CHAPTER NINETEEN
Charlotte
Even bundled in Mary’s fur-lined woolen cloak and clasped tight to Alad’s chest, ice cuts at my very bones. I try to turn my face into his body to avoid the chill air and damp mist as we enter the clouds, but my lashes freeze all the same.
After much argument, Alad agreed to take me with him. I won’t complain now of the conditions. He did warn me.
Another shiver shakes me to my core. My feet are about to fall off like icicles from an overhanging roof in winter.
Sensing my distress, Alad clucks. “We’re not too far, only twenty-five hundred miles.”
“Twenty-five hundred miles!” My brain instantly tries to fit the distance into train travel, which, as everyone knows, is the fastest method of conveyance. Even at an estimated twenty miles per hour, we’ll be flying for days.
“Once we cross the channel, we’ll fly over land again, but I promise, whenever I spot an uninhabited place, I’ll drop lower and fly faster to make up for the distance.”
“How fast are we traveling now?”
He smiles. “Faster than a conveyance in your time. There’s also my magick. Once we reach land, I’ll compress the distance to place the edges of Uruk closer.”
“Is lower warmer?” I ask, shaking so hard my words are chopped into incoherent sounds.
His only answer is to gather me closer, but sure enough, once we lower, I freeze less. Alad’s core heat acts like a fire, especially when he rubs my feet, although that leaves me hanging from only one of his hands.
I trust him not to drop me. Probably.
The sea is beautiful beneath us. We skim along, and I start laughing as he trickles the toes of my boots just over the choppy waves before swooping upward. He’s like a little boy, suddenly freed from restraint.
Too soon, our fun ends as another swathe of land begins. Once more, we ascend into the clouds. “I prefer traveling over water,” I gripe, despite my best intentions.
“Hold tight. And… a bit of magick.”
I gasp as the world around me compresses before reassembling.
“Only a bit longer. According to the map that Lord Peterson showed me, we should be nearly at the Id-Ugina. The Euphrates. We’re passing over a bend in the river now.” He pauses. “It looks very different to what I remember.”
I can’t bear to look down to see. Flying isn’t something I enjoy, despite the fun of skimming along the water.
“Desert. This whole area is devoid of life. How, when Uruk once thrived on its water? So many trees and flowers in rich, dark soil. Crops as far as the eye could see. Freshwater reed marshes. Where are the hundreds of canals that connected the greater rivers and villages to the palace and temple? W-where’s Gil’s palace?
It should overlook the river from a high point, closer than the religious square, which means… ”
“It’s been a long time, Alad,” I say softly, unburying my fingers long enough to stroke them over his cheek.
“But Inanna the Beautiful is as vain as she’s lovely. Her city was built to worship her. How can it all be gone?”
The sorrow in his voice makes me want to cry. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”
He bows his head to nuzzle into my palm.
I feel the connection even through my gloves.
When he lifts his head, he sighs. “I’ll find my way.
I spent decades here. Not everything can have changed.
” But he frowns as he overlooks the landscape below.
Circling, he pops in and out of the cloud cover, not wishing to be spotted, his eyes searching.
“We should descend. I think we’ll fare better on land. ”
Since I’m far more comfortable on the ground than in the sky, I don’t disagree.
The air, as we cycle downward, warms quickly. By the time we land upon a brown hillock of dirt, I’m overheated. I unclasp my cloak and allow it to drop to the rocky outcrop upon which we stand. There’s nothing but sand until the snake of a river breaks the endless brown not too far in the distance.
He called it a blue river. All I see is a slightly darker shade of brown.
Between us and the river stands a collection of mud and reed homes shaped like opened bumbershoots, though narrower. But just a London block from them into the sands, we’re alone.
“Those same houses lined the Blue River when I lived here,” Alad says, pointing.
“Well, not the same ones, but the same type. They dotted the floating islands among the reed marshes and canals.” A long sigh escapes him.
“I wish you could see the beauty and peace of what was, Charlotte. The air smelled fecund, as if the land yearned to be fruitful. The breezes blew warm over the waters. Everything was so lush. Not like this, all baked and stilted.”
I slip my hand onto his neck, though I have to reach high to do so. He’s on four lion paws now, the size of a very large horse. His claws dig into the scorched earth.
“I wish I could see it, Alad.”
This world is unbelievably different from England.
I knew from books that it would be. I’ve seen watercolors, even the occasional photograph, but I never dreamed of the sensations caused by dry, arid heat rising through my boots or the wind whipping my hair with hot fingers. What must his world have been like?
One of his paws changes to a hand and he clasps it over his chest. “There’s so much pain. Here. Like a thousand daggers, stabbing me.”
Of course there’s pain. Everything around him is a reminder his world is gone. Even me. “You miss Uruk. You’re homesick. That’s natural.”
“Yes. I’m homesick. Sick for my home.” His hand becomes paw again and drops to the baked earth.
“I longed for nothing but a world away from the palace, but I never imagined I would be forever parted from my life. My people. My geography and culture.” He scratches at the dirt, sniffs it, before demanding my gaze.
“If I find a way back to my time, would you come with me?”
“Would I…?” I can’t even finish the question.
“Never mind,” he says quickly, turning his head away. “I likely won’t have a choice.”
“No. Wait.” My fingers tap a message on his hide.
I don’t know what the message says, though I’m the one providing it.
I gaze around at the barren wasteland. But it would be wet.
There would be water everywhere, he said.
I could meet gods. I could meet Gilgamesh, the hero of The Epic.
I’ve been mad for Assyriology most of my life.
I’ve attended exhibitions and lectures. I’ve read books. I’ve dreamed.
There would be magick.
And he would be there. Plus, who would miss me, really? Mary? Maybe my absence would provoke her into marriage. She should have been wed years ago. If her father and mother weren’t somewhere on this very slice of land right now, they would have seen to it.
I stare into the eyes of the monster I love. “It doesn’t matter where we live, so long as I can be with you.” Because that’s the truth.
“More ‘whenever,’ I’m afraid.” He smiles, and his features lose their tightness. “I love you so much, Charlotte. Even Paradise would pale without you.”
“But if you can’t get back?”
“I’ll be more than content in Baimstree-on-Bath. I promise.”
We share a kiss. The kiss heats. I’m envisioning spreading my cloak so he can show me more of what his wings and tail can do, though admittedly, I’m sore from the numerous times we’ve already found bliss, when he pulls back and lowers to his belly.
“Spread the cloak over my back and climb on. I’m going to avoid inhabited areas, but I’ll better see what I’m looking for nearer the river. I know my land. I know the position of the sun at different hours and how shadows fall. I’ll know.”
Mounting isn’t easy, especially as I don’t want to bruise his sensitive wings. My skirts are impossible. I can’t find enough momentum.
I’m just considering taking a running jump when his tail winds around my waist. Suddenly, I’m lifted into the air—before I’m plopped down on his back.
“I’ve got you, but put your arms around my neck, just in case. I intend to move fast.” He suddenly laughs. “I’ll try not to arouse you too much.”
Before I can respond, he leaps forward. Once more, wind rushes around me, only this time, it’s hot as the desert sun.
With his tail keeping me in position, balancing becomes less of an issue.
He runs so fast, everything around me blurs.
His powerful haunches piston, the muscles along his back clenching and elongating.
And between my thighs… oh, between my thighs, stars are forming. Before he slows to a walk, I’ve orgasmed twice from the friction.
“Happy?” he murmurs as he studies the line of thatched houses we’re approaching.
“Weak-kneed.”
A low rumble spreads up his throat, part growl, part male contentment. “I hope you’re not too sore for my tongue later.”
Just the thought of his versatile tongue makes my core clench.
Suddenly, he stops. “Here, I think. I usually view the river from the eastern bank, but…” He shakes his head. “I thought I would know the place by instinct. I’m sorry, Charlotte.” A wealth of defeat colors his voice. From the side profile he shows me, an elegant frown mars his brow.
“Should we ask someone?”
He bends around and kisses my knee. “Wise of you to bring a change of clothing for me. Here. Can you manage?” His legs bend, and he sinks to the ground.
Slipping off is easier than mounting, especially with his tail wrapped around my waist, taking the majority of my weight.
Once I’m safe on the ground, he transforms into his human guise.
The sacks he’s carried beneath his wings are filled with bread, cheese, and a leather container of water, but they also contain a simple white shirt, brown trousers, and boots—the change of clothes for him that Lord Peterson advised.
“While I’m naked…”
Additional heat sweeps up my cheeks. “Are you trying to postpone finding your friend?”
But Alad doesn’t answer as he shimmies into his garb. Perhaps my blind barb struck too close to home. “Leave your heavier clothing here. We’ll pick the garments up after we find Gilgamesh.”