11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
I ’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as my breathing slowly goes back to normal. It was another nightmare that woke me up, but the frown on my face is due to that strange noise I’m hearing once again.
What the hell is that?
And while I’m at it, what the hell is this life I’m suddenly living?
I get up, only remembering the woman once I start getting dressed. I walk over to the door and crack it open, finding her patiently waiting for me outside.
“Good morning, Katerina,” I greet her with a smile, opening the door fully and glancing around to make sure the prince is not around. “Listen… I don’t think I’ll be needing your services any longer.”
“Your Grace?” She looks downright terrified.
“It’s nothing you did,” I rush to say, “I assure you. In fact…” I throw her a wink. “Maybe we could keep this our little secret. I’m sure you’d be glad of the extra time.”
She relaxes. Then a smile lights up her face. “Yes, Your Grace.” She does a curtsy and walks away.
I proceed to getting dressed like you’re supposed to — without the involvement of any kind of hired help. It does prove slightly troublesome, though, mostly the corset part. After fumbling with the back straps for far too long, I decide to wear it the other way around.
Fully dressed and happy with myself, I head for the front door, planning on going straight to the Library. It’s the rumbling of my stomach that makes me stop right before I pass the kitchen.
I walk inside and look around, frowning. There’s a lot of things that could be said about me, but being a good cook, or any kind of cook for that matter, is definitely not one of them.
Eggs. My lips curl into a smile. That’s one of the few things I can do.
It makes me frown, when I start looking around for a pan and find a piece of paper with a note on the counter next to the sink.
“I see my wife has never heard of a dustbin,” the note says in a barely legible, but confident cursive. It’s been placed next to the crumpled piece of paper I forgot to throw away last night.
I bin the paper. The condescending tone makes me roll my eyes, but I make a mental note to myself to stay aware of the fact I’m not exactly alone here, despite the seeming absence of my roommate.
Then I start on the eggs. I make swift work of it, and I do burn them a little, but the end result makes me proud of myself.
Especially when I take a seat at the kitchen table and feel nudged to look in the direction of the corridor, seeing my work has attracted a visitor. The visitor hisses at me from the doorframe, but I don’t care. “I know your name now, you little black nuisance,” I tell her with a smirk.
Her eyes narrow at me, but she doesn’t make another sound.
Smiling smugly, I turn to my eggs, take the fork and inhale deeply.
But before I can take a single bite, something hops onto the table between me and my plate, and I find myself staring at a cat’s butt as said cat gets to work eating my food.
For one long moment, I just stay like that, dumbfounded. Then I throw daggers at the butt. “That’s how we’re going to play?”
Deftly, she hops off the table and gets settled on the floor not too far away from me, positioning herself right where I can see her contently grooming herself after having polished off my food.
I roll my eyes, get up and start looking around in renewed desperation.
I think that maybe I’d know how to make pizza.
Would it be weird if I made pizza? I keep standing there, trying to remember everything I know about the dish. I know it dates all the way back to the old Romans, but this is mid-nineteenth century Germany…
Gods, I miss the internet.
Again , what the hell is this life I’m living all of a sudden? Feeling quite desolate, I decide against going straight to the Library. I’ll just grab some breakfast in the cafeteria, but before I do… Maybe seeing Lorcan and Raven will help my mood.
*
I’m in the Library, the fact of my being a Librarian here still being ignored by all the students walking past the Service Desk in search of reading materials. I choose to take advantage of this by focusing on my own research, but my mind is still on my early morning visit to Lorcan and Raven.
I guess because it was such a bitter-sweet affair. As the prince’s wife, in the span of a single day, I’ve managed to arrange for Lorcan to get the position of groundskeeper. I went to visit him and Raven, in part to see how they’re doing and in part to check out the state of my ‘father’s’ new residence.
There was more than one sweet part. Lorcan is now living in a veritable mini mansion next to the stables, his beloved Lycan Forest practically right outside his door. He insisted on me going riding and it made me so happy when I realized that Raven would be joining me.
But then there were the bitter parts as well. There was the fact that horseback riding is something I used to do when I myself lived in a mansion, so it eventually got me thinking about my father and the promise I gave Jericho that I would one day take the time to truly process it all.
And then there were the sadness and the guilt at seeing Raven having become quieter than ever before, barely replying to my questions, let alone telling me how she’s feeling or what she’s thinking.
It worries me. It worries me so much, especially since I can’t tell either one of them when this will all be over.
And in the meantime, I’m finding myself in a completely different century, living this absurd half-life.
Things make sense if you make them make sense, I tell myself. And I force myself to keep looking for something that would help me with either my powers or the portals.
Staring at the pages in front of me without really seeing the contents, I only notice the twins once they’re already walking past me. I look up to throw them both a smile.
While Sylmarilla only sneers at me, Farryn shows loyalty to her sister by not addressing me, but still flashes me a warm smile.
Once they’re out of my line of sight, I try to go back to work, but now it’s their brother and that strange noise that are on my mind.
Failing to resist the urge, I search the catalog for those works of his that Sylmarilla mentioned. Then I get the books themselves and start perusing them. It’s all scientific works with long-ass titles and content I can’t seem to make sense of. Expert writing for other experts, that’s what it is.
But what I do manage to understand is the noise. It’s experiments he’s conducting up there, maddeningly loud experiments.
By the time I get to this conclusion, the Library is practically empty and I realize I’m avoiding going back up there.
And it’s not just because of the goddamn steps, of which I’ve counted three hundred and seventy four very steep ones on my way down this morning.
Three.
Hundred.
Seventy.
Four.
It’s also because of an even greater sense of displacement it’s causing in me.
But it’s getting dark outside and I really need to get a move on.
*
I grab some of the books I haven’t touched yet and I get out of the castle, headed straight for the hill looming over the gardens, the one on top of which my temporary home is located.
Once I get to its foot, I bump into some official-looking man who’s just used his vampire speed to get down. He bows to me and I smile, turning to throw him an envious look as he disappears in the direction of the main entrance.
But I suck it up and I climb all three hundred and seventy four steps like a pro. No looking down, no whining, no stopping.
It’s only once I step onto the top and this mouth-watering smell drifts over to me that it hits me.
No no no. I turn to look all the way down from where I’ve just come, the castle grounds seeming miniature when seen from this height.
Food. I fail to eat anything all day and then I forget about the fucking food.
Letting out a loud groan, I drag myself into the house. The smell of cooking that draws me into the kitchen is only adding to the torture, but at least the prince is nowhere to be seen.
I look around, spotting the pot on the stove.
I grumble. I guess I’ll be trying to make pizza. I do it all as quickly as I can, a single thought serving to push me forward.
Life is never not absurd. Right? You could be eating takeout in front of the TV in your apartment, or burning a dish you don’t really know how to make in a royal hermit’s residence on top of a hill, and you only need to put enough distance between yourself and the act to realize that it’s both equally absurd.
The pizza I end up with doesn’t just smell off-putting. It’s so hard, it could be used to kill with a single blow.
Letting out a dragged-out sigh, I spot Nymeria saunter into the kitchen, her little nose hard at work smelling my creation. I take a slice and come into a crouch to hold some out to her. A piece offering of sorts — it might have been insensitive of me not to have offered some of those eggs to her today.
She lets out a hiss, turns her back to me and walks away.
Great. Not even the cat wants to eat my food. But I can’t exactly blame her. It’s making me want to choose going to bed on an empty stomach.
Dejected, I decide to take a bath and try to work on my runes. Who knows? By the time I’m done, I might be in the mood for the pizza after all.
I draw myself a hot bath and take the knife and the little stones with me. I get in the water and start working, gazing out the window at the night sky while using the special knife to shave layer by layer off the stones.
To think they no longer give kids to make their own sets. They just present them with finished ones. What a shame. It’s their direct connection with the source of their powers, after all.
The elusive Mind, Holy Word or any of the other names people use to refer to it. No one knows what it is, but it gives access to a different perspective of the world, manifested through Sight and visits to the dreamlike Fae Realm.
The result in terms of powers? I lift the three perfectly round, smooth rune stones. The result is the ability to manipulate the elements, as well as aspects of reality such as Movement, Growth and Decay.
I take a moment to admire my work before I use a piece of leather cord to tie the stones into a necklace that I put around my neck. Now all I need to do is learn how to use these.
Right now, I’d really appreciate Movement, the power that allows you not just to move objects using solely the power of your mind, but increase your own speed as well.
Though Decay would be extremely cool, but that particular power is ridiculously rare.
Still, here’s to hoping.
When I walk back into the kitchen, I’m no more enthusiastic about eating the pizza than before the bath.
But it still stings, when I find another one of those notes lying next to it. “This looks absolutely horrendous. Please do us both a favor — when you’re hungry, just have whatever you find in the kitchen.”
The initial urge is to leave a reply saying I’d rather die of hunger.
But not a minute goes by before I find myself sitting at the table, gorging on a bowl of stew that’s officially the best thing that’s happened to me in all of the nineteenth century.
*
Licking the bowl clean, I get out of the chair, grab an apple and head straight for my room. But once I’m in front of the door, I find myself unable to resist.
There’s something so strange about this house, even more so at night, with the moonlight slanting through the windows and casting shadows over the sand walls in this meditative, almost palpable silence.
I find myself padding down the corridor in the direction of that set of stone stairs without a railing.
The next thing I know, I’m climbing it, entering a room that looks like some kind of workshop. It’s crammed with stuff the likes of which I’ve never seen in my life, but what draws the eye is this machine placed at the center of the room.
The noise emanating from it is much quieter right now, but it’s definitely the one I’ve been waking up to.
Frowning, I start walking around it, my fascination only growing when my eyes register the movement in the surrounding air. Depending on the angle, it’s like you can see a rip into another dimension.
I reach out my hand to touch it.
“ Don't touch that ,” a low but sudden warning sounds from my right, making me spin around and then stumble back, grabbing onto some kind of metal handle to avoid toppling over.
The next thing I know, Orpheus is grabbing my upper arm and yanking me away, but I’ve already made something shoot out of the rip and straight into his chest. It’s some kind of plane that’s at the same time rock-solid and ethereal, like a wall of light. My eyes rounding, I watch Orpheus dig his feet into the ground, his entire body tensing up as he uses it to stop the wall from advancing.
It’s all over in the blink of an eye — the wall getting sucked back in and Orpheus’s body relaxing a little, but… Goddamn it, don’t I feel bad.
“I apologize,” I rush to say as Orpheus stands straight and turns around to face me, his chest falling up and down. “I didn’t mean to do that. Are you alright?”
He frowns at me. “I’m fine.”
“What was that? I’ve never seen anything like it—”
He appears right in front of me, getting in my face with anger twisting his features. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from the West Wing?”
I take a step back, that condescending tone of his making me grit my teeth. “Well…” I throw him a fake smile. “I seem to have forgotten my compass.”
His eyes narrow at me. “There are dangerous things in this room.”
I fold my arms, surprised to realize I’ve somehow managed to hold onto the apple. “I thought you were perfectly fine with killing people.”
“I would be,” he snaps with a touch of mockery in his voice, “if the clean-up weren’t such a hassle.” He lifts a warning finger. “If I ever catch you here again, dying will be the least of your concerns.”
What makes my blood boil is not just the fact that he’s talking to me like I’m a child. It’s also the fact that this wouldn’t even have happened if it weren’t for his stupid behavior. “Is this your way of apologizing for nearly scaring me to death a minute ago?” I ask. “Because if it is, it’s found lacking.”
With that, I take a loud bite out of the apple and I push past him, knocking my shoulder into his. I feel his eyes on my back, but I just keep marching out of the workshop.
*
I wake up from a dream much like the one I had the first night I spent in this house. He was in the garden again, observing me in silence.
My heart filling with longing, I rushed over to him and I reached out my hand.
Holding my breath, I touched his face. The contact made me delirious with happiness, but it was nothing compared to the one I felt when I saw him close his eyes and lean into the touch.
Heavy with love for him, I opened my mouth and the words actually came out.
“I missed you,” I told him, my voice coming out all distant.
I almost fainted when I heard him say, “I missed you too,” his low, soft voice caressing the innermost depths of my soul.
Then I woke up, and ever since, I’ve been staring out at the night sky, thinking.
I mean, what the hell does it even matter — whether life is absurd or not — when I don’t have him .
But this is a sign — him showing up in my dreams like this. Proof that I will find a way to get us all to the right time, to fix everything for everyone, to get back to him. No matter what.