Whatever’s going on, I definitely got the message that showing mine is shameful. I compose them down my back and almost consider wrapping them up with the bed sheets.
Hair still shower-damp, I slide into a pair of black ballet flats and tiptoe around the broken teacup on the floor, avoiding the big pieces I can see. I poked around for a broom to clean it up, but couldn’t find one. I push at the wall where the panel appeared earlier, but nothing happens. I raise my hand to knock, but before my fist hits the wall the panel appears, sliding open noiselessly.
I step into a wide, welcoming corridor. Bright, decorative frescos adorn the vaulted ceiling. The din of distant bustling echoes off the walls like merry spirits. Fragrant spices of an exotic Eastern Bazaar flavor the air.
My senses pull me forward into a vast cavern. Stalls and shops wind off to the left, while corridors with private doors shoot off to the right. A meticulously manicured garden fills the central space with a hedgerow maze I long to explore with Aidan and Jacob.
Claire and Quince are examining trinkets and baubles at one of the bazaar stalls, posing for one another with each of the treasures they find.
No, really: Thank God for Quince.
Claire places a thin hammered-gold circlet on her head. A small oval cut aquamarine dangles in the middle of her forehead.
“Isn’t it pretty, Emma?” she asks, delighted. “It’s my birthstone. The Queen says I can have whatever I want.”
“Claire. I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I fail at keeping the anger from my voice. Who does the Queen think she is, trying to win Claire’s favor by giving her expensive gifts?
“Twist has already gone ahead to Kaillen’s chambers, Emily.” Quince stations her hands on Claire’s shoulders. “I’ll look after Claire. You should hurry along.”
She directs me to Kaillen’s chambers, which are halfway around the perimeter on the right hand side. I find it easily enough thanks to the ornate plaque reading ‘General’s Quarters’ on the wall in giant gold lettering.
Damn. This is nothing like the cave I slept in last night, no alabaster curving walls or zen dipping pool. This is definitely a man cave. Not in a moose-head, beer keg, pinball machine kind of way, though. This is a jacket-required, clinking decanter, cherry wood humidor type situation.
#Posh.
Kaillen stands leaning with his hands gripping the thick edge of a massive wood table. Miniature iron pieces representing the ruins of the Seventh Kingdom have been arranged across the autumn slate tabletop in rectangular abstraction. Jack, Marcus, Twist, and Dylan stand at attention, studying the terrain as well. All of them wear the same type of black, close-tailored under-armor the Queen wore at our negotiations.
Like they’re preparing for battle.
I step inside quietly, not wanting to interrupt. The lavish scale and richness of the room dwarf me. I feel completely ridiculous in my flowing skirt and ornamentally tasseled halter-top. My ballet flats silently sink in the plush carpet as I slide along the back wall. I’m dying for a glimpse of the scene laid out on the table that they’re studying so intently.
But I’m also distracted by Kaillen. His face seems leaner than it was before. An ugly purple goose egg stretches the skin of his left cheekbone taut, and several days’ worth of stubble outlines his strong jaw. There’s an ambitious light in his eyes that scatters my pulse. The power of my physical attraction to him is a game of tug-of-war I don’t want to win.
Crap. A tall, slender-necked vase topples from its pedestal to the floor, thanks to my big clumsy hip not watching where it’s going.
The weight of every eye in the room is on me instantly. I freeze, my wings flaming hot with embarrassment. Thank God the carpet is miles thick. I haven’t actually broken anything, just brought humiliating attention to myself sneaking around like a stalker.
I right the pedestal and return the vase to its place, and then stand contritely staring at the floor, fidgeting my fingers into knots behind my back.
It’s not like I could tumble in their estimation or anything, they all know who they’re dealing with here. I just wish I could be a little less of a liability sometimes, especially now that my boyfriend is the new General of the Seventh Kingdom.
Why didn’t I just knock on the door and enter like a normal person instead of sneaking around like an idiot?
“Would you excuse us, please?” Kaillen voice is formal to the group around the table. “I’d like to speak with Emily privately.”
Oh no. I ruined their meeting.
But before anyone even has a chance to make it out the door, Kaillen is by my side gathering me up in his arms.
“Are you alright?” he asks into my hair. “I was so worried. They wouldn’t let me see you.”
“You were worried about me?” I mumble into his chest. “Those maidens beat you senseless!”
I wince as soon as the wrong words leave my mouth. I shouldn’t have said that.
“I’ve had worse,” he shrugs it off.
Being close to him makes everything seem manageable. When we’re separated, it’s like surviving on twenty-five percent oxygen. Only when he’s near can I fully breathe.
“Tell me everything will be okay?” I whisper, moving my hands down his strong back.
Oh, holy cow. There’s practically nothing separating my fingers from the smooth firmness of his butt. This spandex under-armor stuff he’s wearing is really, REALLY nice. Heat rises in my skin where the thin material presses against me.
“Everything will all be okay, Emily,” he soothes. “I’m so glad you woke up before we left. I didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”
“Well, not goodbye, really,” I correct him. “I mean, you won’t be gone for very long.”
He doesn’t answer, so I step back to read his face and knock into the vase again. He rights it before it can topple, and then leads me over to a pair of stiff, high-back cherry-red leather chairs.
We sit facing each other and he leans close. My hands are small and pale in his, warm and brown. Like always, the contrast makes me tingle.
“The Seventh Kingdom is what, four hours away?” I ask. “So if you leave now, you’ll be back before bedtime, right?”
He doesn’t say anything, just holds my hands, massaging my knuckles with his thumbs.
“And you’re not going to wear actual armor over this hot onesie thing, right? Because you’re not doing anything dangerous,” I continue. “This is just what they gave you to wear, and it’s not like you have anything else to wear because none of us packed for this trip.” I can’t seem to stop blabbing into the void of his silence. “But you’ll still be careful, right? Because there aren’t just crimbal and monsters out there, Kaillen. There’s some kind of plague, too. The High Queen said it started in the Seventh Kingdom when Queen Rhyannon died, and then it destroyed the other Six. And when we were there yesterday I could See the residue of toxins with my Third Eye. But I’m pretty sure the air is safe now. Except, I’m still confused about why you’re going to the Seventh Kingdom in the first place because the Queen clearly doesn’t want us here…”
Kaillen lays one finger against my mouth. I hush at once.
“That’s exactly why I’m going, Emily,” he says. “Because we aren’t welcome here.” He clutches my hands tighter. “The High Queen can’t—won’t—accommodate us. We either make the Seventh Kingdom inhabitable, or live between the walls with the rest of the refugees.”
Huh? “We don’t have to do either of those things,” I say. “We’ll just go back to the Second Realm.”
His mouth is set in a hard line. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be, Emily. You’re the only one who could escape to the Second Realm. I know you’re strong, maybe even strong enough to take me and Aidan and Claire with you. But I won’t leave everyone else behind, and I can’t believe you would, either.”
“Escape? What are you talking about? I wouldn’t leave anyone behind. We can all pack up in the vans and go together.” I
try to keep my voice reasonable, but a bird of panic begins to struggle in my lungs.
“No. We can’t.” He lets my hands drop to my sides in a whoosh of abandonment. “We’re all under guard until you repair the Seal and mend the barrier. The Queen is sending a whole battalion of soldiers with us on our expedition to make sure we don’t try to get away. The rest of you will be monitored around the clock here in the Royal City.”
“You mean, we’re prisoners?” The bird struggles harder, choking off my airways. I slip from the leather chair onto my knees in the plush carpet and hang my head. “Kaillen, I don’t know how to repair it. I would if I did, I swear…”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have agreed to the Queens terms, or tried to negotiate them by yourself. I would have helped you, Emily.” The rebuke in his voice lands like a slap across my cheek.
Admitting I don’t even remember agreeing to any terms isn’t going to help this situation. I stare at the intricate clawed feet of Kaillen’s chair. “How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. It could be a month, maybe more.”
A month? The trapped bird flaps furiously in the tangled net of dread inside my chest. “You’re leaving me,” I gasp.
“I didn’t choose this, Emily.”
“Someone else could go…” I reach for his hands feebly but he shakes me off and stands up from his chair.
“No. This is my duty. This obligation is mine. My father is the General and my people have asked me to take his place until he recovers.”
“Please, Kaillen. Please don’t leave me,” I grab at his knees. “I can’t do it…I can’t do this on my own. Drake will be here in less than a week!” The bird thrashes so hard she’s going to break her little neck. “And what about Ian? What if he wakes up? What if he needs you?”
“Stop, Emily. You’re being selfish and I won’t engage with you. I’ve made a commitment, and so have you. If there’s an emergency, you can send a message and I’ll return immediately.”
How do I make him understand it’s not that I’m being selfish, I just don’t know how I’ll breathe when he’s not here.
“I have to go, Emily. I’m sorry you’re upset. I’ll be back as soon as I’m able.”
And just like that he turns on one boot heel and stalks out of the room, leaving me a pathetic heap of tassels and bruised wings on the floor.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Coming out of hypnosis with Nancy is curious. It isn’t difficult. She’s there, I’m there. She simply says that I’ll awake in…
… “Three, you’re feeling so relaxed…
… “Two, take your time, Emily…”
… “One, you’re feeling more alert…”
… “Open your eyes when you’re ready, Dear.”
It always takes me a moment to open my eyes, because no matter where I’ve been, the space I pass through when traveling from my subconscious back to my conscious is luxurious and peaceful.
I’ve had five hypnosis sessions with Nancy so far. Twice I woke with tears in my eyes. Twice I woke excited and eager to discuss the things I’d seen. Once I was sleepy and wanted to go right back to where I’d been. But every time upon waking, a beautifully pieced quilt is displayed on the stage of my mind, a textural montage of objects and symbols depicting the emotions and sensations I experienced during my session.
This is my first time flying solo, and it’s nothing like being guided by Nancy.
This is severe turbulence without my seatbelt fastened.
Every sensation punches me in the face, each more violently than the last.
Panting, I jerk upright on the bed. Beads of disgusting under-boob perspiration slide down my tense stomach. I swipe them away and my hands are wet. There’s a dark sweat outline in the shape of my back on top of the rumpled covers.
‘Always turn the bedspread down before getting on the bed!’ Meg’s exasperated voice forever beats me about the ears. I can’t let her see this mess. I aim the fan on the nightstand straight at the stain and notice the time blinking blue at me from the little digital alarm clock.
It’s only been thirty minutes since I lay down after church. How is that even possible?
A light rapping at the door makes me jump.
I quick pull the covers up to hide the stain.
“One second!” I call as innocently as I can. I strip out of my sweaty tank top and hide it at the bottom of the laundry basket. Retrieving my bra from where I tossed it on the chair before lying down, I fasten it back on and pull a clean-ish t-shirt over my head. “Come in,” I say, composing myself on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry to wake you, Dear.” Nancy peeks in. “We’re getting ready for a hike to Big Basin Park. Your Aunt Meg is asking if you’ll make some sandwiches for the trip.”
To my utter humiliation, I collapse in tears on the bed.
Nancy is beside me immediately. “What’s happened, Dear? Are you alright?”
I shake my head, answering between shuddering sobs. “It was a disaster, Nancy. A complete and total disaster. Things were worse there than they are here!”
“What was a disaster, Emily?” Concern lines her face.
“I tried self-hypnosis.” The guilty words tumble from my mouth in a rush. “I went to the First Realm and I screwed everything up. I mean, yes, I was powerful, but I kept losing control and making bad things happen, and I committed to things I don’t know how to do. I found the Champion, but she hates me. She called me a whore because my wings were open, and she’s placed everyone under guard until I repair the barrier. And I’ve exposed the entire Royal City to a plague. I’m basically a walking disease. Nancy, they had to sever my Connection to Ava, and I only have a week to fix things before Drake comes to take Aidan and Claire.”
“Slow down, Dear.” Nancy sits me up and wipes my face with a fresh tissue she pulls from her pocket. “One thing at a time. Tell me about how you lost control and made bad things happen.”
I hang my head, embarrassed. “It happened twice. When we were in the Crypt.”
“You were in a crypt?”
“Yeah. I know it sounds stupid, but there were all these zippy little light guys and I was the only one who could see them. Everyone else was all freaked out because they thought it was dark and scary, but the lights were so amazing. When I was with them I had all this extra power, and things just started happening, like all these flowers and butterflies appeared and there was rose gold stream…”
“Flowers and butterflies are bad things?”
I shrug, dejected. “Not bad, I guess. More like…inappropriate,” I muster. Neither the ‘right time nor the right place’ as Aunt Meg would say.
“I see. Did someone tell you they were inappropriate?”
I nod. “The High Queen.”
“The one who called you a whore?”
I nod.
“I see. Tell me more about this High Queen.”
Shame splotches fire up my neck but I plow ahead anyway. “She has to be the Champion, she has more authority than anyone in the First Realm. But she hates me. She says I’m sick. Like, contagious sick.” I’m crying again, but at least these tears are silent. “She says I’m ‘addicted to Attraction,’ and that my ‘unchecked ability to connect’ puts everyone at risk.”
“Can you give me an example of what she means by ‘ability to connect’?”
I stare at my hands in humiliation, but make myself tell her. “There was a man between the walls, a worker. I felt sorry for him. But the way he looked at me…I don’t know. I wanted to help him, to comfort him, but the next thing I knew he was trying to climb inside my head, ripping me apart. It happened in the Crypt, too, with the people in the crystal caskets. I was so distracted by the lights that I didn’t even realize they were connecting with me. But when I did realize, I didn’t care because it felt amazing. It made me feel so powerful and welcome, and that’s when I started creating blossoms and butterflies out of thin air without even meaning to.” I hang my head. “T
he Queen said that’s why I’m a threat to the people I love. Because I can’t control myself.”
“I’d like to meet this Queen,” Nancy says. “But even just based on what you’ve told me I can already guarantee you one thing: She is not your Champion.”
My head whips up, stupid hope rising in my chest. “She isn’t?”
“No. Quite frankly, she sounds like a royal bitch. Would you be open to having a guided session with me tomorrow and introducing me to this High Queen?”
“I guess so.” But honestly I’d rather do almost anything else than mess with hypnosis ever again.
“Let me arm you with some insight that might assist you in processing what you experienced, and help you next time you visit the First Realm on your own.”
“Okay,” I sniffle, even though I’m never planning on going there ever again on my own.
“First, it’s important that you understand there’s a learning curve with self-hypnosis like there is with anything else. Just because you don’t have perfect success in re-writing your inner-scripts on the first try doesn’t mean you should give up. Wouldn’t you agree that learning anything new takes practice?”
I nod.
“Second: it’s very clear you don’t trust yourself right now, and that’s perfectly understandable. Any person whose self-worth is connected to their sexual identity will have this kind of crisis from time to time. You were sexualized at a very young age, Emily. What happened to you is called being primed. Because you were primed, one of the ways you gauge your self-worth and purpose is through validation that you are desirable. Connection feeds that validation. When people are attracted to you it makes you feel worthwhile, but it can also cause self-doubt because it triggers memories of being victim. These contradictory feelings are normal.”
I focus on my anxious hands knotted in my lap again. Contradictory feelings are one thing. The level of self-doubt I’m experiencing can’t possibly be normal, can it? My emotions are completely out of control.
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