“Damn it!” I could no longer control myself. The tears let loose—three days’ worth of fear and anxiety streamed down my cheeks in a matter of seconds.
“Rahat!” The old man stared, scrutinizing me from every angle it seemed, and then his jaw dropped. “Something went amiss.”
“You could say that.” I choked back my sobs.
He handed me a cloth and I dried my tears. “Sit.”
I took a seat at a wooden table across from him and told him all I knew and all that had happened. From waking up disoriented in the princess’s bed to being locked in my chambers. The fire burned in the hearth at our side and when I was done, I listened to the crackle and pops while he digested my information.
At last he spoke, “O vrajă.”
“Huh?”
“The spell,” he said. “I should have known this would not work as planned, but why would it erase your memory?”
It didn’t, I thought, blinking back tears. “My memory is fine. It’s just, I’m not Sapphira.”
He shook his head.
“I’m from another century—a hundred and fifty years in the future—I travelled here through some sort of light.”
He stayed silent, occasionally stroking his long, white beard as I told the entire story of Nick, falling off the island’s edge on Sainte Marguerite and the swirling underwater cavern. He took it all in stride, absorbing my situation much better than I could have, had I been in his shoes.
“I’m not delusional. I realize how ridiculous this sounds, but it’s true and I can prove it.” I took Gigi’s ring out of my pocket. “This is my great-grandmother’s. It’s the only thing that made the journey with me.”
He continued to stare and I realized it didn’t prove a thing. Such items were available in this time. I cursed under my breath and slipped it on my finger.
“May I see it?”
I held my hand out to him and he peered at the ring gleaming in the firelight. “This ring holds a chip of the sapphire!”
He examined it for another two minutes and then stood, returning moments later with a bottle and two mugs. When he spoke again, his voice was unexpectedly deep and calm.
“Sapphira pleaded with me at a dinner party about a month ago. She was desperate for help. She believed she was in danger because she was about to refuse marriage.” He handed over a mug of dark, strong-smelling liquor before taking a swig from his own.
“I read that in her diary. That’s what led me to you, but marriage... to who?”
“I know not. My name is written in her book, you say?” He didn’t look happy, but he went on. “Bunică mea had the sight and her Serene Highness required me to look into her future.”
“Who is your Bunică mea?”
“My Grandmother—the High Priestess.”
“You don’t sound like anyone else I’ve met here.”
“No, I wouldn’t. I was born in a small village in Romania, a very, very long time ago. I have lived all over and picked up many languages over the years. I apologize, I’m old and sometimes I confuse them.”
I smiled. “So, your grandmother was clairvoyant and you work spells. Are you a witch or a sorcerer of some sort?” I took a small sip of my mug and waited to see if I’d offended him. The strong taste of brandy took my breath away but made my throat warm.
“I’m not as gifted as Bunică mea—the High Priestess—but I do possess her written word.
He disappeared over to the bookshelf for a moment and returned with a small, thick book bound in marbled calfskin. The same book I’d pulled from my book bag. I debated whether or not to tell him I now owned that book.
“I can work the potions almost as well as she could—or that was true at one time or another. The older I get the less able I am. This is why I record my work in this book, just as she did. My memory is slipping—‘tis the curse of the life spell.”
“How old are you?”
“It’s been many years since I gave that any thought—over three hundred and fifty years at least. My line is not immortal but we live much longer than the average person.”
I tried not to show my surprise.
He flipped his book open a third of the way and studied the page.
“Sapphira was desperate to marry the Graf of Wurttemberg. She wanted a love potion. I told her magic would not be necessary. The Princess has her own charms and I hardly believed the Graf would resist them but she wanted to be sure.”
“So, you’re saying it was a love potion that brought me here and quite possibly switched us?”
“No, I told her I had a better spell in mind for her. Something to address her fate.”
“Great! So your Fate Potion created some sort of worm hole in time? And now I’m stuck here so how about you whip up another batch and I’ll be on my way?”
“I have no conception of worm holes, but tell me, draga mea, have your heard of the Temple of Indra?”
I hesitated briefly remembering the story Gigi had told me as a child. Was it a coincidence that this was the second time this was being brought up this week? “Of course—”
Rochus lowered himself back onto the bench. “Tell me what you know.”
“To be honest, I don’t remember much. I was a kid. My great-grandmother told me a bedtime story. Why do you ask?”
His brow creased. “Because I didn’t give Sapphira the potion. Francois never came for it.”
“Well, then why the hell am I here?”
“I don’t know but the Delhi Sapphire also known as the faerie stone is very powerful, and it is believed to affect time. That ring you wear holds a piece of it. Perhaps that’s why you crossed time.”
His comment about the faerie stone made me think of the conversation I’d overheard upstairs in the Palace of Monaco. They’d mentioned a witch and they’d been looking for a stone. The snake was convinced Sapphira knew where it was. Maybe she had one too.
“Do you know who Sapphira’s afraid of?”
He shook his head.
“You have to fix this,” I said.
“How?” he mumbled.
“I don’t know. You’re the high priest or sorcerer, whatever you go by. Can’t you make me a potion? One that will switch us back.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Magic is dangerous and not to be trifled with. Give me the night to go through the book. I will commune with the dead and attempt to make contact with Bunică mea. In the meantime, you must return to the palace before they realize you’ve come here!”
I placed my hands on my hips. “No. Absolutely not. They’ll never let me out again. They’re holding me captive. The Comte suspects something and I get the feeling that Alastríona doesn’t like me. I won’t go back.”
“Alastríona, you say? That woman is so familiar to me. There is darkness about her aura that suggests black magic. Do not trust her, but you must return for now! There is no choice.”
“I overheard Enzo, the driver who brought me to the village. He’s a spy. I absolutely can’t go back!”
“You are in the body of the Princess, whether you like that or not. You cannot just disappear. They will send out the guards, check every home, and torture every suspect. Do you understand the mischief you cause?”
“That’s exactly why you must give me the potion and return Sapphira and me to our rightful times. What if she’s in my body? I can’t imagine how she’s functioning. She can’t drive a car and even if she could, the roads are not like here. I don’t have servants. She’ll starve or worse, burn down my house. “
“What will you have me do? Open the magic right here in my home? It won’t work. You must return to the palace for now.”
I crossed my arms and stared up at the ceiling, where all kinds of flowers and herbs hung, all jumbled together, releasing heady fumes.
“No. I’ll take my chances with you.”
He closed the book and walked over to the fireplace, throwing another log onto the fire. Then he nodded to me. “All right, you are most determined.
Perhaps you have more in common with Sapphira than you realize. I will help you.” He pulled two skinny bottles from a shelf and poured them half and half into a vial. He continued to huff and mumble to himself as he mixed the various, green and blue and brown fluids together.
I relaxed my shoulders. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
“I most certainly will, but no matter, take this with. Go back to the Palace.”
“I just told you—”
“Just listen, you hardheaded girl! I cannot do what you ask right this minute. If you get into trouble, then, and only should you then take it. This potion is meant to help you escape your captors. It will open up a portal taking you to the next conjunction in your destiny. Basically, it will get you out of your current predicament but it will keep you on course with your fate. I’m afraid fate is not something I can change altogether. And before you argue, this the best I can come up with right now.”
“What do I do with it?”
“Trebuie să -l bea.”
I looked at him strangely. “English, please.”
“Drink it! And you mustn’t let anyone see you leave here. I’m sure it goes without saying, but you’re quite recognizable as Her Highness.”
My eyes followed his gnarled finger to the liquid concoction he’d just made and I bit my lip. “Will it hurt?”
He paused to stare. “Does it matter?”
I shook my head.
“I didn’t think so,” he replied.
“Can you come with me?”
Scowling, he sank down onto the bench. “We mustn’t be seen together.” He laid his head down on the table. Wearily, lifting his head up, he sighed. “If something happens and the Princess doesn’t return, I’ll be charged in her death. I’m in enough of a quandary as it is now what with you showing up at my door for the entire village to see.” He got to his feet. “I pray you both make your journey unharmed.” He opened a chest and handed me a rough, dark robe with an oversized hood that covered almost all of my face and hair.
“Go now,” he said, ushering me up some stairs and out through a set of wooden cellar doors. “Follow the cobbled path!”
I left his yard and followed the path until it turned right into an alley, questioning myself the entire way. As I came to the cliff side, I spotted the set of stairs.
The breeze was a whisper, softly blowing the cloak hem around my feet—not enough to send chills dancing down my spine and yet I shivered. I halted at the top in the shadow of a large tree and watched the familiar stride of Enzo as he crossed the harbor below toward a band of guards. At his side was yet another traitorous face, Alastríona. Silent and still, my gaze fixed on Enzo, I watched as he stretched his arms out, presumably giving instructions to search all corners. This was far worse than I’d thought. I headed back into the laneway, clutching the cloth of my cloak tight to my body. I hugged the shadows along the alley walls and, like a shadow myself, I flitted back to Rochus. He would not be happy, but what choice did I have?
As I grew close, the clacking of hooves on the cobbles drew my attention. I heard voices and something told me to be wary. Wisely, I peeked around the corner. Shit! The road was blocked off. Guards on horseback stood in their stirrups, surveying the area. In front of Rochus’s cottage, I saw a good-looking blond with a chiseled jaw carrying a walking stick. He handed some coins to the man from the apothecary store and then walked toward the front door of the old alchemist’s cottage. I didn’t recognize the man, but his style, the way he moved, suggested he was uppity—most likely belonged to the palace. Which meant I was trapped. Racing back down the lane, I emerged and noticed the guards were now standing at the cliff’s edge. I looked behind me and saw stairs leading upward through a forest of trees. It was going in the wrong direction, but I didn’t have a lot of choice. I climbed the stairs two at a time; the journey seemed endless until at last I found myself at the top of the cliff.
The guards below were unable to see me. The harbor shore ended, and only the cliff side was visible to them. I could see almost the whole of the island from here. It was much higher than the palace. My nerves danced as I looked to the sea far, far below. I continued to follow the edge until I found a part that jutted out far enough beyond the shore. There were no visible rocks sticking out of the water, which should allow me to jump safely, as long as the fall didn’t kill me. At least, I hoped that was the case. I stepped to the edge, gripping the vial from Rochus, and a wave of nausea washed up my throat. Bile threatened my tongue, but I bit down hard, took a deep breath and fought the urge to vomit. The vial’s liquid was a dark, muddy color and my stomach refused to stabilize. There was no other choice.
Bottoms up.
The shot tasted of black licorice and mushrooms, both things I could not stomach. I looked down to see if I could see a swirling cavern and then back to make sure no one was behind me. But I was suddenly very sleepy, and all at once the trees began to spin.
The sensation of falling suddenly overwhelmed me. Wind rushed up my sleeves, causing pinpricks of goosebumps to rise on my flesh. My cloak tumbled around me. I didn’t know up from down. The wind screamed loudly at me as I plummeted to the sea. Then it dawned on me that the screams were coming from me.
I could see the water through a swirling haze of lights. It felt more like the air was pushing at me now as opposed to falling through it. I experienced the familiar feeling of being hypnotized and pulled toward something. The rush of cold wind made it difficult to breathe, snatching each breath before I could form the next one.
At once the loud whirring wind in my head became an intense clacking of hooves. It was as if time slowed down. Even my slightest movements felt incredibly fast and disorienting. I could no longer see anything except, perhaps, the inside of my eyelids. My body tingled and buzzed. It felt as if my hands were linked together like two magnets; when I tried to pull them apart, the buzzing sensation in my bones intensified.
FOURTEEN
Southwestern Germany,
W hen the motion ceased, I could hardly move a finger, let alone lift my head to take in my surroundings. Flat on my back, I listened to the light rattle of leaves falling as a gust took up, strong enough to dislodge them.
A bird broke into song and I lifted my sleepy lids, expecting to see home or at the very least, the Palace of Monaco; not a group of weary, bloodshot eyes.
Something had definitely misfired.
I cast a covert glance around the circle, allowing my gaze to settle on the weakest link—a heavy man with whiskered jowls and sleepy eyes. There was a space to the left of him. I fled blindly through the ring of men, but I was slow from the time shift. An arm shot out for me as I darted by. I twisted free and made it several more feet. Branches scratched at my face and arms, and I stumbled over several rocks in my effort to get away.
My ankle twisted as I tried to jump a fallen log but I pushed on.
A dozen crows erupted from the canopy of the forest, bursting from the jagged line of trees, blacker than the night and screaming in their raspy voices.
I longed to follow them above the trees. Then something clubbed me hard behind the ear, and I lurched headlong, landing with a thud that took my breath away. Rough hands flipped me onto my back. One of the strangers crouched beside me in the grass—a man with large, cat-like eyes, a broad mouth, and a salt-and-pepper beard. He wore a loose shirt, open at the chest. His skin was dirty and tanned like a laborer’s, and the rank of him invaded my nostrils.
“What do you want?” I whispered.
A grey-haired man, presumably the leader, stepped forward, shoving two men out of the way. “Beruhigen! Holen Sie sich weg von ihr!” He pulled me to my feet, “Wie ist dein name auf französisch?”
There was something familiar about the language he spoke and yet I couldn’t make it out. The travel through that portal had been hard on me. That, or it was the club to the head.
He grew impatient and flung me belly-down on to the saddle of a horse.
I heard a bird�
��s song and then the crack of the feathered wings as it took to a hasty flight; maybe it had been trying to warn me off. A shower of broken twigs peppered me on the head, accompanied by one large butt to the back of my skull which, in my opinion, was completely uncalled for.
I made a strangled noise as someone climbed on the horse behind me. I attempted to curse at him, but my words were lost in the clatter of the galloping hooves. I gave in and my world went dark again.
Would you please stop already? I thought for the third time, as I came in and out of consciousness. Someone was now leading the horse, and I was tied to it. We paced much slower now, on narrow paths amid trees that towered to the heavens, their trunks incredibly large. Each step jarred the headache behind my eyes and my body ached from the jostling. The more I awoke, the more I realized it was daytime, and our path was leading upward through a forest. Everything was bathed in a soft, green twilight. Great, coniferous trees surrounded us and yet, despite the shade, the men still reeked of stale body odor—an unflattering combination of cheese and onions that faintly reminded me of a Big Mac.
Despite the stench my stomach rumbled. How long had it been since they found me—one day—ten? Mushrooms grew in patches near some of the trees. I fantasized jumping down to eat them, and had I not been tied down, I might have tried. Then again, I would most likely have poisoned myself if left to my own devices.
“Tötet sie!”
The men didn’t yet realize I was awake. I understood enough of their German to get the general topic of conversation, and I stole a glance to see who had spoken.
“Kill her,” one of the stocky, angry-looking men said. “She’s seen us.”
“Nicht,” another said. “If we kill her, we’ll be hunted.”
Cursed be the Crown (Cruel Fortunes Book 1) Page 9