Chapter 14
Ifought to regain my bearings. He was beautiful, yes, and that look he’d just given me was doing some damage, but I needed to focus.
“Let’s just forget my Smurf makeover for now,” I said.
“Do you think Ian’s father found the Ember during his renovation?
” Ian could’ve used it to travel back. Could’ve gathered the monstra crystals after Andrea killed them, then brought them here and revived them. “Maybe he righted everything his way.”
That still didn’t explain how Ian cloned himself as monstra.
“Perhaps he did,” Jasher said, “but I still think you’re missing something.”
“I think I’m missing a lot of somethings,” I grumbled.
Kevin spoke from within the backpack. “You survived today. That counts for nothing.”
“I love him,” Jasher stated with a grin.
He could win me over with that look alone.
“We weren’t allowed toys as children,” he admitted. “That would’ve encouraged individuality. Individuality was punished. Harshly.” As soon as he realized he’s shared a tidbit about himself, he pressed his lips into a thin line.
Too bad. Information about him was my catnip. I strode to the bag, withdrew the awful toy, and tossed it to Jasher. “Here, he’s all yours. Regifting isn’t allowed.”
Like the coin, he caught the toy with ease, then looked over his new “treasure.”
Watching him, my mind went quiet and my heart shed important defenses, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
This wasn’t attraction, though that was prevalent.
This was…affection. The kind that snuck in while you were distracted.
It lowered your weapons without permission and left you exposed to feelings before you even realized what happened.
Maybe I’d packed the ridiculous toy for this very reason.
Jasher might have been raised by Emma, but he’d never gotten to be a boy.
He’d always been a clone with a purpose.
“I always wanted siblings,” I admitted. He’d shared something about his life; I could do no less. “I struggled to make friends, and I imagined my sisters and brothers would be forced to love me.”
Seconds passed in silence. Then, “They are worth every hardship.”
It was then, that moment, that we both remembered I’d forced him to kill one of his brethren. Tension snapped between us.
With a huff, he returned his attention to the toy. “Say something else, Kevin.”
Kevin obeyed. “You’re doing great. If I’m grading on a curve.”
My Tinman patted his head like a proud papa. “Such a good boy.”
I sighed and withdrew two stones. “Do you know what these are?”
Jasher cast me the barest glance before refocusing on Kevin. “You’ll have to let me examine them.” Bored tone.
A little too bored? Should I trust him? He did want to find the Ember.
“Maybe later.” I’d think about it. I returned the stones to the bag and withdrew the crumpled note, reading it again.
Kangaroos invade lava libraries. Mangoes adopt lost kittens; oceans moo. Ostriches rehearse. Donuts invent eclipses.
A code, yes. It must be. But what kind?
With a sigh, I tossed it back in and—gasped. The journal. Though I’d thrown it in a fire pit, it now occupied the same pocket as before, completely unharmed.
Breathing deep, I clutched the leather binding close. “How?” I asked it. Then I glanced at the crackling hearth and wondered…
Could the journal not be burned?
Maybe I should sit down and read while I had the chance, but curiosity got the better of me. If it had returned once; it might do so again, like Jasher’s axes. I needed to know. Needed to see how the pages reacted to flame.
Determined, I marched over, tossed the precious tome into the hearth, and watched.
“That could’ve gone worse,” Kevin said.
“Agreed,” Jasher replied. “I admit, I didn’t expect it.”
I floundered. The journal was absorbing the flames. Within seconds, the hearth no longer crackled. Only wood and ashes remained, the book resting unharmed atop the smoldering pile.
“That is…deeply unsettling.” I trembled as I freed the treasure from the rubble. Hot to the touch but not blistering. Pages untouched by the heat. There wasn’t even a streak of soot on a single page.
“Another unexpected twist.” Jasher examined it with new intensity. “It is as heat resistant as the monstra.”
Dazed, I glided to the bed and eased upon the foot.
“Did you lie before? Is there magic in this land?” I traced my fingertip over the journal’s weathered cover.
The leather, once rich and supple, had faded to a deep, earthy brown, as if darkened by age and use.
Intricate embossing, now softened by centuries of handling, decorated the edges, depicting swirling vines.
A tarnished metal clasp, adorned with a delicate engraving, secured the secrets within.
“I may be many terrible things, Moriah,” Jasher replied, flipping the coin once again, “but I’m not a liar.”
Spoken with such conviction, I couldn’t help but believe him. I slid my gaze to him and jolted. He’d set Kevin aside and now watched me, smoldering.
“There’s no magic in this world,” he reiterated. “Ask anyone.”
“But how did the book find me when I’d burned it?” I petted the journal’s cover and remembered how the hat had continually returned to me. “How did it eat those flames?”
“It’s marked, unbound by time or circumstance,” he said slowly. “Like my axes.”
“By who? What? How?”
His jaw tightened. “By you. The journal, not my axes. Mine were marked by someone else.” He said no more.
“Who?”
He flicked his tongue over an incisor. “Someone who aids Ian. I cannot speak the name.”
Interesting phrasing. “You are forbidden to speak their name, but you can give away your commander’s secrets without issue?” Not buying it.
“Believe it or not, princess, I want the time loops stopped, too.”
All right. I’d let go of the “mark.” For now. “Did Ian start the loops?” I asked point blank.
“Not to my knowledge. And since we’re speaking plainly: I think you started it. I have my suspicions about why.” His own shadow grew behind him, snuffing out any light. “Desire is involved. The kind that breaks worlds.”
Want something—or someone—bad enough and boom, time loop? “I might, perhaps, desire you, despite how cruel you’ve been,” I admitted with a grumble. Because wanting him wasn’t the danger. Trusting him was. “But I didn’t kick off the loops.”
His pupils expanded over his irises. “Are you sure? You might, perhaps, be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
” Each word sounded dragged through clenched teeth.
“Resourceful. Stubborn. Witty. Charming when you wish to be.” He stabbed his fingers through his hair.
“And I might, perhaps, very much want to see you dance again. A desire that continues to grow. Soon, it might be strong enough to bridge worlds.”
My next breath seared my throat. I almost set the book aside. Almost stood and glided to him. Longed to crouch before him and exchange words for actions.
I forced myself to stay put. “I danced for you?”
“Only once that I’ve recalled. But that was enough.” His gaze dropped to my lips, and his smolder turned into a slow, consuming blaze. He lowered his lashes, dark crescents shadowing the heat in his eyes. “It was glorious.”
Shivers rippled through me, strings of control pulling taut. Look away, look away. He was playing a game, flirting to win our private war. Something. Anything but what it felt like: falling in love again.
“Fate says be brave. Monsters say be crunchy,” Kevin announced from his perch.
“Shut up, Kevin.” I avoided looking at Jasher. “If I’m going to find the Ember you hope to steal, I should read.” I also had plans A, B, C, and D to plot out.
Ignore the disappointment in his expression. Read.
I dropped my gaze to the journal, flipped to the back and wrote my silly code. Mangoes. Donuts. Was this a recipe? Libraries. Oceans. Was I supposed to go somewhere? Avoid somewhere? Eclipses. A certain time?
I hated Past Me.
I flipped to the middle and paused on Mom’s artwork. A stray thought hit like a baseball bat. Did she know Oracle Rye had left Kansas without her? She must.
Talk about a knife straight to the heart. How betrayed she must feel. Angry with me. Hurt. Or had she puzzled out who I was by now? Oracle Rye, her daughter. Maybe Daddy had admitted the truth.
“I’ve never seen you concentrate so hard,” Jasher said.
Ignore him.
My precious daughter,
Queen Elowen granted me the rare honor of reading a letter penned by her ancestor, Andrea. It was meant for Morris alone and proves beyond all doubt that the husband and wife loved each other with a devotion history could not quantify.
Allow me to share what I now believe happened.
Morris once worked in the mines of Emerald, chasing a treasure from his wife’s world.
The Ember, brought with Andrea in a storm.
The two were separated, and Morris wanted, more than anything, to find it for her.
To quell her fear of what might happen if other beings from her world ever arrived.
But only a few weeks into his search for the Ember, the cave collapsed. Soon after, the monstra came.
Hmm. The monstra came from beneath the mountains, but only after its collapse. Had they been trapped inside, but freed in the aftermath?
And what were the odds that Morris could face two collapses? First the mountain, then the catacombs.
“Moooriiiiahhhh,” Jasher called, drawing out the syllables in my name, all enticement and suggestion, hoping to lure me back into conversation.
Heat spilled across my cheeks. I rubbed the aching spot in the center of my chest and forced my focus on the pages before me.
Andrea felt in her bones that Morris still lived.
That’s why she wrote the letters. To tell him she would fight her fear without the Ember.
How she longed for the future they had imagined for their family.
How, if she failed to find him, she wanted him to know she never stopped searching.
Then she set out for the mountain where he had mined, determined to save him or die trying.
That’s where her letters ended. As Morris’s journals prove, she did find him. But I’ve discovered no reference to their child, who must have survived. Otherwise, there would be no water maidens here today. Unless others came as Andrea did. Elowen says either option is possible.
I believe Andrea found the Ember on her journey. I just wish I knew where she left it. Or how she and Morris wielded its power.
Did it truly come from another world, swept in through a storm? What is it, in truth? What does it do? Elowen doesn’t know or won’t say.
All excellent questions. Did it come from another world? How many worlds were out there? For most of my life, I’d thought one. Now I knew there were at least two.
“Moriah.”
So little remains recorded. I would swear someone deliberately stripped our chronicles of every clue that mattered. But why do that and condemn us all?
I’m still missing something. A truth just beyond my reach. But I have searched every corner of this kingdom, from mountain to sea, temple to ruin. Even the water maidens have scoured the ocean floor and found nothing.
Now I wonder. Have we searched amiss? Asked the wrong questions? If only I could go back and talk to them. King Morris and his Andrea. Though they are but dust and memory now, they hold the answers I seek.
Part of me wants to go back. Perhaps I can. I’m told there is a water maiden able to bend time. But no. You keep my eyes fixed firmly on the future.
If ever the day comes and you are standing where I am now, drowning in mysteries with no lantern to guide you, remember that you are not alone. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow, I walk beside you. Beyond death, beyond time, beyond eternity.
All my love,
Your father
I hugged the journal to my chest and closed my eyes. Wow. Such devotion to his unborn child. But shocker: Ahav himself had considered time-travel. With the help of a water maiden, no less.
I called forth the mental image of Elowen. The one where she had gripped my hand, smiled, and helped me stand. As I studied it, ribbons of affection unfurled. At some point, I had trusted and loved her.
But could she bend time? Digging…
A sudden commotion shattered my bubble of concentration. Startled, I searched for the source of the disruption.
Breath lashed at my lungs. Jasher. He moaned in pain and writhed on the floor, eyes squeezed tight, jaw clenched, wings rippling. His chain clinked as he moved.
With a leap, I dropped the journal on the bed and rushed over. At his side, I sank to my knees and pressed my hand against his brow. No fever. No signs of shifting or poisoning—
A hard hand gripped my wrist. His eyelids popped open, and he yanked me to the floor. A humiliating squeak burst from me as cold, hard stone met my back…and a sizzling hot man rose above me.
Jasher’s sultry grin made a new appearance. He radiated delight. “Now then,” he purred. “Let’s continue our chat.”