by Julie Hall
I could no longer tell myself it had been a fake, just a necessary ploy to distract our enemies. He had returned my affections and turned it from something necessary to something gentle and sensual and beautiful I would never forget. And then there was the care he’d taken with me in the moments that followed.
The kiss had started it all. The axis of our relationship had shifted and remained tilted ever since.
I opened my eyes, not realizing I’d closed them in the first place. My fingers rested lightly on my lips, as if they still experienced the tingling sensation his had left behind.
Was that what he had intended with his gift? To remind me of that day? And if so, to what end? What was he trying to tell me?
Did he think of that day? Perhaps as often as I tried not to?
Or did it mean nothing at all?
“Agh.” I threw the shell across the room in frustration. It hit the back cushion of the couch and bounced once on the seat before falling safely to the floor. Bear, shocked out of his slumber, tumbled to the ground. Getting to his feet, he shook himself vigorously, glared his disapproval, and lumbered off to jump on the bed, taking up as much space as possible in revenge.
But I didn’t care.
I was too disgusted with myself. I’d turned what was most likely meant to be a fun gift into a declaration of feelings. I couldn’t blame Logan for my agitation.
The blame lay at my own feet. My own inability to shake him from my heart. That door had been closed. Shut tightly, and I was moving on. I had Jonathon, who was great. Seemingly even perfect at times. My own Prince Charming.
Perhaps a little too perfect, but really, could that be counted against him?
No, it most definitely could not. Too perfect, in fact, was going on the top of the list of things I would force myself to find desirable. Yes, I’d start working on that.
Tomorrow.
I chewed my lip. Tonight, and just tonight, perhaps I’d allow my heart to feel what it was aching to feel.
3
A Strange State of Mind
My sword sailed through the air in a perfect arc, hacking clean through the practice dummy I’d already stabbed with daggers and throwing stars. Everything above its lifelike shoulders toppled to the ground with a thud. Its unseeing eyes stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. This one had a short mop of black hair sprouting from its head. I twisted my neck to get a better look at its unchanging facial features.
“Is there a reason the practice dummies look like humans instead of things with distorted limbs and long, spiked tails, or whatever a demon usually looks like?”
“Yes,” Hugo answered calmly from the other side of the room. He fiddled around with the weapons along the wall, picking one up and inspecting it before replacing it somewhere new. I didn’t see much rhyme or reason to his task, but that was Hugo for you. I’d learned to roll with it.
I waited for an answer I apparently would not receive. He hadn’t bothered to spare me a glance.
“O-kay. So, do you know the reason why we practice with human dummies instead of demon dummies?”
“Yes.” He picked up a new weapon and brought it close to his face squinting at the wide blade of the cutlass.
“Care to share?”
“No.” He returned the sword to a different spot on the wall.
What in the world was he doing that for? Was it some OCD thing? Maybe he was arranging everything by size or alphabetical?
Focus Audrey. Completely not the point.
“Fabulous. Well, I’ll just continue to learn to decapitate humans then. You realize I’m having flashbacks of my previous trainer because of your lack of elaboration.”
Hugo turned and flashed his teeth in an amused grin. He hobbled over to me until he invaded my personal space. With only inches separating us, his eyes studied my face, missing nothing. “Perhaps you haven’t given your previous trainer enough credit.”
A whole slew of snappy responses nipped at my lips, but I choked them down. The way Hugo stared at me, albeit full of amusement, was significant. Like he wasn’t just suggesting I hadn’t given Logan enough credit, but was telling me so—in earnest. I lowered my sword, which suddenly weighed more than lead in my hand.
Hugo tilted his head, his smile widening. Satisfied with himself, he turned and teetered off to the other side of the room.
“You know you have this creepy Yoda-like thing going on sometimes,” I called after him when I finally found my voice.
“Where do you think Yoda learned it from?”
“Har, har. Very funny, Master.”
“Yes, I know. I basically invented funny. You know,” he nodded toward the decapitated dummy, “that’s the fourth one this morning. Although I appreciate the vigor with which you are attacking training, I detect you might be pulling motivation from the wrong place. Hmm?”
I tended to be a better fighter when I was angry. Something we were working on changing. Anger was not only a bad motivator, it was a dangerous one. It opened hunters up to sloppiness and had the potential to cause harm to our fellow fighters, as well as one’s self.
I wiped the sweat from my brow with my sword arm. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. I guess.”
He waited for me to go on.
“The thing is I’m not sure why, or even who I’m angry with. Maybe my friends, maybe just myself. I don’t know.” I heaved a sigh in frustration. “Things just got a little . . . weird for me last night. I can’t seem to shake it this morning.”
“Angry at your friends for throwing you a birthday party? Or were the gifts not to your liking?”
“You knew about the party?” Dumbstruck, I blinked several times, then eyed him suspiciously. What did he know about the gifts? I wasn’t about to touch that one with a ten-foot pole.
“But of course, I knew. Who didn’t?” He gave a knowing chuckle.
I arched my brows. If my reclusive mentor had found out about the party, Alrik and Kaitlin had been thorough.
“Seriously? Why didn’t you come then?”
“Oh, I’m far too ancient. I would have made all the youngsters nervous.”
“I doubt you would have even been the oldest one there. Appearances can be very deceiving.”
“That they can be. A very important lesson for sure. But just as important is learning to discern the truth behind the façade. Do you think you’ve mastered that yet?”
His question reminded me of Deborah. On our first meeting, she’d cautioned me to trust the right people and told me that learning to correctly discern motives was going to be important for me. I still hadn’t unraveled that mystery.
Even though Hugo’s tone was light, I detected a serious intent behind his smiles. I gave his question some thought rather than glibly throwing out a joke. And the answer I came up with was unsettling.
“No, I don’t think I have. In fact, the times when I’m most sure I know the truth of a matter have been those when I’ve been the most incorrect.” In a moment of sincerity, I continued, “It’s frustrating, you know? To constantly feel flipped upside down and sideways. I think there are probably very few things I know for sure.”
His expression was gentle. “And what are they?”
“The love of family and friends, I suppose.”
“And what happens when they fail you as well?”
My heart balked at his words. If I couldn’t rely on my friends, what did I have left? “That won’t ever truly happen.” There was a sharp note in my voice, even though I said it to convince myself as much as Hugo.
“But of course, it will. People, even those close to the throne, are not perfect. If you hold your trust and faith in them alone, you can be certain each one will eventually fail you.”
“And you know this because . . . ?” I asked, irritated. His words started an internal earthquake, shaking the only solid foundation I had left. I wanted to tell him to stop talking, but my open-ended question gave him permission to barrel on.
“Because it is written plainly in
Scripture. There is only One you will ever be able to solely put your trust in. The Scriptures tell us not to put our trust in human beings but instead to trust in the Lord with all our heart and lean not on our own understanding. You are to submit all your ways to Him, and He will make your paths straight. And I’m afraid until you allow these truths to be buried in your heart, you will find yourself lost and confused, with growing anger festering inside until it begins to rot.”
I surprised myself with how vehemently I responded. “Oh my gosh. You make it sound like God’s going to lay a curse on me until I believe it.” Forget internal earthquakes, I was headed toward a straight-up freak-out. Is it hot in here, or is it just me about to have a meltdown?
“Not a curse, little one, but discipline from the One who loves you most. Your heart need not be broken over and over if you learn the truth. When you know the teachings in Scripture, you will know the truth and the truth will set you free. Putting your trust solely in the Creator will sort out your issues with discernment.”
“How so?” I looked away from Hugo and kicked a piece of the practice dummy still lying at my feet. An arm. I left the shoulders and head alone—those unseeing eyes creeped me out.
“Because you will be walking in His will and not your own. He will be your guide, and you’ll learn to discern through His filter. God uses all things for good. It doesn’t mean there won’t be trials, but with Him all things are possible. Don’t you realize He’s in the business of mending the broken?”
The question hit me unexpectedly hard. I felt my brokenness about Logan all over again, like jagged edges sticking into my soul. Did I really believe God could mend me?
“The lessons we learn and the growth we experience in our hearts and minds are just as important as the physical training I’m putting you through. In truth, they are even more important, because as you become a better fighter, you will have to fight against your nature, which will tell you that through your own merits you can achieve your goals. But the glory for your victories is not yours to capture. There is One far greater than yourself who has equipped you with everything you need to be successful. The glory should be His alone. And when you surrender to Him, you’ll feel the freedom, peace, and fulfillment you are looking for now.”
I stared at Hugo in awe. His little speech had the potential to completely change my life, but my skeptical nature reared its head. Control of my life was a lot to gamble, and not only that, what he asked of me was hard. It seemed impossible. I didn’t even know where to start.
“It’s a lot to take in, Audrey. It’s okay to be confused. Overwhelmed even. But you aren’t alone. Remember, you are not alone . . . ever.”
I heaved a sigh and gave a slight nod. Hugo returned the gesture, but without his signature smile of approval—almost as if he knew something I didn’t that disturbed him. Like he knew I would take the harder road.
He probably just felt bad that I was such a slow learner.
“I think that’s it for the day.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. By my count we should have at least an hour more of training before I was dismissed.
“Yes, that will do for today.” He turned back toward the weapons wall with a smile on his face. “I believe I spied a gentleman waiting for you out in the hallway. I think we’ve let him wait long enough.”
Logan. I took in a quick breath of air but almost instantaneously swatted the thought from my mind. Of course, it wasn’t him. We hadn’t spoken in weeks, and sightings at the training center were rare. Mostly a back or profile at long distance during lunch, or an awkward, hurried brush past, heads down to pretend we didn’t see each other. No, it couldn’t be Logan.
Jonathon never came to the training center. It was probably Alrik or Kevin wanting to touch base about training.
I headed to the weapons wall to help Hugo put things away. His bent form and slow movements compelled me to lend an extra hand.
“I know what you are doing,” he said as I lifted a sword into place. “You know I’m capable of setting these things right, and I’ve already dismissed you for the day. If I don’t hear the door shutting behind you in under a minute I’m going to be sore with you.”
His voice held authority, and his large gray eyebrows scrunched together, but his serious demeanor was just a ruse to get me moving. “All right, all right, you win. I’m leaving now.”
He nodded and turned back to the wall.
Before exiting, I splashed some water on my face and threw on a hoodie. I’d long since quit caring what I looked like after training, so I didn’t give my appearance any extra thought before leaving.
I opened the gym door slowly and stole a peek down the hall. Jonathon casually leaned against the wall with a single red rose in his hands. I’d always had time to primp for our dates. Seeing two of my worlds collide was strange.
Now I definitely cared what I looked like.
I stole a moment to appraise him while his eyes were trained on the ceiling. With his crisp clothes, clean sandy-brown hair, and warm eyes, he didn’t fit in with the hunter riffraff walking about—tall, sweaty bodybuilder types who, given the proper motivation, could break you in two. Mind you, I did get the impression that under his ironed shirts and formal demeanor, Jonathon would be a worthy opponent if pressed.
I let the door swing shut loudly behind me, and he turned my way with a smile as cute as apple pie. I returned it as he walked my way, then swept me into a large bear hug.
“What are you doing here?” I asked when he set me back down, a little relieved to break contact.
“Do I need an excuse for wanting to see you? This,” he said, producing the long red rose, “is for you. It reminded me of you. A classic beauty who can stand on her own without the frills other flowers may need.”
Blushing, I ducked my head and minded my hair so it didn’t turn a weird shade at the flattery. “Well, I’m not sure I accept your assessment of me, but I will accept the flower. Thank you.”
Jonathon handed me the flower without touching my fingers.
I smelled the wonderful scent of the beautiful rose. “So, is this flower the only reason you’ve been loitering outside my gym?”
“I was hoping you might grace me with your presence for dinner tonight.” Jonathon swept into an over-the-top, joking bow. I’d learned, much to my surprise, that Jonathon was in fact a prince when he was alive—a minor prince of Luxembourg in the 1700s, not set to inherit the throne, but a prince nonetheless.
That had been a jarring discovery. We’d been on our second date when he broke the news. Remembering that conversation always brought an uncomfortable twinge to my gut. His jesting caused the memory to bulldoze my mind.
“So,” Jonathon seemed uncharacteristically nervous. “There’s something I need to tell you, and I’ll admit I probably should have said something sooner. It’s really not a big deal though.”
His sudden nervousness didn’t trigger any alarms because dang, this risotto was delectable. I listened with only half an ear and shoveled another forkful of deliciousness in my mouth. It was several beats before it registered he was waiting for me to respond.
“Oh, right, sorry. What is it you want to tell me?”
“Well you see,” he started. I snuck another bite of my meal while he talked. “You know how people are always making prince jokes around me?”
“Mmhmm.” I nodded because my mouth was full.
“It’s because I am actually a prince. Or rather, was a prince because we don’t really keep our titles here.” His words came out in a rush, as if saying it quickly would lessen their impact.
Gagging noises erupted from my throat as I choked on the food I’d just swallowed.
Jonathon’s eyes widened as I beat on my chest until most of the risotto slid all the way down. I coughed up what went down the wrong tube into my napkin.
I did not just spit up food in front of a flippin’ prince?
This was not happening.
But who springs that anno
uncement on a girl while she’s eating?
“What?” I finally managed to croak out.
The remainder of the date had been a semi-disaster. I hadn’t taken the news well. Jonathon had gone on to explain he didn’t tell me sooner because he was worried it would freak me out—and it kind of had.
In fairytales, sure, dating a prince sounded amazing. In reality, it was a lot of pressure.
Jonathon had spent the rest of the date trying to convince me he was just a regular guy who I shouldn’t think of any differently. The rest of my scrumptious meal went untouched while I processed his elevated Earthly status.
I found out later that my friends had already known.
Benedict Arnolds, every one of them.
They all thought it was hilarious when I told them the story at lunch the following day. Kevin even shot mashed potatoes out of his nose because he had laughed so hard.
I restrained myself from rolling my eyes at the memory alone.
Jonathon and I had quite the age difference, but I tried to keep an open mind about it. No one seemed to take age into consideration here. And it wasn’t like he looked or acted three hundred years old. He rarely talked about that portion of his life, and then only in jest. He worked hard so I wouldn’t be intimidated to date him. It didn’t always work.
My mock curtsey followed. “Why yes, I believe after I freshen up a bit I may be able to acquiesce.”
“Great,” he said, bringing our royal exchange to an end. “May I walk you to the locker room? I can pick you up at your tree later this evening. Say seven thirty?”
“Sounds good to me. The locker rooms are this way. I have to say I’m surprised you figured your way through this maze. Do I need to draw you directions to get out?”
His smile was warm. “Naw, I’m good. I can find my way out.”
Just like a guy to refuse a map.
“Well, when you don’t show up on time this evening, at least I’ll know where to find . . .”
The rest of the words stuck in my throat as a figure approached from way down the hall. I shouldn’t have been able to identify him so quickly, but something in me just knew.
