Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sierra’s heart stopped. Standing before her was Aodhan’s father. The man in front of her looked so much like Aodhan that she couldn’t breathe.
Still frozen in shock, her mind rewound the last few minutes as she looked at her surroundings.
She was in a structure built of large gray stones.
The floor was partially covered by a long red rug, and a similar red tapestry hung on the walls.
The ceilings were high, and lanterns rested every few feet, casting light in even the darkest corners.
Everything around her was reminiscent of the medieval castle structures Sierra had seen in her books in grade school.
She wanted to believe that this was an odd and crazy dream, but she knew the alternative was that she was still knocked out in some man’s truck, and at this point, she would take the weird dream castle rather than consider the only other plausible option.
Suddenly, her mind snapped to something she had heard just moments before. What did Aodhan’s father mean by ‘the woman his son had spoken about’?
And what did her kidnapper mean by her being able to break the curse?
Something about this situation was very wrong, and Sierra knew it was probably going to get worse before it got better.
She was so busy tearing through her thoughts, trying to unravel what could possibly be going on here, that it wasn’t until Aodhan’s father was right in front of her that she even noticed he had moved.
Sierra’s instinct was to step back, but her kidnapper was right behind her, forcing her to remain where she was as Aodhan’s father visibly evaluated her face, eyes, and hair.
“Hm.” He rolled a strand of her dark hair between his fingers.
Sierra’s heart was attempting to break out of her chest, but she wasn’t sure what she should be feeling right now.
On one hand, Aodhan had told his father about her, which was something most women were happy about.
But on the other hand, she was 99% sure she wasn’t able to break some Fae curse, so this could be about to get ugly.
Aodhan’s father finished his evaluation and stepped back, snapping his fingers simultaneously. A woman appeared next to him, and Sierra quickly noticed how her ears weren’t pointed, indicating she was likely human.
And likely a servant, her heart reminded her.
Aodhan’s father motioned to Sierra. “Get her cleaned up and prepared for the ritual.”
Ritual? Sierra didn’t like the sound of that. But it didn’t matter because her hands and mouth were still restrained. She could do nothing but follow as the woman motioned for her using a sweeping hand motion Sierra was somewhat familiar with.
The woman was about Sierra’s height, with mousy brown hair that was braided down the center of her back.
She wore a simple green dress that was loose around her curves and stopped just before the top of her feet, clad in simple black slippers which didn’t look like they would keep the cold of the stone floor out.
Sierra was so busy evaluating the dress she didn’t notice that the woman had stopped, until she collided with her back in an embarrassing way that almost had her toppling over if she hadn’t, equally embarrassingly, grabbed the woman’s shoulder at the last second with her bound hands.
She tried to mumble a sorry as she removed her hands, but it came out a bit like a moan with the cloth still in her mouth.
The woman didn’t say anything, and her eyes didn’t even rise to meet Sierra’s, as she opened a wooden door and ushered her inside.
More questions bubbled at Sierra’s mouth, but they, too, were blocked by the cloth.
She watched as the woman began to heat water over a fire in large black pots before pouring it into a gray wash basin that looked to be made of stone.
Sierra felt a bit of shame as she just watched the woman cart buckets of water from the fire to the tub to the pump in the corner of the room and back. She wanted to offer to help but figured it wasn’t allowed even if she had full use of her hands.
After what had to be 20 trips, finally, the tub was full of water, steam curling from the surface, and the woman motioned for her to get in.
Sierra raised her eyebrows, looking from her tied hands to the woman. Clearly, she couldn’t get undressed like this.
The woman noticed her predicament and quickly left the room, closing the door behind her. In a few moments, she was back with a small knife, and she quickly sliced through the bindings on her wrists.
The moment her hands were free, Sierra yanked the cloth from her mouth, trying to swallow, but her mouth tasted like sandpaper, and her salivary glands had apparently thought they didn’t need to work because it felt impossible to get enough saliva to do so.
Oblivious to her struggle, the woman motioned to her clothes and the tub.
Sierra rolled her eyes and began undressing, still trying to get some form of moisture in her mouth so she could communicate, but to no avail.
Not seeing any other solution, Sierra pointed to her throat and said, “Water,” but it came out hoarse.
The woman appeared to understand her predicament, however, and she pointed to the pump near the fireplace, which she had used to fill the buckets of water before heating them over the flame.
Without a second thought, Sierra rushed to the pump, lifting the handle up and down as she had seen the woman do several times, bending down to stick her head beneath the trickle of water that appeared a few moments later.
She didn’t even care that the stream of water increased, splashing all over her face and clothes.
She was about to bathe anyway; at least that’s what she assumed at this point.
After she had let copious amounts of the cooling liquid slide down her throat, Sierra righted herself, looking back at the woman who had filled the tub. She now looked annoyed, probably not expecting Sierra to drink that much.
Now that her mouth felt back to normal, Sierra did the first thing that came to her mind, and she stuck out her hand to the woman for a handshake. “I’m Sierra,” she said. “And you are?”
The woman just looked at the tub, ignoring her hand.
“Maybe if you tell me what we are doing, I can better understand?” she tried, but the woman just stood and looked at the tub.
After another moment of watching the woman staring at the tub, Sierra figured she’d better get moving, and she bent down to pull off her shoes, socks, and jeans, shuddering at the look of her legs pocked with red lesions.
She knew the woman would likely be afraid, as most people were when they saw her skin, but it served her right for not even introducing herself.
Sierra pulled her sweater and undershirt over her head, waiting for the questions that were certain to come now that she, and her lesions, were almost fully exposed. But to her surprise, the woman said nothing, she just continued staring. It was really starting to scare Sierra, if she was honest.
With a final sigh, she unhooked her bra and slid her underwear down her legs before stepping toward the tub and over the rim.
The water was warm but not hot, and Sierra immediately ducked beneath the surface, trying to rub away the invisible grime she felt from spending the night locked in some weirdo’s trunk.
She tried to relax in the warm water, but the fact that she was in some unknown world, about to be part of some ritual she didn’t understand, wouldn’t allow her to relax.
After only a few minutes, the woman ushered for her to leave the warmth of the tub, holding up a sheet of white gauze. Sierra was certain they were curtains, until the woman began to drape them around her, and Sierra realized it was actually a dress.
It was like something out of a Greek movie.
The dress was flimsy and thin, but there were a few layers to hide her more intimate parts.
The dress came over each shoulder, before converging at her breasts to make a long skirt which fell to the tops of her feet.
A matching piece of fabric was tied beneath her breasts to gather the fabric and give her shape.
Although she was sure the dress was beautiful, the only thing Sierra could focus on was her spotted skin, which was visible on her exposed chest, and the entirety of her arms. She hadn’t worn something this revealing in years, and the white color only seemed to draw attention to the angry red marks on her skin.
Sierra wanted to express her concerns about how she looked, but within moments the woman was dragging her out the door and along the corridor, barefoot and wearing nothing but the gown. Sierra felt weird without any underwear, but honestly, that was the least of her worries at the moment.
After a few turns, they came to a room that was entirely barren besides a large stone brick which occupied the center and reminded Sierra of what they laid bodies on for viewings in medieval times.
For the first time since she arrived, Sierra worried she might really be in trouble, and that this could be the part where she was going to die.
Even though this was Aodhan’s family, and Aodhan had clearly spoken to his father about this, the room in front of her wasn’t screaming anything akin to safety.
Before she could theorize too much about the pending ritual, the woman led her forward, having her sit on the giant brick. As she did so, a few men, along with Aodhan’s father, entered the room. Sierra played with the material of her dress nervously.
As soon as the men and Aodhan’s father came to a standstill, he began to speak, but in old Gaelic, so Sierra couldn’t understand what was going on.
Instead, she counted the men who had appeared with Aodhan’s father, counting six total.
They were all dressed in long robes that touched the ground, far different from the fancy medieval suit Aodhan’s father wore.
As Aodhan’s father finished his speech, the woman directed her to lay back on the stone.
Sierra nervously glanced around the room, but she didn’t see any sort of weapon that might lead her to think her death was imminent.
Either way, she realized that lying down probably wasn’t the best idea, so she quickly sat back up again.
This angered the woman, who quickly began yelling at her in old Gaelic and motioning for her to lay back down. Sierra shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
Aodhan’s father chuckled from where he stood off to the side. “My apologies. I forgot you don’t speak old Gaelic. Now lay down so we can perform the ritual.”
“I would feel better knowing what this ritual is,” Sierra insisted, remaining in her seated position.
“It’s nothing serious. We just have to take some of your blood to put on the altar for Gaia.”
Sierra cocked her head to the side. On the one hand, this appeared to be extremely ominous and dangerous, but at the same time, he didn’t say she would die. Or was he just omitting that fact?
Deciding to be on the safe side, she asked, “How much blood will you take?”
The king held up a small stone bowl. “Only enough to fill this bowl.”
Sierra looked at the bowl. It was bigger than the tubes at the doctor's office, but she would probably be fine. Deciding it was best not to start a fight with the father of the man she was falling for, despite her doubts about his odd ritual, she lay back on the table.
As soon as she was prone, the weird men in robes rushed forward, each one grabbing one of her limbs, and one man holding her head in place. Sierra regretted her decision to be complacent immediately and tried to sit up again, but it was too late, and the men were too strong.
The sixth man, who wasn’t holding one of her limbs, came to stand over her with a small knife, and the bowl Aodhan’s father had held, and Sierra realized her fatal mistake.
She hadn’t asked where they would take the blood from.
With a grimace, she decided it was best to face this with her eyes closed. So, she pressed them tightly shut, turning her head to the side, which the man holding it allowed.
Before she could think of anything else, a searing pain shot through her arm, so sharp that her back arched and her eyes flew open of their own accord.
Sierra immediately wished she hadn’t, as she saw the knife cutting the major vein on her arm, which she had learned during her studies could definitely kill a person.
The man doing the cutting must’ve had that same knowledge, however, as he only made about a one-inch incision before turning her arm so her blood could drip into the bowl.
Sierra felt sick. But as she looked away from the blood spurting from her arm, she noticed the other men observing the skin of the limb they held in place, their eyes clearly seeing her lesions.
Feeling incredibly self-conscious, Sierra decided squeezing her eyes shut once again was the only solution to the current situation.
Although she hadn’t been religious for years, she began to pray, deciding to direct her prayers to this Gaia she didn’t know, as it was probably better that she prayed to a god in this world rather than one who had never answered her pleas in the world she had come from.