Legends of Astræa_Cupid's Arrow

by Sophia Alessandrini

  Demyan Greco raised his eyebrow, obviously knowing I was lying. He had been the one helping him pretend his own death. I was officially the worst liar in the world, and gratefully he didn’t say so. He nodded back at me, conceding this wish.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Émil’s door was unlocked. I suspected everything in the palace was unlocked, except for Count Something-Fishy’s door and the dungeons. How convenient. I hadn’t stopped to see Émil’s room before with all the drama going on during his fake death.

  However, standing inside, I realized how cluttered the room was. Every wall had multiple gadgets or mechanical monstrosities of some sort, including something that resembled a hang glider hanging from the ceiling. His table was full of large parchment papers with drawings of other crazy inventions. Leather books piled against the walls wherever there was space. A large mechanical clock dominated one wall, but the clock was strange. It displayed seventy two hours, divided in three sections, not twelve like most clocks did.

  In the center of the clock, a peculiar hole allowed a glimpse of the metal interior mechanisms, making it look like it was missing a heart. Just Émil would think that way. I smiled.

  I looked at Demyan who had an amused smirk on his face. “He was kind of crazy, wasn’t he?” I asked him.

  “I think he wanted all of us to believe that. Personally, I think he was a genius,” he said, and I had to agree with him. Although I knew Demyan Greco had helped Émil pretend his own death, I wasn’t sure if it was wise to let him know that I knew about it. Anyone could overhear us. Émil had the key to knowing where the medallion was, and that alone could bring a storm of trouble for all of us. For me.

  I approached Émil’s bed, the one thing left uncluttered and perfectly clean. My hand brushed his pillow.

  “I will be outside,” Demyan said and left me a moment of privacy.

  I nodded back at him. My gaze stopped at the toy Émil had given me in my dream. It was on his night table, next to many other crazy tools and gadgets.

  It looked like a flattened metal egg. At first glance, it seemed it was composed of rings and ingrains. I put it in my skirt pocket, hidden by all the fabric of the skirt. I wondered once again why Émil had wanted me to have such a piece. A toy. Outside Émil’s room, men’s voices interrupted my thoughts.

  “Where is she?” Reginald demanded to know.

  “She wanted a moment of privacy to say goodbye to her friend, Prince Émil. I wouldn’t go in there and interrupt her, if I were you,” Demyan Greco said.

  “You think you command me?” Reginald dared Demyan Greco.

  I knew Demyan was openly mocking Reginald. I opened the door before things could get out of hand.

  “He has my trust and my security at heart. You on the other hand—you follow my commands. Is that clear, Reginald?” I said, reminding him who the boss was.

  He ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes in contempt. God, he was a bad apple.

  “Thank you, Reginald. That’ll be all. I shall take Lady Pearson back to her chambers, so she continues preparing for the ball,” Demyan said, offering his arm for me to take. I felt like I had gone into the rabbit hole and woke up somewhere in the nineteenth century. The royal circus was that bad. Wait he said a ball… What ball?

  “What are you talking about?” I asked Demyan Greco as the circus guards opened the doors and bowed at their future queen. Crap.

  “This afternoon, the prince sent announcements for the masquerade ball in your honour,” he warned me.

  A party. I had never been to a party.

  “I wish you pleasant dreams tonight, Miss Pearson.” He winked conspiratorially back at me as he said his formal farewell, leaving me alone with the rest of the circus asylum.

  Chapter 37

  I have been waiting for this moment all day. Not one moment had I been left alone. I also found out that the masquerade ball was going to be held on Saturday, which left me two days to convince Nicholas to let Gavril go free before being forced to marry him.

  I grinned as I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes, just to open the tunnel in my mind that connected me with Demyan. It took me barely an instant to travel through it.

  I was spellbound at the romantic, diminutive white lights spread among the manicured topiaries, hedges, and garden planters on the open terrace at the roof of a building. The view was amazing, an entire city below us. A modern city by night. I wondered which one.

  Demyan’s personal details to the small rendezvous arrangements touched my heart. Yet, I reminded myself to be careful about him. Especially, when he looked that gorgeous, wearing blue jeans and a long sleeve V-neck shirt and looking—relaxed. He stood from the table set with expensive fine linens, a glass candelabra with three candles, and a rose in his hand when I appeared.

  He smiled at me with a twinkle in his eyes. I grinned back, blushing self-consciously at my more than revealing pajamas. I should have put some regular clothing on. Why I didn’t think of that?

  “Are you waiting for someone?” I asked.

  “Yes, you can say that.” He smirked back at me as he handed me the rose.

  “Should I go?” I insisted to keep the pretense it wasn’t me he waited for.

  “Please, Miss Pearson.” He gestured toward the other chair for me.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Quite sure.” He grinned back at me, moving the chair very gentlemanlike.

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling a tad nervous as I took the rose he offered me from his hand. I wasn’t sure if I meant nervous for the very nice surprise or for being with him.

  “I have to confess, I thought for a moment you might not come.” He moved back to his chair with ease. He was somewhat right. I had debated visiting him tonight.

  “I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to know all the answers to my questions,” I confessed. It was just half the reason I came to visit. If truth be told, I was equally attracted to him as I was to the prince.

  He had answers. He knew what happened to my father, perhaps how to escape marriage, about the Count and Ash among so many unknown others. Also, I had many questions about dreams such as this one. The rules by which we lived inside them.

  “Aha, a lady that knows what she wants,” Demyan said, raising his finger to demonstrate his point.

  “Not the word in the neighborhood.” I looked straight at him, realizing the words had escaped my mouth before I thought them through. I had basically just confessed that no one could understand my relationship with Gavril, and everyone was confused by my cold-hot-cold behavior with the prince. And now I was sitting there with him.

  “So, my lady has questions. I suppose master Francis was unavailable for these.” Demyan ignored my sudden embarrassment.

  “Several, and yes, no, yes… Francis can’t answer them.” I confused my answer. Why was I so awkward with him? Demyan smirked at my hesitation and nodded back at me. First, I had to find out what Ash was doing at the palace acting like his friend. I had to know if Demyan was my friend or not. I placed the rose on the table, inhaled, and planted my first question.

  “On our last dream visit, you showed me the night the king was murdered. Mr. Greco, is the man in the gold mask your friend?” I dropped the bomb. He frowned, and in no time, he was leaning over my seat. His strong arms cornered me there. His handsome face was inches from mine. Touchy subject, duly noted…

  I looked him straight in the eye. I was not going to let him see that he was intimidating me.

  “Miss Pearson, have you crossed paths with him? Tell Me.” His voice was full of concern rather than of anger. My eyes detoured into his lips.

  “Not exactly. I told you. You introduced him in my dreams when you decided to tell me what happened to the king a year ago,” I half lied to him.

  “Miss Pearson, I want you to make note of this. YOU. Must. Never… inquire, seek, or cross paths with him. Under No Circumstance. You of all people on the planet.” He walked away and then back. “If you ever see him acc
ompanying anyone you know, you’ll walk in the opposite direction. Do you understand?” His tone of voice ranged between totalitarian authority and frantic concern. He was worse than Francis or Nicholas. It would be very menacing, if I wasn’t thinking of his soft lips instead. “Tell me you will follow this simple instruction.”

  “Why?” I asked, arching my eyebrow.

  His expression changed from forbidding to uncertain then to miscalculation. “Francis was right.” His refined tone of voice was somewhat witted.

  I frowned. When had these two been speaking of me?

  “You do have a problem with authority.” His gaze wasn’t exonerating.

  I snorted loudly. “So-ooh, you both have a problem with sharing information. I must understand why, and by the way, I am not a complete idiot…” I frowned and crossed my arms. I was fuming. I wasn’t going to behave like his typical little Strzyga female, surmised and obedient. Not after all the training Francis had put me through. Not after breaking all rules possible and befriending Gavril, who, by the way, was as unruly as they come. Those days were gone at St. Mary’s. No. These were different times, where I had the intrinsic need to prove myself that I could avenge Mother Clarisse’s death, vanquish Ash, and survive in this world without anyone’s help. For crying out loud, this was the twenty-first century.

  “I could think of many adjectives that define you, but idiot would never be one, Miss Pearson.” I let him continue, and he did. “Very well. Over five centuries ago, Lord Aurous became my mentor, and I his protégé. He is also the last elder alive, and his fanatic army of hell are actively looking for you. Does that make any sense to you?” Duh… Ash was Lord Aurous, a.k.a. Asmodeus, in disguise. Oh, yeah—Lord Aurous was the last elder. Crap.

  Was that before or after Demyan became one of the brotherhood masters with Francis? He turned his back on me and placed his hands inside his back pockets. Great, I had just killed his romantic evening. I held my tongue for more questions. I felt like one of the girls back at the academy. I was so clueless.

  “Émil is very grateful to you.” Demyan changed the subject, openly acknowledging that I knew Émil was alive.

  “Apparently, all thanks to you,” I said, thanking him for his help.

  “Not really. You played an important part in saving his hand, even his life.” Whoa, Émil told him? Demyan was opting for modesty instead of swaggering. He was enigmatic and elegant, authoritative, and powerful, humble, and sad, but had a gorgeous smile. How could someone be so contradicting?

  “You spoke with him?” I asked him, enraptured by him.

  “Briefly. I made sure he was safe,” Demyan told me. Francis had called him for help and he had come to our rescue. Why? I would have thought Demyan to be the last person on the planet Francis would call for help. That was when I decided I could trust him a little.

  “You helped Émil out of the claws of Count Something-not-kosher-that-rhymes-with-rubbish.”

  His eyes wide opened, barely confining his laughter to a snort. He looked like he was having trouble between his usual serious composure and being overjoyed. I wondered if he ever really laughed, if he ever was happy.

  “Is this Count’s name Rurikovich?” he asked, repressing his grin again. He sighed.

  “I think so. I purposefully cannot remember his name,” I said.

  He broke his carefully masqued emotions and blurted into a booming laughter. “Miss Pearson, you are so refreshing. I just hope you don’t grow bored of my company,” he said wistfully.

  I picked up the rose again and smelled it. Startlingly, the aroma was even better than if I had a real rose in my hand.

  “I see you have discovered that memory is sometimes better than reality. But do not get fooled. Memories can also be too real and even corrupted just like a computer software program.”

  “Tell me more,” I asked him, intrigued by the subject.

  “Memories can trigger illusions, tricks of the mind. Some of us have the gift for them. Tricks I meant,” he warned me, a tad too late of course. Ash had tricked me.

  “So how does it work?”

  “Usually, nothing less than deceiving lies, Miss Pearson,” Demyan said then paused to gather his next thought. “Our minds are sacred, as you pointed out when I scared you with my improper intrusions. I should have been more provident and heedful of your youth. My deepest apologies.” His voice was rich with an inner glow of sincerity, and his genuine smile lit his face. My eyes fell into his lips. He suddenly turned to serve me a glass white wine from the bottle on the table. I had a sip of it, but I had never tasted it before, so I had no reference in my memory.

  Except… the memory of champagne with Ash. The thought almost chocked me—not a thing for me. I decided it should taste like a vanilla float instead, and it did. However, soon I was holding a real ice-cream float. Demyan must have thought I was childish. Awkward. He’d prepared a very sophisticated, romantic evening with me, and I felt like I was failing his efforts. I was mortified.

  “You know, Miss Pearson. I don’t think I’ve had one of those in more than half a century.” Demyan grinned wickedly, holding a large ice-cream float like mine.

  “Are there restrictions to what we can do?” I asked him, sucking on my straw. My mouth savored the deliciousness of vanilla, root beer, and cream. It was definitely a sugar-free, guilt-free, and calorie-free item.

  He nodded. “Some restrictions, but they vary. For example, the background of the dream belongs usually to the person we visit, but there are some of us who have the power to change that,” he said. Then I remembered all of my dreams when he had had the control of them. Even Ash had that power. Ugh.

  “Can someone cause physical harm in dreams?” I asked him, thinking of Ash. Although, since our fallout, he hadn’t visited my dreams. I knew he would show up sooner or later. Perhaps to find me just like Francis had trained Demyan and me to find others.

  Demyan shook his head. “Not physically, but the mind is something very sensitive. Our bodies respond to what our mind believes. One can suffer the acute memory of the trauma even when it never happened. Also, the information in your brain can be corrupted, manipulated, even trained to do something without the receptor knowing.” Demyan paused, studying how much of it I was really understanding.

  I understood all about it. Ash’s had programmed a diavolical lullaby as a trigger for my emotional pain. No matter how exciting it was to visit Demyan in his dreams, I couldn’t help feeling that the clandestine adventure was highly risky.

  “Never allow anyone you don’t trust into the depths of your mind, Miss Pearson.” His warning was a few months late. Ash had already been inside my mind, and my soul had barely survived the consequences of it. My face must have reflected my very serious worries because he changed the subject.

  “Miss Pearson, if you had the chance to do anything you wanted in your life, what would that be?” he asked me all of a sudden.

  “Anything?” I repeated his question.

  He nodded.

  “I wasn’t sure until this last week, but I would love to study biogenetics or biophysics. I haven’t decided which,” I said. After trying to understand what the Rat-junkie-rotten Count was doing to Marcum, and perhaps even my dad, I felt the imperative need to study those notes and help Marcum. I also had the innate curiosity to know about myself, what prompted my freakiness in a scientific way.

  “Why? I mean, you can have a crown at your grasp…”

  I looked at him. “You are joking.”

  Nope he wasn’t. He waited very seriously for my answer. I didn’t want what came with a crown. I inhaled deeply.

  “I am too young to marry. There are important things I have to do first,” I confessed.

  “Things such as?” he asked, prompting me further. Demyan was the one who’d offered to help me at St. Mary’s, even when he had scared me with the overload of information. He had come to Francis’s, Émil’s, Gavril’s, and my rescue from the Count. And he was not trying to kill me. Honestly, I did
n’t know what to make of him. I inhaled for courage. Would it be that bad to trust him?

  “Would you believe me if I told you I want to save the world from certain evil?” I asked. My gut told me I could trust him even if he hadn’t rescued us. However, this was a test to see if I was capable of discerning good people from evil. I had been wrong before (e.g., trusting Ash).

  “And how are you planning to accomplish this, Miss Pearson?”

  “Good question.” I looked at him, resigned to tell him the truth. “I must find a certain artifact first.”

  “Let me guess. This piece you seek is a certain medallion.” Whoa, he wasn’t beating around the bush. Just like that, he had rendered me speechless. “I’ll take it I am right in my assumption.” He smirked wickedly. God, he was so handsome when he smiled. I nodded back at him.

  “So you know something about the medallion?” I asked him.

  He blurted in laughter again. “You are truly persistent, Miss Pearson,” he said. I didn’t know if that was a compliment or a scolding.

  “And you are avoiding helping me,” I said.

  “Who said I wasn’t helping you,” he said, grinning wickedly again.

  My heart jolted every time he did that to me. It should be made illegal for him to grin like that.

  “Come.” He stood up, extending his hand to me. My hand took his. Everything around us was transforming. Softly and subtly, our surroundings dissolved like an inky smoke, changing Demyan’s dream.

  We stood overlooking the magnificent sight of an entire ancient city illuminated with torches under a large terrace. The briny fresh breeze of the ocean permeated the air. Like a lake the calm Ocean reflected stars like a waving mirror on our peripheral view. Ancient buildings and oversized statues that took my breath away, and felt familiar for an unknown reason, rose in every direction.