by W. J. May
Sarah’s stomach churned, and bile threatened to erupt at any moment. She’d known all along that Victor wasn’t just a regular kind of husband, and that had been acceptable because she didn’t want him, didn’t want the kind of life he offered. But as the lucky trio left the cursed forest behind, something else dawned on her. Even though he wasn’t technically part of her life because their marriage was a scam, he still held power over her life. The shape-shifters had let them go only because they feared Victor’s wrath. It defied all logic, and she had to admit that maybe the whole Immortal part wasn’t a figment of everyone else’s imagination. Maybe I do share a bond with him that everyone here truly fears—and maybe that’s exactly what I need to find my sister and get us out of this crazy place. Then again, maybe I am crazy and am just dreaming the whole thing up. Bring the royal meds, please!
*
A cool breeze blew through the haystacks as Jules steered the horses through the open field to the next town. “Frank!” Sarah called.
He didn’t reply.
She poked him in the ribs. “What’s wrong with you?”
He turned, a frown crossing his forehead.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I just watched a wolf change into a man right before my eyes. I guess I’m a little freaked out. Who wouldn’t be, given the situation? I’m trying to hold it together for you, but just don’t expect my undying enthusiasm at our prospects anytime soon.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.
“No, don’t even try to explain this whole mess, because you know you can’t. Let’s just figure out a way to find your sister and get the hell out of here.”
“Forget the pack of wolves. I have a feeling we’ll soon have bigger problems than a bunch of weird people howling at the moon. For starters, we’re a million miles away from the portal—not to mention I’m a runaway queen, and there’s a dangerous man after us.” Her chest heaved with each breath. “If Victor’s men catch us, we’re dead. Frank, we can’t afford to waste time whining or feeling sorry for ourselves. We have to stay focused here. If we don’t make it, it’ll only be because you’re sending off those fear-vibes. Even a mouse could pick those up from a mile away, and the mice are probably telepathic here too.”
“The king’s guys are not going to catch us,” Frank retorted. “All we have to do is stay one step ahead of him.”
“He’s an Immortal, Frank,” she said. “We, on the other hand, are not.”
He reached for her hands, forcing her to face him. “You don’t believe that bull, do you? Nobody lives forever, Sarah.”
“I thought it was all a joke too...” She pointed at the forest. “...until I saw them. They said I have the mark of the Immortals. This ring belongs to them, not us, and we stole it. It’s grand theft jewelry, Frank, and I doubt they live by the fair trial rule. In fact, I’m sure they’re quite okay with cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Big dungeon time, huh?” Frank winked, amused.
Sarah shook her head. A few wolf people had him running for the hills, but the psychic bond she was beginning to feel with the king was beyond his rational comprehension. “Try execution, medieval style. We didn’t just steal it from anybody, like a local merchant or something. We had to involve the local mob boss, the freaking godfather.”
Frank glanced down at her finger. “We’ll give it back as soon as we use it to open the portal. Heck, we can even leave a note. What’s so special about it anyway? It looks pretty, uh...gaudy and normal, like something out of a thrift store or Halloween costume shop.”
Sarah twisted a strand of hair around her finger, biting her lip as she considered her words. Frank was freaked out already, but he had a right to know. “There’s nothing normal about it, in spite of its looks. When Victor slipped it on my finger, I felt a weird electricity racing through me.”
“Maybe just cold feet?”
“What?” She peered at him, confused.
“You know...cold feet because you were getting married.”
She rolled her eyes. “Frank, can you be serious for just one minute? I honestly don’t want to wear anything that belongs to somebody who’s not human. Maybe you can keep it safe for us. Just let me get it off.”
He nodded. “I’ll put it in my pocket.”
She tugged, eager to slide it down her finger, but like before, it wouldn’t budge. “Shoot! I still can’t get it off!”
“Are you sure? Let me try,” Frank said. When she held out her hand, he pulled hard. “Nope. A little butter might do the trick. It’s been around since biblical times.”
“Get it off me, Frank!” She stuck her finger in her mouth, biting the band and pulling. “It’s not working. This darned thing almost burned my hand off back there!”
“I thought you were just pretending, stalling for time.”
“Nope,” she whispered. “That was real.”
He gripped the band and started tugging again, harder this time. “Geesh. Didn’t the king bother having it sized first? How the heck did he even manage to fit it over your knuckle to put it on you?”
“Aren’t you hilarious?” She slapped his arm.
“I’m serious, Sarah. You could die from a blood clot.”
Wait...could that really happen? She regarded him, taking in the creased skin around his eyes, as dark as pools.
“Calm down. I’m only joking,” Frank continued. “Leave it on for now, and we’ll worry about it when we reach the next town. Hopefully it won’t start burning your finger again.”
“It’s just so...so weird, Frank.” Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned to face him, realization dawning on her. “Do you think he’ll find out the truth?”
“You mean that you’re not who he thinks you are? You tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen. He didn’t give you much choice, did he?”
“I guess not.” Sarah crawled out of their hole and climbed on top of one of the haystacks. She pondered as the wind whipped through her hair and the sun beat down on her face. The horses neighed, making her jump as the wagon ploughed through a meadow of purple and yellow wildflowers. The sweet scent drifted all around her.
“Even if he does find out, he won’t know where we are.” Frank shook his head. “I’m not scared of him.”
“Those shape-shifters were! They sure didn’t want to piss him off, and I’m sure they must have good reasons. Even if we escape from here, maybe Victor can follow us through the portal. He has the key to open it up.” She threw her hands in the air. “This crap might follow us right back home and bite us in the butt!”
“He only married you because he wants to make Princess Gloria’s dad pay. When he finds out you’re not the king’s daughter, he’ll realize his plan’s been foiled. His revenge game plan of tainting the pure bloodline won’t work, because you’re not Princess Gloria. He will have no reason to waste his time and risk his men’s health coming after us through the portal.”
She glanced down and wiggled her finger. “I have his mark glued on my finger for all of eternity.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “You’re getting a little extreme, babe.”
The soft glow of morning light cast a brilliant shimmer on the blossoming trees. A strong scent of manure wafted past as the wagon raced through the meadow. One good bump, and she’d go flying over the pane, but she didn’t care. All Sarah wanted at that moment was answers. She sat up, her back straight, as she hung on to the haystacks for dear life. “Hey, Jules, what do you know about this ring?”
He steered the reins and glanced over his shoulder. “Not much—just that the Immortals are only allowed to marry once in their lifetime, and when they do, they’re given the ancient ruby ring.”
“Why would Victor waste his only shot at marriage on a stranger he doesn’t love, one he thinks is the daughter of his archenemy?” Frank asked, pulling himself on top of a haystack next to her.
“I told you earlier,” Sarah said. “It’s about reven
ge. He wanted me to have a whole herd of his babies—to mess up the pure bloodline in their family. Bloodline’s a big deal with these royal types.”
Frank nodded. “I know, but it seems like there’s more to it than that. If this Victor’s an Immortal, how can he have kids?”
“They can,” Jules said through the pounding hooves.
“That’s hard to wrap my mind around,” Frank said.
“Does this ruby hold any sort of power?” Sarah asked. She twisted her finger to catch the sunlight at just the right angles, watching the gemstone reflect the bright rays.
“I don’t know,” Jules said, “but the wearers have some kind of psychic connection.”
She knew how ridiculous it was to believe in psychic powers captured in a ring, but she had also never seen a ring that just wouldn’t come off, no matter how hard she tugged or tortured her finger. She’d also never heard of shape-shifting wolves before. She was beginning to think anything and everything was possible in this strange new—or old—world. Leaning forward, interested, Sarah cocked a brow. “What does that connection do?”
Jules shook his head.
Boy, he’s not much help, is he? They can manufacture magic rings around here but can’t invent Google so I can look all this up? Hmm. “You said all the Immortals receive a ring like this,” Sarah continued. “Can a human even wear one?”
Jules hesitated. “I’m not sure how it works. The Immortals are very private. They live in a secretive world, following their own set of rules. I do know that every country in our world is under the rule of King Taggert, who resides over the Cardashian Court. I also know that King Victor is rumored to be next in line to rule when King Taggert dies. The king is dying, so it won’t be long before Victor takes the mightiest throne.”
Sarah blew out a breath. “Yeah, that was what those shape-shifters said.”
“Well, it’s no surprise King Taggert chose King Victor.”
“Why not? Isn’t there anyone else?”
“Victor is one of the oldest and strongest men in our world. He’s very powerful, rules with an iron fist, and is feared by all.”
“Yet you risk your life and face his wrath for us?” Frank asked.
“I’ll do anything for Mia,” Jules said, his gaze focused on the road ahead. “I love her.”
“Wait...did you just say Victor’s one of the oldest? How old is the guy?”
“I’ve no idea,” Jules said. “Maybe centuries.”
Just my luck again, Sarah thought. Not only am I married to a psycho, stuck with his weird magic ring, but he’s an old man with one foot inside the grave, and he just won’t ever die. Victor had captured and kidnapped Sarah in broad daylight, but still, she had to ask, “Are the Immortals like vampires or something? I need to know if Victor plans on biting me. Am I gonna start sparkling in the sun, sport some new fangs, and making blood my new choice of drink?”
Jules laughed, looking a bit confused. “Fangs? No, no, nothing like that—at least not that I’ve heard.”
Sarah pressed a hand against her chest. “Thank goodness!”
“In most regards, the Immortals are just like us,” continued Jules. “They eat, sleep, laugh, and cry. The only difference is that thousands of years ago, they somehow tapped into the power of immortality. According to legend, they took over every country in our world and have ruled with an iron fist ever since.”
“Do the Immortals have any, uh...superpowers?” Frank asked.
“Yeah, and they can do weird things with their minds, like make somebody see visions or—”
“I had one of those! I saw the king’s knights and horses before they got near us,” Sarah said, her voice rising an octave. “I very vividly saw them coming, and I even heard Victor’s voice. I think this is...for real.”
Frank shook his head. “I know you’ve mentioned it a million times, but I find the notion of an Immortal king chasing us a little hard to swallow.”
“Think about it, Frank. We’re not in our world anymore. Things are different here. We have to open up our minds to the unexplainable, which I know is a big leap for you.” Glancing down, she whispered, “I’m just wondering how a human like me managed to put on their magic ruby ring in the first place without bursting into flames or something.”
“You know what that proves, right?” Frank said, always the skeptic.
“No. What?”
“That any ordinary person can put one on, which means those people are about as Immortal as me.”
“Can you two please go back into hiding?” Jules asked. “We’re still in Tastia. I will take you as far as Dornia, but then you will be on your own.”
Sarah shrugged. “Sure. I need to forget about all this strange stuff anyway and focus on finding my sister.”
Chapter 9
From the other side of the narrow wooden door, worn with time, Sarah had no idea what would await her inside the local pub. She stepped into the large hall, dirt crunching beneath her booted feet, and stopped to take in the vaulted ceilings and crowded space. Countless tables faced the tarnished wooden bar. Roars of laughter and conversation echoed through the air. Flames flickered from candles in iron chandelier-like wall sconces on the stone walls. Sarah had always thought of candlelight dinners as romantic occasions, but watching a large man with greasy hair bite into a giant drumstick changed her opinion in a hurry. The delicious aroma of freshly baked bread and roast beef wafted into her nostrils, making her stomach growl in spite of the crude and unsanitary atmosphere.
Jules went to place the order for their feast, and Sarah and Frank walked past long banquet tables filled with customers she could swear were wearing outfits straight out of Hollywood. They weren’t dressed fancy like the people in Victor’s ballroom. The women wore long, simple dresses, while the men were garbed in itchy-looking wool breeches with a tunic or doublet and cloaks with a simple belt.
A tall woman seated them at a dark wooden table, on long benches draped in animal furs. It looked as though the woman wore two braids, one on each side, and then wrapped them around her head like a headband and tucked them into place, like some kind of milk maid. Sarah smiled at the lady sitting next to her on the bench, taking in the deep wrinkles running across her forehead and face.
The woman returned the smile, revealing crooked yellow teeth. “Don’t order the peacock, milady. It’s tough as leather and tasty as one’s sandals.”
Wait...these people eat peacocks? I thought they were only for showing off their pretty feathers in the zoo! I’d rather eat sandals! Sarah smirked. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The old woman inched closer and patted Sarah’s hand as she mumbled, “I hope you’re not into dark meat either, love. The pigeon’s too salty here.”
“I’ll take that into consideration as well,” Sarah said, cringing at the thought of eating such a dirty, messy bird that leaves feathers and feces everywhere it goes.
Frank glanced over at the woman. “How’s the dragon-tail soup?”
“Stop it.” Sarah nudged Frank playfully as she peered around. “Look how crowded this place is. This tavern must be the happening place.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely the medieval hotspot. The only thing missing is the flamethrower...and maybe the jester.” Frank slid in next to Jules and smiled. “I hope these furs don’t have fleas.”
“Thanks, Frank,” Sarah said. “Now I’m going to start itching.”
“Don’t worry, honey,” the old lady said. “The furs have been treated with wormwood. Fleas and moths are not keen on it.”
“Wormwood?” Sarah stood and waved her hand, trying to get the woman’s attention. “Waitress...um, I mean, wench, we don’t need luxury seating. We’d prefer a nice hard bench.”
“Relax,” Frank said. “It’s some kind of plant or herb.”
Sarah sat down. “I knew that.” She chuckled.
Minutes later, a lady in a red velvet dress with a black lace-up waistcoat brought drinks in wooden mugs, along with a genero
us platter of raw vegetables, fruit, a loaf of bread, and some kind of braised meat on a bed of prunes and cedar nuts.
Jules ripped off a golden-brown leg and bit into it like a starving homeless man. “I hope you will enjoy the duck. Eat, drink, and be merry.”
Sarah laughed and looked around for a plate, napkins, or silverware. “Um, are there utensils we can use, or are we supposed to go at it caveman style?”
“Utensils, miss? Why do you think God gave us hands?” Jules asked between mouthfuls of food.
Frank reached for a piece of meat. “The fork’s still centuries away from sitting in a silverware drawer, Sarah. Just dig in like he said. We’re sitting on animal skins, for God’s sake. I don’t think manners are all that important here.”
“If you don’t mind, then I don’t. Just don’t wipe your greasy hands on my cloak.” She bit into a drumstick and smirked as the food stuck between her teeth. Eventually, she managed to swallow and put the meat aside.
“Don’t like it?” Frank asked.
“Well, for starters, it’s cold.”
“Maybe they could pop it in the microwave for a few seconds.” Frank tore off a piece of bread and dunked it into the meat grease.
“I guess beggars can’t be choosers.” Sarah laughed as she popped a plum into her mouth.
“Better get used to it. You’re not gonna survive on celery and plums, Your Highness.”
“What is this microwave you speak of?” Jules asked.
Sarah met Frank’s gaze. “You do the talking.”
“Well, it’s a kind of box, you see, and...well, I suppose you’d probably think it’s magic or something, but you put food in it, and it zaps it hot.” Frank bit into his pear, signaling the end of the conversation, but Jules didn’t seem keen on letting him off the hook.
“So this box carries a magic fire?”
“Maybe it’s best we don’t talk about our world,” Sarah said. “It might blow our cover or at least get us locked up in the medieval cuckoo’s nest.”