There wasn’t much to do in this well-furnished bedchamber,
and the only things to look at were the fancy wardrobe, the enormous bed with
its heavy velvet bedcovers, its matching embroidered counterpane, and a carved
table beside it. No artwork of any sort, no tapestries of any kind adorned the
stretch of rounded walls. There was only that creepy magic to embellish it.
Contessa spent a great deal of time gazing out the lone window.
The French countryside was lovely, lush and green. The
ground was flat around the castle as the earth tapered down to the ocean, but
off in the distance she could see purple-cast mountains tipped with white. Her
torso jerked with a single sob. Oh how she longed to feel Christian touch her
face, feel his mouth upon her cheek, upon her hair. Her fingertips rose to her
lips and another sob broke free. This one came out sounding like a cross
between a sob and a laugh. She wished to hear him call her
any
endearment, even if it did not show proper respect for her title. She longed
for his urgent, nearly overwhelming kisses, and she longed to gaze at that
handsome dimple of his. Feeling so angry, feeling so alone, feeling so
frustrated and helpless, Tessa buried her face in her hands and cried.
The sound of a bird chirping with joy from the window ledge
awakened Contessa the next morning. She rubbed her swollen eyes and turned a
scowl upon the plump, blue-feathered creature.
If only I could fly like you
,
she thought angrily, resenting the bird for being what it was, for the freedom
it most likely did not know it had.
Tessa stretched, moaned, and pushed herself into a seated
position. Another day. Another day closer to a wedding she feared, and dreaded.
And she still had not come up with a way to escape. She combed fingers through
her disheveled tresses, her fingers catching on a tangle. Working it loose
without a brush, Contessa swung her legs over the edge of the mattress.
In came the belligerent maids.... Without conversation, they
dressed her in a red, silk gown, brushed and styled her hair into a tight
chignon, and then left her to eat a breakfast of fresh fruit, sugarless tea,
crackers and aged cheeses.
After staring ponderously out at the beautiful landscape for
what felt like an hour or two, she decided she would not sit quietly whilst she
was held prisoner. Contessa pushed away from the windowsill and studied the
nauseating magic wriggling upon the stone walls.
It was difficult, but she managed to work up the nerve and
tried to touch the spell-poisoned surface. Watching in horror as it sucked at
her strength before she even made contact, her knees buckled and it was several
moments before she could stand again. In frustration, she muttered the witches
revealing spell at it. Oddly, it did not like that. Part of it cracked and
crumbled to the floor as though…dead? But just as quickly as a portion of the
wall had cleared, the poisonous magic surrounding it filled in the empty space.
“Curious.” Perhaps the magic of a human witch would work
against Dominic’s darkness. She had remembered some of her own magic, but it
was not black like his, and she remained unable to access the power because of
his spells.
She moved toward the door, and was just about to whisper the
opening spell Tabitha had used upon her trunk when she heard a key enter the
lock. She ran to the bed and sat upon it, watching the knob turn.
It was the servants bringing her noonday meal. Apparently
she’d pondered quietly, looking beyond her prison, longer than she’d first
thought.
Contessa ate the cheese-garnished onion soup and the purple
grapes beside it, but saved the bread, smiling at the hope her idea offered.
Perhaps she could slip away unnoticed, for Dominic never did visit. If only she
could get far enough away before the next meal…before they discovered her
missing.
They’d brought afternoon tea the day previous, and whilst
she did not have a way to tell time, she knew she had perhaps four to five
hours before they visited again.
This was her chance. Tessa wrapped the bread in her napkin,
knowing she may need something to eat on her journey away from here. She
slipped on her shoes and moved to the door. Taking a breath, and uttering a
plea to God, Tessa spoke the words of the opening spell she’d heard Tabitha
use. The lock made a clicking noise; she curled fingers around the doorknob and
twisted. It opened.
Sending up words of gratitude, Contessa pulled, but as the
door swung toward her, she saw the guard who was watching her with irritated
curiosity. “How did you open that?” he asked in a deep gravelly voice.
She did not reply, but pushed to close the door. He caught
the edge of it and held it open. “How did you unlock the door?” he demanded in
a harsher tone.
When again she would not respond and backed away toward the
window, it seemed he gave up and tugged it shut, relocking it from the outside.
Hours later, the meal she was hoping she would not be here
for arrived.
Contessa tried to ignore the servants as she’d ignored the
guard, and was quite startled when the older maid seized her about the arms and
shook her. “How dare you! His Majesty thought we’d left your door unlocked, and
punished us for it.”
Her eyes traveled the bruises upon the maid’s face and she
swallowed.
The woman gave her another shake. “How did you open the
door?”
Unwilling to give away her secret, she said, “You did leave
it unlocked.”
“I did no such thing,” growled the woman. Releasing her, the
maid backed away with fists held at her sides as though she longed to strike
her. “Your tea and crumpets, Your Royal Highness.” The proper address was spat
like a vulgarity.
They left after tossing vicious glares her way.
Contessa braced herself on the edge of the armoire, and
released a breath slowly. If only she could turn back into a spirit, she could
drift away without anyone knowing, without anyone stopping her. She could fly
away from the great height of this chamber just as that little bird had. No one
had spoken her name for days, why had she not turned ghostly?
Chapter
28
The
Mist
Christian could not believe his eyes. He was really seeing
her parents. In the mirror? How was that possible? Of course, with them being
fey, who knew?
“Come to us,” the man implored.
Christian was still reeling from the sight before his eyes
and couldn’t quite grasp what they were asking. “What?”
“Come and we can help you rescue her,” said the woman, or
rather, the queen. Annabelle?
“You know?”
“We know the spell has fractured and that he has found her.
Please, you must hurry,” said the man. What was his name? Oh, yes, James.
Contessa’s father—the king.
“Where are you?”
“Go into the mist.”
Where the devil is that?
he wondered. And apparently
the questions showed through his expression, because they answered.
“The day you went into the woods. Do you remember?” asked
James.
How could he forget? Oh, no…that choking fog that raised the
hairs on the back of his neck and spooked his horse.
“We are there. We’ve been imprisoned, but you will be able
to get through because you’re human. The closer you get, the windier it will
become, the more stifling, but you must push ahead. Watch the ground and find
the path. It will take you to the door.”
“When?”
“Now. And bring the witch.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“We will explain all when you arrive.”
Then they were gone, and Christian was left staring at
himself. In a daze he picked up the sketch of Contessa and looked at it. Could
he get her back? With care he placed the paper onto the table in the hallway
and called, “Tabitha!”
He ran toward the witch’s chamber. “Tabitha!”
“What is it?” asked the witch, clearly shocked at his sudden
bellowing of her name.
“We must go now!”
It seemed his urgency was visible enough for Tabitha not to
question him. She gathered her coat and asked, “Go where?”
He explained while the horses were saddled. They set off
toward the forest. The sun was setting. Light cut across the landscape,
painting the world a dark orange. But as they moved beneath the heavy canopy of
trees, the greenery swallowed the sun along with any illumination it provided,
plunging them into darkness.
“Goleuni,” muttered Tabitha, and a ball of light filled her
hand. She held it up like a lantern.
There was a green tinge to the glow which caused eerie
shadows to dance about as they moved ahead.
Chills crawled along every inch of his flesh when they
reached the mist. Prince bucked and backed away. “Easy.” He patted the horse’s
neck and urged the beast forward. The animal was well trained, and even though
it obviously didn’t want to continue, it obeyed.
Hours passed as they searched for the path, and Christian
began to fear they may never find the castle. Just as they had warned, it
became windier, to the point he realized if he were not upon a horse, which was
stronger than him, he would not be able to push against it. He struggled to
just keep his seat, and knew not how the frail Tabitha was managing.
“There!” shouted Tabitha.
Shifting his gaze to her light, he saw it, a cobbled path
barely visible beneath the swirling fog.
They followed the rounded stones until they came to a
bridge. They could not see farther than a couple of feet ahead of them, and the
pressure of the mist upon them was stifling. The tiny woman with him appeared
to be coping with it better then he felt he was. Christian was near giving up.
His muscles shook and a sweat had broken out upon his skin, but he was
freezing. His horse was getting skittish, and he wanted to scream for mercy.
He’d had a taste of this magic when Dominic held him with his dark spell, and
he’d decided he did not have the stomach for such wicked machinations. It was
no wonder Contessa’s parents had not been able to escape for centuries. If it
tormented a human like this—a human who this was not meant to stop—what would
it do to anyone who was fey?
Bent over the horses for protection against the howling
winds, they crossed the bridge. Christian’s fingers tightened around the mane
of his horse. He would have fallen off otherwise. When the wind lessened, he
knew they’d reached the end. The horse’s hooves clopped against the wood and
echoed as though they were the only beings left in the world.
Sliding from the saddle, Christian reached to aid Tabitha
down as well.
Once she was steady upon the ground, he blindly stretched
his arms out, feeling for a door...for anything.... He was relieved to find
that the structure seemed to partially shelter them from the mist as well as
the wind and Christian felt some of his strength return.
His palms landed on a carved wooden surface. He felt around
for a knocker. With fingers bumping into a smoother material that rose from the
panel, Christian exhaled with relief. He curled his fingers around it, pulled
it back and slammed it against the plate behind it. That sound echoed loudly in
this world of choking mist. It also reverberated from behind the door.
It did not open, but a voice from within said, “Enter and
bring your mounts.”
Hesitating, he contemplated what he was really just about to
do. Meet her parents...and Heaven forgive him...he hadn’t compromised just a
lady, while that was bad enough, he’d compromised a
princess
. The king
and queen were going to have his head.
“My lord?” He could feel Tabitha clinging to his coat, and
realized he’d best get them both out of this chilling mist. Christian felt around
for a handle, and gave it a twist when he found it.
As though the castle itself exhaled, a current of air pushed
past them as they forced their way inside. The mist released them into an
enormous atrium and standing before them was a man and woman.
Both were dressed as royalty from the medieval past. He knew
then that he faced her parents.
The king and queen—a
fey
king and queen.
Her father was dressed in an embroidered velvet jerkin. He
wore black shiny boots that came up to his knees. His fingers were adorned with
three rings upon each hand, and his head was crowned with a circlet of
ruby-studded gold. The queen’s attire also bespoke of nobility. Many diamonds
captured the light and sent it flying in all directions from the crown adorning
her elaborate coiffure. Her blue gown shimmered with even more jewels. It was
as though her dress has been cut from the fabric of the night sky.
Christian dropped to his knees before them and bowed his
head. “Forgive me,” he said in a hushed voice.
Silence ensued. Christian understood proper etiquette for
royals in his time...but feared it may be different with a fey and medieval
king and queen. Without knowing their customs in regards to showing them
respect, he felt it best if he did not look up until directed to do so, thus he
waited. From the corner of his eye, he could see Tabitha upon her knees beside
him.
“Please rise,” said the queen.
He did, as did Tabitha.
“Forgive you for what?” asked King James, after exchanging a
confused look with his wife.
“For...for...compromising your daughter.” He was surprised
how much it hurt to say that out loud.
The king smiled, or was it a smirk? While worry for his
daughter winked forth from his eyes, he seemed amused by Christian’s concern.
However, instead of saying anything about it, James caught the eye of a
servant, and said, “Will you take their horses to the stables please, Bertwin?”
“Aye, Your Majesty,” said the thin man just before scurrying
toward the horses and gathering their reins.
“Come,” said James as he turned and strode toward the main
entrance of the castle.
“Sit,” he commanded as they entered the great hall. It was
decorated as he imagined his own castle must have been centuries ago. A fire
flickered before an arrangement of elegant chairs upon a red and tan woven rug.
The cold stone walls were warmed with elaborate and colorful tapestries
depicting unicorns and other such mythical creatures. Besides the fire, the
hall was lit with many sconces mounted along the walls. Above the arch leading
from the large chamber were hung four battered shields. A unique crest design,
featuring other mythical beasts, was painted on each one. On the wall straight
ahead of him was displayed a large collection of ornately carved bows and
arrows.
They sat, he upon a fat-cushioned chair, and Tabitha upon a
turquoise-upholstered settee.
Another servant entered, carrying a tray, a woman this time.
She performed a deep curtsy while balancing her laden platter and said, “Tea,
Your Majesties?”
“Yes, please,” said Annabelle.
Tea was served and Christian wished to get the awkward
conversation over with before he lost his lunch. He took his tea straight.
“Your Majesty—”
“We’re not angry with you, young man.”
Christian blinked.
Annabelle went on, “We knew she might fall in love with a
human when we placed her in your world.”
“So you did build that chamber for her?” Christian rubbed
sweaty palms onto his pant legs, shifting his cup from one hand to the other.
“Yes, of course.”
“After Dominic killed her?”
Again the king and queen exchanged a look. Then James
explained, but his answer made little sense. “We placed that spell upon her.”
Lunging to his feet, Christian barely avoided spilling his
drink. “You—?” The king seemed irritated he would think they’d taken her life,
and the queen appeared rather disturbed by it. But how else was he supposed to
interpret what the man had just said?
“Sit down,” snapped James. “No, we did not murder her. What
you saw was a fey glamour. It was the only way to hide her from him. He had to
think she was dead.”
Christian sank back into his seat. He massaged his left
temple with two fingers. “I’m terribly confused.”
James took a draw of his tea after lifting his spoon from
the drink and setting it upon the edge of his saucer. “Dominic wanted to marry
her, but we knew what he’d done to his other wives, and we could not let him do
that to her too.”
“What did he do?”
“He murdered them...all of them. It is how he has gained so
much land and wealth.”
“But you’re saying he did not kill her?”
“Correct. She was never dead.”
Christian remembered the mark upon her neck, and asked, not
really wanting the answer, “Did he ravish her?”
Color drained from Annabelle’s face, but James responded,
“No.”
“Thank the saints,” breathed Christian.
James continued to explain, “It seemed that from the
prince’s perspective, the mark was enough to force our hand. But when we
continued to argue over it, they threatened war. Contessa then agreed to the
marriage to protect us. However, we could not let her go through with it. On the
day of the wedding we cast the spell. We put her into a deep sleep, and for all
who saw her, she appeared to be deceased, having taken a fatal tumble down the
staircase, which was also an illusion. After the funeral, I removed her from
the tomb and hid her within Krestly Castle, within your human realm, knowing he
would not sense her there, would never seek her there.”
“Dear me,” exhaled Tabitha. “I have heard of the fey masking
themselves behind a cunning glamour before, but never did I fathom such a glamour
could be so complicated and so utterly convincing.”
It certainly had been convincing. Christian had read about glamours,
but hadn’t made the connection. From what he’d understood, glamours were used
to hide the fey’s true appearance, not life itself, so he never suspected....
But as he marveled at how she’d drifted through walls, he also realized that
somehow Dominic had discovered her after centuries of her remaining hidden.
“How then did he find her, and why didn’t she know who she was?”
“We had to take her memories from her. It was of most
importance to maintain the magic for her to not exist, or appear to not exist.
If she remembered her name, and anyone else but her uttered it, it would cause
the spell to break, and he would sense the sudden return of her presence.”
Christian felt his heart sink to his knees as he shared a
look with Tabitha. The witch had been correct. He never should have spoken her
name. This was his fault. He alone was to blame for the danger she was in. “I’m
so terribly sorry.”
“Lord Sparks, please know that she slept until you came.
When she awoke, we knew she was meant for you.”
Finding it hard to be comforted by that, he said, “Why
didn’t you warn her? Or warn me the same way you called me here?”
“The mirror was only for us to watch over her. We could not
communicate with her for fear of her remembering her name. We could not speak
to her through it.”
“But you contacted me.”
“It took a great deal of magic to accomplish that.”
“And you revealed yourselves to her....”
“We did not wear crowns, she was only to know that she was
loved, cared for, and not forgotten.”
“How could you let your daughter sleep her life away like
this?”
“She has been frozen in time, and we never meant for it to
be for so long. It was supposed to be a temporary solution, whilst we fought
the Renard family. They are brutal and dangerous.”
Christian choked on the horrible images those words
conjured. What was she going through now? Where were they keeping her? What was
he
doing to her? Again surging to his feet, Christian exclaimed, “Tell
me where he lives! I will go to her, rescue her.”
“You must be trained first, or you will not survive.”
“There isn’t time! He has her—he could be hurting her as we
speak!”
The queen continued to look quite pale, weak and troubled
with deep emotional distress. Surely she was imagining the same horrors as he.
But the king maintained his strength...a shining example of an ever benevolent
ruler...and father. “I understand your concern. But Dominic will slaughter you
if you’re not prepared to fight him. He dabbles in dark magic, as did his
mother and father. Because of that, they’re quite powerful. It is how they
trapped us here. They combined their powers and set the mist about our home. We
were helpless to do much else but watch over Contessa whilst she slept.”