Chapter 4
Evangeline
It all happens so quickly the moment The Guardian swoops me up in the air and flies me—with his real-life wings—to his house. My eyes were closed the entire time, but it was still the scariest experience of my life.
When my feet finally hit the plush earth, and Ender’s arms around me vanish, I nearly cry in relief.
I’ve never been happier to have my feet planted firmly beneath me.
My stomach churns from the abrupt landing, and the breakfast of French toast and bacon from this morning threatens to come up.
I knew I should have opted for something bland and boring.
“You look pale, Ms. Ward,” The Guardian remarks like one would comment on the weather. There’s no true concern in his voice. If anything, he sounds put out—like throwing up on his lawn would be a big inconvenience to him. Jerk.
I don’t humor him with a response. Instead, something he says earlier comes back to me, piquing my curiosity. “What do you mean by husbands? Was that just a slip of the tongue?”
The Guardian turns his back to me and starts stalking toward the wrought iron arch covered in vines in the middle of a small but lush garden.
Flowers, many I don’t recognize, bloom and sweeten the air with their smell.
“If you’re asking me if I made a mistake, no.
I rarely make mistakes. I learned from my biggest ones centuries ago. ”
“Okay…” I draw out the word, puzzled. There’s a story there, and if I thought The Guardian was the talkative sort, I’d definitely ask him about it. But, as it is, he hardly seems interested in having a conversation now. “Then, did you really mean—”
“Yes, Ms. Ward. Two husbands. King Niko and his mate, King Zephyr,” he cuts me off, stopping just shy of the arch. Again, he holds his hand out, and my body stiffens, hoping he doesn’t plan on taking flight with me again. No doubt I would throw up this time.
“How is that possible? Won’t they be upset that I’m going to marry an already married man?”
The only sign of The Guardian’s frustration is the subtle narrowing of his eyes.
From my limited encounters with him, I’ve noticed he rarely betrays emotion.
He wears a mask of cold detachment, one that time has undoubtedly perfected.
It must be a lonely existence to always appear composed, untouched by emotion, and separate from others.
In my experience, those who shroud themselves in isolation often carry a burden of pain and guilt so heavy, they believe solitude is their only penance.
Which begs the question, what egregious crime is he punishing himself for?
“The fae don’t have the same…conservative views on relationships as most humans do. They often take multiple mates, and it is not seen as taboo, as it is here. This was all detailed in the contract, Ms. Ward,” he lectures like a teacher disappointed in a student for not doing the assigned reading.
I did read it, though…mostly. There was a lot to it, and my focus was, and still is, on leaving Grym Hollow. This was the only way I knew how.
Even if that apparently means I’ll be dating two men.
I can barely handle one, having failed relationship after failed relationship.
Eventually, I just stopped dating and focused on myself.
So, how in the hell will I be able to marry multiple?
Do we all marry at the same time? Sleep together?
Oh, hell, do we all have sex together too?
Nope, not going down that road. Not yet.
“Now come, the hour grows late, and your presence is expected.” Turning his back on me, The Guardian waves his hand over the arch.
At first, nothing happens. Then, a thin, milky film forms, distorting the view behind it.
“Let’s go.” He reaches for my hand. I have enough time to tighten my grip on my suitcase before he pulls me forward and we step through the arch together.
My body feels like it’s stretching and pulling apart before winding back together.
If it hurts, my brain doesn’t register it because it happens so fast. One moment, we are in the small garden in The Guardian’s backyard, and then suddenly we stand in a lush forest, full of vibrant colors and trees as tall as skyscrapers, making me feel insignificant and small.
I wonder if this is how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole.
She probably didn’t feel as nauseated as I do now.
The breathtaking beauty of this world fades in an instant as bloodcurdling screams shatter the silence.
A chill clings to the air, turning sharp and unforgiving, while the clash of metal against something heavy—flesh, bone, or armor—reverberates through the open expanse.
The towering trees tremble under the weight of an unseen force, their swaying limbs offering no refuge from the dread slithering through the forest. Slithering through me.
A cold knot of fear coils in my chest. The sensation is unmistakable, suffocating, and all-consuming.
This isn’t just danger. It’s something worse.
Maybe even something evil. A harbinger of death lurks in the shadows, and it’s closer than I dare to admit.
Suddenly, I feel like I’ve made a grave mistake.
“What is going on? What’s happening?” In my panic, I stumble back and hit the hard, solid chest of The Guardian. He feels as strong as a boulder, which provides me a semblance of comfort right now.
Before he can speak, the ground shakes violently.
A murder of crows caws and takes off from their perch in the tree.
The tree precariously tilts from one side to another before an audible crack sounds, sending it crashing down to the forest floor.
Anything that could take down a tree of that magnitude not only has to be exceptionally large, but strong as well.
“I hoped this wouldn’t be the case,” he murmurs from behind me.
I whirl around to see The Guardian staring into the forest. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Exactly that, Ms. Ward. I rarely say things I don’t mean,” the insufferable man says.
I don’t have a chance to respond because a loud, ear-piercing shriek fills the air. The trees part as if they, too, are afraid of the creature walking out. Nothing could prepare me for the monstrosity that emerges from the darkness.
Towering and gaunt, its obsidian flesh seems to be made from darkness, and its sinewy form exudes an aura of malevolence.
Tattered black wings stretch wide, each ragged feather whispering of forgotten horrors.
Once, they may have been impressive to stare upon, similar to The Guardian’s, but now they are in ruins.
Its eyes glow like embers in the night and bore into my very soul, a gaze that carries the weight of endless suffering. As it steps forward, its clawed fingers flex, digging into each tree it passes, clearing its own path.
This is no mere beast. This is an omen of ruin and destruction. A monster.
And to that, I say, fuck no.
Closer and closer the creature comes. I scream, true fear taking hold of my body and immobilizing me.
The Guardian still has not moved from behind me, and I can’t help but think this is how I’ll die.
Fate is a fickle bitch. I thought I escaped mine by leaving Grym Hollow, but death has followed me here too.
“Do not fear, Ms. Ward,” The Guardian says.
Despite the situation, a laugh bursts from the depths of my soul. “Do not fear, my ass! Are you seeing the same damn thing I’m seeing?”
As if knowing we are talking about it, the creature stalks forward, reminding me of a demon that has clawed its way from Hell and is here to seek revenge.
The solid mass behind me suddenly shifts as The Guardian moves in front of me.
The creature stops in its wake, peering down at the horned man with something akin to confusion in his expression.
They stare at each other, and suddenly I no longer know who is the more formidable foe.
The Guardian exudes a dominating presence that would send any weaker man to his knees, but the creature in front of me seems capable of holding its own in a fight.
My heart beats rapidly in my chest, waiting for the next move.
Then the creature does something I don’t expect. It bows its head in what I can only call submission, then turns slowly, like it's unsure if this is the right move. As if the nightmarish monster was never there in the first place, it disappears back in the thicket of trees.
“What the fuck?” I try not to cuss normally. My mama would have read me the riot act, despite my grown age. Though even my strait-laced mother would understand my slip-up. I doubt her reaction would be any different from mine.
The Guardian turns with a solemn look on his face. It’s the most emotion I have seen from him, and it gives me pause.
“Are you okay?” I find myself asking. There are a million and one other questions I would rather ask, but I feel compelled to check in on his drastic change.
True to form, though, The Guardian is quick to school his face into the emotionless armor he’s perfected. “I must leave you now, Ms. Ward.”
It feels as if he’s punched my stomach and stolen my air. I gasp for breath, to make sense of it all.
“Leave? Now?” My words are barely audible as panic threatens to take over completely.
“You can’t leave me out here defenseless!
I’ll die. Take me home. I don’t want this anymore.
Take me home!” I scream, drawing more attention to myself than is smart.
But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters if he plans on leaving me here on my own to fend for myself.
“This is the path you are supposed to be on. Interference from me will only hinder everything the others have worked so hard on.”
This man talks in riddles, like I should know exactly what he means without him having to paint a picture for me. “Hinder what? Who has worked on?”
Again, he ignores me, looking off at something behind me. But when I glance over my shoulder, nothing but more forest stretches out as far as the eye can see.
“I’m haunted by the past,” The Guardian whispers so softly, I nearly miss his words.
I snap my head back around, a question on the tip of my tongue, but he speaks before I can.
“I cannot take you back now. Your contract is final. I wish I could lead you to the fae kings, but circumstances won’t allow it. I must get home.”
“How the hell do you expect me to defend myself? What am I to do?” Angry tears threaten to roll down my cheeks.
But the damn man won’t even glance at me. Instead, he gestures at my suitcase. “I’m sure you have something in there that can defend you.”
Is this man serious?
“What do you propose I use? My bra as a slingshot, or maybe my giant pot as a hammer?”
The Guardian doesn’t pick up on my sarcasm because he nods. “Inventive. That will serve you well here.” He then does the thing with his hand again, waving it in the air. The same shimmery veil appears. This bastard is really going to leave me alone in a strange new world.
“Wait!” I scream, begging for him to hear. Begging for him not to leave me stranded here. But he ignores my pleas like the heartless monster he scared away. He doesn’t even look back as he crosses the threshold, leaving me truly and completely alone in a strange, monster-infested world.