by E. A. James
“Mew. Mew!”
Angelica rubbed her eyes and sat up. She frowned – she was sitting on something soft and plush, certainly not her kitchen floor. Did I black out, Angelica wondered. What happened?
When she opened her eyes, she gasped. She was in the middle of a lush, verdant forest. The grass beneath her feet was as thick as a carpet, and she ran her hands over the green blades with a sense of wonder and fear. Scrambling to her feet, Angelica wiped her palms on her thighs. I’m dreaming, she realized. Wow, I must have really hit my head hard. She pinched herself and cried out – it hurt, almost as much as if she were awake.
“What in the hell,” Angelica muttered under her breath. Her heart began to race as she spun around, looking at the trees and bright blue sky. The trees were enormous – easily the biggest she’d ever seen outside of photos. There was a fresh, fragrant smell in the air, and bees buzzed noisily around the flowers and grass.
It was about as far away from winter in Brooklyn as possible.
Angelica’s heart thudded nervously as she began to walk, gazing around. Her head still ached but she no longer noticed – it was impossible to keep in mind as she glanced around in wonder.
“Mew!”
Angelica looked down and saw the white cat, perched on its haunches and grooming itself. She narrowed her eyes.
“What’s all this about,” Angelica asked dryly. “What’s going on?”
The cat continued grooming, licking and nipping at a front paw.
“You seem to be doing just fine,” Angelica grumbled. “What do they say about cats? That you always land on your feet?”
The cat’s paw dropped to the ground and it cocked its head to the side. “I’ve never heard that before,” the cat said. “What kind of talk have you been listening to?”
Angelica gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. “What?” She swallowed nervously. “Did…did you just…did you just say something?”
The cat gave her an annoyed glance. “Yes,” it said haughtily. “And furthermore, I don’t care for tuna. Next time, I’d prefer something a little more substantial.”
Angelica’s dark eyes were as wide as saucers as she stepped forward, cautiously approaching the white cat. It no longer seemed helpless and hungry – on the contrary, it seemed to have a certain smugness that made Angelica nervous.
“What…where am I?” Angelica asked. “What happened? How did I get here?”
The cat sighed. “I didn’t expect you to be so high maintenance,” it said. “And for your information, I am a male. My name is Brynx.”
Angelica didn’t reply.
“Are you simple?” The cat walked closer and Angelica gasped, nervously stepping backward and stumbling over her own feet. She crashed to the grass with a dull thud, unable to take her eyes away from Brynx.
“No,” Angelica said nervously. “At least, I never thought so.” She swallowed hard. “What’s happening to me? Where am I?”
Brynx rolled his eyes. “Aerdan!” He called loudly. “I’m sick of dealing with this human already!”
Angelica squinted. “What? What did you just say?”
Before Brynx could reply, an impossibly gorgeous man stepped into the clearing. He was clad only in leather leggings that clung to his muscular legs. Leather straps crisscrossed his chest and his brawny torso was gleaming and covered in strange blue and black tattoos. He was deeply tanned, with bright blue eyes and the whitest teeth Angelica had ever seen. Long dark hair cascaded from his brow to his shoulders.
Angelica couldn’t remember seeing a more handsome man.
The man walked closer to Brynx and Angelica. When he saw Angelica, he grinned.
“May I offer a hand, lady?” The man asked. “You seem to be more than a little distressed, quite understandable.”
“What? Uh, no,” Angelica said quickly. Her heart was racing and she could barely look into the man’s gorgeous-yet-smug face without blushing. “I mean, look – just tell me how to get back to Brooklyn, and I’ll be fine.”
The man frowned. “Brooklyn? What kingdom is that?”
Angelica’s mouth went dry. “Kingdom?” She squeaked. “Like, Britain?”
The man narrowed his eyes. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard of that kingdom, either,” he said. “You must have traveled from another dimension.”
Angelica licked her lips. “Where…where am I?”
The man straightened up and grinned, puffing out his chest. “You are in the Kingdom of Zheka,” he said proudly. “And I am Commander Aerdan Covendane, heir to the throne, and son of Queen Zornaya.”
Aerdan leaned down, offering Angelica his huge hand. “Come,” he said. “You must be introduced at once.”
Angelica’s disbelief bubbled over, her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted, collapsing on the emerald grass.
CHAPTER TWO
Aerdan
“Aerdan, please do not disappoint me,” Queen Zornaya said quietly, her blue eyes flashing with irritation. “Know that you are not simply expected at the ceremony, you are required to attend.”
Aerdan rolled his eyes. He was reclining in his large bed, the silk sheets unmade and bunching under his strong back. He kept his eyes on the ceiling as he spoke to his mother.
“Mother, I don’t see why I have to attend,” Aerdan complained. “It’s the same thing as always. Our people gather together just to watch a stupid display!”
Zornaya frowned. “Not just a display,” she said proudly. “But a display of immense power and strength, the kind of strength that has made Zheka the most powerful kingdom in our world!”
“But it’s the same show every year,” Aerdan complained. “I get up, wave a sword around, and then presto! Everyone claps.” He groaned.
“Aerdan,” Zornaya said sharply. “Have you forgotten your role? You are a commander,” she said, emphasizing the word so hard that Aerdan rolled his eyes. “And your job is to inspire the men of Zheka, and to make all the women wish they would be your bride!”
“And then what?” Aerdan sat up in bed, rubbing his shoulders. “There’s a feast, and more fighting, and then you get to make a speech about how our society is perfect?”
“Yes,” Zornaya said stiffly. She pressed her lips together in a narrow line.
“Do you know how many men would kill, simply to have the same opportunities as you?”
“Yeah, I bet everyone’s dying to be hassled by their mothers, day in and day out,” Aerdan muttered under his breath.
“Excuse me?” Zornaya’s voice was as sharp as a dagger. “What did you just say?”
“Nothing,” Aerdan lied.
“Not to mention, all of the girls will be looking very attractive,” Zornaya said slowly. “Today would be a fine chance for you to choose a bride, Aerdan,” she added. “I’ve noticed Lucilla has blossomed into a lovely young woman, don’t you think?”
Maybe, before I slept with her, Aerdan thought. To his mother, he only replied: “Lucilla is the dullest girl I’ve ever met. She doesn’t care about anything but gowns and shoes.”
“What of Chelsene? She is quite beautiful,” Zornaya said. “And she is a gifted healer. Chelsene has the skill of a much older woman.”
Aerdan wrinkled his nose. “I care for her not,” he said. “She’s the younger sister of Baelan – it would feel like marrying my own sibling!”
Zornaya sighed in exasperation. “Aerdan, time is running out,” she said sharply. “I know you think that your father and I are jesting, but your betrothal is imminent. And unless you find a suitable bride among the women of Zheka, you will be wed to Muertha of Glasule.”
Aerdan groaned. “I know, I know,” he said, shaking his head in exasperation. “I know. Look – I’ll look for a bride today, okay?”
Zornaya smiled thinly. She had the look of a once-beautiful woman who was now so put-upon and troubled that she was aged beyond her years.
“Aerdan, I do not ask much from you,” she said softly. “I believe your father and I have
been more than reasonable in accommodating your…rebellion, but this must end. You are a High Commander! You are heir to the throne! Whichever woman you choose will be the Queen of Zheka,” she added firmly. “And you must choose well!”
“I know,” Aerdan grumbled. “You and I have had this discussion hundreds of times, Mother.” He rolled out of bed and pulled on a leather vest. Surveying his tanned face in the mirror, he pushed his dark hair over his brow.
“Please, Aerdan, a little effort,” Zornaya said. She clucked her tongue. “I had the help clean your finest uniform, you’ll find it in the wardrobe. Please – be dressed and ready for the Showcase within the hour.” She got to her feet, standing straight and almost as tall as her son.
Aerdan nodded. He was weary of having the same talk with his mother, over and over. She doesn’t understand, he thought bitterly as Zornaya serenely glided out of his chamber. She doesn’t know what this kind of pressure is like! She was brought up to be a queen from the very beginning…and I’m just her pawn, just a grunt, something to show off.
He walked over to his wardrobe and yanked the doors open. Sure enough, his dress uniform had been laundered and freshly pressed. Gold fringe and tassels gleamed from the dark brown material. Aerdan rolled his eyes. He could practically see it now – seated in a small throne to the left of his mother and father, forced to smile and wink at the crowd of adoring young women. Then the mock-battle would occur – Aerdan would win, of course, no one would dare beat the High Commander at such a display. Afterwards, there would be a feast, with roast meat and fresh loaves of bread and every kind of fruit grown in the kingdom. Aerdan would drink and feast and be subjected to a torrent of batting eyelashes.
I can’t do this today, he decided, closing the wardrobe door. Not today. Sorry, Mother.
Aerdan changed into his leather armor and shed his shirt in favor of a rucksack stocked with dried meat, a flask of water, and a map of the kingdom. The map was Aerdan’s prized possession – his father had given it to him when he’d turned thirteen – and he never left the castle without it. Whenever he looked at it, the stylized mountains and oceans filled his heart with a hunger he’d never felt before. Sure, life in Zheka was fine – even fun, at times. But Aerdan was growing tired of the same routine. He was bored with bedding girls, bored of showing off his physical prowess at frequent displays, and even bored of the luxurious castle where the royal family and all their servants lived.
Someday, Aerdan promised himself as he threw open his window and tossed a rope ladder over the ledge. Someday, I’m going to leave this place and never come back.
“I don’t think the Queen will appreciate this.”
Aerdan looked up to see his cat, Brynx, perched on the bed. He groaned as a pang of guilt stung him.
“She’ll live,” Aerdan said grimly. “But as for me, I don’t think I could make it through the damn thing without falling asleep.”
“And just what are you proposing to do instead?”
Aerdan grinned. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Later, Brynx. Hold the fort down for me.”
Brynx rolled his eyes before stretching and kneading Aerdan’s pillow. He scowled. “Don’t expect me to lie for you,” he said. “Because I won’t.”
“Good,” Aerdan said. He swung a powerful leg over the ledge of his window and gripped the rope ladder hard. “Don’t, then.”
Before Brynx could reply, Aerdan nimbly scooted down the ladder. Soon, he was on the ground. He gave the castle one last, lingering look before darting off towards the stables.
Twenty minutes later, Aerdan was racing through the woods on his favorite stallion, Tlatse. Tlatse’s powerful hooves churned the ground, kicking clods of grass and mud as he ran. Aerdan whooped with joy, one hand tangled in Tlatse’s mane, the other raised high in the air. Tlatse was galloping so quickly that the woods were a blur and Aerdan hooted and cheered as the prize stallion carried him nimbly through the forest.
This is excitement, Aerdan thought, his veins pumping with adrenaline. As Tlatse approached a fallen tree, Aerdan hunched close to Tlatse’s mane, gripping extra hard as the stallion soared into the air, clearing the tree with ease. They sailed through the forest together, horse and man as one soul, one body. When Tlatse reached a perfectly round clearing, he slowed to a stop.
“That was great!” Aerdan cheered, stroking his horse on the neck. “You’re a champion, Tlatse!”
Tlatse nickered in response.
Seconds later, the clearing was filled with masculine cheering and shouting, Baelan and Huen, Aerdan’s closest friends, rode into the clearing, each perched atop a powerful stallion.
“I’ve won, again,” Aerdan said smugly. He leapt off Tlatse’s back, then loosely tied Tlatse’s reins to a tree branch. “Good boy,” Aerdan said. He reached into his leather bag and held an apple out to the stallion.
“Not exactly a fair contest,” Baelan gasped, swinging his leg over his horse’s back and landing solidly on the ground. “Tlatse is too fast!”
Aerdan grinned. “He’s just fast enough,” he said. “Isn’t my fault that you’re too slow.”
Baelan groaned. He was Aerdan’s cousin – the two had been best friends practically since birth. Like Aerdan, he was tall and muscular. But where Aerdan was dark, Baelan was fair. The girls in the kingdom always giggled whenever Aerdan and Baelan were together – as a pair, they were unstoppable at whatever they set their minds to. Like Aerdan, Baelan hungered for more in life.
Huen leapt off his horse’s back and tethered the stallion to a nearby tree. “I feel like I almost won,” he said modestly. “Maybe in time, I’ll catch up with you, Aerdan.”
Aerdan smirked. “Good luck,” he said. “You’ll need it.”
Huen rolled his eyes. He, too, was tall, muscular, and powerful. But unlike Aerdan and Baelan, he was more introverted.
In the distance, there was the sound of a horn followed by a deafening cheer.
“Sounds like it’s started,” Huen said, gesturing to the loud sound.
Aerdan tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Yeah,” he said.
“How did you get out of this,” Huen asked as he flopped down in the grass. “Did you find a bride?”
“No,” Aerdan said. He shrugged. “I didn’t, really.”
“You mean, your mother doesn’t know you’re here?”
Aerdan shook his head. “No, thankfully,” he said. He rolled his eyes and reached into his backpack for his flask. Greedily pouring water down his throat, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He passed the flask to Baelan and Huen. “I mean, I left without telling her.”
Baelan burst out laughing. “She is going to murder you,” he said, shaking his head. “Damn, Aerdan!”
Aerdan shrugged. Now that he could hear the sounds of the festivities, he felt better than ever about blowing them off. But he couldn’t ignore the slight twinge of anxiety whenever Zornaya’s face popped into his mind.
“I know,” Aerdan said. “But gods, it’s better than being a prized pig.” He wrinkled his nose.
“If you don’t get serious soon, you’ll have to marry Muertha,” Huen teased. He snickered.
Aerdan groaned. “Don’t remind me,” he said. “Mother actually said as much earlier. I don’t know why she’s so bent on me marrying by thirty!”
“Because that’s tradition,” Baelan said. He smirked. “And you’ve lost your mind if you think she’s going to give you a pass.” He handed Aerdan’s flask back. “If I were you, I’d get to work on finding a girl. Before all the good ones are taken,” he added.
Aerdan shuddered. “I’ve slept with most of the girls in the kingdom,” he said. “And they’re all not interesting enough.”
“Sofala is nice,” Huen said dreamily. “Those blue eyes. That backside, too,” he added.
“She’s far too boring,” Aerdan said, narrowing his eyes. “I bedded her once. She refused to meet me in the stables – said something about how the hay would ruin her hair.
”
Huen snorted. “Well, she’s a damn sight better than Muertha,” he said. “If you’re going to marry, you may as well marry someone pretty.”
Aerdan shrugged. “Where are all the girls with a sense of adventure,” he said, leaning against a tree and shaking his head. “Where are the girls who want to travel, who want to explore?”
Baelan shook his head. “Friend, no one in Zheka wants to explore, save for you and I,” he said. “Everyone is content here.”
“As we should be,” Huen said stubbornly. “We want for nothing. We are a peaceful kingdom. The great wars are long over.”
