarilla smiles and says, “I’ve been placed in three advanced classes this year, Mother, and I’ve had my first sparring class today. I’m pleased to report that I’ve bested O’Connor.”
“Wasn’t he last year’s Trials Champion?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
I keep watching, waiting to see if she’ll call out the cousins next, all my annoyance at having to be here dispersing. It’s like watching a train wreck. You don’t want it to be happening, but you find yourself mesmerized all the same.
But before I can see what happens next, the prince appears and all of Urryse’s attention shifts onto him. “Ah, isn’t it my only son, gracing us with his elusive presence?”
There’s a frown on said son’s face as he says, “Evening, everyone.” He walks around the table, stopping next to my chair. I look up to find him holding his hand out.
I frown, to which he only throws me a pointed look, subtly clearing his throat. Ah. I give him my hand, he plants a quick kiss on it and takes a seat.
Without even glancing at the food, he takes a notebook and a pen out of his pocket, leans back in his chair and disappears into his own world.
The dinner interrogation proceeds as it started, but now my focus is elsewhere. I’m observing the man I’m living with and I have the sense that he’s observing me as well.
It’s the things I’ve heard people call him that are going through my mind.
Brother. Son. Your Grace. Lord Grimm. Grimm Reaper, which is something I believe people only call him behind his back, and I don’t know what it means, but the people calling him that have the air of having been in the war.
And then there’s the name I don’t just believe they only ever call him behind his back. I know it.
The Spare.
This one makes me sad. As far as I’ve gathered, it’s because he’s the second child and the eldest daughter is the reigning queen. And it’s nothing out of the ordinary, for members of a royal family to be treated as functions. But it’s still kind of depressing, to imagine a child being treated as… backup.
As I ponder this, he scribbles something in his notebook and then starts doing something that makes me frown.
It’s not the fact that he’s spinning the pencil, it’s how he’s doing it, making the image of Jericho’s hand doing the same exact thing flash through my mind.
“Orpheus?” Urryse calls out, making him stop spinning the pencil and me snap out of it, my mind buzzing.
He doesn’t look up. “Yes?” he asks flatly.
“Did you get the approval?”
“I did.”
“For the amount we agreed on?”
“None other.”
There’s a moment of silence during which I glance between the two of them, watching Urryse’s eyes narrow. “Now, that wife of yours—”
“If you have something to tell her,” he cuts her off, a touch of annoyance in his voice, “she’s sitting right next to me.”
I watch her eyes come to fix on my face, but in a way that makes me feel like I’m not even being seen. “Anyi darling.”
Ugh. “Yes?” I ask, sensing everyone but my husband turn all their attention onto the two of us. Oh how the tables have turned.
“How is it that it was only today that I learned of your position here at Grimm Academy?”
“We haven’t had much time to talk.”
She gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t misunderstand me,” she starts sweetly. “At the moment, I wouldn’t exactly trust you with anything of significance, but… With time, you’ll be expected to take on a more respectable role, either at the Academy or elsewhere.”
Wow, this show only gets better. “Of course,” I reply, matching the sweetness in her voice.
But she doesn’t seem to be done with me. Next, she drags her eyes down my body. As if to herself, she says, “We’ll have to do something about all that weight as well.”
“Oh I’m an utterly hopeless cause,” I reply with a laugh. “When it comes to my wretched figure, I’ve decided to just make peace with it.”
“I see.” She takes a moment to calculate. “Well, at least you seem fertile. Maybe it won’t take too long for you to provide me with an heir.”
Now with this she does manage to annoy me somewhat. I throw a glance at the prince, but he only takes a sip of his wine and keeps scribbling something in his notebook. “We're working on it,” I say a little more flatly.
Urryse squints at me. “Hard to imagine that being the case, given the separate rooms.”
What the…
I throw her a fake smile. “I like my space after my husband has worn me out.”
I hear the prince choke on a sip of wine at the same time as Urryse drawls, “Excuse me?”
I throw a quick glance at Orpheus, who seems to have gotten things under control, and catch the rest of the family glancing between the two of us.
For crying out loud. “I’m sorry, are we talking about this or are we not?” I ask with annoyance in my voice. “Could you let me know when you've made up your mind?”
And I don’t buy it that I’ve scandalized her for real, but she still says, “That is not the kind of vulgarity we’ll be tolerating at this table.”
Fighting not to roll my eyes, I smile. “I apologize, I seem to have forgotten myself.”
Pleased, she turns her attention onto the cousins, until the servants enter with the main course and I say “Thank you” to one of them.
“We don't acknowledge the servants, darling,” Urryse tells me matter-of-factly.
I just look at her for a moment, finally deciding on a diplomatic approach. “Well, it’s not my place to question your way of doing things.”
She frowns. “ My way of doing things? They are servants, darling, and we are not. The quicker you come to understand that, the better.”
My blood starts to boil. “I assure you, it’s not my understanding that’s the issue here.”
“Splendid,” she replies with a smile. “Then you’ll do as you’re told and help the servants do what they’re meant to do — remain invisible.”
I literally watch her wait for me to be a good girl again. But I don't care how she treats me , she’s not getting me to dehumanize other living beings.
“I'm afraid you misunderstand me,” I say in a firm, final tone of voice, dropping all pretenses for the first time this evening, “this is not up for discussion.”
What ensues is dead silence, broken only by Farryn’s nervous shifting in her seat. Something nudges me to look to my left, where I find Orpheus staring at me intently.
But the way his mother is looking at me makes me immediately turn my attention back onto her. It’s as if she’s seeing me for the first time.
After a long, torturous moment of this, there’s this scraping against the floor that makes me look away from her. I watch Farryn get up with a pained expression on her face.
“Are you alright?” Sylmarilla asks.
“I’m fine. I think I’ll need to go lie down, however.”
I squint at her. The little liar. But it’s all so endearing, because I already know her enough to understand that the only reason she’s lying is to break the tension.
It only confirms my suspicions, when she throws a look over her shoulder just before she walks out of the room, looking content to see that everyone’s going back to chatting.
*
At least one good thing comes out of the dinner. At one point, one of the cousins mentions how incredibly demanding Professor de Groot is and they end up mentioning she’s a night owl, spending a lot of her time reading in the Gerhardt Yard.
It’s with mixed feelings that I return to the castle, entering what I myself only ever call the Junkyard. But I did read once that this particular inner courtyard had initially been built for the professors and was used almost exclusively by the faculty, right up until the students vandalized it in the eighties, graffiti and spells included.
It all strikes me as even more surreal, when I actually do spot her in one of the alcoves, reading under the fake moonlight with a couple of other vampire professors scattered across the yard.
“Professor de Groot,” I call out as I start walking over to her.
Without looking up, she just says, “Lady Grimm,” and keeps reading.
I come to a stop in front of her, hesitating for a moment. “Excuse me for being forward,” I finally start, “but when I asked to talk to you earlier today, you seem to have misunderstood my intentions.”
She lets out a sigh, bookmarks the page and looks up. “Did I?”
“Yes. It wasn’t a chat about the weather or a round of gossip I was seeking you out for. It was a matter of much greater importance.”
“I know,” she says simply.
For a moment, the words render me speechless. How? “You do?” I ask.
“Yes. It was you who misunderstood me . It wasn’t on the grounds of the presumed subject matter that I refused you. It was on the grounds of your identity.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
She stands up, walks over to me and leans to whisper in my ear, “You must take me for a fool, little one, but I’m not nearly as easy to manipulate as that husband of yours.”
“ Manipulate ?” I echo as I take a step back, dropping my voice when I remember we’re not alone. “I assure you that that’s not my intention, professor. If you’d only give me a few moments in private—”
“You’re one of Urryse’s little pawns,” she grits out. “No matter how much you try to hide it, it’s as clear as the Mother’s blood.” She narrows her eyes at me. “You can go tell that scheming viper I have no intention of letting her anywhere near me. Understood?”
With that, she tries to push past me. I take her by the upper arm, making her stop and turn to scowl at me. “Am I to understand you want this to be your last day among the living?” she asks in a low, threatening voice.
“Use Mind Magic on me,” I urge her quietly.
Her eyebrows shoot up and she does hesitate for a moment, but then I feel the tendrils of her mind invade and wrap around mine.
Then, as soon as she starts seeing the images, her eyes round and she yanks her arm away, but she just keeps standing there, staring at me in silent wonder.
*
We’re sitting in de Groot’s cabinet, observing each other with drinks in our hands. “Who are you?” she finally asks.
I take a deep breath and choose to get straight to the point. “My name is Anna Novak, I’m a Librarian at Grimm Academy… and I come from the 21st century.”
She squints at me. “So those images I saw… the strange clothes and contraptions…”
“Yes, that’s all from around a hundred and fifty years in the future.”
She thinks for a second, swirling the drink. “Time travel is not possible,” she asserts, but not without doubt in her voice.
“It is to the Aurora,” I reply.
To this, she lets out a clear, joyful laugh, putting the drink down. “Is this another one of the Order’s attempts to recruit me? What kind of magic did you do for the illusion work?”
I shake my head. “It’s implanting memories that’s not possible.”
She just keeps looking at me with suspicion in her eyes. But I guess the things I’ve made her see are just too convincing to be dismissed, because she leans a little forward, turning dead serious. “You know this must be dangerous, what you’re doing?”
I nod. “I know.”
“So why are you here?”
“The end goal is to defeat Baldur,” I say simply.
Judging by the look on her face, she knows exactly who I’m talking about. “Baldur? He’s…”
“In my time,” I reply with a nod, “he has control of the Academy and is working towards, well, world domination I’d say.”
She lets out another laugh. “And it’s you who is supposed to defeat him? An Aurora who obviously hasn’t even been fully actualized?”
I throw her a flat glare. “It’s being stuck in the wrong time that’s posing a bigger problem to me at the moment.”
She quirks an eyebrow at me. Then she shakes her head. “I know nothing about time travel and no one who knows anything about time travel, and I know everything and everyone who knows anything, so…”
For a moment, I keep looking at her, thinking. Then I get an idea, but it’s so out there, I find myself hesitating until she impatiently nudges me to speak.
“There’s this one huge thing I messed up in my own timeline, which led me to time travel in the first place,” I say, then hesitate for a moment longer. “You could go into hibernation and wake up in time to warn me not to do it.”
“Hibernation?” she echoes with a frown. Then she laughs. “For a hundred and fifty years? Are you mad, woman?”
“It would end up with me never going back in time,” I rush to explain, “and, therefore, you never having gone into hibernation in the first place.”
She lets out a scoff. “What do you even know about hibernation?”
“Nothing except the basics,” I tell her. “I know it’s the reason vampires were thought to be immortal because it’s a state you enter that slows aging to a complete stop.”
“So you know nothing? It’s easy for a vampire to get into the state. It’s getting out that’s the problem.”
When I just raise my eyebrows at her, she leans to rest her forearms on her thighs and explain, “You need something to wake you up, and the longer you want to hibernate, the fewer options you have.” She waves a hand around. “If you wanted to hibernate for a year, let’s say, you could find a plant with a seed that germinates for that many months and simply take it with you. If you wanted to do it for ten years, you’d still find options.” She shakes her head. “But a hundred and fifty years?”
I open my mouth to say we could still try to find an option, but she doesn’t let me speak. “If vampires could just go into hibernation for as long as they pleased,” she starts with annoyance in her voice, “you’d have hordes of hundreds of years old creatures walking around going on about how they became fed up with the youth in their original century. But you don’t, simply because it’s beyond dangerous.”
She gets up, motioning at the door with a finality in the movement. “So no, I won’t be helping you, and I want nothing more to do with you.”
As if in a haze, I just mumble, “Thank you anyway,” and I walk out of her office, hearing the door close behind me.
And it’s nearly midnight, but the implications of what just happened are so devastating, I find myself aimlessly walking around, trying to talk myself into doing what absolutely needs to be done.
I ask Raven to help locate Lorcan and end up walking into the near darkness of the Lycan Forest.
I find him sitting on a tree stump, staring at the brook in front of him.
It’s without a word that we acknowledge each other, as if he already knows what I’m about to tell him. I come to sit on the ground next to him, fixing my eyes on the tree line shrouded in darkness as my heart grows heavy.
It was one thing to inconvenience my friends for a couple of days. It’s a whole other if it turns out I’ve let this become a permanent situation. I can’t even begin to imagine what this could mean for them.
A memory pops into my head, of a phone conversation of Lorcan’s that I once overheard. “You have a daughter, Lorcan, don’t you?” I ask in a low, tentative voice.
“I do.”
And now who knows when he’ll be able to see her again. I look away, my jaw clenching.
My eyes land on Raven skipping around — that beautiful, delicate little soul who’s finally found love only for me to take him away from her and gift her with her worst nightmare instead.
My eyes pricking with tears and my throat tightening with an oncoming sob, I fail to stop the guilt from rising to the surface.
To think that none of this would have ever happened if, three years ago, I didn’t allow myself to act so childishly. If I didn’t allow myself to push the man I loved away from myself, he wouldn’t be dead now. And if I didn’t allow him to die, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.
I have to force myself to push these feelings aside.
They have the right to know and the last thing they need is for me to cry to them about it. I grit my teeth and force myself to just say it. “I fucked up,” I start, softly but without hesitation, “I fucked up big time. I’ve tried everything I could think of, but we might be here for a while.”
Raven doesn’t even acknowledge me, while Lorcan just gives me a grunt.
“I’m sorry, Lorcan,” I say, doing my best to keep myself from falling apart. I watch Raven skip past us. “I’m sorry, Raven. I’ll keep doing everything in my power to find a solution, but… I’m just so incredibly sorry.”
Raven comes to a stop and they both turn to look at me. Lorcan awkwardly pats me on the shoulder while Raven flies onto my shoulder, pressing her soft little bird cheek to mine.
For many long moments, we just stay like that in silence.