Storybound

by Emily Mckay

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Crossing back through the Crimson Miasma to the outside world is far easier than it was going in. Maybe because we know its tricks. Maybe because we have less to escape now.

  A few moments after we make it through, we are back on Morgan’s front lawn. Since Morgan is with us, Kane is able to open the loop directly at his house.

  We stumble across his lawn and into the house, a bedraggled and exhausted group. Only the princess looks as though she has not been dragged across multiple magical barriers, fought hellhounds, and been rescued from a magical prison. She, of course, looks like she just walked away from a Vogue fashion shoot. She has magicked her hair back into perfect curls and donned a black silk pencil skirt and white ruffled blouse. She has even conjured a pair of black Louboutin pumps. Despite that, her bright red lipstick bleeds slightly at the corners, as if she forgot to magic on lip liner.

  I like her better for it.

  Lucy, who has stayed by my side ever since we landed on the boat, still holds my hand. I give it a squeeze and nudge her in Kane’s direction. I understand his expression to mean that he wants me to distract the princess so he can talk alone with Lucy.

  “Princess—”

  She turns to me, her expression dismissive.

  Well, I guess that’s the thanks I get for saving her life.

  “I mean, your highness.” Her expression softens slightly. “Can you look at my shoulder.” I give it an exaggerated roll, not bothering to hide the wince when pain spikes through it. “I think I might’ve pulled something.”

  The princess’s lips curve into an unpleasant pout that highlights her imperfect makeup application. “Very well. I’ll take a look at you. I suppose I have some magical powers to spare.”

  “Excellent,” I say with way more enthusiasm than I’m feeling. “I know right where the guest bedroom is.” As I walk past her, I snag her elbow in mine and head down the long gallery. “Any chance you can magic my clothes while we’re at it? I still have dog drool on my T-shirt. And bluestone, for that matter.”

  “T-shirt?” the princess says with disdain thick enough to spread on crackers. “Well, throw it away then.”

  “I like T-shirts.” I give the princess’s high fashion outfit a once-over. That shit cannot be comfortable. “You should try them sometime. They’re cozy.”

  I chat about T-shirts all the way down the hall to the guest bedroom, partly to distract myself, but mostly to keep her attention on me. By the time we get there, the princess is so clearly exasperated, she says, “Oh, for the love of the Thread, enough. I will fix your clothes if you will just stop talking.”

  It’s wrong, isn’t it, how much I enjoyed irritating the princess?

  I open my mouth, but she cuts me off with a decisive swipe of her hand. “You must be silent.”

  Instead, I nod. I turn away from her and slip out of Kane’s jacket. The leather is soft and supple in my hand as I carefully fold and place it on the end of the bed. My fingers linger on it only for a moment, before I shake off the feeling and face the princess. I make an elaborate gesture toward my shoulder blade, trying to mime what I think is wrong with it.

  She rolls her eyes in exasperation and then says, “Very well. You may talk. But only about your injuries.”

  “I must’ve pulled something when I caught you. It still aches.”

  She grabs me by my shoulders and gives me a once-over. “Are all human girls this bony?”

  I fold my arms over my chest defiantly. “No. Just me.”

  My annoyance doesn’t even register. She turns me around so that she’s eyeing my shoulder blades. “Well, obviously you still have the venom from the Kellas cat afflicting your blood. Only the fact that your Sleeker arms are noncorporeal at the moment has saved you from the effects.”

  “But why does it still hurt? My arm isn’t there anymore.”

  She sighs. “Did your Sleeker parents teach you nothing about your powers? Your Sleeker arms are always with you. They are a part of you. Just as much as your will is.”

  “But—”

  “Yes,” she says again with exasperation. “They are not physically there, obviously. Not everything that is real has a manifestation in this world. You think love is a physical thing? You think duty, honor, hope are tangible? These are not physical things, yet they are real, are they not?”

  “I—” I twist my head to look at her. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who cares about those things. Perhaps duty and honor, but not love and hope.

  She gives my head a tap with her hand. “Do not fidget while I am trying to heal you.”

  Her fingers move lightly over my shoulder blades, as if she is searching for the socket that is out of joint.

  “You mentioned love, but—”

  She gives my head another tap. “Be still.”

  “I… I just—”

  Her movements slow and then I hear her pull in a long breath. When she speaks, her voice is full of resignation. Of duty. “You think I do not know what I must do? Of course, I do. I must marry Kane. You are right. As much as it pains me to say so. This world needs leadership that only Kane and I can provide. I know that. And I know that you have made it clear to him, as well. I will do my duty. It is what I have always done.”

  It was as simple as that. And as complicated.

  There are twists and turns to this story I never would have anticipated. But I know how it ends.

  I feel a burst of pain in my shoulders, and then suddenly, it abates. I give my shoulders an experimental roll, but there is no stab of pain, not even a throb.

  “Thank you,” I say softly. “That is much better.”

  “Of course it is. I’m an excellent healer.”

  And modest, too.

  “Now, turn around. Let me see what I can do about your appearance.”

  But before I can protest, she grabs me by my shoulders and forces me around. She closes her eyes and waves her hand over my head, down my shoulders and arms, and then over the rest of my body. When her eyes open, she asks, “Does that feel better?”

  She’s cleaned the smudges of dirt, and all my superficial scratches are healed. I reach a hand up to my hair, which should be matted and gross. It slips smoothly through my fingers as if it’s been recently washed and dried.

  “I don’t suppose you would let me do something about that, will you?”

  “About what?”

  “Your hair. Or, in your world, is it common for girls to have hair as short as a boy’s?”

  My hand automatically goes to my wedge.

  “No. It’s not common. But I rather like it like this.” And then, after nibbling on my lips for a second, I add, “Unless you could make it just a little bit thicker?”

  “Of course I can. Like I said, I am an excellent healer.”

  A moment later when I run my hand through my hair, it’s thick and springy.

  By the time I am done admiring my new hair, the princess has cleaned up my Hello, Cupcake T-shirt and is handing it back to me. “Now, unless there are any other menial jobs you have for me to do…” she says regally.

  There’s an ironic quirk to her lips. Like maybe she doesn’t take herself as seriously as she seems to.

  “You know, you’re not quite as bitchy as you want people to think.”

  “I am a princess of the Red Court.” She tips her head as she says this. Her tone holds none of the arrogance I have grown accustomed to hearing from her. Only quiet resignation. “It is my duty to maintain the illusion of power, grace, and perfection.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t also be kind,” I say gently.

  “I do not know how things are in the Dark World, but in this one, kindness can be mistaken for weakness. And until the Kingdoms of Mithres are truly at peace, a princess cannot be weak.”

  I may not like her
, but the sorrow in her voice makes it impossible to hate her.

  I put my hand on her arm. “Maybe…”

  I don’t get a chance to finish. The bedroom door opens and Ro walks in carrying a tray with a pitcher and three glasses.

  The princess shakes off my touch and straightens, her vulnerability sluicing off her like rainwater off a duck.

  Ro stops short, looking from me to the princess as if she’s surprised to have found us together. “I brought drinks,” she chirps.

  “How provincial. I am to align myself with a man who has very few resources of his own. Even the wealthiest family he knows can’t afford servants, but instead fetch refreshments for themselves.” She bumps up her chin, giving the impression that she’s looking down on Ro, me, and the entire household. “Well, sacrifices must be made for the good of the kingdom, I suppose.”

  She sweeps out of the room, making a large arc around Ro so that the edge of her skirt doesn’t touch the other woman.

  It’s a dick move, even by the princess’s standards.

  But it’s a dick move that I see through.

  The princess may have shown me a single moment of vulnerability, but she’s not about to let Ro see it.

  I look at Ro, who is frowning and shaking her head. “She makes it really hard to like her.”

  Deleted from the Advance Reading Copy of

  Book Five of The Traveler Chronicles:

  The Traveler Undone

  What do you want me to say? That I don’t want to let her go?

  Fine. I don’t want to let her go.

  But it’s the right thing to do. Save my sister. Save the kingdom. Bring peace to the world. Yeah, all that bullshit.

  So what if I don’t want to let her go.

  At the end of the day, it’s not my choice. It’s hers. And I’m not the kind of guy who begs.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Ro turns her plucky little scowl on me. “You can’t really believe that she’s right for Kane.”

  “I do.”

  There are so many things that don’t seem as clear to me as they once did. It’s harder to sound confident now. I lower myself to the edge of the bed and my hand grazes against the soft leather of Kane’s jacket. “It’s how the story is supposed to go. They fall in love. Together, they rule the Kingdoms of Mithres.”

  I run my hand down the front of his jacket, one finger tracing the soft, supple leather, the other, the jagged edge of the zipper.

  Now that Kane knows about the assassin waiting for him in Saint Lew, he can protect himself. I did what I came here to do.

  Ro sits beside me, Kane’s jacket between us, and takes my hand in hers. “I know that’s what you believe, but Wallace was wrong about other things. Who’s to say he’s not wrong about this, too?”

  “What difference would it make?”

  I’m sure she’s trying to be comforting, but even if I have Sleeker blood, I belong in the Dark World. And Kane belongs here.

  “I’m sorry.” Ro gives my hand a squeeze, and her touch is unexpectedly warm. “I really wanted us to be friends.”

  “We are.” I give her a smile that I hope passes for plucky rather than pathetic. “Friendship is more than proximity.”

  Ro doesn’t meet my gaze. Instead she shakes her head a little sadly and says again, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want it to be this way.” She puts her other hand on my arm. “I really am so sorry.”

  Except, she doesn’t sound sorry. She doesn’t sound sad.

  Instead, her tone is fretful. Worried.

  Freaked out.

  Like she sounded back on the island, after the cliff destabilized and Kendal fell to her death. After the princess had finally made it to safety.

  “What do you mean?” Suddenly her hands are not just warm, they’re uncomfortably hot. “Ro. Look at me.”

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

  “Ro. What are you doing?” I pull my arm away from her, but her grip is tight. And she is Tuatha, far stronger than I am. “You’re hurting me.”

  I give my arm another wrench and this time she lets go, skittering back across the bed, as if I’m a big nasty spider she’s trying to escape.

  She pulls her knees up to her chest, burying her head in her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Okay.” I rub my arm where she’d gripped me. My skin feels tender and hot, like I’ve been beaten with a baseball bat and then scalded with steam. My hand feels even worse. I flex my fingers but can’t shake out the achiness.

  “I’m going to go get Morgan. He can help.”

  But as soon as I take a step toward the door, Ro looks up, her expression tortured.

  “Please. Please, don’t get my brother. He wouldn’t understand. He’ll never forgive me.”

  “Understand what?” Her gaze drops to my arm. I must be twenty kinds of idiot. She hurt me on purpose. She didn’t accidently grab my arm too tightly with her Tuatha superstrength. She used her elemental affinity to calcium to bruise my bones.

  But Ro wouldn’t do that. She’s my friend. She’s the nicest person I’ve met in the Kingdoms of Mithres. She’s Snow White steeped in chamomile tea.

  Unless she’s not. Like every other person in the Kingdoms of Mithres.

  I edge backward toward the door. “Whatever’s wrong, we’ll sort it out. I can help.”

  “Yes,” she says, nodding, hope shining through her tears as she raises her gaze to mine. “I want what you want. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I want the story to have the right ending. I want Kane to become King. I want him to marry a Tuathan princess. I want them to rule the kingdom together. That’s what we both want, right?”

  “The story?”

  My steps falter. Of all the people I’ve met in the Kingdoms of Mithres, I am the only one who thinks about this as a story. I am the only one who has read the books.

  “Ro, have you read the books?”

  “Yes. I have.” She nods eagerly, like I’m finally getting it. “I found copies imported in The Volume Arcana. Kane never even saw them. How weird is that?”

  “Pretty weird.” Especially since she never mentioned reading them to me, even when we talked about how Wallace portrayed her.

  “But that last book.” Her tone goes hard. “That last book is all wrong. He can’t marry princess Merianna.”

  “Then who is he supposed to marry?”

  “Me.” She scrambles off the bed and clasps my hands in hers. “Don’t you see? I am the princess he is supposed to marry.”

  “He is supposed to marry a princess from the Red Court,” I say, sounding way calmer than I feel. Her touch isn’t burning me this time, but I don’t want to take any chances.

  She waves her hand. “That’s just one of the details Wallace got wrong. Like the way he wrote me so that I’m not funny. It’s a mistake.” Her voice rises sharply. “Just a mistake.”

  Wow. Ro isn’t just conniving. She’s unhinged.

  She clutches my hands again, more tightly this time. “And I can get things back on track. Kane can marry me. We’ll rule the kingdoms together. He has to share all that royal power with someone. It might as well be me.”

  “You want to marry him for his power? You don’t even love him?”

  Okay, I’m not going to pretend that my logic here is…well, very logical. But this is what pisses me off.

  She’s trying to take over the story, to force herself into the role that is supposed to be played by Princess Merianna. And she’s not even doing it because she loves Kane?

  Oh, hell, no. I have not worked my ass off for the past thirty-six hours to try to get this story back on track only for her to hijack it.

  I yank my hands from hers. “I’m sorry, Ro. But that’s not how this story ends. Kane falls in love with Princess M
erianna of the Red Court. Not you.” I spin on my foot and march toward the door.

  “No.”

  She moves with Tuathan speed that I can’t hope to duplicate to reach the door before I do.

  “I can’t let you talk to Morgan. I said that already.” Her tone flips from fierce to pleading. “He would be so disappointed. He doesn’t understand.”

  “You could make him understand. He loves you.”

  “No, he doesn’t. He feels guilty. He feels obligated to look after me because I’m this weakling with no useful powers. But when I marry Kane, all of that will change.” Suddenly she glares at me. “You’ve ruined everything.” Then she grabs me by the arms, hatred suddenly blazing in her eyes. “Ever since you arrived, you’ve mucked up the story. You see that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Well, if you can’t beat them, placate them. “My being here has messed things up. Once I leave, the story can get back on track.”

  Well, Ro will clearly still be crazy, but at least I won’t be in danger. I’ll find some way to come back and warn Kane.

  And Morgan. Oh, Jesus. Morgan’s going to be devastated when he learns the truth. But I can’t think about that now. I have to focus on getting free from Ro. Right now, saving myself is the only way to save Kane.

  It’s not much of a plan, but I run with it.

  “If you just let me go, I’ll return to my own world. You’ll never see me again.”

  “You think I haven’t thought of that? That was my plan all along. Rescue the Curator, send you home. Then we’d never hear from you again. But you messed that up, too.” Her hands tighten around my arms as she gives me a hard shake. “You went and made a binding promise with the Curator to find the lost Oidrhe.”

  “I won’t do it. I won’t look for the lost Oidrhe. I promise.”

  “That’s not how binding promises work. You can’t just decide not to fulfill one. You’re bound by magic to do it.”

  She takes another step into the room, farther away from the door and my only escape route.

  “Even if you don’t search for the lost Oidrhe, you will find her. The binding promise will draw the two of you together. And then Kane won’t become king. And I’ll have to spend the rest of my life without any magic but this useless alkaline affinity. I won’t do it. I just won’t.”