by Sarina Dorie
Elric planted a peck on my cheek. He took my elbow and guided me out from behind the dressing screen, taking small steps as though I were an invalid. Aside from being mildly sore and a little stiff, I felt fine. I didn’t feel like someone who hadn’t been able to walk an hour ago. It was only the gnawing emptiness in my core from being drained that troubled me. It was worse than the last time I’d lost my magic.
I would have imagined with Felix Thatch’s ability to do anything and everything, he would have recovered from being drained by now. When Alouette Loraline had drained him, he’d regained his powers in record time. Maybe his state had to do with something other than being drained by the Raven Queen. Elric had said he’d tried to cure me multiple times. I’d probably made him worse.
Elric kept me walking at a snail’s pace.
I drew my arm back from his. “You can stop hovering. I can walk without your help.”
He bowed his head in agreement. “I’m quite sure you’re right, but I’ll hover anyway.”
The room was twice the size of Thatch’s private quarters at Womby’s, but smaller than Elric’s own room at his father’s palace. The furnishings were beautiful in the same eclectic way Elric dressed himself, nothing quite matching, but somehow it all worked.
Except for the skull on the table by the window. That was Downton Abbey with macabre bling, one of Vega’s touches, I was certain.
The cushioned chairs and decorative gold frames of the paintings looked like they subscribed to the decadence of the rococo era, mismatching with an Art Nouveau wardrobe with glass windows. The wooden canopy bed was draped with gauzy white fabric and moss. Everything came from a different era, some antiques from the Renaissance, while others like the John William Waterhouse painting were more modern, if one called the Victorian era modern.
I stared in wonder at the beauty of it. A few potted plants grew in strategic places, vines wrapping around bedposts or creeping across stone walls. Unlike the decadence of his father’s palace with crystals and glass inlaid into the walls and ceiling, this was understated. Fewer crystals glittered in the stone.
“This is your castle? Not your father’s?” I asked as I made my way toward the mirror at the pace of a snail.
“Not my castle, no. This is one of my smaller estates, a mere cottage that provides greater privacy.” His smile was sad, a look of longing in his eyes as he gazed at the room.
There was something more he wasn’t saying. “Are we here because of . . . me?”
“Not just you. There’s Vega’s welfare to consider as well. I didn’t want her to be surrounded by manipulative, backstabbing Fae . . . like my family.”
“What happened? How did I end up here, paralyzed from the waist down?” And what had made Thatch willing to come here in the first place?
Elric guided me over to the full-length mirror. “You truly don’t remember any of it?”
“No.”
“Interesting.”
Seeing how forthcoming he was, I would ask Thatch what this was about later. He still hadn’t come with food. I hoped nothing bad had happened to him. He’d looked so weak before. I’d done that to him.
Elric placed his hands on my shoulders, turning me toward my reflection in the mirror. The low neckline of the dress was camouflaged with a lace fichu scarf. It wasn’t so low as to show cleavage, but I couldn’t help feeling naked in the dress. Vulnerable. I smoothed a hand over my collarbone.
Something was missing.
“Where’s the amulet?” There had been one glowing stone full of magic that represented the fraction of my soul that remained before Elric possessed it all.
“Thatchy demanded that I remove it. Don’t worry, I’m not offended by its absence. I never wanted to give it to you in the first place. My father and Quenylda were the ones who had fabricated it. I’m sorry about the ways she tricked you into using it.” There was genuine sorrow in his eyes. “Being the practical fellow he is, Thatch insisted you didn’t need it anymore. You are here on my estate, after all. Quenylda is . . . gone.”
It unsettled me the way he said that.
“Is she? Did your father arrest her?”
“No, she’s dead.” He watched me, his expression grave.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” An icky feeling chilled me as we spoke. I did feel sorry, but I wasn’t sure why. Quenylda had been my enemy. She’d tried to kill me and my loved ones. She was as bad as the Raven Queen. Maybe worse. She’d been less predictable.
I placed a hand on Elric’s arm. There was sorrow in his eyes.
“Enough of that depressing subject.” Elric plastered a smile on his face. “Feast your eyes upon my masterpiece—you!”
My hair was bright auburn. I had dyed it and cut it a short time ago—right before the wedding. Only, if it had been a month ago, I should have had half an inch of hair growth. My hair was long, past my shoulders. Did that mean months had passed since I’d last dyed it?
Was that why he didn’t want to tell me how long I’d been asleep? He was afraid I would freak? Because the idea of being asleep for months was a little freaky.
“Doesn’t the dress please you?” Elric asked. “I had it tailored especially for you.”
I could handle this. Six months in a coma was nothing. I would not freak out and cause myself to regress. I took deep belly breaths.
I realized I was frowning, my brow crinkled up. I tried to smile. “It’s pretty. You did a good job.” It was an effort not to thank him. “Only, it’s my hair. It’s so—”
He swept my hair back. “Indeed. I agree. It isn’t very period. I’m not very good with hair. We’ll call in Vega’s lady’s maid so she can fix you up.”
“That’s unnecessary. I can just put it in a ponytail.” I glanced at the tray on a stand by the wardrobe and vanity, which remained clean and tidy. If there were hair accessories, they were out of sight. I spotted a bag at the bottom of the wardrobe next to an array of impractical shoes. It looked like the patchwork bag my mom had sewn me years ago. I stepped forward and reached for it.
“Not that shabby thing.” Elric crossed his arms. “It’s full of Morty-made things that he had to bring into my home, even though I specifically told him I only wanted organic items free of toxins. But he insisted.”
Elric avoided speaking Thatch’s name like it was a bad word.
“He Who Must Not Be Named?” I asked as I crouched and rummaged through the pockets. I removed a vibrator.
From the way Elric cringed back, I suspected it still had batteries inside. He made a face. “That’s right. Your husband. Voldemort.”
I laughed at that. I appreciated that Elric had read Harry Potter, and if he was going to call Thatch the name of a villain, at least he had selected it from one of my favorite series.
I couldn’t find my overnight pouch with my hair accessories, but there were plenty of other items in there. I found a Chinese finger trap I’d taken away from my students near the end of the school year, the cylinder large enough to trap the massive fingers of a rock affinity. My students must have magicked it to make it larger than one meant for humans. One of my sketchbooks was packed alongside a lesson-plan book.
Thatch had folded a selection of black and gray clothes. He’d even included leggings, though not ones with stripes. As I slid out the bag, a crumpled black rag fell out from underneath.
“What is that thing?” Elric stepped back from it. “That fabric is full of toxins and negative energy. I can feel it from here. Rayon and nylon, I’d wager.”
I held up the fabric up, examining the lace. I had thought it was black, but as I held it up to the light, it looked green but stained with black soot. I had last worn it the night Quenylda’s golem had punched me in the face, and I’d been brought to Elric’s castle. No. . . . That wasn’t right. I had worn it once after that. I tried to remember when. The dress was now shredded, with the laces at the front hanging in pieces.
As I held it up, a strange sense of déjà
vu washed over me.
“What happened to this? It was my favorite dress. Who did this?” I asked. Maybe “favorite” was a slight exaggeration. I hadn’t worn it often because it was a smidge too low cut to wear to school events. And it made me think of the date I’d gone on with Julian Thistledown, creepy hex-boyfriend extraordinaire.
Elric’s jaw tightened. “Oh.” There was recognition in his eyes.
That strange sense of déjà vu grew stronger, creeping over me like the chill of winter. My stomach felt queasy, but I didn’t know why. Panic clutched at my heart. There was no reason to panic. I was safe here.
In my mind, I heard the dress tearing. Overwhelming pain sliced through me, stabbing through my soul and into my belly. My knees turned to jelly, and I wobbled. I reached out an arm to catch the wardrobe for balance but missed as my legs buckled beneath me.
Elric dove for me and caught me around the waist, holding me upright. “Clarissa, are you all right?”
My feet were numb.
Tears filled my eyes. I should have felt more fear about the paralysis slowly creeping back up my legs, but all my attention was fixed on the green of the dress I still clutched in my hands. A crushing weight pressed in on me.
“The dress,” I gasped. “I remember . . . something about this dress.” I just couldn’t quite grasp what it was.
Elric tore it from my hands and threw it on the floor away from me. “Stay with me, Clarissa. Don’t fall asleep again. You’ve only just woken up.”
I closed my eyes, slipping into nightmares and memories.
CHAPTER FIVE
Here There Be Dragons
I dreamed. In those dreams I tried to control the fabric of my subconscious, but it resisted me. In my dreams, I loved a tree who raised me. I had the sense my mind was trying to tell me something. Abigail Lawrence’s affinity was oak, and she was Amni Plandai, but what more it said, I couldn’t guess.
In another dream, I was performing secret experiments under the school and accidentally released Khaba from his lamp, and he exploded out of the crypt. Instead of turning into a demon as he had before, he shifted into a dragon. He grew and grew, and with the expenditure of energy it took to create his size, he became famished, devouring the school and the mountains. The dragon kept growing and eating. It devoured the world, the round sphere of the planet settling into his belly like the bulge of a mouse in the long body of a snake. All that was left after the dragon ate the world were the stars. He felt gloomy and lonely.
Somehow I knew this dragon wasn’t Khaba. It was Felix Thatch.
Even as I dreamed, I tried to rationalize what I thought this meant. My biological mother had experimented under the school and destroyed part of the building, either from electricity or by releasing a demon. Had Thatch been that demon? He wasn’t a djinn. My brain couldn’t quite grasp what my subconscious was saying.
The dragon cuddled up to me and nuzzled my face. I was a dragon too, I realized. I had liked being a dragon. Yet an ominous sense of dread loomed over me.
Something bad had happened. My brain was trying to remember. I just couldn’t recall what.
CHAPTER SIX
Asleep for a Spell
An explosion of warmth and pleasure flooded through me. My back arched, and I moaned. I couldn’t tell what was a dream and what was reality. I woke in a cushioned chair next to the dressing screen. Elric sat on the armrest, an arm around my shoulder to keep me upright. My head rested against his chest.
I gasped and pulled away at the unexpectedness of seeing him so near. And perhaps a bit at the embarrassment that I had been dreaming of sexy time with Thatch while Elric had been sitting so close. This dream was different from the other ones I’d had. I could remember more of it. That seemed like a good sign.
“Clarissa?” Thatch’s voice startled me. “Are you all right?”
He knelt at my feet, one hand on my knee. With the other, he stroked my inner thigh, his fingers warm and wet against my skin. His eyebrows knit together in concern. My pink bloomers were on the floor, and I felt slippery and satisfied.
And mortified by the realization of what had happened.
“See, I told you she would be fine. She just needed another dose of medicine,” Elric said cheerfully.
By “dose of medicine,” he meant an orgasm. But not an immaculate orgasm. I required touch to fuel my affinity and Fae magic to restore me from my blackouts.
I smiled sheepishly at my husband. I was glad he had been here this time.
“Was that all right?” His brow furrowed with concern. “You said you wanted us to use touch magic to restore you if you fell under again. Correct?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I ran my fingers over his midnight locks of hair. Color had returned to his cheeks, and his hair gleamed with the luster I was used to. He looked more like himself.
Elric leaned closer to my ear. “You really shouldn’t thank him. You’ll owe him a favor later if you do.”
“I am not Fae.” Thatch glowered. “My wife isn’t magically indebted to me.”
“True. You’re more indebted to her for agreeing to marry you.” Elric winked at me.
“You are distracting us from the real problem.” Thatch stood. “You allowed Clarissa to overtax herself.” Thatch’s snarky tone cut through the usual monotone he liked to keep in place. “You said you would take care of her. This is what happens when I leave the room for one minute.” His flowing white clothes looked unnatural compared to the grays and browns he usually wore, but they looked nice on him.
“I didn’t physically overtax her. She was overcome by distress.” Elric’s smile remained in place, but his eyes narrowed. “Had you taken better care not to leave anything among her possessions that might cause her emotional turmoil, she might not have succumbed to her affliction again.”
Right after I’d picked up a shredded rag, I’d felt crushing despair. I tried to remember why I had felt that way, what had triggered it, but the darkness was gone.
I hooked my toe under the edge of my bloomers, dragging them closer. “Don’t you two have anything better to do than bicker all day?” I leaned forward, intending to pick them up.
Elric placed a hand on my shoulder, keeping me upright. “Indeed. Well said!” He made a face at Thatch.
Thatch guided my feet into the legs of the undergarment. “How do you feel?”
I shimmied the bloomers up my hips, trying not to expose myself to my audience in the process.
Aside from the gnawing emptiness inside my soul, I could have been normal. “Fine.” I stretched, groggy and lethargic.
Thatch nodded to the table near the window laden with bowls of soup and steaming mugs of tea. “Are you ready to eat something?”
At the mention of food, my stomach grumbled. I attempted to push myself from the chair, but my arms and legs were weak. Thatch took my hands, and Elric wrapped an arm around my waist.
Once I was on my feet, it was easier to walk than it had been to get up, but each movement was slow and stiff. I couldn’t see why. I had walked to the wardrobe earlier just fine. The table was only a few steps away, but each step took concentration and effort.
Thatch and Elric hovered like mother hens. Thatch’s brow crinkled up in concern. I smiled, trying to show him I could do this. I would get better, regain my magic, and go back to teaching my students.
I eased myself into the chair. The aroma of savory soup greeted my nose.
Thatch turned to Elric. “Might I have some time alone with my wife?”
Elric studied me thoughtfully.
I tasted a spoonful of soup. Flavor exploded on my tongue. “Oh! This is good. This isn’t Fae food, is it?”
Thatch smiled and sat across from me. “No. I’ve ensured nothing that could capture you and keep you bound to this realm went anywhere near this meal. I can only imagine any fare that doesn’t resemble food from the school cafeteria will seem like Fae temptation.”
School fo
od wasn’t that bad these days. Still, it was cafeteria food, not home cooking.
Elric leaned and kissed my brow. “I’ll be on my way. Should you need anything, there’s a bell within your reach. You can send my servants to fetch me.”
He departed with a smile on his face, but not the usual spring in his step. I suspected he had used a lot of magic to heal me twice in one day.
The soup was delicious. I dipped a slice of bread into the savory broth. Thatch ate in silence, glancing up at me pensively without speaking.
I wondered when he was going to say something nasty about Elric. Or about me sleeping with Elric in order to restore my magic. I dreaded that conversation.
I couldn’t stand to see the misery in his eyes. I fixed my gaze out the window at the sunshine and blue sky. There was a garden below, a small paradise of lush plants. Women in pastel gowns and parasols sat at benches while children played under a shady tree. I wondered who they were.
One was tall and slender. I would have thought it was Vega, but her hair looked like it was long enough to be pinned up under a hat. She wore pink and ruffles. Vega was far too set in her twenties fashion preferences to ever wear pink, let alone to find ruffles to be acceptable.
“How is your meal?” Thatch asked.
“Good.”
He set his empty bowl aside and sipped at his tea, his full attention on me now. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.”
His eyes were more alert than they’d been earlier, the dark moons underneath less pronounced. He wasn’t shaking either. “Are you just saying that so I don’t worry? Or are you fine?” The muscles in his jaw clenched. “Elric assured me he wouldn’t hurt you or coerce you when he was . . . with you. He promised he would be . . . considerate.”
I nodded, heat flushing to my cheeks with embarrassment at the idea of going into any greater depth. “He was considerate. Thank you for asking.” The words came out with my usual amount of social awkwardness.
His forehead crinkled up before smoothing back into an expressionless mask. “He brought you an . . . appropriate amount of pleasure?”