by JD Monroe
“The human woman spoke the truth,” he said. “I found Surik dead in the desert with an Ironflight blade in his chest.”
Halmerah cursed. “He was one of my best.” She pressed one hand to her brow. Her jewelry tinkled lightly with the gesture. Beneath the span of her graceful hand, her face was creased with worry. She took a deep breath, but she couldn’t conceal the hitch in her breath that spoke of tears that wanted to spill over her cheeks. There was a joke among the Adamant Guard that if Halmerah were ever to cry, she would weep chunks of pure marble. Tarek had laughed right along with them until he saw her weep for her slain elder child. Those tears, the same bitter rain as the most humble Vak, proved that the queen’s heart was not made of mountain stone as they had once suspected. When Halmerah looked up again, her face was as cold and imperious as ever. “I do not understand the Ironflight. Why now?”
He shook his head. “They have long been upset at the balance of power.”
“But to attack my daughter,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder to look at Ashariah. Several more healers hovered over the princess, while a number of clerics in dark purple robes knelt at the end of her bed praying to the Skymother. “I would rather they had attacked me directly. She is innocent and naïve, too young to even know of the war. She knows of the struggle only from our stories. She has nothing to do with this. This was a cowardly act.”
“I know,” Tarek said. Speaking openly with Halmerah was the most familiar thing he’d experienced since returning home. It brought back the old days, when he was in her trusted circle, serving in Adamantine Rise instead of guarding a musty chamber with a seldom-used Gate. “Have you sent for Queen Tarim?”
Halmerah’s nostril flared as her full upper lip curled. “My messengers have gone with my demand for an audience. I somehow doubt that she will…” The queen trailed off and looked over Tarek’s shoulder. The soothing motion of massaging across his shoulder stopped as the healer realized Halmerah was staring at her. “I’m sure I do not have to tell you that whatever you hear is not for outside ears.”
“No, su’ud redahn, of course,” the healer said quickly. Tarek could feel the subtle vibration against his shoulder as her hands trembled. “I will not speak a word.”
“Good,” Halmerah said. “If Tarim is honorable, or at least pretending to be, she will answer my summons. As is proper, I will throw a feast to receive her. And then she will answer for what she has done.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Then she will learn why the Stoneflight holds the throne here at Adamantine Rise,” Halmerah said forcefully. The sadness in her eyes turned to steely resolve.
“Are you preparing for war?” Tarek asked.
“The Stoneflight must always be prepared for war,” Halmerah said. She shook her head and waved dismissively. “But you need not concern yourself with such things. You should rest. And I hope you will do me the honor of sitting at my side for the feast tomorrow. I wish for Tarim and her thugs to see that a warrior of the Stoneflight is not easily felled.”
The sudden change stung worse than the healer’s ministrations. However familiar the conversation had seemed, he was a fool to think she still trusted him as she once had. He was a guest in his own home, and the past remained between them like a stone wall.
The queen suddenly looked up. Tarek followed her gaze to see the healer holding out a steaming cup. “This will help you sleep,” the healer said.
Tarek accepted it reluctantly, but did not drink from it. He stared into the amber liquid as he spoke quietly. “I would help you, if you would allow me.”
Halmerah shook her head. “I know you wish to be of service. But for now, I would rather you rested and healed. Now, drink up.”
He sighed and sipped the fragrant tea. It was a potent blend, almost alcoholic in its strength. He drained the cup and handed it back to the healer, hoping the sting of rejection didn’t show on his face.
The queen gently touched his shoulder. “Do not trouble yourself, Tarek-ahn. All will be well.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled. The herbal mix was already slowing his mind, making his tongue thick and heavy. “And what of the woman?”
Halmerah raised an eyebrow. “The human?”
“Yes.”
“I need time to seek counsel over today’s events. I will have Councilor Eszen speak with her and attempt to understand what magic allows her to resist us. If she is under some spell, I would know of it. A Vak who can resist compulsion would be a dangerous spy in the wrong hands. She will stay here until I have answers, and then you will take her home and things will return to normal. It is not proper for a Vak to reside in my palace, no matter how altruistic their deeds.”
The dismissal of Gabrielle cut through the haze in Tarek’s mind like a knife. “She helped us. She helped Ashariah.”
“As I said, I am grateful,” Halmerah said sharply. “Have I not been gracious in her accommodations?”
“Yes, of course,” he murmured.
“Now, you should rest. Everything will be back to normal soon.”
“But…” he trailed off, his head spinning as the healer eased him back to the soft palette. As the heavy weight of sleep overtook him, he realized something odd. He didn’t want things to go back to normal. He wanted for things to change. He wanted to be part of the queen’s circle once more. He wanted to carry the sword in her name. But more than any of those things, he wanted to touch Gabrielle and to feel that connection again.
He was in trouble.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Gabby opened her eyes to sunlight pouring through an open window and the smell of hot tea in her nostrils. She sat bolt upright in surprise. She’d overslept. Shit, she was supposed to be at the hospital already. Panic overwhelmed her as she looked around frantically and began the rapid mental calculations of how long it would take to get dressed and drive to work, complete with shortcuts like skipping the shower and buying coffee at work instead of making her own. As she took in her surroundings, panic was replaced by confusion and gradually, disbelief.
Instead of the beige walls and wall-mounted TV across from her bed, she was greeted by silver-flecked stone and an elaborate mosaic of a red dragon soaring over mountain peaks. The bedclothes were a textured weave of dark blue. Suddenly, it all came crashing back. Dragons. Magic. Shapeshifting.
“Holy shit,” she murmured. Dizziness swept over her, and she flopped back on the huge bed. Silver veins in the stone ceiling gleamed bright in the morning sun. It was all real.
“Miss Gabrielle, are you awake?” a familiar voice said. Gabby sat up again and braced herself against a thick cushion as Raszila bustled into the room with a tray of food and drink. The servant woman’s face creased in concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, just surprised,” Gabby said.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, not at all,” Gabby said. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up on her own, not to a shrill alarm clock or a midnight emergency call. “I just…this whole thing is strange. I almost thought it was a dream.”
Raszila shrugged and placed the tray at the end of the bed. “Shall I get clothes for you while you eat?”
“That would be wonderful,” Gabby said. The pretty servant woman nodded and left her to eat. Her breakfast consisted of a tray of fresh fruit and an assortment of sliced breads that were still piping hot. Small dishes of colorful sauces were arranged in the gaps between oval plates. She broke off a piece of golden flaky bread, dipped it into the yellow sauce, and popped it into her mouth. She groaned with pleasure as a mix of cinnamon, butter, and something almost like pineapple exploded on her taste buds. Each bread was different, but she didn’t find a single one that wasn’t delicious. She was polishing off what looked like blueberries but tasted more like grapes when Raszila returned with a bundle of red fabric laid over one arm and a small basket tucked under her other arm.
“We start,” she said. “If you are finished.”
/> “Oh, yes,” Gabby said, a little sheepish as she surveyed the scattered crumbs that were all that remained of her breakfast.
Raszila nodded. “If you would like me to close my eyes?” She gestured broadly to the basket.
“Thank you,” Gabby said. She pawed through the basket and found her own clothes from the day before folded neatly and tucked tight into one side. The other garments in the basket were made of ivory linen, shot through with gold threads.
“The gold ones, if you please,” Raszila said without opening her eyes.
Gabby shook them out to find a pair of loose drawstring pants and a short top. After appraising her own body, she reached for the familiar comfort of her black sports bra and put it on. She quickly put on the other garments and said, “Okay.”
Raszila opened her eyes and smiled. Then she stepped closer and reached for Gabby’s shoulder. She gave the strap of the bra a pop. “What is this?”
“It’s a bra,” Gabby said.
Raszila rolled her eyes. “You do not need this.”
“I’m wearing it.”
The woman threw up her hands. “Fine,” she said. She shook out the pile of red fabric. The long rectangle of textured silk was trimmed in sparkling gold, with elaborately beaded designs in opposite corners. Raszila started neatly folding pleats with her thin fingers as guides. She tucked the pleats into the waistband, creating a skirt, then made a few elaborate folds and twists to bring the fabric around Gabby’s torso and over her shoulder. Sure enough, Raszila pulled a twist of fabric tightly around Gabby’s chest; even without a bra, it would have kept her chest supported. When she was finished, she used several long looped pins to secure the fabric to Gabby’s shoulder and hip. She stepped back, adjusted a pleat here and there, then finally gave a nod of approval. “Red is very nice on your skin.”
“Thank you,” Gabby said. She glanced down to see her body wrapped in the sparkling red fabric. Surprisingly, it wasn’t tight or uncomfortable, but was wrapped just right to let her walk and move comfortably.
“You have lovely hair,” Raszila said. “May I?”
“Of course,” Gabby said. She could get used to someone else taking care of her. It beat the hell out of blow-drying her own hair.
At Raszila’s direction, she sat on a low chair and let the other woman style her hair. Her fingers were strong and deft as she sectioned off Gabby’s hair, twisting and braiding as she hummed. After a while, she nudged Gabby’s shoulder and guided her across the room to look at a mirror hanging on the wall.
Gabby froze. Though her face seemed strangely bare without any makeup, she couldn’t help but be amazed at her appearance. Red fabric hugged her curves tightly, giving her an hourglass figure and setting off her golden skin. Her thick hair was arranged in an elaborate style with braids and twists wrapping around a fluffy bun atop her head. As a finishing touch, Raszila produced a gold comb with irregular red gemstones and wedged it into the hairstyle.
“Now, the queen sends instructions that you are permitted to explore the palace if you wish. However, you should probably have an escort to ensure that you don’t get lost,” Raszila said. She gave Gabby a knowing look in the mirror. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if your friend Tarek came.”
Gabby’s cheeks heated. “Well, he is the only person I know here. Besides you.”
“And I’m terribly busy today, so it will have to be him,” Raszila said as she fiddled with the folded fabric on Gabby’s shoulder. “However, you are to stop by the library and speak with Councilor Eszen this morning. Tarek will know where to go.”
“Councilor Eszen?”
Raszila nodded. “He oversees the Great Library. He is a scholar of magic and history. What would you talk to him about?”
Gabby hesitated. How much was Raszila supposed to know? “I’m not sure. Maybe how to get me back home,” she said.
The woman shrugged. She was about to speak again when a light knock sounded from the door. Raszila scurried to open it, then greeted the visitor. “Good morning, Tarek,” she said, emphasizing his name. The sound sent a thrill of nervous excitement through Gabby.
Tarek was still acknowledging the servant woman with a nod as he entered the room. He turned to Gabby and stopped short, his eyebrows shooting up. “Oh,” Tarek murmured. “Well.”
Was he blushing? Gabby’s cheeks heated as she realized he was checking her out unabashedly. She didn’t mind her view either; though he’d put on loose pants and a shirt cinched with a wide leather belt, she still had a fine view of his muscular arms and narrow waist. His dark hair was swept away from his face, which looked fresh and well-rested.
“It’s weird, right?”
“Not the word I’d have chosen,” he said.
“Are you here to show Lady Gabrielle around?” Raszila asked pointedly.
He looked at the servant woman in surprise. “I—yes?”
“Good,” she said. “You’re to visit the library as well.”
“Of course,” he said. “Thank you.” He held out his hand. “Would you allow me to show you my home?”
“I would be honored,” she said. She hesitated, then placed her hand in his. As his strong hand closed around it, another tingle of excitement washed over her like an electric current. He squeezed it lightly and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingers gently. Heat rose on her cheeks as his gaze met hers over the curve of her knuckles. Is this real life?
Like Alice down the rabbit hole, she had fallen smack-dab into the middle of her own bizarre fairy-tale. It was beyond weird, but what was the harm in enjoying the trip?
By day, the massive castle was bustling with activity as servants and guests hurried along the corridor. Daylight poured in through the open windows lining the stone wall. But as she looked closer, she realized there was something strange about the light. It was not the warm glow of the sun she knew, but a harsh white light that seemed to wash the stone out, like bleached bone. And despite the bright light, it was cool, bordering on cold with the constant breeze. Raszila had draped a soft wine-colored shawl around her shoulders before leaving, and now Gabby understood why.
As they strolled down the gently curving corridor of the guest quarters, Gabby felt the weight of inquisitive glances that lasted too long. But she felt strangely safe and secure with Tarek at her side.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Very,” she said. “I think she put something in the tea.”
“I’m sure she did,” Tarek said with a laugh. “Halmerah’s staff is notorious for it. If the queen orders you to rest, then you will rest whether you want to or not.”
“How about you?”
“I saw the healers,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”
She paused and tilted her head. “You got shot.”
He shrugged. “I told you, things are different here.”
With a frown, she circled around him and touched his shoulder. It had been bruised and cut when she last saw him, not to mention the bullet hole. His upper arm was now smooth, marked with only fine white marks like light scratches.
Tarek chuckled, then pulled the bottom of his shirt up to reveal his torso. There were old scars across his back that she’d glimpsed when she took care of him back in the motel. And right where she’d pulled a bullet out of him, there was a closed pink mark, maybe the size of a nickel. It wasn’t fully healed, and it was still surrounded in the purplish shadows of deep bruising. But she’d seen it with her own eyes less than twenty-four hours earlier.
She hesitated, then rested her hand against his back. His skin was warm, and he jumped a little at her touch. Then he relaxed, glancing over his shoulder as she gently ran her hand down the nearly healed plane of his shoulder blade. She was on the verge of asking how’s your ass when she realized how inappropriate it would sound.
“Do you believe me now?”
She was startled by his voice. As she looked up, she noticed a pair of servants carrying trays of food, both staring at them. Well, to be fair, she was
a human who appeared to be groping Tarek, who had his shirt pulled halfway over his head. They weren’t blending in so well. “I believe you.”
“So I can put this back?”
She stole another glance at his muscular chest and the smooth curve from broad chest to narrow waist. It was a shame to hide it. “I suppose.”
He cocked his head, his lips quirking into a smile. Then he chuckled to himself and tucked the shirt back under his belt. “Is the doctor satisfied with the healers’ work?”
“It’s impressive,” she said. “How?” The kind of healing he’d shown would take weeks or months in her world. She wanted to bottle up whatever they were using and take it home.
Tarek shrugged. “How does the sun come up in the morning?”
“Well, technically, it doesn’t. The earth, or whatever we’re on now, just rotates,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “You are very strange.”
“In a good way?”
He smiled and continued walking down the corridor. Her heart thrummed with nervous energy. She felt like she was on a first date, and instead of counting the minutes until she could go home to a bottle of wine and the couch, she wanted desperately to impress Tarek.
“In a good way,” he agreed finally.
She felt such a sense of relief and pride that it nearly overwhelmed her. How ridiculous was that? There was a shelf life on their relationship, and not a generous one. Whatever was between them would be over as soon as he got her home where she belonged, and her life would go back to being painfully normal. She knew all of these things, but her heart hadn’t gotten the memo. Her heart, idiot that it was, was stuck on the dreamy eyes looking up as he kissed her hand and offered a tour of the mountain castle he called home.
Screw being logical for once.
“So you still didn’t answer my question about how they do it?”
“Healing magic,” he said. He shrugged. “I don’t understand it any more than I understand electricity in your world. It is a natural occurrence. I don’t mean to frustrate you, but it’s beyond my ken.”
