“Wisconsin,” Maya said, before adding, “America.”
“I don’t know Wisconsin,” the woman replied, now straddling one of the wooden chairs inside her tent, arms leaning on the arched top, “but I have heard of America.”
“You have?” Maya said, still partially wondering somewhere whether she was being elaborately deceived somehow, or if someone had spiked her drink with hallucinogenics or something. All her explanations were stretching what she saw, sure, but… there was only one other thing that fit.
And that thing was supposed to be impossible. Now shivering from the dampness of the waterlogged clothes, she began changing, too tired to be ashamed. She found a towel, or something that resembled a towel, to dry herself off.
“Yes,” the woman said, her dark eyes amused. “You’re not the first one to end up in Albalon from there, and you won’t be the last. Though it is unfortunate for you to come here via kelpie rather than the other, conventional ways. Let me explain,” she said, tapping her feet on the carpeted floor. The woman’s bed seemed to be nothing more than a bundle of furs at the back of the tent. “Do you know what a portal is? A teleport?”
Maya sat herself down before the woman, her legs trembling too much from the cocktail of emotions swimming through her. The new clothes fit loosely on her and were made of a rough material. Brown tunic, brown long skirt, really itchy socks. She was already thinking about just leaving the tent, running somewhere – but where could she run? Nothing but people wearing those leather armors all around. Nothing but an unrecognizable environment and strangers. “Yes. I mean, we have those in books and things. But they’re not real.”
“Oh, they’re very real,” the woman purred. “Concepts like that do tend to bleed from this realm into others. Let me be blunt. You, little woman, have crossed realms. You were in one realm, this America – and the beast that attacked you – it took you to another realm. One called Albalon.”
There was no hint of mirth in the woman’s expression. Every word was serious, and delivered without compassion. “You’re serious.”
“Look around. We can’t all be actors,” Yvonne said.
True. No other explanation made sense. But this one wasn’t supposed to make sense, either. “Can you… take me back? To my realm?” The only way to go through this, Maya thought, was to for now accept the words she was hearing. Try and let them sink in, somehow. The longer she spent denying what her eyes saw, her nose smelled, her ears heard – the less chance she could help herself. Realms. Okay. That strange, squeezing sensation underwater, as golden lights swirled around her, and the scenery changed…
O-fucking-kay. Apparently, she really was in another fucking realm.
“It’s possible,” the woman said. “I wouldn’t advise making it a long trip here. Times are dangerous. I can help you on your way back home. But I’m a water witch – I don’t have the power to send you back myself. And I’m no kelpie.”
Yes. Maya would like to return back as soon as possible. How much time had passed since her disappearance? How long before her friends began to notice she was missing?
How long before the police became involved, and her missing appeared in some local newspaper?
“So,” Maya said, more for herself than for the witch. “I was taken to another realm by a horse thing. And I can’t go back the way I came?”
“Not unless we find a waystone, no. And I sincerely wouldn’t recommend looking for kelpies. I meant it when I said they prefer to drown people in the spot they find them.”
“Waystone?”
The water witch gave an exasperated snort, like Maya somehow should have known this already. Some of the stringed bones in the tent rattled ominously. “We’ll find one for you soon enough. Right now, though, you’re stuck here with us. So we will have some use out of you. What type of magic do you have?”
“Uh...” Hating feeling like an idiot, even though Maya inwardly blanched at the idea of magic, she said, “I, uh, don’t come from a… magical… realm?”
“Ah, right. Your America isn’t a magical place? Shame. Well, not to worry. You might manifest powers if you stay in Albalon – you might not. Let’s hope for your sake that you do. Until then, or we find you a waystone, I’ll set you as my personal servant.”
Servant sounded awfully like slave to Maya. She bristled with indignation, but wilted under the ferocious glare of the witch. Something about those black lines running from her eyes gave her a savage, wild appearance. It probably helped that the entire tent leaned towards that particular image as well.
What exactly could Maya do? She knew nothing about this place. If these people tossed her out to dry, how long before some monster like that water horse made a meal of her? At least this woman, apathetic as she acted, had offered Maya a way back and understood that she came from somewhere else.
The somewhere else part still took getting used to. “I’m Maya.” She held out her hand to the witch who didn’t take it.
“Yvonne,” the witch replied.
“Ee-von. Nice name.” Not so nice tent. She wondered if part of Yvonne’s magic involved torturing animals or feeling their entrails to see the future. That used to be a method of divination in the past.
“Let’s put you on your first job in the war compound, then. Get me some firewood.” Yvonne casually dismissed her, but again, Maya was rooted to the spot, eyes wide.
“War compound? I’m in a war?”
“Maybe,” Yvonne said. “Unless you’re lucky to be sent home. I suppose I better explain… you’re in general Witslaw’s camp. Witslaw’s wards are the princes Renne and Callum, currently on a quest to reclaim the kingdom they lost. We’re not too far away from the city stronghold of Bastion. Following so far?”
Maya nodded, feeling rather faint. She had somehow been sucked through some kind of mystical portal, from a party to a war. This was way more than she expected, and she certainly hadn’t signed up for anything.
“We’ve been sieging it for several months now, and we think we’re close to being able to attack it and occupy. There – we’ll have access to a great deal of resources which will help us extend the campaign, with the eventual goal of taking back the entire kingdom of Albalon. Welcome to the cause of the rightful rulers of Albalon.”
Maya’s mind now flicked back to the man who had fished her out the water, preventing the awful fate of drowning. “And prince Renne rescued me.” I was rescued by a prince. Of course I was. Why wouldn’t I be catapulted into another realm and then get immediately rescued by a prince?
“Yes. Lucky you. Now, any other questions will wait for later. Go. Get firewood. I’ve got some burning to do.” Yvonne firmly shoved Maya out of the tent, tossing a pair of flat heeled shoes after her. Maya reluctantly shoved them on, hating her new outfit. She noticed a small pile of wood outside Yvonne’s tent. Right. She needed to get… firewood. That probably involved walking into the woods and picking up sticks. Was there…? – she spotted a basket and picked it up. Fine. Time to live the life of a medieval maid. Time to live like… something that was nothing similar to life before. Already, sitting in a car down a busy highway, sitting around a lake feasting and partying, felt so distant.
“Nice box you got here,” Yvonne said. Maya turned sharply back to see the witch handling her phone.
“Be careful with that!” Maya snapped, before she could control herself. “I need it.”
One eyebrow twitched on Yvonne’s face. “I’ll keep it safe.” She placed it on her table, next to where a few books were.
Numbly, Maya nodded before she headed towards the nearby forest, taking note of all the other buildings some of the tents that had sprung up, and how people walked around with armor or tough looking clothes, with weapons belted on their backs, their sides, or held freely.
I don’t have a weapon, she thought with a sudden stab of fear. I don’t have anything to protect me. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall, stately figure striding in her direction. Turning to face the figure,
she recognized prince Renne from earlier. He appeared disgruntled, walking rapidly away from a building that resembled a kind of town hall.
“Hey!” she said, “Hey, prince!”
Renne seemed to register her for the first time. His dark eyes snapped into focus. “Oh, it’s you. Yvonne’s already got you working?”
“Yeah. I wanted to thank you for helping me, earlier.” Then, because she remembered that the prince didn’t know she came from a place called America, she added, “The witch explained to me that this is another realm. It’s not a place I’m familiar with.”
“Another realm?” One of his eyebrows cocked up in interest. “That explains a few things.” He walked closer to her, noting the basket hooked in her elbow made out of weave with a cloth covering the base. This was probably a fruit basket come to think of it, but Maya intended to use it to hold the wood. “I’m Renne,” he said, holding out a hand. “Though perhaps you already know this.”
Unlike that water witch, Maya fully intended to shake this palm back. Their fingers grasped one another as she said her name. A strange, electrical tingling came with the contact. Not metaphorical or anything. Actual tingling. Confused, since Renne’s eyes had widened and his hand stiffened further, she examined – and saw a faint glow emit from where their skin touched.
Huh. Strange. She made to let go, but he continued to cling on.
“You?” he said in a strangled tone. His eyes narrowed to slits, and his mouth rose in disbelief.
“Uh, what’s wrong?” Maya tugged her hand away from him at last, but he continued to stare at his own hand as if it was now tainted.
“But I touched you earlier,” he whispered, more to himself than to Maya. “And I felt nothing then…”
Deciding that this prince, although pulling her from the claws of the kelpie, was now crazy, Maya gave him a nervous smile and edged away. “Well… nice to see you. I’ll just go back to… collecting the wood I’m supposed to be collecting...”
“Oh no you don’t,” he said with a snarl in his voice. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until we figure out what’s going on.” He grabbed her by the arm this time. No amount of tugging could free her from this grip. He hauled her over to Yvonne’s tent and bellowed into it, “I need you again!”
“What now?” Her voice came back snappy, clearly unamused at being interrupted. “I already took in your stray, got her working – what more do you want?”
“What does it feel like if you Bond with someone?”
Silence. Then Yvonne poked her head out of the tent, squinting at the pair of them. Maya vainly tried yoinking her arm out of his hold again but to no avail.
“You… you think you can Bond with this woman?”
“I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you!”
Bond? The way they put emphasis on the word makes me think there’s something more to it they’re not telling me. And all this because of a handshake.
“You’re best off talking to an official Bonded duo,” Yvonne said, a scowl blighting her features. “But from what I understand, it’s hand contact. Palm to palm, and if you’re meant to be Bonded, then a seal should appear on your hand. Not that I’ve seen a true Bonded for a while. You should really know more about this than I do, given your heritage.”
Seal? Maya glanced at her hand and to her horror saw a creeping white line spreading over, taking on a gradual spiraling shape. Yvonne’s eyes settled on Maya’s palm, then Renne’s.
“Skies, no,” Renne said. “I don’t want to be Bonded to this.”
“You think you can just pick and choose your Bonded?” Now Yvonne appeared amused, as well as oddly delighted. “You think that’s how it works, princeling?”
Although Maya took offense at being referred to as an object, she didn’t understand the prince’s growing hysteria. Or what the hell they were talking about, for that matter.
“We can’t let this girl go,” Renne said, his dark eyes wide in mild panic. Or anger. Something that made Maya desperately wish she wasn’t here with all the crazy, but sleeping in a hotel.
“Eh,” Yvonne said. “First you give me a servant, now you take her away. I suppose we better lock her up, then.”
“Wait. What?”
Maya didn’t get much other options to protest, since the prince was dragging her away.
“Leave the basket, though!”
The basket was wrenched out of Maya’s arm and tossed over to Yvonne who pursed her lips. Maya wanted to scream but didn’t see any point in it. None of these people in the camp would help her. Not when their prince was the one holding her.
No friendly eyes watched her.
She was all alone.
Renne
Well, now that the other-worlder was stuck in one of the town hall rooms enduring interrogation, Renne had no idea what to do except wait for his unicirim siblings to show up, along with Artur, and see if he’d just experienced a true Bonding.
Certainly the white lines upon his palm, forming a circling scar, told him the truth. An unlikely one.
His stepmother never had a true Bond with his father, and as far as Renne understood, his previous mother died in childbirth, which clearly meant she had no witch power. No one he knew had a proper Bond.
The girl, Maya, was separated from him by a door. He paced outside it, watching as the army witches conversed together in low murmurs in the main feasting hall. All tables had been pushed aside for meetings like this, and the canteen servers were dark and empty. His most trusted witch, Yvonne, stood among them. If anything, Renne had been considering a Bond with Yvonne. Even if there was no love between them, her witch powers would at least serve use and enhance his strength all the same, although she did need to cure her habit of living in tents adorned with shrunken heads and bones.
“Brother. Brother! It’s true, then?” Callum shouldered his way through some of the witches, with his younger siblings Tara and Janus right behind. He needed to stop thinking of them as the children – they were long since grown up, too. “You found a Bonded?”
Renne held his palm towards them. Tara and Janus exchanged glances, their dark blue eyes showing neither delight nor concern. They were a much paler blonde than Callum, but still held every mark of perfection in their bodies, unlike Renne with a forbidden mother’s blood tainting his.
“So it is true,” Tara said.
“The Bond actually exists,” Janus continued in his deep voice, wearing an identical expression of amazement. “Who is it? Anyone we know?”
“No. A girl who almost drowned to a kelpie.” Renne let them approach him, noting how they were all warmly bundled up in bear furs neatly arranged by master tailors. Renne still wore his formal meeting clothes which itched at the collar and did nothing to keep out the cold. “A complete stranger. This isn’t how I heard the Bond happens at all. You’re supposed to be, what – soul mates. Destined for one another. I can’t be destined to a random urchin!” Perhaps urchin was harsh. But honestly, Renne always imagined that if he Bonded with someone, it’d be some powerful witch who was coincidentally a princess of a faraway kingdom. Together they’d claim the skies and wrest his home back from the dragons.
“Given that no one has seen a true Bond in years, I imagine our accounts are slightly off,” a new voice interjected, revealing that Yvonne had joined the fray. In the dim lighting of the hall her dark makeup made her sinister, like a nightmare waiting to pounce from the shadows. “You unicirim are terrible at documenting your magic. What’s the point in learning to write if you don’t even do it?”
“Given that, what – there’s only four unicirim alive that we know of,” Tara snapped, squaring up to Yvonne, “Forgive us if we don’t know everything about the Bond.” Although Renne tolerated Yvonne’s more eccentric habits, Tara found the woman downright creepy and had hinted at evil on more than one occasion.
“The only thing we know is books. And what our parents said.” Callum gave an apologetic glance to the twins, who of course never knew anythi
ng of their parents. “And also that rule where the Bonded must be married. I distinctly remember that, too.”
A cold sweat began to drip inside Renne. Janus yapped at Yvonne along with his twin sister, and the witch women responded with a teeth-clenched smile, enjoying the reaction she provoked from the others. She’d always been like that, for as long as he could remember. Callum, meanwhile, examined his older brother with a knowing air.
“That’s the rule, brother. You know it.”
“It’s a cursing stupid rule,” Renne said, fingers tightened into fists. “You don’t just walk up to strangers and go, ‘By the way, you have to marry me now.’ Who in damnation invented that one?”
“It has practical uses,” Yvonne drawled, still enjoying the reaction of the four unicirim royals around her. “Marriage is traditionally committing yourself to someone for life. And you definitely don’t want your Bonded running away from you.”
“Not that marriage would stop that,” Renne pointed out, “if your Bonded just so happens to be from another realm.” The cold inside him refused to go away. In part, there was disappointment with the way the Bond had established itself. In part, there was fear because it heaped additional duties on Renne that he wasn’t prepared for.
“When word spreads, your people will expect it,” Yvonne said, her hands now tucked behind her. She stood with legs slightly splayed, radiating a strength Renne didn’t feel. “By all means, take your Bond and don’t marry her. But they already think of you as a wasteful halfblood, anyway. You break this tradition, you may as well cede all claim to your heritage.”
Those words lanced right through. Ceding claim… he had barely enough of one as it was. Rules dictated that a halfblood deserved the throne as much as a full blood, but try telling the general population that. Not that Renne particularly wanted the throne, but he didn’t want to lose rights to his family, either. “We’re supposed to be taking the human back to her realm.”
The Last Unicirim’s Bride Page 3