The light almost burned her eyes. It was broad daylight, rays of sun piercing through the November haze. Maray thought of the clear sunlight in D.C. and wondered if that life had been a dream. Behind her was Jemin’s panting accompanied by his chopped-off words. “Don’t stop… the hedge… at the wall.” He had been explaining what had happened to Rhia and Feris as he carried Laura up the last staircase.
Maray strained her eyes to see what he was pointing at. There was a line of bare bushes at the end of the palace wall a bit further. Behind them, a small building rose hardly higher than the hedges.
Driven by the fear of being spotted, she shrank back against the wall. Jemin pushed against her with his shoulder. “You can’t stop now,” he said, sounding severely exhausted. He had been carrying Laura throughout the long corridors under the palace, up the stairs, and again in the upper corridors. Even though he hadn’t let on how much effort it cost him, Maray heard it in his growing impatience.
“What if someone sees us?” Maray pointed out, glancing at the palace windows above them.
“Better to try and fail than not try and fail for certain.” He stepped around her, Laura in his arms, and started walking. “We only need to make it to the hedge. Once we’re there, we should be okay. No one comes to the weapons room outside the gearing times.” He was already a couple steps ahead, and it was getting hard for Maray to make out his whisper in the wind that was singing around the buildings.
He led her along the wall and slipped through the barrier of bushes like a lion, despite his heavy load, and shouldered open a small door that was painted in the same color as the wall, making it blend in so well no one would ever notice it was there behind the cover of the hedge.
Maray reached around him to hold the door before she followed him inside a long room, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it with a deep breath of relief. They had done it. They had made it into the dungeons and out alive. She was waiting for her sense of celebration to rise inside of her, but she wasn’t quite there yet. Corey and Heck were missing, along with her dad. She screened the room for signs of them and disappointedly noticed that all that was there were large shelves filled with a variety of swords, bows, and staffs. And once again, she was reminded of a museum. The polished, dark wood of the shelves gave the room a mysterious atmosphere as did the light that filtered in through small, blue-tinted windows.
Jemin had stopped at the side and was lowering Laura onto one of the tables, which were spaced along the shelves, probably set up for the soldiers and guards to clean their weapons when they returned from patrol.
She groaned as her back touched the wood.
“I apologize, Your Royal Highness.” His forehead creased. “I wish there was something to make this more comfortable for you.”
But, Laura just smiled at him. “I think we are past Your Royal Highness.”
Jemin’s face turned crimson. The second time Maray experienced that expression on him.
Her mother looked better. Not as grey in her face as she had when they had left the dungeons. That alone heightened Maray’s spirits, but the uncomfortable knot in her stomach remained.
“Where are they?” she asked Jemin over his shoulder, hoping not to alert her mother.
Jemin, being Jemin, understood and turned to the side enough to tickle Maray’s nose with the rogue strands of his hair. She reveled in the sensation for a fraction of a second before she was able to focus again.
“Trust Heck,” was all he said, and his eyes spoke volumes. Jemin trusted Heck with his life on a daily basis, so she was inclined to do the same—because she trusted Jemin. One day, she’d have to ask him about all the details of his life. Despite all the time they had been spending together, how he had saved her over and over again, what did she really know about Jemin—other than he was keeping his promise?
Her thoughts were interrupted as her mother spoke her name. It made a bouquet of childhood memories blossom: paper butterflies in the bedroom, lilies in the kitchen, Chopin nocturnes in the background, and a fairytale read to her in the voice of her beloved mother—the mother who hadn’t abandoned her.
“So, how did you find out?” Laura asked, her eyes a curious speck of life.
“About Allinan?” Maray wondered.
Her mother nodded, a wry smile on her pale lips.
“Actually,” Jemin interjected before she could answer, “that was my fault.”
Maray was just about to scold Jemin with a sideways look when the hidden door opened and three shapes stumbled inside.
“Dad!” Maray left Jemin without reproof and stormed toward her father, who didn’t show any signs of having been harmed.
He swung her around in a hug as she threw her arms around his neck. “Didn’t we agree you’d stay home?”
Maray laughed, and earned a grin from Heck who was waiting at a distance together with Corey, observing the reunion.
“Thanks,” she mouthed at him and Corey, not ready to let go of Gerwin. But he slowly pulled away, noticing Laura behind them.
“I thought you might be—”
“Dead?” her mother suggested to her father.
He walked toward her, the dazed expression on his face making him look five years younger.
“How did you get him out?” Jemin strolled over to join Heck and Corey.
“We found him in the ambassador’s chambers with Scott,” said Corey, fingers playing with a strand of hair on her neck.
Heck nodded and made a face. “Scott.” He said it as if it explained everything.
“What do you mean, ‘Scott’?” Jemin asked and folded his arms across his chest, which made Maray feel a little less oblivious.
Corey and Heck shared a look as if silently debating who of them was going to share the news.
“Scott knew.”
“Knew what?” Maray tried to stare the answer out of Heck.
“Parsin Scott is one of the revolutionaries who secretly worked with your father, Jem.”
Jemin’s jaw dropped. “But he hates me.”
“He isn’t particularly fond of you,” Corey corrected. “He isn’t particularly fond of anyone.”
“Why didn’t he do anything to free my mother, then?” Maray asked, anger surfacing in her voice. If there had been someone in court, close enough to the queen to actually know what had been going on, why hadn’t he done anything?
“He didn’t know until Langley informed him the other day.”
So, he had kept his promise and not told anyone about her until then. Maray felt a pang of guilt. Langley was dead. He had attacked them, and Heck had killed him in self-defense.
“And he let all of you go?” Jemin asked, bewildered.
“He helped us get out of the palace,” Gerwin said as he joined them, Laura at his side, weak on her feet but up. She gave Maray a smile. “He actually approached me the moment he heard you had returned, Maray, and offered his help.”
“Langley sent word to the revolutionaries,” Jemin informed Maray’s parents. “He knew Maray had arrived. He must have known about you, too, Your Royal Highness.”
“Didn’t we agree not to call me that?” Laura winked at him.
“My mistake, Your—” Jemin blushed. “What should I call you then?”
“How about Laura?” she offered. “You saved my life, after all.” She gave him a smile before she laid her hand on Maray’s arm. “And that of my lovely daughter.”
“This smells horrible,” Heck complained and crinkled his nose at Jemin’s bracelet. “How do you stand to wear it?”
“Better alive and smelly than dead and—”
Maray watched the two boys from her place on the footstool as they discussed the short time odor effect of the milky solution Corey had bathed Jemin’s bracelet in. Both of them were clean and in fresh clothes, no blood on either of them for once.
“My potions don’t smell,” Corey laughed over the lab-desk, putting aside whatever was left of her examination of the bracelet.
Gerwin had taken a seat on the bed in the side room where Laura was resting.
Maray didn’t feel like she needed to say anything. It felt natural to just sit and observe this world she hadn’t known existed a week ago. Heck and Jemin were still arguing about whether or not Jemin’s wrist smelled while Corey shook her head. It was like a small family—her new life.
Jemin glanced at her between playful nudges at Heck’s arm, his eyes bright and blue like untroubled skies, sending butterflies through her stomach.
“He’s a good guy,” Corey whispered at her from the side, lowering her head to her level beside the desk. “Just a little serious sometimes… better, though, since he met you.”
Maray raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you two look at each other.” Corey winked at her, head pointing at Jemin.
Maray smiled to herself. She didn’t know what would happen next, whether she was going to stay in Allinan or return to the world she’d grown up in. While she was a nobody in the other world, in this one, she was royalty. And there was her magic that had to be brought under control before she could hurt someone. It wouldn’t be dangerous in that other world, but in Allinan—
Corey had promised she was going to help her. And her mother was going to introduce her to all the things she needed to know about Allinan court. Everything was going to change—it already had.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
She hadn’t even gotten to her feet when Jemin and Heck had already picked up their weapons and were standing at the door, one on each side, swords ready to slice into whoever was intruding if necessary.
Jemin nodded at Heck, and he turned the doorknob.
Maray held her breath. Her father had joined them in the main room and had taken a stance on the threshold to the room where Laura was sleeping, one hand on his weapon, the other on Maray’s shoulder. Corey held something in her hand that looked like a scalpel, but with everything Corey had surprised her with, she couldn’t be certain that was what it was.
As Heck slowly pulled the door open, Jemin’s tense features relaxed a little, and he lowered the sword.
“Commander Scott.” He stepped back, letting the revolutionary pass.
Everyone in the room took a short breath of relief. For a moment, Maray had thought it might be Feris returning to the source of his equipment and the vial of blood he’d stored there—blood of the queen, Corey had explained, but somehow she now doubted that was all the blood was. It could have been her mother’s as well.
As Scott marched in, stiff and official-looking, Maray wondered how wise it was to fully trust him. Even supposedly loyal Langley had helped them, before he had turned on them—when he had learned about her particular magic.
Scott’s eyes locked on Maray the second he entered the room. “Your Royal Highness.” He stopped before her and bowed low enough for her to see the top of his balding head.
Was he talking to her? She turned and checked over her shoulder; there was nobody there. Her father had let go of her, and Corey had stepped forward with a curious face.
“I’m not… please don’t call me…” she stuttered until she finally decided to introduce herself to the man who had helped get her dad out of the palace safely. “Maray Johnson.” She held out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Scott took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he indicated a kiss. “The pleasure is all mine, Maray Cornay.” He eyed her the way everyone had eyed her so far—as if they couldn’t believe it.
Maray noticed that he had used her Allinan last name, the name of the royal family, but she didn’t correct him. Instead, she thanked him for helping her father.
“If I may, Miss Cornay,” another voice spoke from behind Scott.
Maray followed the voice with her eyes and found a young man between Jemin and Heck—both their swords ready, just in case—half-hidden by broad-shouldered Scott. As he noticed her gaze, he stepped forward.
“If I may,” he repeated as he bowed. He gazed at her with brown eyes under a shock of ginger curls. His look wasn’t the same as everyone else’s; it was friendly and open, the way people had looked at her in the other world. Even his bow didn’t imply that he was ever intending to call her Your Royal Highness.
Maray nodded for lack of a formal answer. She didn’t know who the young man was, but Scott had brought him here; he must have had a good reason.
He straightened up and took another step closer. At the door, Maray noticed Jemin pursed his lips, and his sword hand twitched as he readied himself to step in if necessary.
“I am Wilhelm Pordin. Parsin—” he glanced at Scott, “—brought me to you so I can deliver the news myself.”
Maray listened attentively as Wilhelm spoke, but not as attentively as Corey, who was now standing beside her.
“I got word from Cardrick Langley that you had entered Allinan and were staying at his hideout. But when we got there, all we found was a room full of splattered blood.” He gave them a meaningful look. “And a note.”
“A note?” Jemin and Heck came closer, distress plain on their faces.
Wilhelm nodded.
“What did the note say, Wilhelm?” Maray asked, hoping she was showing as much dignity in her new role as the young man was expecting.
“That now that you were within Rhia’s reach, there were only two options,” he retold. “Either to kill Queen Rhia, or to make sure she would never get her hands on your blood.”
Maray glanced at Jemin, who had raised his sword in front of his chest. This meant that Langley wasn’t dead. He was somewhere out there, back in his human form, and leaving notes for the other revolutionaries, which were basically an instruction to kill her if they couldn’t kill Rhia so they could make sure the queen would never be able to access her magic through Maray’s blood. To a certain degree, she understood his betrayal. He had seen his opportunity and wanted to make sure she never even got close to Rhia. One life for the many.
“Meaning, if there is no me, there is no longer my blood,” Maray thought aloud.
Jemin’s sword was at the guy’s throat the second she had finished her sentence, and Corey froze on her other side.
“I don’t think he is going to hurt me.” Maray reined in Jemin’s reflex. “He wouldn’t come sharing this if he was.”
Wilhelm nodded again, ginger curls bouncing into his freckled forehead. He hadn’t bothered to pull his hair back into a ponytail but let them roam his head freely.
“I came to warn you that Cardrick might come for you. Knowing him and his extreme mindset, he wouldn’t blink an eye when sinking a knife into you.”
“He already tried,” Heck let him know with a smirk.
“So that was his blood in the hideout?” Wilhelm’s face grew even paler with shock. “No human can survive losing that much blood.”
“He’s no longer human,” Maray explained. “Not really. He was made into a Yutu.”
Wilhelm eyed her with confusion.
“Long story.” She was exhausted, and as Parsin Scott and Wilhelm Pordin didn’t present immediate dangers, she was inclined to just slump back onto the footstool and return to her thoughts. Only now, one more layer of complexity had been added. Langley was trying to get the revolutionaries to kill her. “Besides, Rhia might be dead already.” It pained Maray how little it hurt to think of her grandmother as dead. She was family, after all, despite all the evil things she’d done.
“Knowing Feris,” Corey whispered at her from the side, “he’ll find a way to keep her alive.”
Maray shuddered.
“How about you sit down, and we can tell you the rest of the story?” her father said from the threshold as if he’d read her mind. He had closed the door to the bedroom, giving Laura privacy and time to rest.
Maray nodded gratefully, and Heck and Corey offered to fill in the commander and Wilhelm.
“Rest assured, Miss Cornay,” Wilhelm said. “I will do anything I can to get the
remaining revolutionaries on our side. I don’t want innocent blood to be shed.”
“Thank you, Wilhelm.” She could tell from the look in his clear, brown eyes that he meant what he’d said, but this was far from over. If it wasn’t Rhia, it might be Langley or one of the rogue revolutionaries he’d manage to turn to his side.
Her father led the new arrivals across the room, where they sat down at the table. Corey joined them, and Heck leaned against a shelf behind her.
Corey’s eyes were on Scott and the ginger-haired young man, following the conversation with interest.
Maray considered joining them, but there was no free chair, so she decided to sink back onto the footstool and listen to the conversation from afar. So much had happened it was difficult to find a balance between joy and worry of what was about to come.
As she sorted her thoughts, trying to ban everything to the back of her consciousness for a minute, Jemin jogged over and sat on the floor beside her, and her mind was at ease.
“Thank you,” he whispered and took her hand from her knee, sending an electric current through her skin.
“What for?” She rested her head back against the cupboard and closed her eyes, drowning out the rest of the voices in the room. She didn’t need to look at him to see his face. It was there in her mind; in her heart.
“For being you.”
Maray’s lips twitched as he moved their hands upward, and his lips softly brushed her fingers.
“Thank you,” she repeated.
“For what?”
“For seeing me.”
Continue with Two Worlds of Oblivion.
Coming October 2019.
Thank you for reading Two Worlds of Provenance!
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Two Worlds of Provenance Page 23
