by Am Hudson
“It is,” I said. But that didn’t make me feel any better either. “Besides, what choice do I have? You know David can’t do a damn thing to help me. Not even as king. No one can.”
He thought for a second, then squared his shoulders. “Drake can.”
“No.” I aimed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare bring him into this—not after what he did! I can’t be anywhere near him, Falcon, I—”
“But if he comes now—signs the agreement, he will have final say over what happens to you.”
“And you think that’s any better an idea than Walter having control?” I walked over and shut my door. “Falcon, Drake will take me away—hide me in his castle until the baby’s born. And then he’ll kill me. And no one will have any power to stop him. You can’t be foolish enough to put my fate in Drake’s hands.”
“It’s the only way, Ara. He’s the only one with a big enough stake in this to protect you like I will.”
I cupped my hands over the bump, wondering if I should tell Falcon she was born to the wrong knight—that if Drake learned that while I was under his protection, Walter and his House would seem like a picnic compared to what I’d be made to suffer. “If Drake comes into this, people will ask questions, and—”
“What, you think they’ll deduce that you’re carrying Drake’s beloved ex-wife’s reincarnation?”
“Yes!”
He laughed, but it changed on the end to a more sardonic scoff. “Well, it’s better than having them brutalise you.”
I looked away from his round eyes, toying with the hem of my shirt. “You don’t really think they’ll use the Pear of Anguish, do you?”
An image flashed in his mind—of me, my legs spread and bound, while the Punisher inserted a metal object inside me. “I will die before I let them do that to you.”
“Then I guess you’re right,” I said, marching to my dresser to grab my phone. “We need to call Drake. Because I won’t let you die for me.”
His hand appeared over mine, stopping the call. “Let me meet with the House first. Blade and I will make a case and see if we can get a lesser punishment.”
I lowered the phone. “How lesser?”
He shrugged. “They may be willing to leave it at a few lashings—”
“Falcon!”
“The baby can survive that, Ara. So can you. And you’ll be reinstated as queen immediately after. It’s the best we can hope for.”
My thumb moved over the call button and hovered there. “I’d like to think they’d leave the entire thing alone until I’ve had the baby.”
“If they do, you’re in a cell and we’re without a queen for a few months.” He nodded to my rather small belly. “An example has to be set, by law. There’s no getting around that now.”
I laid my hand to his arm. “Go then. See if Blade’s had any luck with the scrolls and that fine-toothed comb.”
Falcon bowed. “I’ll return within the hour, my queen.”
“Good luck,” I called as he shut the door.
***
To be a fly on the wall in that room. Then again, even a soul on the wall would do.
Being born without a soul had its advantages. I’d never tried it before now, but my ability to walk without a body wasn’t tied purely to moments of unconsciousness. I could travel at will. I’d just never attempted it before and had no idea how.
I removed my talisman and laid on my bed, my hands gathered over my belly, unsure if anything would happen. Even if it did, I wasn’t sure what exactly my plan was. I just needed to see what was happening; too much time had passed and no word had come.
“Focus. Focus. Focus…” I whispered to myself, making the glass dome above my bed go out of focus. When there were two of them, I shut my eyes and unwound each muscle in my body individually, starting with my toes, then my calves, moving the relaxation up into my knees and thighs, letting it warm my spine and my arms and finally, brought it over my head and shoulders like a tepid wave. I imagined my body swelling and shrinking—imagined it blue and shadowy, and as a hot sensation went through my core, my eyes flicked open and I saw myself laying on the bed.
My heart skipped a nearly audible beat then. I sat up suddenly in my human form, though, taking a giant breath.
“I did it.” I laughed, bunching my hands excitedly, then laid down again and took myself through the same process as before. It took a little longer this time, but when I saw my body underneath me again, I quickly switched focus to random objects around the room—avoiding the reality of my soul being outside my body.
Without a human form to ground me, I wasn’t really sure where to go. I could feel a memory on the tip of my proverbial tongue, but I just couldn’t recall it—couldn’t find the place I was supposed to be. I knew I needed Falcon, but I couldn’t feel for his energies without my Cerulean body either. Also, the door was closed and I wasn’t sure I could walk through walls.
This was starting to look like a bad idea.
A familiar voice caught my attention then, and as Blade’s face came to mind, it suddenly appeared in front of me. He walked right through me, stopping for a second when he felt a shiver down his spine, then continued on down the stairs, talking to someone on his phone.
How the hell did I get here? I thought to myself, looking around the front entranceway.
I floated up high above the room, feeling the weightlessness of nothing in what would usually be my arms. It almost felt like wading, but as my hands moved through the water, there was nothing there but air. Everything looked different too, like waking up all foggy-eyed and stumbling into the kitchen to get a drink—it was all just… blurry and vague, making me tired.
I could never spend too long outside my body. I needed to find out what they were saying and get back. If I could even remember how to get back.
I followed the familiar vibrations of Blade’s voice through twists and turns, past rooms with open doors and closed doors, and we finally entered through a glass door at the end of several glass windows. The light was harsh and draining in here, with the seven Upper House members on one end of a long table and the seven Lower House members at the other end. Walt sat at the head, his arms folded, eyes on Falcon as he paced the floors, hands moving in explanation.
Blade bowed apologetically and took the empty seat next to what I assumed was Falcon’s seat. My chair was at the front of the room, away from the table, beside another chair that I knew was for the king. Which wasn’t recalled by memory, it was just obvious, given that both chairs had crowns carved into the wood.
I wasn’t sure if anyone could see my blue pulsing light, or if maybe they didn’t notice it, but I floated right past them all, one face after another, and hovered above my chair, watching. Despite the grave situation I faced, this was actually pretty darn fun.
“I am asking you, for the last time.” Walt overemphasised those words. “Is there, or is there not any truth to this information?”
“And I will say it again.” Falcon stood tall and folded his arms. “Tell me where you heard that and I will tell you what I know.”
“Falcon, son, we’re not messing around here,” Robert said. “We were there. We witnessed the tyranny firsthand. We cannot allow the child to live if it does so happen to be the reincarnation of the witch!”
I gasped loudly, sitting upright in my bed, my heart racing a million miles. I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t swallow or see a thing. I felt around then rolled my legs over the side of the bed and, shaking, covered my face until I could see black again—the words “Cannot let the child live!” repeating in my head. Only two people knew the real truth about my daughter—about her being soulless—and both of them were gone right now. But both would say the same thing: do not, under any circumstances, tell a soul that she’s not Anandene. It wouldn’t save her life. It would surely see me kidnapped. But what would become of her if they punished me—using that punishment, perhaps, as a guise to kill her?
I cradled one hand gently over Bump
. Baby gave a strong, quick little jump inside me and then rolled something long down under my belly button.
She might not have a soul, but she had personality, a heartbeat, a brain. A life. No matter what, even if she was the evil witch, they couldn’t possibly justify killing her. Could they?
I drew my phone from my pocket and dialled a number before I answered that question in my mind, because I already knew the answer.
“Amara?”
“Drake.” I tried to hold it in, but as soon as I heard the voice of the man that killed my sweet little children—as soon I realised I needed his help—I broke down and cried. “They know. And they want to kill her.”
“Amara, calm down, you’re not making sense.”
I knew that. All my words came out garbled and stuttered. But I couldn’t stop my chest and my lungs from shaking. “Someone told them… someone knows…”
“Amara. Stop talking and take a deep breath.” He paused while I composed myself, hiccuping. “Start from the beginning.”
So I did. I told him how David had beaten Arthur to within an inch of his immortal life, and how the House had then come to hear an accidental confession. He let out a small squeak of surprise when I told him I could willingly leave my body.
“And you don’t know who told them about Anandene?”
I shook my head, realising then that he couldn’t see me. “No. Do you?”
Drake drew a very long breath through what sounded like his nose. “No. But you’re no longer safe there. I’m coming to get you.”
“But—”
“No buts,” he said firmly. “I mean you no harm, Amara. You have my word.”
“I—”
“Pack a bag. I’ll be there within the hour.”
I looked toward the doors as the dawn light moved the shadows aside. “But they’ll come for me, Drake—any minute now. They meant to arrest me last night.”
“Blast it!” he said to himself, the phone very clearly nowhere near his mouth at the time. “Amara.” He put it back to his ear. “Where are you right now?”
“I…” I shrugged, looking around my room. “In my room.”
“Right. Stay there. In fact, no. Get back—against the door, and duck down.”
“What?”
“Just do it,” he said firmly. “I’m using magic to get to you.”
“I don’t get it,” I said, ducking and running for the other side of the room. “What does that have to do with—Ah!” A tidal wave of shattered glass blasted from the windows, rolling across the furniture then scattering along the floors like foam against the shore. Before the dust even settled, wild rain blasted in through the missing windows, dragging my curtains down and saturating everything in its path. I covered my face with the back of my arm, squinting against the cold and, there among the glassy powder and twinkling remains, was Drake. His long black coat wavered, opening to reveal his leather boots and long silver sword against his tight-fitting black jeans.
“Where’s Falcon?” he called over the squalling winds.
“He…” I stayed in a squat, feeling around the floor for my phone. “He’s not here.”
“Good.” Drake strode across the room, glass crunching under his boots, and grabbed my arm gently to help me stand. “I didn’t want to have to fight him.”
“He’s coming though,” I said, listening. “I can hear him.”
The mess under our feet scratched the floorboards as Drake guided me away from the door and stood in front of me. “I’m going to ask you to do something,” he said, “and it won’t make a lot of sense, but for the sake of your men, Amara, please trust me.”
“O…kay,” I agreed hesitantly.
“Don’t make a sound,” he said. “My cloaking spell can mask your physical form, but it won’t disguise a voice. Do you understand?”
I nodded, already complying.
“And—” he started just as the door flung open and snapped clean of its hinges, hitting the floor right in front of us. Blade and Quaid ran to opposite ends of the room in a panic, while Falcon stood half an inch away from touching Drake’s cape, looking at the hanging shards of glass still left in the frames of the windows.
Walter and several others entered with the speed and determination of cops with a search warrant, then just stood there in the middle of the room, stunned.
“Where is she?” Walt demanded, raising his voice over the thundering winds.
“I don’t know,” Falcon said.
While the House members argued and yelled among themselves, Quaid searched every inch of my room and Blade headed down the secret passage. But Falcon just frowned at something near my bed, lifting his feet higher over the glass as he walked toward it.
Drake kept one hand firmly around my wrist, obviously connecting me to the spell, his other hand outward in case anyone walked into our miracle bubble, and we watched as everyone drew their own conclusions about what had happened in here.
When they finally stormed out, muttering something about a hunting party, Falcon just walked slowly to the windows and inspected both ends of the manor through the broken glass. The room fell to total silence behind him, the rain coming down hard outside.
He looked at something in his hand and then gently placed it to his lips. “Thank God.”
Drake and I exchanged glances. He seemed more puzzled than me.
“I don’t know if you can hear me, Ara,” Falcon said. “But if you’re out there, watching, waiting… run. Don’t come back. Run as far and as fast as you can until that baby is born.”
The fear and dread in his tone made my skin crawl. Drake’s hand tightened supportively on my wrist. We held there, still as statues, me holding my breath, as Blade and Quaid joined Falcon again. They took one look at him, and without any verbal cue must have known he wasn’t worried. They both just nodded once.
“Guess we better put word out,” Blade said.
“And start a mock search party?” Quaid offered.
Falcon nodded, his chest puffed with obvious grief, then turned and walked out of the room. I looked right at him as he passed me; it was the strangest sensation to see directly into a man’s eyes without him looking back. But I saw what he wouldn’t show the other guys: a mix of relief and fear.
When Quaid and Blade finally left too, Drake let go of my wrist and stepped away. “Is there anything you’d like to bring with you?”
If there was, I couldn’t think of it right then.
“Right.” He offered his hand. As he unfolded his fingertips, I noticed the lines in his palm. They were the strangest, oddest pattern I’d ever seen. Nothing like modern hands—the more prominent lines running vertically not horizontally.
I hesitantly placed my hand in his. “Where are we going?”
“To the castle—”
“What!”
“You’ll be safe there.”
“But—”
“I know.” He used my hand to draw me closer, cupping it between his palms. “I’m sorry you had to go through what you suffered there, but it is the safest place for you. Your monarchy has no rule there, and even if they found you, they cannot force you to leave.”
I knew he was right. I didn’t have a choice but to go with him. I needed to escape and reassess, but then again, maybe going with him had its advantages. We’d been waiting for the perfect opportunity to get near him with his guard dropped. This could be my chance to have him right where I wanted him. Once and for all. And kill him!
“Can I call David when I get there—tell him I’m okay?”
“Of course. Although, perhaps I should use a watching spell first—just to see if he’s an ally or an enemy.”
“Enemy?”
“After what happened with Arthur…” he said suggestively.
“I don’t think David hates me, Drake. I think he pities me.”
“Well, we shall see.” He bent slightly and picked me up. My arms flung out nervously before I tucked my elbow behind his shoulder and wrapped my hands a
round his neck, wishing I had the strength to snap it. “Close your eyes,” he said.
But they were already shut. If I had to be this close to that disgusting slimeball, there’s no way I could do it without picturing him as a random fireman rescuing me from a burning building.
Chapter Two
The white sun pierced my eyes as we materialised on a gravel path, skidding like a speeding car. The entire contents of my stomach went right, hitting the opposite side as we stopped dead. I wriggled and scrambled quickly out of Drake’s arms, reaching for the stone wall as soon as my feet touched the ground.
Drake steadied me by the arm. “Are you okay?”
“No!”
He stood back deliberately, while I fought whatever nasty thing was about to leave my stomach.
I leaned into the wall, cupping one hand under Bump, keeping my gaze on the ground—the only thing not moving—and just focused on the lemony scent of fresh pines, wafting in low to the ground with the early morning breeze.
When it settled and my body finally accepted the suddenness of the change, Drake laughed, straightening his long cloak then deliberately messing up his hair. “I felt the same on my first jump.”
“Where are we?” I asked, noticing the short green grass to my left and the giant cream building under my hand.
“Your new home,” Drake said, and rolled his hand out to present it. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to The Castle Elysium, better known by some as Le Château de le Mort.”
I dropped my hand quickly from the wall and stepped back, hugging myself. Nothing about it looked the way I remembered. Until my eyes travelled the length of the central tower to the clock, standing proudly above the entrance, and there my mind recalled the gothic peaks and the darkness—the feeling of being so small and so alone that I stupidly let myself trust Jason. But it all slipped backward in my memory, giving way to the truth that daylight and the absence of fear extended: Arthur’s family home was beautiful, with cream cathedral-like peaks and at least a dozen open windows along the rectangular façade. Acres and acres of grass stretched across the vacant lands, tucked in on the sides under a wildly overgrown forest of evergreens, the green broken only by a white pebbled path cutting a straight line through from the front steps to as far as the eye could see.
