by Anna Santos
“I just don’t, that is all. I don’t like strangers in our home.”
“Father stop being so stubborn. This is exactly how you acted when I was teaching you how to use the computer, and now you can’t live without the Internet. So stop finding excuses to not interact with other people.”
“What are you implying? Are you suggesting that I will not be able to live without the witch?”
“What? No, of course not! I’m just saying that you need to be less opposed to making Jessie’s acquaintance. You will like her if you give her a chance. She is a really nice girl and extremely passionate about things. She has such a positive outlook on things, it’s kind of impossible to not feel happy around her.”
“You are acting curiously emotional towards this girl,” the king stated, pursing his lips.
“You are the one acting defensive about having her here. Anyway, I told you that I had invited her. I’m not sure if she is going to accept my invitation. You didn’t leave her with a friendly impression.”
“It’s been what, three days since you’ve met the girl? Why don’t you wait and see what is going to happen before putting her inside our home? If you are concerned about her safety, assign her a few bodyguards.”
“I already have bodyguards in rotation watching over her and I’ve increased the patrolling.”
“So what do you need me for? It seems that you have everything taken care of. She doesn’t need to come and live here.”
“Maybe, but it would be nice to have someone here to talk to,” Eric remarked. “We need to go inside and have a conversation about Francesco. So please stop tormenting yourself in the garden and come take care of business with me.”
The king sighed but reluctantly followed his son inside the palace.
* * *
The next day was hard for the king. Sleep seemed to elude him and he was too restless to concentrate on his memories and revive them inside his head. A scent haunted his thoughts, and it was only when he came face to face with the angelic creature who had fallen in his arms that he realized what he was restless about.
Apparently, his word to Eric wasn’t enough. Anna had come with Jessica to talk with him so they would be sure that he wasn’t going to act all territorial about his library and chase Jessica away, again. His granddaughter had cornered him in his office and was presenting her case.
“So you see, grandpa, if you are so against letting Jessica use your library, we can select a few books that she needs and take them to my place,” Anna spoke softly.
“The books won’t leave my library. They are inside a controlled environment and they are too precious to be carried around. If your friend understands the importance of them and promises to handle them with care, I can tolerate her presence. I will stay in my office while she is in the library and then use the library during the night. But no book will be taken out of this library,” he explained while trying hard to give the same attention to both the girls, though his eyes kept landing on the witch’s face and her narrowed blue eyes. Apparently, he hadn’t left her with the best impression of him, but maybe there was some way to alleviate that tension between them.
“Grandpa, Jessie is my best friend. We are like sisters,” Anna said, holding Jessica’s hand which made the witch stare at her and the king’s eyes travel down the curve of her neck.
“I understand that. What else do you want me to do? Eric has agreed to put her under our protection. He has talked to Francesco. I have put my library at her disposal. I really don’t see what the point of this meeting is.”
“This isn’t a meeting. It’s just a social visit, but if we are disturbing you, we can leave. I’m sorry, grandpa,” Anna said, getting up and it hit the king how rude he had just sounded. The presence of that witch was messing with his head and with his senses.
“I apologize, Anika,” he whispered, calling her by the name her parents had given her and not the name she had adopted when they were killed and she had to hide. “I’ve not been myself lately. I think I just need to rest more. I’m really happy you visited. Your friend is welcome here. Eric will make sure she has everything she needs.” He got up and bowed slightly to the both of them. “I’m going to my chambers. I have some delayed projects that I need to attend to before resting.”
“We will accompany you upstairs. I’m going to help Jessica in her search for the books she needs.” Anna informed, entwining her arm with his while Jessica followed behind them.
* * *
It had been two days and sleep continued to elude him. Time seemed to pass slower since he wasn’t able to concentrate on his memories with his beloved wife and relive their happiest moments together. The food was left untouched and the only place he felt calmer was inside the library, seated on the armchair facing the painting of his beloved Isobel. He always had a keen memory for details. He always had a vivid imagination, but, lately, he was afraid that he might forget what Isobel looked like. How her hair was long and brown, the softest thing only comparable to the silkiness of her skin. Her eyes were the sweetest brown, and her lips were red and perfect. He had drawn her thousands of times. He had preserved her image across the murals of his home, on countless canvases, and several other works of art that would exist long after he was gone.
Perhaps mortality had finally taken over his body, and his death was imminent. But even if his memory seemed to be failing him, his senses seemed to become sharper. Isobel’s scent had long ago faded from the dresses and belongings that she had left behind after her death. He had that scent kept in his memory perfectly. He had tried to reproduce it by creating fragrances. But nothing had ever smelled the same. Now, that scent kept tantalizing his nostrils and taking him to the library where the witch had been and where she was returning during the day. There was no logical explanation for what was happening. And the only thing that could give him peace of mind was enveloping him like a warm blanket and tormenting his feelings with the most excruciating hunger.
“Are you feeling okay?” The voice was soft and girly. She placed her hand on his shoulder, pressing it lightly only to get his attention. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that it was the witch. But he opened them because he thought that it was still night. “Has the sun risen?”
“It’s still really early, but I couldn’t sleep,” Jessica said, looking around and noticing a tray with untouched food. “Did you fall asleep in the library while looking at your wife’s painting?”
“No, I’m just meditating, Miss Jessica.”
“Anna is concerned about you. Rose is concerned about you, too. She said you haven’t been eating.”
“They worry too much about an old dying man,” he whispered, getting up and turning around to watch her. She wore a short black dress and her hair was braided.
“You aren’t old,” she mumbled, averting her eyes. It was clear to him that she felt uncomfortable around him.
“How did you enter? It’s still night,” the king asked, hoping she wasn’t an apparition or a hallucination of some sort.
“I was at a party with Kevin. He gave me a ride here.”
The king tilted his head to look at her, now understanding the short dress. His intense gaze made her step back and steady her hand on the desk. “So you haven’t slept yet. Why did you come here?”
Jessica shrugged. “Since all the attempts of photocopying my grimoire have been futile because the book has a protective spell that blurs all the pages, I thought I could come here and write down some of the most important incantations. Just in case I need to give up the book to maintain the peace. I would do that at home but I forgot my laptop here.”
“Yes, I saw it over on the desk.”
She dared looking at him with thick, lush lashes “Since you are using the library, can I use one of the bedrooms to…”
“Yes, you can use one of the bedrooms to sleep in if you are tired,” the king said before she could finish her sentence.
“I’m not sleepy. I would just use it so I wouldn’t
disturb your solitude.”
“You are not disturbing me,” he whispered, almost inaudibly.
The door to the library opened, startling them and making them look back. Soon enough, Kevin appeared.
“Jessie, I’m hungry and there’s nothing to eat in the kitchen. Could you—” he stopped mid-sentence when he realized that his grandfather was there. “Hi, grandpa!”
“I thought you were going to bed,” Jessica said.
“I was, but then I realized I was hungry. I went to the kitchen but you know that I can’t even fry an egg.”
Jessica nodded. “Let me guess, you want pancakes.”
“Yes,” Kevin said with a wide grin.
“Apparently your grandfather hasn’t eaten either. So why don’t you convince him to join us in the kitchen while I take this tray downstairs and see if I can find everything we need to make pancakes?”
“That’s a really good idea,” Kevin said cheerfully, and before the king could understand what was going on, he found himself in the kitchen, talking with his grandson while watching Jessica preparing pancakes.
Chapter Seven—Writing Letters
JESSICA
What makes someone love another? Is it the memories they have together? Is it the affinities one has in common or is it something else? Something predestined.
I envied the king’s love for his deceased wife. It had been centuries and he still mourned her death and honored their love. I wanted that for myself. Memories from the past told me that I had already had something similar. I too mourned the loss of my lover. And I had no clue if he was still alive or not. As the king, I too dreamed of my lover. I missed my former life and though I tried to hold on to this new one, maybe, just maybe, it would be much easier to give up and succumb to a life of reliving memories of us together just as the king did with his wife. But I had only incomplete pieces of my former life. Shreds of memories that came to haunt me at night and leave whispers of experiences in my mind.
Something changed once I arrived at Affinity, though. I was dreaming of new things, experiencing frightening memories, and waking up in a cold sweat. Night after night, I was having a reoccurring dream of falling into the abyss, screaming and crying. I wasn’t having any nice dreams with my mate. I just kept dreaming of my own death, over and over again. I knew that was what was happening. It was frightening, and the worst part was that I was not just screaming for my life. I was screaming for my unborn baby’s life as well. I was with child, and we died together. I would wake up screaming and crying, frightening Anna and Shane, who didn’t know what to do to make my night terrors go away.
I had never thought about the possibility that I may have I had children with my mate, were they still alive? And what if my mate had died with me? And what if they all were just delusions in my mind like everybody wanted me to believe when I was younger. They had even tried to make me forget my dreams by casting spells with exorcisms and incantations.
The nightmares and the notion that when I died my child died with me left a bigger empty space inside my heart. Depression overtook me. Eventually, I tried to sleep less so I wouldn’t wake up crying every morning. Burying my head in old books of witchcraft helped, but it influenced my sense of humor and I didn’t have the patience to endure the king constant meddling in my work.
As I entered the library on the morning of my second week at the palace, I braced myself for the worst. On each of the previous days, when I’d used the library, I had been constantly harassed by the king. First, he’d made a mess of my own mess, putting all the books I had carefully chosen from the shelves back in their places, which meant that he’d had the nerve to put the books back that I was using, forcing me to get them down all over again. I still needed the books so there was no need to put them back in their place yet.
But he’d done more than that to annoy me. I’d noticed he had the nerve to read my handwritten notes and correct them. He had even added notes explaining where I had misinterpreted the words or incorrectly translated certain sentences.
So I’d learned that he could read this ancient language without a dictionary. And here I was, busting my butt to translate it without a clue as to how to interpret all the grammatical issues! I’m sure I would have appreciated his help had he not been meddling in something that was none of his business and he continued to reshelve my books like an OCD freak. I had two choices. I could either confront him or ignore him. I chose to defy him. Doing my best to write with my finest penmanship, I left him a note saying: Stop touching my stuff! Then I added several more exclamation points to prove my point. I was expecting an answer that morning and was also expecting to see my books where I’d left them on the desk, not back on the shelves.
When I arrived, there was a surprise waiting for me, and not a bad one. At first, I scowled and fisted my hands, annoyed by his nerve. My books had been taken from my workspace once again. But then my anger dissipated because I noticed that he had done something really unexpected. He had arranged a space for a new desk, and my books were all neatly arranged on it.
I had my own desk there. It even had a nice set of pens and writing paper, on which he had written a beautiful letter. He could be an idiot sometimes, but he did have dreamy handwriting. If only I could write that beautifully, I would write out a full English version of my coven’s grimoire by hand, instead of typing it into a computer where it was hard to add the images. All of my ancestors used their own handwriting, and I was going to change that, all because I had such poor penmanship.
I sat down on my new leather chair and stroked the wooden desk. It was old and beautiful and had clean, empty drawers. I opened them and found plenty of space to keep my stuff, it made me excited. I was a bit nervous about what he had written on the paper in front of me, though.
I picked it up and read it:
It came to my attention that you were upset with me because I cleaned the mess you left behind on my desk. This was unintentional. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just prefer my desk clean and my books in order.
Since you left your notes all over the place, I did read them and found a few mistakes that needed to be corrected. I hoped you would fully understand what your ancestors meant, so I took my time to help and explain to you where the meanings of your ancient descendants’ words were translated incorrectly. I didn’t mean to offend you in any way. I won’t do it again if you don’t want my assistance. I intended only to help you.
In the meantime, I brought in a desk so you can manage your things and leave my belongings alone. If you need additional help with the translation, please just put your new pages on my desk and I’ll give them a look when I’m able.
I read the note once more and then turned the sheet over. I didn’t know what to think of it. However, my happiness at having a desk had suddenly disappeared. He had brought it just so I would stay away from his area. Nonetheless, he had offered his help. Perhaps, he had nothing better to do. I wondered what he did at night in the library. I had tried to figure that out, but it seemed to be locked away in one of his desk drawers. I’d even asked Eric, but he just shrugged his shoulders and said he didn’t know.
I sighed, staring at his handwriting. It was beautiful and perfect. He had taken the time he normally spent alone to write me this note. It really bothered me to think that someone who had lived for so long was spending his remaining years grieving for his decesead wife. It bothered me to think of him spending his nights there in the library, all alone. It really was sad. I thought about the king more than I would like to. He intrigued me, and his grief and love for his late wife moved me.
I wondered if my mate had missed me as much as the king missed his queen. It was tragic but beautiful. Love could be sad and beautiful at the same time.
I stared at the blank side of the letter, picked up one of the fancy pens left for me on my new desk, and wondered how to start a letter addressed to a king. What do I say? How do I start it?
Your Majesty,
Thank you for the desk
.
I erased it, thoroughly annoyed. I was going to crumple the paper, but then I remembered that I was writing on the same paper he’d written to me. I wasn’t going to put that in the trash. I wanted to reread it again whenever I felt like it. I stroked the stationary and sighed. I was not myself lately. I was experiencing an emotional rollercoaster and I didn’t want to snap at him again. It was not his fault that my nightmares made me feel cranky and miserable.
I was going to reply as nicely as I could and put an effort into trying to write it carefully, since he had complained about my handwriting when he’d corrected my notes.
I was giving too much importance to his opinion. Why did I care about what an antisocial vampire thought about my writing? Why was I even bothering to answer him back?
I had replayed the day, that I fell off the stairs and he’d caught me, a hundred times in my head. The truth was that I couldn’t get him out of my head. His sad gaze, his blue crystal eyes haunted my mind. And did I mention that I thought he was hot? He looked hot for an older guy. Okay, old was an understatement; he was probably like a thousand years old. A really well-preserved one thousand years, though. It didn’t hurt that he was wearing clothes that belonged to the Middle Ages, clothes that I’d dreamed about. Plus, he was tall, strong, and possessed a deep and sexy voice.
I was losing it! Anna would kill me if she knew I was lusting for her grandfather. Not to mention the fact that he had a mate whom he still loved and missed. I had my own mate to find. Furthermore, we couldn’t stand each other. He was rude, arrogant, and very self-centered. Besides, his queen constantly staring at me was annoying. She had a bliss that I envied. She was loved the way I wanted to be loved by my own mate. I couldn’t help but wonder if my mate would want me back, once I found him. Would he even recognize me?
I was only a witch. I couldn’t feel what vampires and werewolves felt when they met their soul-mate. I hadn’t branded my soul-mate when I was of age to do that. Fear had overtaken me at that time. I was scared that he might not be alive, or that he may not exist at all.
