The Captive King

by Susan Copperfield

  I turned in a slow circle. “I guess your land is far from a major city, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe I just own a lot of land.”

  “Well, you are filthy rich. I guess that’s reasonable.” To warm myself up, I stomped my feet and bounced in place. “There’s a few problems with your plan.”

  “What are those problems?”

  “I eat like a horse and need money to buy food. And a place to live.”

  “My bedroom’s a perfectly acceptable place for you to live, and as you’ll be living in my bedroom, I suppose I’ll have to take care of feeding you.”

  I must have died in Nevada and somehow gone to a strange version of heaven, or I was still in the hospital suffering from hallucinations as a result of mercury poisoning. There was no other explanation for what I was hearing.

  Men like Landen didn’t forgive being cursed or tricked. Men like Landen didn’t need people who liked to dig in the dirt for lost treasures.

  Men like Landen didn’t make offers like that to women like me.

  I mourned for the loss of my sanity and trudged across the broken stones to where the altar had once stood, sitting down and listening to the snow hiss through the pines.

  My father had taught me many things as a child, but one lesson had always stood out among the rest. No matter how many times I fell down, all I needed to do to succeed at life was stand back up. Once, twice, or a million times, the number didn’t matter. All I needed to do was stand up one more time.

  How was I supposed to stand up when I’d lost my mind?

  My father had never mentioned how to stand up after going insane.

  Landen sat beside me. “That’s not the reaction I was hoping for.”

  My shoulders slumped, and since I was either dead or hallucinating, there was no need to tell him anything other than the truth. “Men like you don’t make offers like that to women like me.”

  “Would it make you feel better if I married you before you moved into my bedroom? We could quietly find a preacher, get married, and have an official ceremony later. We don’t even have to tell anyone except the preacher; they can file the documentation, and civil unions are considered private citizen business here.”

  I made a show of looking around the dark forest, which was only illuminated by the bracelets around my wrists and ankles. After being dumped into a death temple, I’d cracked. No one in his right mind would want to marry me. On the bright side, I wasn’t alone in my psychosis, which made me feel a little better about things.

  Waking up to the disappointment of being unhappily single and suffering from mercury poisoning would suck, but I’d enjoy the situation while I could—and see what other crazy shit my brain conjured. “Where are we going to find a preacher out here?”

  “I’m making the assumption we would find one after we return to the crash in the morning and wait for someone to find us.”

  I bowed my head. “I’m really sorry about your friends.”

  “Anthony, the pilot, had a clean death; it happened when we crashed. Debris went through the windshield. I doubt he felt a thing. I think Holland had a heart attack. He wasn’t a young man, and he was getting ready to retire.” Landen sighed. “I’ve always worried he’d have a heart attack one of these days. I just didn’t expect it to happen like this.”

  “I’m still sorry.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. You had no idea the necklace was cursed. You might’ve still sold it if you knew, but you would’ve told me what I was getting into around the same time you were telling me how I’d have my heart cut out of my chest. I still would’ve bought it, I still would’ve had dinner with you, and I hope you still would’ve purchased my company for a quarter.”

  “Should’ve paid a nickel,” I mumbled.

  He laughed. “I would’ve been content with a penny.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Says the woman who is convinced she can survive the night outdoors in Alaska without help.”

  “I can if I need to. It’s just not my idea of a good time.”

  “Let’s cut a deal, then. You come home with me, live in my bedroom, agree to marry me, and understand I have no intention of letting you get away, and I won’t say a word while you try to prove you can do as you claim. If you succeed, I’ll keep my promise and make certain you get to have this dig site all to yourself. I won’t even make you excavate it with a spoon.”

  “You’re definitely crazy.”

  “Humor me. You’re the only woman I’ve looked twice at in a long time. I was married once, but my wife died. I honestly didn’t think there’d be anyone else until I met you. I don’t want to lose my second chance to have a family, and if I’m going to have a family, I want a wife who’ll keep me on my toes. You’re perfect for me.”

  “We don’t know each other very well,” I reminded him. “I’m fairly certain I’m the reason I’ve never had a lasting relationship in my life.”

  “I appreciate a challenge.”

  “I’m pretty sure I died wearing your shirt,” I confessed.

  “I find it concerning you think you died wearing my shirt but promising you were actually wearing it. Did you miss me?”

  No man had any business turning his voice into a husky purr. It wasn’t fair. I had an unreasonable desire to crawl on his lap, steal his warmth, and see if I could purr, too. I couldn’t.

  I’d tried a few times, playing with kittens in pet shops. My attempted purrs were more like raspy growls. The kittens hadn’t likes my purrs, running away and hissing at me.

  “Sebastian was annoying me. I was wearing your shirt as a shield. I also was wearing a white bra and it was raining.”

  He stilled beside me, quiet for a long time.

  “Tell me more,” he murmured.

  “But it doesn’t matter. I’m pretty sure I’m already dead. That’s the only logical explanation for this situation. I died, and some deity took pity on me and put me in this twisted form of heaven. You’re just here to witness me lose my mind and offer a running commentary. I’m okay with that. You actually have a brain and understand how to use it. So, that’s okay. I don’t mind. There are worst ways to go.”

  “I think I need you to tell me why you think you’re dead.”

  “Oh. That’s easy. I got head-to-toe mercury sulfite exposure. Cinnabar,” I explained. “When powdered and turned into a pigment, it’s called vermilion. It’s a really pretty color, but it isn’t a good way to go. I think I got lucky. It must have finished me off quickly. That’s a relief.”

  “Define ‘it’ for me, please.”

  I heaved a sigh. “Mercury poisoning, of course.”

  “Assuming you’re actually still alive, is that what Dr. Clemmondale was treating you for?”

  “Dehydration, too. But even if I’m not already dead, I’m probably doomed to die a terrible death because of that damned necklace. It’s more probable I’m already dead. That makes a lot more sense than freezing to death in Alaska with a bachelor who should hate me for getting his friends killed but doesn’t. I don’t understand that. You should hate me. Shit. I’m whining. You know what? I’m probably dead, so I can whine if I fucking want to, right?”

  “Wow, Summer. And to think you were calling me crazy.”

  “I have problems. I’m okay with admitting that.”

  “You sure do. I’m man enough to handle you at your worst. I’m worried about leaving you alone, though. If I do, you might have a full breakdown. I do have one problem. I don’t know how to convince you that we aren’t dead.”

  “I never said you were dead. I only said I was dead.”

  “Wouldn’t I have to be dead, too, to be having this conversation with you?”

  “Being dead makes a lot more sense than a quartet of magical shackles first teleporting me to Nevada and then deciding I needed to visit you in Alaska. The Nahua weren’t supposed to have a presence this far north. Hell, they weren’t supposed to be in Nevada, either. They made a damned death temple there. You
know what? Fuck it. I quit.”

  “Can dead people quit?”

  I scowled. “Can dead people talk? Looks like it. Since I can talk, I can quit.”

  “I confess, this isn’t something I’ve thought much about.”

  “I probably died while wearing your shirt,” I reminded him. “Because there was another man annoying me, and I told him I was hoping you might be interested at a later date. Not only that, I told him loyalty was sexy. He wouldn’t know how to be loyal if an instruction manual hit him in the face.”

  “I have no problem with you wearing my clothes. I’ll happily claim you as my territory. That said, it’s a little disturbing you’re convinced you died wearing my shirt.”

  “Is it?”

  “It’s almost as disturbing as your colorful descriptions of human sacrifice.”

  “The Nevada temple had writings description how a willing sacrifice could safeguard an entire city from future sacrifice. They’d wade through cinnabar and attempt to obtain divinity.”

  “That’ll be useful for your dissertation defense.”

  “I’m not defending my dissertation. Assuming I didn’t die, I’ve been coerced into staying in Nevada. Hadn’t I told you that? It’s not all bad. I’ll get paid to deal with their death temple. Granted, I hadn’t signed the papers yet. That’s probably because I was already dead and never had been rescued. Dr. Clemmondale is probably a figment of my imagination, just like you are. Is this heaven or hell? I’m really not sure.”

  “Heaven. You’re stuck with me. Still, I screwed up. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I was wrong to blame you. You’re cold. Let me warm you up. Everything’ll be better in the morning.”

  “I don’t like losing,” I complained.

  “It’s okay. Losing to me isn’t really a loss. You get to marry me. That’s not a loss at all.”

  “How egotistical.”

  “You like it when I’m a little egotistical.”

  I did, which made the thought of losing a little easier to bear. Unfortunately, it made my guilt worse. I’d been responsible for his situation and the loss of his friends. “But I got you cursed.”

  “There’s no proof I’m cursed, but since you’re convinced I am, I suppose I’ll have to concede the point. As you cursed me, your punishment is to stay here with me. I meant it. I want you to marry me.”

  Great. I’d truly lost my mind, and I was starting to like it.

  Chapter Ten

  There was one good solution to my problem. As I couldn’t figure out how to die properly and I didn’t want to freeze to death, I did the earthweaver equivalent of sticking my head in the sand. I staggered to my feet, stumbled away from the buried ruins, and dug a hole. Since Landen insisted on following me, I made my hole big enough for two, smoothed it so we would be as comfortable as we could get lying on the cold ground, and crawled inside.

  He laughed and joined me in my burrow, which became warm and cozy with him radiating heat like a living furnace. Dead or alive, it no longer mattered.

  He was warm and I was not.

  He was also willing to wrap his arms around me and hold me close despite having good reason to reject me.

  “This is not a good survival plan for Alaska,” he informed me. “The only reason you’re getting away with this is because of my talent.”

  I snuggled closer and confessed, “I’m too tired to gather wood.”

  “And what would you do with the wood?”

  “Friction. Two sticks, rub together briskly. It’ll ignite eventually. I’d make a chimney for the smoke, warm the interior, and make an airway so I won’t suffocate. Since I can open and close it however I want, and use only the best soil for insulation, I can keep it warm for a long time. It works.”

  “Hmm. I’ll give you a passing grade, I suppose. And what would you have done about food and water?”

  “I can find water with my talent,” I admitted. “But I would’ve melted snow in a stone bowl.”

  “Another passing grade. And food?”

  “Traps. It’s not very nice, but I can trap an animal and bury it. I don’t like doing it, but I will if I have to.”

  “All right. That would work. I’m still calling it my victory because theory is not application.”

  I laughed at him. “You just want to win.”

  “Damn straight I want to win.”

  I’d let him. I’d caused him so many problems by going along with the plan to sell the jade necklace to fund future digs. “What do I get if I let you win?”

  “You get to live in my bedroom, which comes with a lifetime supply of food. I’ll also bring you here during the summer, as I’m spoiled and don’t want to freeze my ass off watching you dig in the snow.”

  “You don’t seem very spoiled for a stupidly rich guy who bought a ten million dollar cursed jade necklace so he could get a dinner date.”

  “I had to make it good; you’d already won the war with your quarter. I was just making it clear to any hopeful bachelors I meant business with my opening bid. I was very disappointed when I found out you wouldn’t be staying for the whole auction. When I first saw you, trailing mud through such a prestigious event, I knew you were the one. Are you sure we’re cursed?”

  That quarter had gotten a hell of a lot of mileage. I was afraid to calculate exactly how many miles I’d traveled thanks to my quarter and the damned jade necklace. “I think being jerked from Mexico to Nevada to Alaska classifies as cursed.”

  “Maybe you’re the one who is cursed. The plane crash was bad luck. Engine failures happen, and it’s more likely to happen to me with how many hours I spend in the air in small planes.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder if the engine had had help failing. If ghosts could bind him with golden manacles and hold him in place, they could break a plane. That the plane had crashed close to the buried temple led me to believe it wasn’t a coincidence.

  “Drive,” I suggested.

  “Through hundreds of miles of the Alaskan wilderness, a wilderness completely lacking roads.”

  “Pave some roads. You’re rich. Surely you can pave a road to your house.”

  “Have you ever seen snow in your life?”

  “I grew up in Pennsylvania, thank you very much. It snows there.”

  Landen groaned. “I’m marrying a New Yorker?”

  He was too warm to leave, so rather than scooting away at the dismay in his tone, I contemplated various forms of retribution. How was I supposed to hold my own against him? Before I decided on how to get payback, I needed to find out what he had against my home kingdom. “What’s wrong with New York?”

  “Your monarchs are idiots.”

  “For the record, I have no blood relation to any monarch. I may have gotten mud on a monarch’s shoes, but otherwise I’ve had no interactions with royalty. It’s not my fault they’re idiots!”

  Landen’s soft laughter warmed me. “New Yorkers are stubborn. You have had interactions with royalty.”

  “I have? Cool. Do you think they hate me?”

  “Not at all. You’re charming, especially when you’re describing how best to retrieve their still-beating hearts out of their chests. I believe every royal at the auction knows who you are now—and with good reason. You’re someone worth watching. You’re as incredible as you are stubborn.”

  “I’m stubborn to the core,” I replied, uncertain of what to think of him considering me incredible—or having rubbed elbows with royals. “I’m thinking about getting some sticks and kindling to prove you wrong.”

  “You’re cold and hungry, and I’m warm. I can’t promise to feed you until morning, but I’m willing to bet the emergency supplies survived the crash. Once we reach the plane, I can take care of the rest. You don’t need to prove me wrong, so you don’t need to be stubborn about it.”

  “Except you want me to live in your bedroom for life if I lose.”

  “I want you to live in my bedroom for life even if you win,” he corrected.

  “You’d
have a New Yorker living with you in your bedroom for life. That sounds like a losing proposition for you.”

  “I’m reevaluating how much your feeding bill will cost, how much property you’ll destroy if I piss you off, and how much of a fight I’ll have on my hands when I notify New York I’ve taken one of its subjects as my wife. I’ve heard New Yorkers have voracious appetites and get vicious when hungry. I’m not usually one to take on a lot of challenges at one time, but I’m prepared to make an exception this time. Having you in my bedroom for life is worth the hassle. I’ll just have to be ready to provide food so I’m not mauled,” he teased.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “You’re fond of telling me that.”

  “It’s the truth. Have you looked at me?”

  “Up close and personal. You’re perfect from head to toe.”

  I flushed. “I’m not!”

  “I think you are.” Landen’s chuckles rumbled in his chest. “And don’t even try to act like you don’t think the same about me. I saw you staring.”

  “Your tailor has an unhealthy fixation on making your ass perfect,” I admitted.

  “See? It’ll work out. I think you’re perfect. You think my ass is perfect. I’ll take what I can get, so you won’t hear me complaining about where you stare. I’d appreciate if you could look at my face every now and then, but I’ll make a point of turning around for you whenever possible so you can enjoy my tailor’s hard work.”

  I laughed at the absurdity of our conversation. “We’re supposed to be smart people, but we’ve been reduced to discussing the merits of your ass.”

  “We’ve had a hard day. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t tell anyone.”

  “Deal.”

  “Now that we have that out of the way, you should relax, warm up, and let me worry about everything for a while. You’re still shivering, and until we can get to the crash site, you need to conserve your strength. And if our luck does sour, we’re going to need your talent. Mine can’t make shelter anywhere near as good as yours.”

  I allowed myself a smug smile. “I told you so.”

  “So you did.” Landen squirmed and wiggled out of his jacket, which he wrapped around me. “And don’t try to tell me no. My talent’s keeping me plenty warm. It’s you I’m worried about.”