Welcome Home (Alternate Worlds Book 3)

by Leigh, Taylor

  Victoria did her best to not make a face. ‘We would be honoured. Of course.’ They weren’t yet back for a day and already had to attend social functions. They would be run ragged before they even had time to catch their breath. She cast a worried look Andrew’s direction. She wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to handle before she had a medical problem on her hands.

  ‘Fantastic!’ Reginald clapped his hands together decisively.

  Marus, from the shadows, cleared his throat.

  Reginald cast a glance to him. ‘Well, duty calls. I will see you tonight.’

  With a bow he clattered from the room, sandwiched between Marus and Assad, talking animatedly. Their voices bounced back to Victoria and Andrew.

  ‘If you’ll follow me, please.’ The servant stepped forward, giving them a slight curtsy. Andrew obediently stepped after her.

  Victoria did not move, but watched her cousin go, thoughts spinning. She had not been prepared for so radical a change. Yet, she supposed, if there was anything needing to change, it was Scrabia.

  She hurried to catch up with Andrew. His expression was something she’d not seen him wear before: bewildered, thrown out of his element; lost.

  She cracked a smile. ‘The Traveller?’

  Andrew shook his head, eyes blown wide in the dim light. ‘I will admit: that did not go exactly as I had expected.’ He pulled a thoughtful face. ‘Yet, it may actually work to my advantage. After all, the Traveller—as we both know—has respect and privileges wherever he goes.’

  Victoria stared. ‘You can’t just do that!’

  Andrew blinked innocently. ‘Why not? Tollin is gone, and I doubt he’s coming back. I can get much more accomplished borrowing his name; people will listen to me, I’ll already have a voice.’

  Victoria spluttered, grasping at straws for some valid argument to sway him. Unfortunately, Andrew wasn’t one much concerned with little things like or right and wrong or the guilt that followed. He just did as he pleased; whatever suited him and his plans best. If he wanted to take Tollin’s title as his own, he would do it—if he had reason for it.

  Whilst Victoria was still fighting for a good argument, she became aware of someone watching them: the bald man at the riot below. She felt a chill run through her at the sight of him.

  She slowed her pace as they neared yet he did not move. He simply stared; inked eyes tracking them, unashamed, unwavering. Victoria glowered after him, unnerved. What right did he have? Only then, slowly, did the man dip his head and spin away, sweeping down the dark hall.

  ‘Did you see that man just now?’

  Andrew glanced over. ‘Shaved head, eye makeup, white tunic and trousers, sandals, an impressive two metres tall, golden bracelet on left wrist, most likely engraved with a religious symbol, expression rather sour?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Victoria huffed. ‘That’s him. He was down in the lowest layer, in that mob.’

  Andrew nodded. ‘I know.’

  She turned to him, unable to keep her voice rising. ‘So what’s he doing here?’

  ‘Victoria, your guess is as good as mine.’

  ‘And if he works at the castle, why didn’t he help us?’ Victoria clenched her jaw. ‘I don’t like him.’

  Andrew raised his eyebrows. ‘My, aren’t you quick to make judgements. I’m certain we’ll find out soon enough.’ He winced before stumbling drunkenly, careening into her. Victoria yelped and caught him just as they hit the opposite wall. Andrew sagged against it for a moment, eyes closed, hands pressed to his temples. His face twisted up into one of agony.

  Victoria grabbed his arm. ‘You’ve had a long day, I’m sorry, I should have done something. We’re almost to my room, you can lie down there. Can you make it that far?’ She realised she was babbling.

  Andrew shook her words away, head going back and forth as if on a swivel. ‘No, it’s not that. There’s just…something wrong. Something off. I felt it when we landed but it’s only grown stronger. Don’t you feel it? As if…’ He frowned unhappily. ‘It’s completely illogical, but something unseen pressing down on you; something…dark…hungry…I don’t know—dangerous?’ He laughed at himself hollowly. ‘I don’t even know what I’m saying!’

  Victoria bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t make sense of it either. Scrabia had always left her with a hopeless, depressed feeling that had clung about her like a second skin, but Victoria had always taken that to be a product of her surroundings or of the drugged water she’d been drinking. She hadn’t supposed it was something that others could actually sense, yet Andrew was clearly unsettled by it, and much more intensely than she ever had .

  He raised his cold eyes to her. ‘There’s something wrong with this place.’

  The girl guiding them had paused to turn back, quizzical.

  Victoria struggled with the statement and lowered her voice. ‘We’ll figure it out. Can you make it to our rooms?’

  Andrew shakily pushed himself up with a nod.

  She offered her arm. ‘Here, just lean on me.’

  As they went, Victoria’s stomach twisted with nerves. Andrew wasn’t a man who believed in things he couldn’t see, so the fact he was nearly collapsing over something he’d sensed was disturbing. Andrew didn’t fear the unknown. And yet now it seemed to be crushing him.

  She shuddered as they made their way down the hall. So much for a return to normal life.

  Chapter Four

  Andrew slept fitfully for the few hours they had before the banquet. Victoria watched him, unable to sleep herself, with a growing feeling of dread. Something was wrong; something beyond his normal problems, and it ate away at her insides in hungry unease. She wanted to protect Andrew, keep him safe, and now something intangible was unsettling him she didn’t know how to stop.

  When he finally awoke he was groggy and cross; hardly ideal for someone about to be presented to court as ambassador.

  Not long after, regal clothing was delivered which only managed to throw them into an argument. She knew she should have anticipated it; it wasn’t his clothes, and after all the unfamiliarity, he’d wanted at least that comfort. Yet, at last, after an hour of fighting and struggling to look presentable they were finally striding down the hall towards the throne room.

  Andrew fought with his kaftan, snarling in displeasure.

  ‘Leave it alone!’ Victoria hissed at him. ‘You’re the ambassador. You have to play the part!’

  ‘I certainly hope there’s a tailor somewhere in this sand-ridden slum. I need my regular clothing back. What is this made of?’

  Victoria rolled her eyes. ‘Let’s just try and pretend to be wonderful, charming people for one evening. Show them just how brilliant you are; don’t run Tollin’s name through the dust, all right? And then once you’ve made a good impression you’ll have these people eating out of your hand. You can do whatever you want.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  From the turn ahead a hunched, nonhuman shape came bustling towards them. Andrew automatically stiffened. Victoria bristled alongside him as she saw what was approaching: a small Denizen. Memories of her near-murder flashed back.

  She pulled up sharply, immediately wishing she had some sort of weapon at hand. How had it gotten inside? Had nobody bothered to tell her they were still in power? What if Reginald was drugged? Panic over the endless, terrible scenarios began to fill her.

  To her utter surprise, the Denizen bowed deeply. ‘Ma’am, I be Crammell; pleased to meet you. Here I am, brought to announce you to court!’

  She started. ‘B—but …you...’

  Andrew assessed the situation in his way before he bowed to Crammell. ‘It is an absolute honour to meet you. I must say, I have been incredibly intrigued by your species since I first heard of you and to finally have a chance to meet one of you—it is more than I could ask for. I hope that you will allow me time to speak with you later?’

  Victoria stared, gobsmacked. She had never seen him so excited by something in her life. ‘Take a breath,’ she muttered.
>
  Crammell seemed a little overwhelmed by the enthusiasm as well and it took a moment for him to recover. ‘If it would please you, sir, then I would be honoured as well. Now, follow me, His Majesty is waiting!’

  Victoria tried to remember to move. ‘Why is it that I feel like the alien?’

  Beside her, Andrew wasn’t listening; his eyes had taken on a wild gleam. With no other way to reach him, she gripped his hand. It pulled him a little from his thoughts for he cocked his head and glanced at her. He must have had some reservations for he didn’t pull away.

  ‘Majesty, I present to you Princess Victoria and the Traveller, Ambassador Andrew O’Neill of Scottorr!’ Crammell pushed the doors open, crowing loudly.

  ‘Here we go,’ Victoria whispered.

  They stepped through together. A blinding glow—so different from the musty halls—forced Victoria to squint. Beside her, Andrew, more sensitive, shied away. Invisible in the glare burst the sound of applause.

  Once recovered, she had to smile, for she’d never seen the throne room as it was now: Every corner was—for once—brightly lit with colour. Denizens, gladiators, and a host of other faces, all in brilliant attire and smiling faces, crowded the floor. Art she’d never noticed before now was proudly displayed. Caged birds and instruments whined from the corners, adding to the din.

  It all was enough to turn Victoria dizzy.

  Across the way, she was surprised to see her mother and uncle enthroned just as they had been one year ago. They appeared well—she thought—chatting with each other, completely oblivious to the rest of their surroundings. Reginald had adopted a place upon the stage as well, yet abandoned his throne to talk with an unfamiliar woman. At their feet was a great lion, very much alive, watching the court with keenly.

  Andrew let out a breath.

  Victoria squeezed his hand. ‘We’ll be all right.’ This was not an ideal situation to thrust Andrew into, but he had volunteered for the job. He had to be able to pull it off.

  There was a sudden hush, a waiting. All eyes were fixed on them and in crashing clarity Victoria realised they were waiting. Waiting for her and Andrew to say something. They wanted a speech.

  Her tongue went uncomfortably thick and dry; lost for words. She cleared her throat, which sounded too loud across the stillness.

  It was Andrew, however, who stepped forward. ‘It is an honour to be welcomed in such a fashion by the good people of Scrabia. I have every hope that my time here will help bridge the divide between our two cultures, and we will benefit equally from our relationship.’ He surprised Victoria by taking her hand.

  He went on, launching dramatically into a speech Victoria was certain he hadn’t planned. Five minutes in, after she heard him use the phrase “obliquity of the ecliptic” she—and most of the audience—tuned out.

  When she caught yet another mildly disguised insult to his audience’s intelligence, she hurriedly stepped forward and cut him short, thanking his audience. She tugged him off to the side, even as still spoke.

  ‘Think we’ve had enough of that.’

  ‘If I don’t establish myself then what’s the point of me being here?’

  Reginald bounded from the stage and pushed his way through the crowd towards them. He was far from the first, however. A flock of people was beginning to descend on them, only reluctantly parting to let the king through.

  He grasped Victoria by the elbows. ‘You look beautiful!’

  Victoria felt her cheeks colour. ‘I can’t believe what you’ve managed to change in just a year!’

  Reginald nodded, face growing serious. ‘Yeah, I’m sure it’s a bit of a shock for you.’

  ‘I see the Denizens are still here…’ Her voice wobbled with anger.

  Reginald shook his head. ‘Yes. I was here. I know. But the priests are gone. They were instigating the whole thing. These Denizens, they were just as much enslaved as we were. They’re a good bunch; they’re smart, they’ve helped us. You can trust them. And not just them; we’ve done away with slaves as well. And the gladiators are free, too. There’s more, of course, but it can wait.’

  Victoria’s mind was whirling. ‘I—I can’t believe it. How did you manage?’

  The crowd had formed a tight, curious circle around them, holding back out of respect to the king, but clearly dying to push forward and have a closer look.

  Reginald gestured to the woman near the thrones. ‘The militants of Red Scorpion helped. And some other…powerful friends.’ He glanced to Andrew. ‘Look, I’ll explain at a better time, I promise. For now I’ll just let you get reintroduced to things. I’m sure everyone is going mad to speak to you. Including your mother.’

  Victoria glanced back to her the stage. ‘Don’t stray too far.’

  He nodded, sympathetic. ‘Don’t worry. Just shout and I’ll come running.’ He sketched a wave before he swung back into the throng, melting into their midst with such ease it was as if he’d been doing it for ever.

  His departure was a signal to the rest of the court and they packed round Victoria and Andrew; personal space forgotten. Victoria noticed Andrew’s eyes begin to widen to an almost equine quality. She could only pray he wouldn’t make a scene. Throwing him into such a setting was like mixing the compounds for his famous exploding powder. Something disastrous was bound to happen. But he had wanted the job.

  Perhaps he could hold it in long enough to get through.

  ‘Victoria,’ one woman whom she actually recognised sidled forward. ‘We thought you dead!’

  ‘You look beautiful together, love. Can we expect a wedding soon?’ someone else cooed.

  Victoria glanced after Reginald and blushed. ‘Oh, no, I don’t think so, he and I don’t really…well, it just never worked out.’

  The woman laughed. ‘Oh, no! The king has already married. You and the Traveller!’

  Victoria realised she was gaping. Married? ‘What? Andrew?’ She struggled for words, stammering like an idiot. ‘I—uh—well, I hadn’t—I mean we haven’t really, um.’ Her face grew hot. The idea of marrying Andrew had set a rabble of butterflies loose in her stomach. They had never spoken of it—and time hadn’t allowed her to consider such a thing. Andrew was too disinterested in anything remotely romantic—unless he could use it for his own ends.

  Andrew leant in and took Victoria by the shoulders, surprising her. ‘One must be careful when suggesting such permanent alliances. I think it wise for our two worlds to learn more of each other before we begin jumping into bed, don’t you?’

  Victoria was snapped out of her mangled thoughts. The woman’s smile faded and excused herself.

  Victoria glowered at him. His expression, however, was far from malicious. He wasn’t even thinking of it, much more concerned with smiling to the excited cries that came his way. She dropped her protests.

  A colourful and much more dramatically dressed group her age were standing just beyond the ring, like wolves. It took effort to ignore them; and the glinting, cruel amusement that was etched all too clearly over their faces. She’d never gotten on well with them.

  Her breathless swear managed to catch Andrew’s attention.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she huffed. ‘Just more lovely people from my past.’

  Andrew sent his gaze over, scrutinising whatever he thought he saw. ‘Do they have something against you?’

  Victoria shook her head, avoiding eye contact. ‘There’s just…drama in court. I didn’t get along with the others.’

  He smirked. ‘Imagine that.’

  At the first break in the crowd several of them swept in; all perfect copies of each other. Their fashion was—though Victoria had been off-planet for a year—clearly the latest. The boys were just as foppish. Victoria’s spine tightened defensively.

  One of the group—Victoria thought his name was Raja—crooned. ‘Victoria, you haven’t changed at all since last I saw you! Was your holiday away good to you? We’ve been gasping to be introduced to this famous Trave
ller. He’s been the talk of the court since he arrived. Care to tell us what makes him so special?’

  Victoria smiled as pleasantly as she could muster. ‘This is Andrew O’Neill, Ambassador from the Other World…he’s rather…clever…He’s here to help with starting interplanetary relations and…maybe helping to modernise our city a little.’

  Raja gave Andrew a look-over. ‘Is that so?’ His tone was dry.

  Andrew raised his eyebrows and adopted a rather bored expression. ‘Oh, Victoria, let’s not be insulting.’

  ‘Oh, no, please don’t.’ She pressed her fingers into his arm.

  ‘Clever for a Scrabian is correctly guessing which boot goes on the right foot.’

  Raja stiffened challengingly. ‘So, you say you’re a genius, then?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  Raja’s arms crossed. ‘Yeah? Well, prove it, why don’t you?’

  Victoria squeezed her eyes shut. So much for good first impressions.

  Andrew dropped his eyes over the group before him in one quick swipe and then glanced away, face growing all the more languid. ‘Your name is Raja and your family’s name is Yartella. You are clearly a man who spends more on clothing than he can afford. You belong to a family that is well off, but you’ve since fallen on hard times. You’re leader of this little pack, but you don’t feel adequate—most likely a fair assumption. You’re intimidated by your friends and are desperate to impress them, but you know that they all find you a fraud ever since the recent uprising.

  ‘No doubt how you behaved when the fight here began will for ever prove that you’re a coward. You make up for it by having a string of lovers. You have a steady girlfriend but you don’t like to convey that to others. In fact, you just came from such an affair with this young woman here, who you’ve obviously been sleeping with—behind your girlfriend’s back.’ Andrew turned to one of the young women. ‘Sorry to let you know this way.’ He twisted back to his victim and smiled nastily. ‘Need I go on?’