Two Worlds of Oblivion

by Angelina J. Steffort

  “Your Royal Highness,” Goran gasped and moved closer, one hand reached out toward her as if he wanted to take hers and shake it the way politicians did to thank their coalition partners. But he stopped as he noticed it was probably not appropriate in Allinan court protocol to simply grab a royal’s hand.

  Maray attempted a smile and found Goran’s face brighten up as she managed.

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am, Your Royal Highness,” Goran said and bowed instead of touching her, and he looked oddly comical as he did, his uniform unbuttoned at the top, collar drenched in sweat, hair sticking to his head. But his posture and his movement were nothing if not impeccably graceful like all of the guards’. “How can I ever repay you?”

  Maray pretended to consider, strength returning into her limbs, and pushed herself down from Pete’s arms, and he pulled his hands back the second her feet were safely on the ground. “How about getting me out of here alive?” she suggested, and with a tiny smile—the hidden grin of a winner—she eyed the two men who were now standing closely beside each other, the backs of their hands touching as if accidental. She had made it happen—even if she had no clue how, she had. She had healed Goran. And she had put herself, stupidly and recklessly, in danger by doing so. Her grin morphed into a trembling set of lips as she struggled to keep a composed face. If Corey was here, she would probably yell at her for using magic without practice, and she’d have every right to do so. And Jemin… He would be burning her with the bright-blue fire behind his irises and punishing her lack of thinking with his withdrawal of any sign of emotion. “Please,” she said and clutched her hands in front of her chest, eager to hold on to something… anything. “Get me out.”

  Pete and Goran exchanged one look then simultaneously bobbed their heads. “This way, Your Royal Highness.” Pete started walking and was just about to pass her when a voice she’d hoped she’d never hear again made all three of them turn into stone where they stood.

  “Where do you think you are going?” Maray didn’t need to turn around to recognize her evil doppelgänger-grandmother’s voice, but she forced herself out of her stone like state. It was better to see the devil coming than to let her club your head from behind.

  Rhia still looked old. Older than she had when she had commanded the guard couple to escort her to this torture room.

  “As far away from you as I can get.” Maray was surprised at how steady her voice rang in the small room. What didn’t surprise her was Rhia’s reaction at her defiance.

  “Oh my sweet, sweet girl,” the aged doppelgänger said with a belittling gesture of her hand and a curved smile, which gave Maray the shivers, “you didn’t honestly think you could escape me twice.”

  Behind Maray, Goran and Pete unfroze, both of them stepping to her sides like bodyguards. It was a wordless menace that followed them as they took a protective stance on each side, hands on their swords.

  “Look at you,” Rhia commented, “You have made some friends.” She glided forward in a graceful step away from the threshold and close enough to punch her in the face. God knows, Maray’s hand was itching to try. “What a lucky girl you are.”

  Maray snorted a nervous sound of anxiety and newly-found bravery.

  “The Princess is under our protection,” Pete made clear and drew his sword, Goran mirroring his move, and squared his shoulders.

  “Interesting.” Rhia paced in slow motion from side to side, measuring the two guards. “You would lay down your lives for a girl you don’t even know.”

  Maray could sense how the woman was trying to undermine the men’s changed loyalty, and she knew that they would die, this time for sure, if they didn’t step down. It cost her all her strength not to scream at Rhia. But there were two people in this room with her who were innocent in this. Even if they had acted on Rhia’s orders when they had brought her to this room, they had no intention of harming her now.

  “If there is one thing we know,” Pete spat at the queen, “it is that the Princess is pure of heart. She is a princess Allinan should get to know, and they will see exactly that—” He gave Rhia a long cold glare, “—that there is an alternative to a deceptive, inaccessible, evil, and vindictive monarch.”

  “Evil? Vindictive?” Rhia repeated. “And how would a meaningless palace guard like you know that about me?” She stopped right in front of Pete, ignoring his sword, which he was clutching in his hand more like something to hold on to rather than a weapon to defend himself. “You know nothing.” Her nostrils flared like she were an attacking stallion. “Nothing!”

  Pete shrank back, paling at the queen’s verbal strike. On Maray’s other side, Goran’s facial color darkened, and for a moment, she thought he would have another heart attack, but it was the anger that he had been biting back.

  “Not quite nothing,” Goran disagreed, not at all in a tone that would match his crimson neck but a dangerously quiet one. “The palace doesn’t sleep. And word has been spreading—of you, Your Majesty,” he used her title as if he was cutting into ice with a scalpel, “and your endeavors to destroy your own heirs. Of denying Allinan the joy of learning about Princess Laura’s daughter.”

  Rhia laughed as if he had just made the funniest of jokes. “You think these are my worst crimes?” Her head cocked to the side as she passed Maray to stare Goran directly in the eye. “I highly suggest you return to your duties and strap my granddaughter to the bed before you get to know the real me.”

  “The real you?” The words burst out of Maray. “You mean, the real you that kills people by the touch of her hand, or the real you that conspires with demons to bring them back into Allinan? How about the real you who held her own daughter as a prisoner just because of her blood?”

  Rhia stared her in the eye, lapis-lazuli hitting lapis-lazuli, both sides hard as the gem-stone and unwilling to give in.

  “You are a child, Maray. You know little of the dangers of these worlds. And I have offered you the chance to rule by my side, to learn from me, and together we could achieve greatness. But you declined.” Rhia, in one quick motion that belied the physical age she looked, locked Maray’s arm into a painful grasp and, before either of the guards could react, started dragging her toward the back of the room.

  Maray tumbled after her, unable to free herself no matter how much she writhed.

  “Let go of me,” she gasped between unsteady steps, but Rhia didn’t loosen her hold.

  From the corner of her eye, Maray noticed Pete and Goran’s shapes launching themselves at the queen, and as they came into plain sight, they sagged to the ground as if struck on the head. Rhia’s metallic laughter paved the way between the motionless men as she pulled Maray the last few strides to the bed.

  Maray’s feet didn’t catch the floor for long enough to even try to stand her ground. Instead, Rhia uprooted her with surprising strength and threw her on the Cornay bed. Maray’s head turned from side to side while her legs and arms pushed and kicked in an aimless attempt to free herself from her grandmother’s hands.

  “Hold still, Maray. It will all be over soon,” Rhia said in a tone that might have been soothing had the queen not been trying to kill her.

  She had to think. Rhia wasn’t going to negotiate. The time for talking was over. Magic. She could use magic. Fire. Even if she herself would die in the flames, as long as Rhia died alongside her, it might be worth it in order to save Allinan. She reached into her mind, trying to focus, but she couldn’t manage one clear thought. Everything was a blur until she finally gave up in order to keep up her fighting, to keep her limbs moving so Rhia couldn’t catch them in the straps.

  “You are not doing yourself a favor, child,” Rhia commented as if she cared. “It’s just a needle or two. Nothing too bad. You won’t even feel half of it the moment I hook you up.”

  “You are not sticking anything into me,” Maray screamed. Her hands had balled into fists which were now punching at the heartless monarch until they made contact with her face.

  With
a screech, Rhia let go of her, and Maray rolled off the bed only to hit the floor face-first. She moaned as little stars danced before her eyes. Then, everything went dark.

  Jemin

  Jemin’s knuckles were bleeding. He couldn’t feel the pain any longer, but as he was watching the crimson trickle through the dirt on the back of his hand, he knew it was time to stop. It was no use.

  “I thought, you never gave up,” he said to Heck without humor.

  Heck lifted his head. His olive skin was folding on his forehead as he raised his eyebrows in a brief apologetic glance. “I don’t.” He pushed himself up and propped his shoulder against the iron bars next to where Laura was resting her head on the cold metal that separated the two cells. “Just taking an inspirational break.”

  Laura snorted un-royally.

  “I am not giving up,” he repeated and earned a thoughtful look from the Crown Princess.

  Jemin rubbed his bloody hand in his shirt and frowned.

  “Don’t tell me you are.” Heck pushed away from the iron bars and joined Jemin at the wall he’d been hitting in frustration after rattling at the cell door long enough to make Heck complain about the useless cacophony of bar-music.

  If he was being honest, he might as well give up. It had been more than an hour since the intimidating guards had taken struggling Maray—lovely and fragile Maray—away and forced her to a place he never wanted her: out of his sight.

  “Never.” He folded his arms across his chest, containing the shame that was now spreading as an aftermath of his emotional outburst. “We will find a way out of here.” Mechanically, his glance wandered across the earthy dungeon floor. “If only I had my weapons, I could pry the door open.”

  Jemin’s spine hit the wall uncomfortably as Heck smashed his flat hand onto his chest in a moment of apparent epiphany.

  “Ouch—” Jemin’s voice sounded flat to himself, but not flat enough to smother the sudden grin on Heck’s face as he patted Jemin’s chest once, as if apologizing, “Thank you.”

  Laura, whose tears had ceased and who had been quiet for the past thirty or so minutes, turned her head with interest just in time to see Heck’s hand darting at her hair. Jemin, recovered from the impact on the wall, leapt through the cell, debating whether Heck had gone crazy.

  “Excuse me.” Laura shot Heck a look that made him freeze before he could even touch her.

  Jemin grabbed his friend’s arm. “What are you doing, Heck?”

  “Heck?” Laura repeated just his name, but it was enough to make him respond.

  “Sorry.” He hadn’t lost his grin. “But you have something I need.” He pointed at her falling-apart bun, and Laura’s face brightened in understanding.

  “Of course.” She reached up and extracted a bobby pin. The desperation in her gaze was fading, and instead, there was a spark of hope in her lapis-lazuli eyes—the same blue as Maray’s.

  As she handed Heck the item through the bars, Jemin darted to the door, searching for the lock. “There.” His index-finger found the keyhole. It was a keyhole, but not a normal one. His momentary enthusiasm collapsed. “It’s magical.”

  Heck had joined him, shaking his head as though he wasn’t going to allow what Jemin had figured out to be the truth. “Let me take a look.”

  Heck pushed Jemin aside, and Jemin didn’t object. Every second they were stuck there was a second Rhia had to hurt Maray. They needed to at least try. Maybe no one had sealed the lock with magic. He ground his teeth, avoiding the need to let his emotions escalate again, as he watched Heck tighten his eyes while he reached around the bars and applied the bobby pin to the lock.

  For about a minute, he stood motionless, hope flaring every time he heard a click; and each time, he was disappointed by Heck’s muttered cursing. The helplessness that came with being locked in there while Maray was in danger was worse than the fear for what Rhia had planned for his own fate. Was she already sticking needles into Maray? Was Feris with her? Had the transformation begun, or was she already almighty? And Maray dead? With a sigh, he moved away from the door and paced the cell instead.

  “Anything happening yet?” Laura asked from what seemed far away even though she was just a couple of feet from where Heck was shaking his head.

  It was a magic lock, which meant they needed a physical key and a magic key. “If only we had Corey,” Jemin wished aloud. “She could break us out of here.”

  “Not if Feris fortified the locks.” Laura was watching him with a look of defeat. “We are not getting out of here, Jemin. Not without Scott’s help.” She said the words he had been pushing away from the moment Rhia had walked out of the room.

  Jemin stomped one foot on the ground and felt foolish for considering for even one second that he’d stand a chance against Rhia. Had he just shut up earlier, he’d still be out of the dungeons and able to do something to rescue Maray. Now, he was a useless pawn, dependent on someone else’s mercy or their loyalty, given they were still loyal.

  “Scott is in the other world,” Jemin reminded her. “Making sure your husband doesn’t return.”

  “Or, making sure my husband brings help,” Laura countered, a tiny spark of hope returning to her eyes.

  The clicking in the background stopped. “Corey and Wil are probably on their way,” Heck suggested.

  “Or the guards took them out,” Jemin offered. He clenched his hand into a fist, and the broken skin started bleeding again. “Ouch.”

  “Let me take a look.” Laura reached through the bars, palm open, and waited for Jemin to place his injured hand into hers.

  He hesitated for a brief moment. Then, with a sigh, he let her take a look. “It looks worse than it feels.” He was used to being healed by his bracelet and was annoyed by the discomfort minor injuries could inflict without it.

  Laura gave him a brief smile. “No need to play the hero, Jemin.” She let go of his hand and reached down to rip off a thin band of fabric from the seam of her sleeve. “This will at least protect it.” She wrapped the make-shift bandage around his hand twice and tied it up. Jemin bit back a curse.

  “If it doesn’t help, at least you die with a pretty sash on your hand,” Heck commented with morbid humor, and from Jemin’s mouth escaped a laugh that didn’t at all feel appropriate—

  “No one’s going to die—with or without a sash.”

  All three of them jerked around at the new voice in the room, and Jemin had never been more grateful to see the warlock girl in all his life.

  “Corey!”

  “Shhh—” She shushed Heck with a finger over her lips as he exulted at her appearance.

  Behind her, other figures appeared, one of them recognizably tiny.

  “Seri?” Jemin moved closer to the bars and peered at the shapes. “Neelis? Wil?”

  “Gerwin.” Laura recognized the ambassador with relief. “How did you—?” Gerwin rushed toward the bars in a few quick strides and took her hand from the cold iron. “Did Scott bring you back?”

  “Scott sent me to bring the Yutu-shifters.” Gerwin pointed at the remaining shapes. “And there, I ran into Corey and Wil and—” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes searching the cells for the one person whose absence had been tearing Jemin’s heart apart. “Where is she?” There was panic in the ambassador’s eyes, an expression Jemin had never seen on the diplomat. “Where is our daughter?”

  “Two guards took her away,” Heck said, and Jemin noticed how his friend’s fists clenched. “God knows what Rhia is doing—or has already done—to her.”

  As Gerwin cursed, the rest of the group stepped forward, all of them. Besides the fury in their gazes, they were otherwise inconspicuous, with no sign of Yutu-ness—no shaking, no glimmer in their eyes…

  Jemin thought of the moment in the clearing before Langley had transformed and kidnapped him. These were strong men and women with maybe enough power to rip out those cell-doors in case Corey’s magic wouldn’t do the trick. Was it possible that he could hope? Would he actually get a ch
ance to rush to Maray’s aid before Rhia got her hands on her?

  “Don’t waste any time with explanations,” Jemin urged. “Get us out of here.” He pointed at the lock Heck had been working on and said, “Magic.” It was all he needed to say to let Corey know that she was the only one who would be able to figure out what layer was keeping the lock secured.

  Her dark face appeared before his within a brief second, and she reached out her hand and touched the metal as if she was feeling its temperature. Her black eyes kept staring into his, emptily, until he lost his patience.

  Corey’s sudden frown made it impossible for him to remain his stoic self. “What is it, Corey?” He had trouble refraining from yelling.

  In the other cell, Laura had gone completely silent. Jemin didn’t have the nerve to check left or right. The only thing that mattered was that he was going to get out of there, and this time, he was going to finish what he failed at last time…

  “This is magic I have never seen before.” Corey spoke words Jemin really didn’t want to hear.

  “Impossible.” He shook his head. “You are the most powerful warlock I know.” He refused to believe what she had just said was true.

  “Powerful, maybe.” Corey shrugged light-heartedly, but her face gave away that she was disappointed with herself and as desperate as Jemin himself to find a way to break them out. “That doesn’t mean I am as well trained as I should be after living with Feris all my life.”

  Of course, the court-warlock might have had more secrets than just that he was creating Yutu-shifters. Who knew what else he had kept from his adopted daughter?

  “Try,” Jemin demanded and shrank away from his own voice as he noticed the brief glint of fear in Corey’s eyes. He added, “Please,” then nodded at the lock again. “For Maray.”

  Corey placed her flat hand on the lock and closed her eyes for what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than a few straining heartbeats, then shook her head. “Not opening. I am sorry.”