Black Moon Draw

by Lizzy Ford

  She said nothing.

  “You view it out of fear. If you saw it the way I did, as worth saving, you may find it looks differently.”

  There was a long pause. When she caught her breath, he nudged her to start walking, aware of how little time they had.

  “You’re right.” She sighed finally. “I am afraid. I’m afraid I won’t make it home. Afraid I will and end up miserable. Afraid this really is my fate.”

  “Why would that be undesirable?” he asked, bristling. “Black Moon Draw has the most beautiful lands of any kingdom and a warrior-knight worthy of any woman in any world, not to mention coffers of gold and gems.”

  “I don’t really care about gold or power or whatever,” she replied. “When you conquer the world, you’ll just sell me anyway. I’m not really looking forward to that.”

  He laughed, suddenly aware of where she was coming from. He had meant the idea of selling her as a jest, one she clearly did not understand.

  His battle-witch looked at him in clear disapproval.

  “Nay, Naia. I do not intend to sell you,” he said, shaking his head. “Although I may make you my queen.”

  “Your what?” She stopped walking, staring at him.

  The Shadow Knight turned to face her. “The warrior-queen of Black Moon Draw.”

  “Are you proposing?”

  “Proposing?” he echoed with disdain. “I propose naught. If I choose to take you as my queen, then I shall, and you will obey the command.”

  Her face was red again. There was anger in her gaze, along with a different kind of fire. “You can’t just ditch the woman you’re betrothed to or force me to marry you.”

  Aye, there is that. But his betrothed would not be his betrothed when the war was over. His oath of secrecy prevented him from revealing the truth. “Very well. You will become my mistress,” he reasoned.

  “Absolutely not! I’m not some back up! Is this because I know your name?”

  “Nay. ‘Tis because you belong here, or you wouldn’t have been sent to me.”

  “You can’t do that to your princess. I won’t let you hurt her like that by breaking it off with her or hiding away some woman on the side! What happened in the tower was a mistake, one that can’t happen again.”

  He snatched her arm and pulled her to face him. “I do not make mistakes, Naia. Should I choose to claim you as my queen or mistress, I will do so.”

  Her mouth opened and then closed. Wordlessly, she yanked free and climbed the rocks blocking their path from the top of the cliff and stopped.

  “My god,” she breathed.

  He hurried to join her and scoured the familiar territory that was his. “What is it?” he asked, seeking out some enemy or other cause for her alarm.

  “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. Like a cross between Scotland and New Zealand. Ruled by an absolute asshole.”

  He chose to ignore her slight, angry with her the way she was with him. Assuming the names he had never heard of were from her world, he relaxed, gaze sweeping across the landscape he had known since he was a child. Rolling hills coated by emerald grass that clung to them like moss filled the peninsula, leading up to jagged purple-blue mountains in the near distance. The scent of his home always made something melt inside him, the sweet clover grass welcoming him home from battle.

  After years of never thinking about what happened after the war, he found himself yet again dwelling on what life was going to be like when battle was over, when he could ride the familiar hills and mountains, breathe in the sweet grass, and listen to the ocean’s tides near his home every day, make love to a woman who stirred his body and heart several times a day, if he pleased.

  And the sky . . . He had only heard of it being blue and always imagined what it was like beyond the fog.

  It would be a surprisingly pleasant life.

  “This is all yours?” she asked, her hushed reverence for Black Moon Draw making him swell with pride.

  “Aye. ‘Tis.”

  “Have you ever thought about putting a cottage right there?” She pointed to the edge of the peninsula.

  “Cottage?” he echoed. “My hold is there. ‘Tis but half a day’s ride.” He indicated the place where the mountains, sea and hills met.

  “That works I guess.” There was a small smile on her face, one he wasn’t certain how to interpret. “I can’t believe this is your home.”

  “’Tis yours as well. Whether as my queen or my mistress.”

  “Don’t start that shit again.” She averted her gaze, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes. Uncertain what caused it, he trailed as she began walking quickly, headed towards the dirt road winding among the low hills bordering the ocean.

  He sensed a thaw without truly understanding her resistance to the idea of living there. The way her face lit up, she meant what she said about it being the most beautiful place she had ever seen. Why then, if sent here from another world, did she not welcome his offer?

  The Shadow Knight began walking. It was not in his nature to dissect the mind of a woman, especially when he had offered the queen-ship to her without first breaking off his alliance with the Red Knight’s sister.

  If he did it before the end of the era, he risked alienating a kingdom he did not have time to combat, which meant he lost and his world was gone.

  It was good she refused it. For now. That would change once the curse was broken. Of that, he had no doubt. He had lied about knowing a way to send her home to win her cooperation. Once he was in a position to offer her the position of becoming his queen, unencumbered by war or his betrothed, he was not going to take no for an answer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Home. The moment I set foot on the hill overlooking the beach, the sensation of being where I belong hit me so hard, I almost fell over.

  I can’t explain it, except I’ve never seen anywhere this amazing in real life. I’m sure it exists, but people living paycheck to paycheck don’t go to random parts of the world to discover what’s there.

  The hills ahead of me are so green they almost glow, and the smell . . . I had no idea places have scents. It’s honeyed, happy, welcoming, peaceful – the opposite of the brooding Shadow Knight beside me. That this world produced him baffles me. The sky stretches forever overhead, the heat of the brilliant sun tempered by a layer of gray fog and a cool ocean breeze.

  This is love at first sight, not with a man, but with a beauty of a world I didn’t know existed. It makes me happy. Not even the thought of losing a man I’m not sure I like to another woman bothers me.

  “Come, witch.” He starts towards a narrow dirt road winding through the emerald hills.

  Okay. Maybe there is something about him that does bother me. That kiss was too amazing. The scenery manages to buffer the emotions building, and I drink in my surroundings instead of letting my mind drift to what it might be like to live here with him.

  This is how Elizabeth Bennett felt when she saw Pemberley. I understand now the power of seeing Mr. Darcy’s estate. She was meant to be there and knew it the moment she set foot in the park. It takes me close to tears of frustration, because I’m starting to admit there’s a chance I really am destined to stay here.

  Is that so bad? Do I want to, if it means I’ve got no chance with the man beside me?

  “Why do you weep?” the Shadow Knight asks, glancing over his shoulder at me.

  I’m trailing, grappling with emotions I can’t define and thoughts that leave me breathless one moment and devastated another.

  He stops and waits for me to catch up.

  “I’m not.” I wipe my cheeks angrily. I’m holding out for a relationship with a fictional character.

  “I see the tears.”

  “I’m not crying!” I snap at him.

  He chuckles. “As you wish.”

  I sigh. “That’s a quote from one of my favorite movies.”

  “Madness.”

  His name is Atreyu. It’s from The Neverending Story, o
ne of my favorite movies, also about a reader who gets pulled into a book, where he meets Atreyu, the Hero. Atreyu is on a quest to find the source of evil in his kingdom, when he ran into the kid reading the book.

  He also had a magic medallion, one that protected him.

  I touch the Heart at my chest, astounded by the few similarities – and completely frustrated by the fact LF’s book contained so many pieces of other worlds, without following the script of any of them.

  I sink into silence, pensive.

  He’s not a bad companion, when we’re one on one, and my god – he’s an incredible kisser. With a body that makes my insides quake and a quiet confidence that melts me, he might be perfect, if not for his really bizarre sense of humor. Pushing me off a tower? Throwing me out of a tree?

  It’s a good thing I can’t quite figure him out. If I did, I might be in too deep to walk away without a broken heart.

  I’ve never been much of a risk taker, whereas there’s no challenge too crazy for him. He’s got the weight of a world on his shoulders and he’s not about to lose. I’m not like that though. There’s a reason I’m a librarian – because I prefer to read about adventures than have my own.

  Unfortunately, I can’t help but admit that he’s as amazing as his kingdom. I’ve been struggling not to let myself feel anything for him: compassion, loyalty, admiration. Coupled with primal attraction, those emotions are creeping and burrowing in, demolishing my resistance to a man and world that shouldn’t exist.

  Forcing my attention to my surroundings, I sigh. “I can’t get over how beautiful Black Moon Draw is.”

  “I have heard without the fog, the hills are like gems that can be seen halfway across the Black Moon Sea,” he replies quietly.

  “You must love your home so much. I can’t imagine being at war for how long? A year or two?”

  “Twenty-five, since I picked up a sword when I was five.”

  Seven years older than me. I’ve always loved a slightly older man. Banishing the errant thought, I register the rest of what he’s said. “Twenty five years? And all this is waiting for you?” I wave an arm at the hills nearest me.

  “The Shadow Knights have a greater cause than pleasure, however much we love our pleasure,” he replies.

  “I didn’t see any of your motivation in . . .” the first few chapters LF wrote. God! How do I explain to him who he is?

  The battle queen said both worlds were real, that if I believe Black Moon Draw to exist, it does. I’m not yet able to wrap my head around the idea. I’m not creative enough to imagine the beauty around me or create a man like the Shadow Knight.

  “You speak a great deal of nonsense.”

  His grave tone makes me laugh. “Yeah, probably. You think me mad.”

  “I did at first but now . . .” He shakes his head. “I think you different only. Beautiful despite the uniqueness of who you are.”

  “Whatever. You’re engaged to the most beautiful woman in any world ever to exist. I know you’re not serious.” Then why does a bubble of joy burst inside me at his words?

  “You assume much about me you should not, witch. You did not understand the purpose of my war, and you fail to see how serious I am now.” He’s offended. I didn’t think it possible.

  “It’s not that I don’t think you’re serious,” I reply, not wanting him too upset since I don’t have a clue where we’re going. “I was betrothed, and Jason had another woman in his life beside me. He eventually left me for her and told me it was my fault. I don’t . . . I won’t hurt another woman like that. No matter what I feel for you.” Holy shit. Did I just say that? “Not that I feel anything for you at all, but if I did, and if this was real and you –”

  “I understand, witch.” He’s entertained, the skin around his eyes crinkling with warmth. “You have honor.”

  “Yes,” I say, recovering from my latest slip up with him.

  “You are also a coward.”

  “I am not!” I retort. “Wait, are we talking about in battle? Because I will admit to having an aversion to being stabbed with a sword.”

  “Not battle. In going after what you want.”

  “Why? Because I don’t share your aggressive, obsessive, single-minded determination to take over the world?”

  “You are fortunate, witch. If I had no betrothed, that determination would be channeled at you.”

  Is he serious? He likes me? Like, really, truly is interested?

  I stumble over my feet, stunned. He catches my arm to steady me and I’m silent.

  There’s no comeback for that, no way to save face when it’s obvious he’s just rocked my world.

  His hand slides down to take mine. Without looking at me, he squeezes.

  I can’t think of anything to say and I like the feel of his large, warm, calloused hand too much to want to pull away like I probably should.

  More than willing to do what I can to help him, it’s what follows the last battle that makes me far less comfortable. As long as we save the kingdoms, this place will exist, and he’ll live happily ever after with his perfect princess.

  Like Jason. What happens to me then? I get turned into a servant? I go home to live alone with the knowledge I met someone I really liked, who liked me, and it still didn’t work out? I get tossed into a new book?

  It’s complicated enough to give me a headache.

  Lost in thought, I walk hand in hand with him towards the edge of the foothills.

  We walk for hours in the cool weather, and my eyes drift between the gorgeous scenery and the swirl of fog originating from the direction of his castle. It resembles the sky above Mordor in the Lord of the Rings movies: slow swirling clouds of darker gray than the fog block out the blue, the center of the curse and the eye of the fogs of Black Moon Draw the castle itself.

  I’m afraid to know what’s there and certain I’m going to find out.

  After several hours, I’m hungry, and we haven’t spoken at all since I tripped. It was morning when we started. Time is hard to tell when the skies are covered with gray all day, but I think it’s close to four or five o’clock.

  The overbearing brute of a man who never leaves a soul standing on the battlefield has been quiet and calm the entire day, holding my hand and walking with me through the beautiful lands of his like we’re headed to the chapel and not to battle. I don’t get his calm, unless he’s happy to be home.

  In contrast, my head is a mess, torn between wanting more from him and hating myself for even considering it. I’m too good to take advantage of the situation, though I suspect he won’t be the one to back out if I wanted more than hand holding. I can’t get the idea he thinks I’m a coward out of my head either. He’s held a mirror to me today and I’m embarrassed by what I see in my reflection: someone so afraid of failure and being judged, she never tried to follow any dream.

  I’m changing that. Little by little. For the first time in my life, I’m occasionally standing up for myself, even if it’s only with the Shadow Knight, and taking chances. I’ve been in mortal danger, went to battle, and rode a horse . . .

  I’m doing it. I’m becoming someone even I can respect. The mushroom part of me panics every once in a while, wanting to disappear into the shadows and run away to my safe apartment. While I have a long way to go, I’m starting to think that the occasional adventure, preferably one that doesn’t involve war or a curse, might be good for me.

  With a sidelong look at the Shadow Knight, I reluctantly acknowledge another nagging instinct, one that’s harder to accept. My experiences with him and this world have been rattling around my head all day. I’ve been mustering up the courage for an hour or so to utter words I never thought I’d say to the man beside me.

  I’m about to burst from flip-flopping about saying anything, when I finally decide that the New-Improved-Naia needs to go for it. “Atreyu, I’m sorry.” I start. “I’ve been kind of a jerk since arriving. If I stopped to ask why you do what you do instead of judging you or if I hadn’t been s
o hell bent on going home . . .” I drift off and then shake my head. “I don’t know what I’m saying or thinking. I should know better because I live that every day. I’m sorry I judged you when I should’ve listened and given you a chance. I should’ve tried hard to use magic and help you.”

  “You apologize too much,” he replies. “I have lived with this knowledge since I was a babe. My master-at-arms was the only one who knew the truth. I never intended to tell anyone before I met you.”

  “Even your other battle-witches or betrothed?”

  “No one.”

  So I am special. A shot of hopeful, ecstatic energy lifts some of my exhaustion.

  “I am only grateful my man parts did not fall off when we kissed,” he adds.

  “You had to go there!” I pull my hand free of his and cross my arms.

  “’Tis a relief for a man.”

  My face feels hot. “I swear men everywhere are the same!”

  He chuckles. “We will have time to discuss whether you become my queen or my mistress when the final battle is over.”

  I’m not sure I like the sound of that. Like I’m not going home. Does he want me to stay? Do I want to stay?

  Any confidence I had about being surer of myself fizzles. I’m feeling anxious again, a warm flutter of desire mixed with a whole lot of fear.

  “You’ll be sending me home after this, right?” I ask.

  The corner of his lips lifts. He doesn’t answer.

  We don’t talk anymore, not for another couple of hours. I’m dragging soon enough, the result of not eating in who knows how long and recovering from death, I suppose. In truth, I’m kinda glad it’s quiet. He and his world are no longer fictional to me. They’ve become very real, and I’m not sure what to make of him calling me beautiful or the way my lower belly ignites into a furnace whenever he regards me a tad too long. Every time we talk, I’m a little more confused about what I want.

  Night begins to creep across the land. We’re still a great distance from the hold. My well-fitted boots have rubbed blisters into my heels and the outside of one pinky toe. Darkness brings the cold ocean wind and I’m soon shaking and miserable.