“She can stay here.” Corey reappeared between the shelves, holding up a set of fresh clothes for Maray. “You can change back there.” She pointed at a wooden door. “Our first priority should be to make you look as inconspicuous as we possibly can with your face.”
Maray scrambled to her feet and took the clothes from Corey’s hand without questioning—anything that would keep her from drawing attention—and followed the direction Corey had pointed.
“‘Thank you, Corey’,” Corey called sarcastically after Maray as she closed the door.
She should be grateful for their help, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that between the three of them, she was on trial for a crime she hadn’t committed.
Behind the door lay a small, tiled room. A basin like in Jemin’s room sat on top of a cupboard, a layer of wet covering its white insides. Her stomach squirmed. She hadn’t eaten or drank since that apricot cake, and no matter how much sugar was in it, it could never be enough to power her through what she was going through.
Hoping to find a tap, Maray examined the basin, but there was nothing there, just the white, ceramic bowl on the wooden surface. She laid in her hand, hoping for something to happen, but the basin remained the same.
Giving up, Maray held up Corey’s clothes and frowned as she saw that it was the same style as the ones Corey was wearing right now. Shiny black pants and a corset-like tank top that didn’t seem fit for November wind. With a frown, Maray slid out of her own jacket, jeans, and sweater, and pulled on what Corey had given her.
The sensation as she slid into the pants was amazing. The fabric hugged her like a second skin, soft as silk, and yet, as she ran her fingers over her thigh, she felt the sturdiness of the fabric. It must be Thaotine. What had Jemin said? ‘Once you feel it, there is no going back’? Something like that—but she understood what he had meant. It was the most comfortable thing she had ever worn.
The shirt, on the other hand, seemed completely wrong on her. Where Corey had a well-built chest to fill the shirt, it hung loosely on her own torso, making her wonder if she would earn a mocking comment from the pretty girl—or Heck. For some reason, she didn’t think Jemin would even notice. With a sigh, she picked up her crimson scarf and slung it around her neck, hoping to hide what she thought was an embarrassing display of her lack of curves.
She scooped up her old clothes and opened the door. “Where can I put these?”
While Corey and Heck exchanged a glance, raising their eyebrows, Jemin pushed away from the cupboard he was leaning against and eyed her with an expression that suggested he was searching for words. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again without a sound escaping in between. Then, he rushed past her to pick up a heap of fabric from a chair.
“Here.” He pushed a cloak like Corey’s into her arms and took her jacket, pants, and sweater in exchange.
Maray slid the black cloak over her shoulders, glad to cover her arms.
“You are staying with Corey tonight,” Jemin ordered and turned without another look at her. “Heck and I need to figure some things out.”
Heck patted her shoulder as he followed Jemin out the door, ignoring Maray’s question of when they’d be back again. “Sleep well.” And the last thing she heard as they left was Heck’s curious voice as he asked, “What was she like?”
The room became loud with silence as she watched the door close behind them, and the sweet scent made her dizzy.
“You should eat something.” The sound of dishes tore Maray from her momentary petrification.
They had actually left her behind with a stranger. Not that Jemin and Heck weren’t strangers, too, but she felt less exposed when talking to them. Corey looked at her like she was exactly what she had named her before—scum.
As Maray turned, she watched Corey walk deeper into the room, gesturing for Maray to follow to a small table on the side between the shelves. Two plates were sitting on the bare wood, one carrying an assortment of cooked vegetables, the other a dark, crusty bread. Maray’s stomach grumbled.
“It’s for you,” Corey commented and sat down on the clear side of the table. “You must be starving.”
Maray hesitated, pondering whether or not Corey would attempt to poison her, but decided as she was starving anyway, she might as well take the risk.
As she sat down, Corey surprised Maray with a grin as she shook her head to herself. “Those boys always bring problems.” She waved her hand in the air as if Jemin and Heck were still there.
“You know them well, don’t you?” Maray picked up a piece of bread and led it to her open mouth, ready to bite.
“Well enough to tell you every freckle on their butts.”
Maray bit the air.
“Not what you think.” Corey reached behind her and pulled out a jar and two glasses.
Maray hid her face behind the bread. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”
Actually, she was. She had noticed both Jemin’s and Heck’s beautiful faces and their well-defined chests under their Thaotine shirts. Different as they were, they both moved with the same grace and strength—one of them with a serious beauty, the other with a light-hearted handsomeness. She wouldn’t blame Corey if she had explored what’s underneath those layers of armor. For a second, she wondered if the sweet scent in the air was all that made her dizzy.
Corey was eyeing her across the table, waiting for her to move past the moment. Her face had changed. The glare, which had been suggesting she was little more than dirt under her shoes, had disappeared.
“Here.” She poured two glasses of water and pushed one of them between the veggie-plate and the bread, watching Maray as she drained it.
“Thank you.” The cool liquid helped her focus.
“Must be interesting,” Corey mused and sipped from her own glass.
Maray finally took a bite of bread and picked up the fork from the veggie-plate. “Interesting doesn’t nearly describe it.”
Corey laughed and got to her feet, light like a cat, reaching behind the shelf, and returned to the table, purple crystal in hand.
“Royalty…” Corey twisted the crystal between her fingers absently, the same way Jemin had. “What’s your story, Maray?”
“I moved to Vienna from Washington D.C. a couple of days ago,” Maray answered truthfully. What was the point of hiding anything? She was sitting in a room with a P.A. to a warlock. Who knew what she was capable of?
Corey listened, her face smooth and ivory, looking not at all like the hot-blooded creature Maray had thought she was dealing with.
“My dad is a diplomat. We moved around a lot when I was little until—” she stopped. Her mother wasn’t a topic she liked to talk about. Not even with her dad. But if Corey was right, and she had royal blood, it might come from her father’s side as much as from her mother’s, “—until my mother left us.”
A streak of sadness crossed Corey’s face before she smoothed over her expression again.
“It’s only now that my dad is finally diving back into his work. It took him five years to get over it.”
“You don’t seem to be over it,” Corey noted and held the crystal out to her. “Here.” Maray put the bread down and took the crystal with her free hand. “This might be the closest thing to your mother you’ll ever see again.”
Corey’s words were like little daggers, sharp enough to push even through Thaotine. It took her a moment to recover, and as she looked up, Corey fashioned an expression that was more suspicious than the disdainful one in the beginning, or the sudden friendliness at the meal.
“You know something.” Maray realized as she studied the depths of Corey’s black eyes.
“I told you ancestry isn’t really my thing.” She shrugged.
“This isn’t about ancestry.” Maray laid down the crystal in her flat hand, holding it up. “You know something about my mother.” For the first time since she’d run into Jemin and he had brought her to this dimension, she felt like she was strong enough to ex
ude fury. These people had torn her out of her world, away from the only family she had left. They had been pushing her around, talking about safety, not trusting her when actually she was the one who should not be trusting any of them. “What do you know?” She lowered her chin and looked up at Corey with a gaze she hoped would burn the girl. “Tell me. Now.”
As she was still speaking, her hand began to tingle. For one second, it wasn’t more than a sensation as if a fly had landed in her palm; the next, her skin felt outright searing with fire.
“Ouch—” She jumped, dropping the crystal as if it was a hot potato. It was sizzling with light in its core. “What’s happening?”
Though she had been upset a second ago, it was all behind her now as she looked at Corey for help.
Corey’s thin eyebrows had wandered up an inch on her forehead, and she was staring, eyes wide, mouth open.
“This is impossible.”
Maray’s gaze flip-flopped back and forth between the glowing crystal and Corey’s astonished face. “What is impossible?” And as Corey didn’t react, she demanded, “Talk to me.”
It took her a minute to break out of the statue-like stiffness, but the second she did, her face lit up with fascination and curiosity.
“Do it again,” she requested, reaching out for the crystal with one hand and for Maray’s hand with the other, trying to drop the crystal back into her palm.
Maray pulled back her arm. “No!” She folded her arms across her chest and secured her hands at her sides under the cloak. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Whatever it was she had done, she wasn’t going to touch that crystal again without knowing what was happening to her.
Corey took a deep breath, as if realizing who she was dealing with. “I keep forgetting how little you know,” she said with a sigh.
“Then tell me,” Maray triggered. Sword-fighting boys, Yutu, other worlds, her royal blood, and now, had she grown an electric battery in her palm? How much more had to happen before somebody would actually tell her what was going on? “Please.”
Corey smiled. It was a genuine smile, as if they had been friends for years—only, it didn’t feel that way.
“You don’t only have royal blood,” Corey said drily despite her smile. “You have magic.”
“That’s impossible.” Maray leaned back in her chair. She had thought that this was confusing before, but now she had lost track completely.
“That’s what I said.” Corey laughed.
The crystal between them had returned to being the boring item it had been before the brief explosion of light.
“Well, I guess the boys did something right after all—bringing you here.” Corey pointed at Maray’s veggie-plate. “You should eat.”
Maray was almost one-hundred percent sure this couldn’t be real. She was waiting to wake up. How much more needed to happen before her brain would release her from firing neurons in the wrong directions? But the taste of fried tomato and boiled potato was so very real that it would have been naive to hope for a dream.
Corey watched her eat, hands folded on the table, as Maray was still fighting the urge to dismiss everything for an illusion.
“Does your dad have magic?” Corey’s eyes sparkled curiously.
“Not that I’m aware of.” Maray tried to picture her father, the composed diplomat, with sizzling flames in his palms, and shook her head.
“Your mom?”
“Nope.” But then, what did Maray really know about her mother. She remembered her caring side. The way she had sung her to sleep when she’d been little. All the walks they had taken together whenever they had moved to a new neighborhood. Her mother had called them their little ‘adventures.’ In those ‘adventures,’ she had been the fearless warrior and her mother—
Maray swallowed an un-chewed piece of eggplant. It had been so long ago that she hardly remembered—not that she wanted to remember anything connected to her mother. Laura had left her. And after years of absence, Maray had thought it best to treat her memories as if her mother had taken them with her.
“What?” Corey asked, studying the play of emotions on Maray’s face. “What’s going on?”
“I am not sure this means anything—” Maray absently played with a piece of bread. “When I was little, my mom and I used to play that I was a warrior and she was a queen.” She took a bite and chewed, anxious for Corey’s reaction. For a moment, she thought Corey was going to burst out in laughter. Instead, Corey leaned over the table, forearms resting on the rough wood, face unreadable.
“How old are you, Maray?”
It was a simple question, and yet Maray feared to answer it. She picked up the water glass and glanced at the crystal in between two sips before she felt ready to speak again.
“Sixteen.” She clung onto the glass for support. Corey kept waiting, as if her answer wasn’t complete. “Sixteen, today,” Maray corrected and longingly thought of her father’s little present. Earlier today, she had mocked him for giving her a dagger for her birthday. Now, she would be glad to have it on her; a weapon to defend herself in this crazy realm where people looked at her as if she was evil just because of her face, and where she supposedly had magic; where giant wolf-bears were sniffing her out. All of a sudden, she felt very vulnerable.
“Today,” Corey repeated.
Maray nodded, not trusting her voice.
“You have magic, Maray,” Corey explained. “You are a warlock, and warlocks develop their powers when they turn of age.”
“But I am not of age—” Maray objected, thinking of the sweet-sixteen party she would have had with her one friend in D.C. had she still been there; of all the months and years that lay ahead of her until she was considered legally of age.
“Not in your dimension,” Corey corrected. “Here, on the other hand—” She looked around as if her words were self-explanatory.
“You need to learn to use your powers.” Corey sounded excited—the opposite of how Maray felt—and gave her a sympathetic look. “You’ll see, being a warlock comes with its perks.” And then, as if Maray hadn’t just found out all her beliefs were nonsense, and there was magic and other dimensions where people fought with swords, and wolf-bears crossed borders hunting people down, she pointed at the half-empty veggie-plate. “Are you done?”
If it hadn’t been for the news, Maray might have said ‘no’, but at this moment, her stomach seemed like an extension of her mind and was overly-full with the events of the day. She bobbed her head once.
“Fine.” Corey got to her feet and flicked her hand, making the meal disappear into thin air.
While Maray was still staring, Corey was already moving toward the bathroom. “You can sleep in here.”
Maray remembered the bare walls and the cupboard with the basin on top. “Are you sure?” She eyed Corey as she followed her to the door. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but—”
Corey didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence but pushed the door open with a graceful motion of her long arm.
“You’ll find everything you need in there,” she said and winked.
Maray stepped closer, and her jaw almost hit the floor in astonishment. The small space had changed to something entirely different: a wide room with a single bed, a small bedside table, and a dresser. The bed looked soft, covered in moss-green sheets, and the dresser was open, allowing Maray to glimpse inside from a distance. “How—”
Corey didn’t let her finish this time either. “You have magic, Maray. You deserve better than a straw bed on the floor.”
Maray gawked, and before she could thank Corey, the girl had turned around and was already walking away. “I’ll wake you early tomorrow. We need to work on your magic,” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t leave the room until it’s me who asks you to.”
“Thanks,” was all Maray got out. She stepped into the manifested bedroom, and the second she crossed the threshold, the door closed behind her. For a moment, she considered turning around and tryin
g to see if it would open or if she was locked in, but then decided that it didn’t matter. Where would she go in this dimension?
With a deep breath, she walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, unsure what to do with herself. With all the excitement of being pushed into this new dimension, the fear of what was going to happen to her, if she would ever see her father again, there was one thing overruling every other thought: She had royal blood. And magic. And neither of her parents had ever thought to inform her about any of it.
She needed to move to think—sleeping was out of the question, no matter how tired she was—and got to her feet again. Why hadn’t her father said anything? Her mother? Had she known? Was that the reason she’d left them? Was she possibly even the queen? Queen Laura. It did have a ring to it. And Gerwin? King Gerwin? Or simple commoner Gerwin?
As she passed the dresser, she peered into the open drawer and stopped in her tracks. On top of a crimson blanket and a neatly-folded, white nightgown, her own face stared back at her. It was the same picture of the queen Jemin had in his bedside table, just in a heavy, metal frame instead of wood.
She picked up the image with shaky fingers. She remembered her mother. This wasn’t her mother. This was a copy of her with a much more graceful posture and an expression on her face as if the world was looking up at her. From what she’d learned from Jemin and then from Corey’s behavior, the queen wasn’t as loved as one may be led to believe. What had Corey said? Scum? The first reaction when she had seen Maray’s face.
How she wished her father was there with her. He would know a way out. He always found one. It was his nature to get people to agree on things, to make them see the benefits for themselves in situations that seemed inconvenient or even to their disadvantage. He was a natural negotiator—something Maray couldn’t claim she had inherited from him. And her mother … She didn’t know too much about her mother. All those years she had been playing with her, it had been about Maray, and not about Laura. She couldn’t even remember what music Laura had liked. She couldn’t even remember if her mother and father had ever fought much—maybe about him being a cat person and her being a dog person, but that was about it. And then, one day, out of the blue, she left—
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