by E. M. Havens
“Holy clinker.” He said in a slow whisper. Cole jumped up from his chair almost toppling it over. He ran to one of the many shelves in the room that housed his scientific instruments. He rummaged a bit, finally extracting a small box. Sitting back down in front of Samantha’s needlework, he opened it revealing a pair of goggles. He bought them on a whim years ago never really having found a use for them in his particular field of study. They looked like a regular pair of bronze goggles until he pushed up on the front of the frames. Several layers of lenses fanned out giving the impression of a strutting metallic peacock.
He put on the spectacles, then clicked the first lens into place. Cole studied the needle work, then clicked the next lens in place, then the third. When he clicked the fourth lens in place he let out an impressed whistle.
“Who are you, Princess Samantha of Perspicia?”
The little embellishments had finally come into focus with the magnifying goggles. The flowers, grass, and border of the cross stitch were adorned with equations. It looked as if Samantha was trying to combine components from the atomic theory book and those from the mechanics one. That was just his impression, but he could honestly say he did not understand anything he was looking at. His boring bride just became very, very interesting.
Cole removed the goggles and nestled them back in their box. He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to help his eyes refocus after using the magnifiers.
“Who are you?” The sentence ended in a yawn. Cole grimaced thinking of another night on the couch. He chuckled deep in his throat. When Samantha came out of the washroom, all sense had left him. She was stunning that way, natural, unadorned. He decided then that he was spending the night right there with her. He could have had her. She would have consented, and he would have made sure she enjoyed it. He was a generous lover. But things hadn’t exactly gone as planned. He was glad they hadn’t, because his desire had overridden the fact that she was still healing from their forced encounter. A few more weeks. That left him plenty of time to discover the real Samantha.
Cole tried to balance the tray laden with breakfast foods on one shoulder as he walked from the kitchens. The porters made this look much easier than it was, and he almost lost the extra basket of sweet rolls he’d requested. A man and woman slowed as they passed him to gawk. They were most definitely of noble class, judging by his stylish top hat and the number of fowl that had to die to make hers. He relished the shocked and affronted stares at their Prince lugging the tray like a common castle porter. He smiled brightly and waved, glad he wasn’t wearing his waistcoat and hoping his shirt was untucked as well.
The woman huffed, and the couple continued on in a tizzy. Had he been any other prince in any other kingdom, his subjects wouldn’t dare look at him that way. His lifestyle had left him with little standing in the public eye. His brow furrowed as he watched them quick step away. They may not afford him the respect due his position, but how would they receive Samantha? He looked down at his uncouth clothing, then up at the strands of messy brown hair just appearing over his brow. Maybe he could try and be a little more presentable, at least for Samantha’s sake.
With a noncommittal shrug he continued on to his quarters. Cole had intercepted the porter, guessing Samantha would be mortified at being seen in her current attire. As the door swung open, he was hopeful she obeyed his order. He wasn’t disappointed. She was sitting up in the bed, early morning sunlight reflecting a golden halo around her flaxen hair. The slight creak of the door alerted her to his presence. She snapped her head around to him and snatched the bedcovers to her chin, letting out a nervous laugh. The bed covers dropped back to her lap. The movement caused the light to glint off of something else, and Cole made out the large and hideous beetle like brooch. She was wearing it again, so she must have gotten out of bed at some point, but he would let that go. He did make a mental note to take her shopping for a new one once their Binding Time was over.
“Good morning, Beautiful,” he said, closing the door behind him. She tucked hair behind both ears and turned her blushing face away in obvious denial. He loved making her cheeks go pink.
As he placed the tray of food in the middle of the bed she shifted away nervously. He felt they had made great progress yesterday, but the move reminded him of how far they had to go. Of one thing he was certain, he was going to figure out Samantha whatever it took.
“May I join you on the bed and share breakfast, m’lady?” he asked in an overly formal tone with just the right touch of whimsy. Though he was trying to be playful, Samantha straightened and replied in all seriousness.
“You may do or have whatever you please, My Lord.” She trembled slightly and lowered her eyes as she spoke.
Cole was certain they were both having the same flashback. All intended whimsy grew wings and flew away into the rising sun. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. Tackling this issue now wasn’t what he had planned, but maybe it was for the best. He had tried on their wedding night to make her understand, but in retrospect it may have been too soon, and she probably didn’t remember anyway because of his sleeping draught.
“Samantha. What happened…the Verification…” She flinched at the word, but he continued. “Was terrible. For both of us. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I should have stood up for us, refused the clause.”
She made to speak and he silenced her with a wave of his hand. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me, and I promise I’ll do my best to not do anything that pressures you or frightens you. But you have to be honest with me. You have to let me know what you’re comfortable with. I order you to tell me the truth. I order you to let me know if I’m doing something that frightens you or makes you uncomfortable.” He gave her a moment to let his words settle in. Her face was so expressive and the range of emotions contorting it: surprise, shame, joy and confusion. It amused him. He willed himself not to laugh and chastised the urge.
“So, may I join you on the bed to share breakfast?” He watched her closely, looking for sincerity in her answer whether yay or nay. He could almost see rusty cogs coming to life and turning as she made a decision based on her own desires for the first time in years. He was pretty sure they would have to be oiled often to keep them running. She nodded her approval, and he raised an eyebrow in question.
“Yes,” she said, with a demure smile.
Yes! He cheered for himself and for her, resisting the urge to jump into the bed. Instead he climbed in slowly, like approaching a skittish horse. Banishing from his mind images from the last time they shared this bed, he lay opposite the breakfast tray from her, head propped up on one hand. They ate in silence, and he waited for the easiness of the previous night to return, but Samantha still looked nervous.
“What is it?” he asked. She shook her head like she didn’t understand his question. “I just ordered you to let me know when you’re uncomfortable. I can tell your uncomfortable, so what is it?” he popped a strawberry in his mouth whole and watched the gears begin to turn again.
She took a deep breath and spoke quickly, like the words might decide on their own not to be spoken. “Are you angry with me?”
He couldn’t stifle his laugh this time, and bits of strawberry flew on the bed with the force of it. “For what?” He grabbed a napkin and began to clean up his mess.
“For reading your books.”
“Seriously?” He looked up from the mess thinking she was joking, but her face told him otherwise. He cleared his throat and asked, “Why would you think I was angry?”
“You…you just left.” She looked like she might cry. Had she been sitting here all night thinking he was mad at her? His just walking out might not have been his best move. Now that he thought about it, he did that a lot. He had just compelled her to be honest with her feelings; maybe he needed to be a little clearer with his.
“Samantha, I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you read my books.” He leaned forward a bit and was glad that she didn’t back away. “And I am even more p
leased that you understand them. I’m going to need you to explain some things to me in Walton’s book.” He laughed, and she laughed. The room brightened a little, and it had nothing to do with the morning sun.
For a few more moments, they simply enjoyed the easy company until Cole noticed Samantha’s plate. One strawberry, one hardboiled egg, one slice of ham each with two bites taken.
“Samantha?”
“Yes Lor…Cole.” She actually smiled at her mistake. He treaded carefully, not wanting to break the new found ease.
“You read the human physiology book right?”
“Yes.” She looked slightly concerned.
“Good,” he reassured, hoping to avoid any more misunderstandings. “Did you like the section on nutrition?” She didn’t answer and looked at her plate. He continued, in what he hoped, was a gentle and encouraging tone. “Samantha, I know you were taught to eat one way at the school, but if you read and understood that book, then you know what you are doing isn’t healthy.” She didn’t look up or say a word. He was disappointed their congenial moment had passed, but this was something else that couldn’t wait. After a few minutes, he could see the imagined rusty cogs in her mind sputter and freeze. With a sigh, he said, “Samantha, I order you to finish eating everything on your plate.”
He didn’t know what he expected her to do with that order, but to smile and comply was not it. Just like that the affable atmosphere returned. She ate with the same fervor as she had the chocolate mousse, and it was his turn to be confused. Figuring out Samantha was not going to be easy.
****
Cole had to bite his lips to keep from smiling. The last thing he wanted to do was make Samantha think he was laughing at her, but the way she looked now tested his resolve. In just a few short days she had begun to blossom. Like a redbud tree in the spring, she showed the first signs of life, growth and renewal.
She stood behind the lab table in his study in naught but her sleeveless night gown and a pair of his long woolen socks up to her knees. One of his belts was cinched at her waist to keep the fabric from billowing into the experiment she was running. It was the same reason she wouldn’t wear his shirt. She was afraid the sleeves would contaminate the samples.
Dandelion wisps of blond hair stuck out from around the leather band that held the brass trimmed safety goggles in place. They made her eyes look like those of a praying mantis. Somehow the site of her looking like this and stooped over a slide with an eyedropper still had him wanting her.
“Have you solved the mysteries of the universe yet?” he joked.
She looked up with her bug eyes and a genuine smile. “Almost,” she laughed and turned back to her work.
That laugh and smile could be the end of him. He allowed himself a moment of fantasy including the goggles and nightgown. When he dragged himself from his daydream he was surprised to see Samantha standing at the door that led to the hallway. Her goggles hung loose around her neck and her head was cocked to one side like a hunter listening for its prey.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You don’t hear that?”
“No. What is it?”
She shrugged and touched the door knob. “I wish I could go find out. I…” She gripped the knob tighter. “I need to find out.”
Cole allowed a mischievous smile this time. “Your wish is my command. Follow me.”
He walked to the wall beside one of the bookshelves and she reluctantly followed. “Press here,” he said, indicating one of the stones bellow an ancient torch and sconce. She complied and let out a surprised and delighted sigh as the stone above the one she depressed, extended reciprocally. They both peered into the revealed box at the shiny silver cog.
“This castle has a labyrinth of secret passages. That’s part of the key to open this one,” he said and indicated the piece that had been concealed in the wall.
It was his turn to be surprised when she retrieved it and placed it exactly where it should be between the decorative metal pattern around the sconce and a smaller configuration around the book case. “How did you know it went there?” he asked with a little more accusation that necessary, but he was truly shocked.
“It fits.”
“I know it fits. How did you know it fits?”
“It just fits.” She took as step back from him, and he could hear the catch in her voice with the answer.
What went on in that mind of hers? He took a mental step back and tried to conceal his astonishment. “Okay, Professor, what next then?”
She stared at her fingers as she picked at her nails and he could barely hear her answer. “There has to be a key that fits there.” She looked up and pointed to a square hole in the sconce. “It probably looks like a crank handle.
In disbelief, Cole pressed on another stone that opened a similar box. Inside was a crank handle with a matching square key on one end. She looked up at him. Her expression was unreadable, but obviously uncomfortable. “After you,” he said and waived permission for her to retrieve the key.
She snatched up the device like a selfish child and inserted it in the hole with a resulting pop. The torch burst into flame and Samantha hopped back. “That scared me.” She rested her hand over the gold brooch that sat above her heart.
“So you don’t know everything?” Cole immediately regretted the comment, but her lips fluttered in a half smile. He cleared his throat and removed the flaming torch. “Continue.”
Samantha turned the crank which rotated the sconce and set into motion the series of gears. A section of the book case big enough to admit one person sideways began to recede.
“Can you still hear it?” Cole asked.
“Yes. It’s getting louder. You can’t hear it?”
He shook his head hoping he wasn’t having some hearing loss.
“After you then.” He motioned with his hand, but she remained rooted in place staring at the dark passageway.
“Do you think there are spiders?”
“Probably,” he chuckled as she took another step back and fiddled with the goggles around her neck. “I’ll go first. Just tell me which way to go, okay?”
She nodded and he squeezed into the narrow opening. Once past the bookcase, the passageway was wide enough for him to face forward. There was but a finger space between his shoulders and the wall. He felt two hands on his back as Samantha slipped in behind him. He tried to ignore the spreading warmth from where she touched him.
He sucked in a breath of cool air that smelled of mold and wet earth to steady himself. He hoped there weren’t spiders, either. Cole held the torch out before himself to illuminate the way. The path was straight, and he led them forward through the flickering shadows cast by the flame. A few times the play of light and dark in the tight space tricked his eyes and convinced him an eight-legged creature resided there. He would tense, and Samantha would utter a small squeak in response.
“Which way?” he asked when they reached a branch in the corridor.
“Left,” she whispered. “It’s louder to the left. You still don’t hear it?”
“No,” he said, and they moved on. They traveled for a few more moments and reached a wide place in the passage. Here they had a choice of left, right, up or down. Cole turned to ask her which way, but when the torch light fell on her she looked pale and gaunt. “Are you okay?” he asked instead.
“Fine. Headache,” she rasped and pointed to the spiral stone stairs that lead down.
“Are you sure?” He was asking about both her health and the direction. There was only one place those stairs could lead, and she didn’t look well at all.
“Yes,” she said and brushed past him to take the staircase. He followed closely holding the torch high to cast light in front of her. She quickened her pace with each step, and he was afraid she would trip. When they reached the last step, Samantha almost fell. She threw out one hand to steady herself on the damp stone wall and the other clutched the side of her head.
“Hey, let’s go back. C
ome on,” he said steadying her.
“No. We’re almost there. You can’t hear that?” She brushed off his hands and bolted forward. He followed, and thankfully now he could make out something. However, it was only muffled angry voices, and he was sure she couldn’t have heard this from their chambers. The corridor came to a dead end and the torchlight revealed a sconce and rusty metal slide bolt in the center of the wall. The shouts were coming from the other side. “Here,” Samantha whispered, pressing her fingers into both temples and squinted her eyes.
Cole slid the torch into its place and worked the bolt back. It revealed a thin crack in the wall which allowed them a view of the dungeon on the other side. The voices now clear, Samantha and Cole stood side by side and watched the chaos.
“He did what?” Crom bellowed at a red coated guard.
“He pulled his slagging tooth out, Sir,” the soldier yelled over the babble of the prisoner. “He pulled it out and started all this gibberish. He’s raving mad.”
Cole looked past the general and the guard to the man behind the bars. It was one of the brainwashed soldiers he had encountered in the debriefing. The man sputtered nonsense and blood as he twirled his molar between his filthy fingers.
“E es renc f’ti Zuna. E regg mupa kua.” The syllables became a chant of the crazed man and they grew louder with each repetition. He shuddered in a little stationary dance with the rhythm and his eyes rolled about in the sockets.
His attention was torn away from the macabre sight when Samantha let out a painful moan.
“No,” Samantha cried beside him and covered her ears. It was a worthless gesture as they were plunged into eerie silence. The chanting ceased and the men on the other side of the wall froze their conversation in response, but his wife still doubled over in pain, her head between her hands.
