The king’s eyes widened at being corrected. “And yer enemies?”
I summoned every childhood movie I’d ever seen with a wicked stepmother or an evil queen and said, “Dead men can call me whatever they like.”
Suck on that.
The King of the Nightdwarves gave me an appraising look and then belted out an enormous belly laugh that made spittle fly out of his mouth and catch on his beard. His wife grinned with her freckled chubby cheeks and handed me a shot glass of… something. She also wore a cleavage-bearing flannel-patterned gown, and it looked super cool on someone even shorter than me.
King Dane raised his hand, and in an instant the thousands of dwarves in attendance scattered about the grand ballroom grew silent. He raised his shot glass in the air, and the crowd mimicked his motion. I followed suit, earning a nod of approval from Foss.
“Tonight we welcome Queen Lucy, friend of Torsten the Mighty. Our honored guest will know the real hospitality of the Nightdwarves.” Then he raised his glass higher, and the crowd mirrored him.
In unison, the room proclaimed, “Tomorrow we fight, but tonight we drink!”
Glasses everywhere clinked, and the amber liquid was downed. The king turned to me, bashed his shot glass to mine and met my eye in a challenge.
Foss and Tor nodded, so I put all my focus into drinking whatever was in the glass. I’d seen enough westerns and 007 movies. The real men took their alcohol without a breath. They didn’t grimace afterwards, and they didn’t leave the glass half-empty. This was a rite of passage for these people, and I would treat it as such.
I tipped the glass to my lips and muscled through every instinct to gag or barf or wince. I kept my gaze steely as the fire ran through me, lighting my insides with what tasted like salad dressing mixed with jet fuel. I drank with thousands of beady eyes on me, judging my every move. I swallowed with vigor and slammed my shot glass to the table twice, hoping the international symbol of “another round, barkeep” was understood here.
It was vinegar. Gar was some homebrewed version of apple cider vinegar. My parents used to drink it, and I never understood why. I fought the urge to vomit. Luckily, my stomach was pretty empty.
The king gave me a rousing “hey-oh!” which the entire ballroom echoed with vast amounts of cheers and applause. “Join us at my table, Queen Lucy, and her friend, Torsten the Mighty. Foss, the four powers are always welcome in the mines.”
Tor slapped me on the shoulder, relief plain on his face. As much as they all told me I’d be fine, I could tell he had been as anxious as I was to see how the masses accepted my performance. “Yer a golden one, Queen Lucy.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Not ‘human female’? Well, now it’s out. You’re in love with me. I should’ve guessed as much.”
Tor grumbled in his usual way that I was beginning to find adorable. He took a seat next to the Nightdwarf Queen and began chatting animatedly with her. I could tell he was doing his best not to stare at her obvious breasts.
Foss pulled out an ornately carved wooden chair for me with garden gnomes etched into the legs. I tried to trust he would not pull it out from under me, but I braced myself just in case.
He sat in a larger chair built for esteemed Foss-sized guests next to me. He leaned down and whispered, sending a chill of fear up my spine. “Sit tight and try not to let anyone know you’re about to be sloshed.”
“I’m fine,” I argued quietly, my temples pounding. Everything was so loud.
“When was the last time you ate?” he inquired.
“Don’t pretend you care about me. You don’t get to pick and choose when you’re nice.”
I looked around the grand hall and saw a table of tall outsiders toward the back of the room. I waved to Uncle Rick, Nik, Britta, Charles and Henry Mancini, who raised their glasses in toast to me. I turned to Foss, who was still sitting too close to me, making me jumpy. “Go sit with them.”
He leaned over and spoke in my ear. I fought the urge to shove him. “I’m Jens for now. The Fossegrimens are sworn allies of the Nightdwarves. It looks good for me to be at your side. It’s just fortunate timing that Jens decided to childishly ditch his responsibilities tonight. You may not have earned your throne here, but I have.”
I frowned. “But when will you eat? I told the kitchen to poison your food so the female population can sleep at night. I’m kinda anxious to see which poison they use.”
He had the nerve to chuckle. “Be grateful you get to eat dinner up here with me. You could be listening to stories about Nik’s magic hair or his heroic fingernails.”
“That’s the weapon I plan on using next time I kill a Were.”
Oo, too soon. I tried to make a joke of my horrible act, but I wasn’t ready to laugh about it yet.
Foss rested his hand on my naked shoulder and squeezed.
My skin crawled as I shrugged away from his touch. “Is your headache going to be a problem?” he asked.
“How did you know?” I was grateful that the party was in full swing, and no one seemed to pay me much mind, now that I was declared a friend.
“You’re laplanded. You’re still in transition. It’s normal.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is that the dwarf word for getting drunk? Because I’m not.”
Foss chuckled. “Give it five minutes, featherweight.” His tone switched to concern. “Didn’t Jens explain to you the phases of the lapland transition?”
“I really have no idea what laplanding means. People keep saying it, but it’s not a term humans know.” My stomach growled. “Food is a word we’re quite familiar with. Stab-you-in-your-sleep-if-you-touch-me-again is another.”
Foss’s lax hand on my shoulder gripped hard. “Please tell me this is one of your jokes no one understands but Jens. Did anyone explain to you what laplanding is?”
“What? What is it? I’m sure my headache will go away soon. And get the smack off me.”
Foss swore and released my shoulder, looking toward the entrance for Jens, I assume. My international translator and personal aggravator.
I forgot about my confusion, though, when platters of food came out of the kitchen and landed on my table. I waited until Tor took his first bite, and then I tore into mine. I mean, obliterated it. A whole plate of meat, root vegetables, hard rolls and corn, gone in five minutes. I even beat Tor, who looked on my appetite with appreciation.
“You’ll want ta go easy on yer second plate, yer majesty.” Tor rolled his eyes at the formal address. “T’won’t do ta have ya horking it back up in front of tha entire kingdom.”
“That’s cool. I’ll just aim my chunks your way. You look real pretty, by the way.” He’d greased his dreadlocks so they were a little more manageable. “I kinda want to Barbie your hair in some fancy do.”
Tor murmured something surly, but I couldn’t decipher it. My headache decided to take a turn for the worse and crank up a decibel. I winced and drank a mug of water, hoping it would do something to alleviate the tension in my temples.
Tor was busy chatting up the queen. I’d never seen him be so charming. He was grinning and laughing at every little quip she made. It was cute to watch him suck up to the royals. I made a mental note to tease him about it later.
My head was pounding to the point I could no longer ignore it. When the music started up and thousands of dwarves began dancing and shouting their joy, I bit my knuckle to keep from crying out in pain. There were flutes and big bass instruments being plucked in such rapid syncopated rhythms, that beneath my pain, I was amazed. The dwarves danced with abandon. They were jumping, clogging and twirling, looking like a sea of spinning red kilts.
Please, no. Say it’s something else, Jens. Say it’ll go away! A voice in my head that sounded like Jamie surfaced. My internal monologue normally sounded nothing like him, but I tried not to worry. I shook the crazy out of my head and grinned when I saw Charles making his way toward me.
“Would you care to dance with your old brother?” he a
sked, a twinkle in his strange eyes.
I rose from my chair. “Of course! Thanks for asking. Tor stopped being charming a while ago.”
“I can imagine.”
Foss stiffened, looking me over as I stood. “Don’t go far. Stay in this area where I can see you.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I grumbled.
Britta? Where’s Britta?
I winced and moved back when Jamie’s voice bombarded my head again.
Foss gripped my upper arms, pulled my body to bend toward him and spoke loudly in my face over the music. “Have the voices started?”
“What?” My smart reply caught in my throat. No matter what world we were in, I’m pretty sure hearing voices in your head was the international symbol for going crazy. “Of course not! Why would you ask me that?”
“The moment the voices start, you must tell me.”
Fat chance. I won’t be shoved in a loony bin after keeping my head through all this. I tried to use mind over matter to soothe my nerves.
I don’t hear any voices. I’m just tired from that flu. I don’t hear any voices. There is no spoon.
The problem with this is that my mind was apparently being infiltrated by a big batch of crazy. I heard Jamie again, shouting his fears. I have to get to her! She has no idea what’s happening to us!
I put on a smile to cover over the terror and took Charles up on his offer to dance. He led me down the platform out onto the dirt floor where the thousands of Nightdwarves danced with all their might. I tried to mimic them, but it was so jubilant and erratic, it was hard to call it true style. Charles did a sort of tango with me that was done at a jumping trot. I tried not to lose my lunch or get too dizzy from my headache and the Gar that made my guts roil.
Oh! My stomach. How much did I throw up? I feel like I’ve been run over by a horse.
I tried to smile through Jamie’s voice bombing my brain again. I lost my step and fumbled through the rest of the dance, taking my Gar-chugging victory in front of the people down a notch at my clumsiness.
“Are you well, Lucy?” Charles asked, slowing the dancing down a little to accommodate my gross ineptitude.
My hand went to my forehead. “I think I’m a little tired. When am I allowed to go lay down?”
“Anytime you like, kära. Foss and I can sneak you out of here.”
“Thank goodness. Let’s go now.”
“I’m surprised you lasted this long. How’s your headache?”
I gripped his hand as he led us toward the head table. “How does everyone know about my head?”
“It’s normal when you’re laplanded to get a good squeeze on your brain.” He turned to look at me. “You look beautiful, by the way.”
“Oh, thanks. Pretty dress, right? Britta made it.”
“The dress. The woman. Jens is a fool to have missed this.”
“Whatever. I needed a break from him anyway.” I waved Foss over so he didn’t have a conniption and attack me again. He’d been sitting at the edge of his seat and watching me like a sharpshooter. “I’m going to lie down for a minute. This headache’s no joke.” My temples were pounding in a rhythm separate from the banging at the base of my brain, and despite the dozens of lanterns beaming throughout the hall, my vision was starting to tunnel. I leaned on Mace’s arm with too much weight to be casual.
“Hey, are you alright?” Charles wrapped an arm around my shoulders to steady me.
“I need to get out of here, like right now.” My voice was shaking and the pressure in my brain was so intense, I feared moving my neck as we made our way up to the surface. When the next blast of Jamie’s voice bombarded my thoughts, I stumbled backward into Foss.
My head! Ah! What I wouldn’t give for some lavender powder. I know Jens has some. Where would he hide his stash?
I put my hands over my ears to stave off the voice, but it was coming from inside my brain. Clear as day, Jamie was in my head.
Five.
Schizophrenia
As we walked into the daylight, my headache began to lessen ever so slightly. Charles motioned to the hut I’d woken up in, but I shook my head. “No. How about your place? Where are you staying?” I couldn’t deal with a headache, voices in my head and Jens. Plus, I didn’t think I could look Jamie in the eye with a straight face.
Charles kept his arm around my back and led me toward the hut he, Uncle Rick, Foss and Nik had been assigned respite in. “You’ll feel better faster if you’re with Jamie, but if you don’t want to see certain people, I understand.”
Foss opened the door to a one-bedroom thatched-roof hut similar to the one I’d been in with Jens and Jamie that morning. “Lay her down on the bed. I’ll get her some water. Does Jens have any of his lavender powder? That might help.”
Mace looked up at Foss and snarled, “My sister is not a junkie! You’ll keep your poison away from her.” He shut Foss out, led me to the bed and lifted my feet up. I pressed my knees to my chest in a hug meant to hold myself together, but when Charles covered me with a blanket and kissed my temple, tears welled in my eyes. It had been so long since someone had taken care of me in such a tender way.
Flashes of my mother tucking us in at night flooded through me. The memory of her love made me feel hollow, like my bones had little use or meaning. Like I had little use or meaning.
I can feel that! I heard Jamie say. It’s so strong!
“Hey,” Mace said in a soothing voice. “It’ll pass. Your head will stop hurting in a little bit.” His hand found my cheek and stroked my jaw. He started humming the same lullaby my mother sang to us every night before bed when we were kids.
“That’s Greensleeves,” I commented. “I didn’t know you had the same songs here as we have on the Other Side.”
Charles stopped short. “I never knew it had a name. Alrik hummed it to me when I was a child to calm me down.”
I have to make an appearance, or it will get back to father that I slighted King Dane.
I wanted to scream. It sounded like Jamie was speaking into my ear, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Britta’s going to love this kilt. If only this headache would pass!
“C-could I have a minute alone?” I asked quietly. I knew the tears were coming, and I didn’t want a witness to my insanity.
“Of course. I’ll be outside with Foss, in case you need anything.”
“No, no. Go back to the party. I’m just going to take a little nap.”
Charles left, and as soon as I heard him walk off, I slid off the mattress and looked for a hard surface. The walls and floor were packed mud and grass. The bed was stuffed with straw. There was a chamber pot, but I cast around for a better option to bludgeon myself with.
I would not be shipped off to a psychiatric ward in this world. If their medicine was anything like Jack the Ripper’s day, I would sooner die than end up like that.
As I looked around for a better option than the toilet, the pounding in my head grew to an unbearable pitch. It was thrumming from the inside out, and there was so much pressure, I feared an aneurism. I had never experienced a migraine of this magnitude. I sat on the ground in my beautiful dress next to the steel tub used for bathing.
When the next unwelcome voice came, I was ready. Before Jamie could get out two words about his own headache, I bashed my forehead into the steel.
Peace.
That silence lasted an entire minute before the pressure increased again, and I heard my pain exclaimed via Jamie’s voice in my head.
I gripped the side of the basin and really cracked myself on it this time.
I was rewarded with another minute of silence, too dazed to feel pain.
When the voice came back, it was shouting my name. I opened my teary eyes and found the hut was still empty.
It had finally happened. I’d gone crazy. I couldn’t believe it’d taken this long.
I whispered a prayer for Linus to rescue me and slammed my forehead one more time into side of the bathtub.
Then I felt nothing. Blissful nothing. There was no pain. I heard no voices. I simply collapsed on the floor, eyes closed, and drifted off into my own personal Land of Be.
Six.
Laplanded
I opened my eyes too soon for my liking. Jens, Charles and Foss were shouting in my face and shaking my body in various places. The world swam, and I was lifted… somewhere by… someone. Truth be told, I was ambivalent about the fact that I was still alive. I was just grateful my headache was mostly gone, and the voice had stopped.
“He’s coming out of it!” Britta called from across the room. “Jamie? Jamie, are you alright?”
I couldn’t look at Jamie. I knew if I did, he would know how crazy I’d gone. Same went for Jens. And Charles. And heck, throw in Foss for good measure.
“Thank God, Loos!” Jens heaved his relief in my face, burying his nose in my cheek.
“Lucy, can you hear me?” one of them called.
I’m pretty sure I answered. Either way, my eyes were open. That should count for something.
“Do you know where you are?” Charles asked in earnest.
I grimaced and held my forehead. “Please stop shouting at me. My head’s killing me.”
Jens held my head in his hands and pushed down on the lump I’d given myself. “Well, yeah! When you knock yourself stupid, it’s gonna hurt. What were you thinking?”
“It was an accident,” I lied, sitting up and batting all the hands away from me.
“No, it wasn’t,” Jamie argued, rubbing a similar lump on his forehead.
My hackles rose at Jamie challenging my lie. “I’m not allowed to trip? I’m not allowed to be imperfect? Queen Lucy the Almighty Bringer of Perfection, right? What do you people want from me? I’m a checkout girl, not a queen!”
“I saw you do it,” Jamie stated flatly.
“Did Mace do this to you?” Jens seethed.
Charles scoffed. “I’m standing right here, you know. I didn’t bash my sister’s head in.”
“Why would you ask that?” I frowned. “Of course Charles would never attack me. I already told you what happened. Too much Gar. I tripped and fell and bonked my head on that tub.”
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