Welcome Home (Alternate Worlds Book 3)

by Leigh, Taylor

  Chapter Eight

  With clenched jaw, Victoria led a complaining Andrew into the queen’s private meeting chamber. It was honestly the last thing she wanted to do, for she was still shaken from her brief meeting with Noel. She needed to think it all over. The impression of him still unnerved her.

  She had tried to interest Andrew with what Noel had said, but he’d immediately—if a bit irritably—dismissed it; snapping that he had more important things to worry about, assuring her Noel was suffering from the abominable heat, which was enough to drive even the sanest of men mad.

  During their row, a request had arrived from Lucinda, requesting they join her for a private dinner and, rather reluctantly, Victoria agreed; though the thought of such an evening made her lose her appetite completely.

  Before, her mother had spent her days addicted to spores, leaving Victoria alone. And then, of course, she’d ordered her to marry her cousin and sent her out into the desert alone to die.

  Not exactly something Victoria found easy to forgive.

  Still, Victoria supposed she had avoided her mother long enough. If their first encounter was any indication, perhaps it would be brief. Time she got it over with.

  They stepped into the room, which was not so different from where they’d met the Myrmidons; and just dark enough to keep Andrew from complaining, which was a blessing, considering how foul his mood already was.

  She concentrated on keeping her face the blank mask that Andrew was so skilled at. The sight of her mother, reclining languidly, unaware and uncaring of the world around her, did not make it easy.

  ‘Ah, Victoria, at last.’

  Behind, Andrew bumped into her, muttering the aspects of the room in a quiet, constant drone.

  Victoria felt her spine tighten against him, aggravated at her mother’s chiding tone. ‘I’ve arrived exactly on time, Mother.’

  Lucinda’s glazed eyes fluttered over lazily. ‘And you’ve brought…that man with you. I must say, I am slightly disappointed. I hear you found someone incredibly intriguing out in the desert today. A man claiming to have come from the stars.’ She took a long sip of wine. ‘People are already talking of his looks. Pity you did not bring him as your guest. I am gasping to meet him.’ She grinned.

  Andrew snapped his head round. His brows came down in a hunch over his eyes. Unfortunately, he hadn’t managed to free himself from verbally overanalysing his surroundings. ‘Let’s see: same facial shape and eye colour, and that renowned glazed, unintelligent look and taste for laziness your daughter has spent hours complaining of. How could one mistake you for anyone other than Victoria’s mother?’

  Victoria wrinkled her nose, hoping she could chalk Andrew’s description up to nothing more than posturing. Why he felt the need to insult her mother she could only assume to be nerves.

  Lucinda smiled thinly. ‘Yes…the Traveller. I regret not quite recalling our last meeting.’

  He bowed. ‘I wish I could say the same.’

  Lucinda studied her long fingernails. ‘It is just when one meets someone so very disinteresting, one tends to simply drop them from one’s mind.’

  It was Andrew’s turn to smile ever so slightly. ‘Normally I would agree with you, but when one meets someone so singularly amazing in their absolute dullness, one does tend to remember.’

  Victoria groaned. ‘Andrew, please.’

  Lucinda sat. ‘My, so Victoria has found someone with a tongue in his head. I’m impressed.’

  ‘A feat that is not so difficult, I am sure.’

  Victoria gave him a hard nudge. ‘Knock it off, will you?’

  Andrew slid his cold, amused gaze down to her. ‘Why? I’m actually beginning to quite like your mother.’

  Victoria pressed her lips into a flat, warning line. ‘You behave.’

  Lucinda watched both of them with the disinterested stare of a cat. ‘Why don’t we continue this over something hot?’ She clapped her hands and several servants appeared from the curtained shadows to lay out a number of dishes.

  Victoria took Andrew by the hand and guided him over. They settled to the floor against plush pillows and Victoria reached for the nearest dish. Andrew watched her closely, at last raising his eyes; the unsure look was so uncharacteristic she couldn’t help but crack a smile. She tore a piece of bread free from the flat loaf. ‘Just help yourself.’

  Andrew’s eyes widened. ‘Communal meals? My, you truly are barbarians.’

  Victoria rolled her eyes and dropped the piece of bread to his plate. ‘Hush.’

  His fingers plucked a fig from the nearest bowl. ‘What is this? Some sort of deformed grape?’

  She sighed. ‘It’s a fig, Andrew. Just eat it and be still!’ Andrew really could not help himself at times. She turned to her mother, who was busy with a steaming bowl of goat stew.

  ‘So,’ Lucinda purred, perhaps not as busy as Victoria had assumed. ‘You’re the one trying to steal my kingdom away from me.’

  His eyes narrowed in a confused frown.

  ‘Mother, please…’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning.’ Andrew said slowly.

  Lucinda glanced over the dishes to him: her expression steely. ‘Well, why else would my daughter cling to you like a lonely ghost?’

  Andrew cast a brief glance Victoria’s direction. The look he gave her froze her heart in her chest. He became almost contemplative, as if, up till this moment, he had not considered the fact that Victoria could be anything more to him than his confidant. Something sparkled behind the ice in his eyes.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Andrew sighed. ‘You believe that I have intentions to, what, wed your daughter?’

  Lucinda bit down on a fig. Juice coloured her lips. ‘Isn’t that what you want? My daughter disappears for an entire year and then when she suddenly reappears, here you are to marry her and claim the throne. Well, I won’t have it.’

  Victoria sucked in a breath. ‘Mother, Reginald is ruling, not me.’

  ‘Yes…’ Lucinda said slowly. Victoria wasn’t entirely sure if she’d heard or not. ‘And there is still that to deal with.’

  Victoria shook her head violently. ‘I’m not marrying Reginald, Mother. And he doesn’t want to marry me. He’s king, he makes the rules and that is off the table. And he’s got a wife.’

  Her mother huffed. ‘Oh, wonderful, our traditions are already beginning to collapse around us. Soon this city will no doubt descend into complete anarchy.’

  ‘Not much different from the way things seem now,’ Andrew remarked, eyeing an olive warily.

  Lucinda laughed blackly. ‘Oh? And I suppose things are better on your world?’

  Andrew flashed her an irritating smile. ‘Yes, actually.’

  ‘Well,’ she wailed dramatically, ‘I suppose I can have small consolation that with this marriage there will be some benefits. Perhaps more than we would have received if Victoria and Reginald had been pledged.’

  Victoria and Andrew both shared a sharp glance. ‘What?’

  Her heart was lurching madly at the idea of marrying Andrew. He’d never allow it. Still, she felt strange and warm over the idea.

  Lucinda tossed her head, braids swishing. ‘Well, that is why you are here, is it not? To bring our cultures together? To form an alliance between our worlds?’

  Andrew’s eyes narrow. ‘I wouldn’t say it was my intention…’

  Victoria’s mother snorted. ‘So why are you here, then? To spy? What other explanation could there possibly be for your appearance?’

  He didn’t look Victoria’s direction. ‘Perhaps…perhaps to satisfy my own curiosity. To escape the boredom that plagues me constantly.’ His gaze grew distant.

  Lucinda leaned forward. ‘Who are you, boy? What gives you the right to think you are so superior to the rest of us lowly savages?’

  A wicked smile tugged at the corner of his soft lips. ‘I was born better.’

  Lucinda’s cocked a brow. ‘Is that so?’

  Victoria groaned. ‘Andr
ew, please, don’t do this.’

  ‘No,’ Lucinda was clearly enjoying herself. ‘Please, do continue. From what I’ve heard, people talk about the Traveller as if he were a god.’

  Andrew swept his eyes round the room in one quick movement, taking in and processing it in a matter of seconds. ‘God? No. I simply see and understand what others do not. I have a mind that…works more efficiently than the average man. I’m…smarter. I have a superior brain. I’m not bothered by all of those trifles.’

  Lucinda’s face cracked with amusement. ‘Is that so? And what “trifles” would you be referring to?’

  Andrew leant back, eyes dancing casually. ‘Emotions. Attachments. Trivia.’ Victoria watched his expression. A slight tightening was beginning to happen round the corners of his eyes. Victoria knew the sign well and felt her stomach twist in a knot. One of Andrew’s headaches was coming on. She prayed it wouldn’t worsen beyond that.

  Lucinda stared at him for a moment. ‘So you feel no emotions? None at all?’

  Andrew took a sip of wine, an almost imperceptible spasm in his wrist. ‘I do not experience the emotional attachments to…the same things that I’ve observed others around me are so inclined to form.’

  Victoria’s mother raised her eyebrows. ‘So you are not capable of forming relationships? How very…fortunate for you.’

  Andrew twitched in surprise. ‘You appreciate it? Most see it as the ultimate curse.’

  Lucinda waved a hand. Victoria felt as if she’d completely been forgotten. Her mother had not seen her in over a year and yet now she hardly glanced her way. It was, as things so often went, always about Andrew.

  She silently chided herself for the jealous thought. The last thing she needed was to be thrown back into the drama. And it was rather fascinating hearing Andrew discuss the way his mind worked so casually. It wasn’t something he revealed to others.

  Victoria found herself wondering what it was about her mother that encouraged him to talk. He couldn’t possibly want to impress her, could he?

  Lucinda lowered her wine goblet. ‘Oh, no, I do not see it as a curse. Being detached helps one make decisions that would otherwise be difficult. No doubt you see the world through clear eyes.’

  Andrew seemed rather astonished by Lucinda’s statement. Impressed, even. ‘Precisely…’ His eyes shut briefly. The pain was clearly growing worse in his head.

  ‘And yet,’ Lucinda said slowly, ‘I cannot help but notice my daughter spends a good deal of time in your company. If you are as detached as you claim, why bother keeping her around? Surely someone who is so much cleverer and gains nothing from relationships would rather be alone?’

  Victoria glanced to Andrew, catching the slight shift in his breathing pattern. It had taken on an almost imperceptible, ragged edge, growing, thanks to the pain. Lucinda hadn’t noticed. Victoria was grateful for that.

  He took a composing breath.

  ‘Victoria is different,’ he managed to say, keeping his voice admirably steady.

  Lucinda laughed. It was a sharp bark. Victoria looked away, embarrassed as her sight went red. She decided right then that she hated her mother. What had she ever done for her? And now she laughed at the idea of Andrew thinking well of her.

  A contact against her leg brought her from her thoughts. She glanced down to see his hand rested on her thigh, giving it a slight squeeze. She could see his veins standing out. His touch calmed her. She rested her hand over his, not expecting him to look her way; he was still wincing in pain.

  ‘Victoria is illuminating,’ he continued, surprising her with his elaboration on his already unexpected statement.

  Lucinda studied him for a moment, baffled. ‘You believe my daughter is illuminating?’

  Andrew straightened. ‘Perhaps I see in her what others are too blind to see.’

  She could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  Her mother smiled wickedly; Victoria’s awe over Andrew’s words dropped away seeing that smile. Her mother was enjoying this, slipping into some childish, competitive attitude she’d never seen before. ‘My daughter must have put up quite the act during her time with you to convince you of that.’

  Andrew tilted his head slightly, staring at Lucinda with a curious expression. ‘It would take a good deal to fool me. I spot fraud rather quickly.’

  Lucinda’s laugh turned into something Victoria didn’t recognise. ‘Ah, the confidence of the fool.’

  And then he finally snapped. Andrew jerked with a snarl, clamping his hands to the sides of his head in pain. He fell to his side, knocking into Victoria in the process. Victoria didn’t look at her mother. She grabbed Andrew’s shoulders as he rocked, battered by the headache.

  ‘Is this normal for him?’ Lucinda’s tone became mildly amused.

  Victoria clenched her teeth, flushing with irritation over her mother’s blatant delight.

  ‘I need to get him back to his room. He needs warm water mixed with kansa spice.’ She directed her instruction to the nearest servant.

  Lucinda stood. ‘I’m not surprised you found a defective, Victoria.’ She peered down at Andrew as he doubled over with agony. ‘Yes, you are clearly superior to the rest of us.’ Her lips twisted up nastily.

  Andrew swung his head up, eyes squinting, unable to take the light. ‘What are you?’ he hissed, addressing nothing but vacant space.

  Victoria frowned. He must be confused. He often was when hit with one of his dark turns. Silently, Victoria cursed. Why did her mother have to see him like this?

  From the floor, Andrew rested his head between his knees; hands slowly balled into fists.

  ‘Please.’ She cleared her throat to keep it steady. ‘Please. I’d appreciate some assistance.’

  It was hard to ignore the superior smugness of the servants as they reached for Andrew’s arms. He snarled in hostility, but could do nothing to stop them.

  Morosely, Victoria followed the small, broken procession back to his room, cursing. Things could not have gone worse.

  * * * * *

  Andrew awoke, staring up at the rust-coloured ceiling. He was in his bed, but how he had arrived was a bit of a blur.

  It was dark, which was merciful. Considering the distant pounding in his head, he wasn’t sure he could stomach light.

  Now…something had awoken him. He fought to remember what it was. Had he been…called?

  With some reluctance, Andrew sat up, only to gasp sharply as a knife of pain stabbed behind his left eye. He clutched at his head, unable to reach the slice of agony. Eventually it ebbed away to a steady, constant throb.

  Mentally he told himself to take it slow.

  He slid to the edge of the bed in the darkness for a long moment, straining to hear. There was nothing to hear; yet it was not the normal silence of a room at night. It was almost an…absence of sound.

  Andrew closed his eyes. He listened to his breaths, slow and steady, his heart, weak but steady, the slight creaking of his joints. Nothing else. It was as if he was trapped in a void. So…what had awoken him? The absence?

  Washing up against him was that same strange pull he hadn’t been able to shake since he’d arrived on the planet—as if there were hundreds of threads tugging at him. Hundreds of hands reaching for him. Voices begging…He’d never felt the likes; the air around him was vibrating with some strange energy.

  It was fascinating. This planet, so close to his own, held some strange, mesmerising force, so strong it was almost tangible. It could very well be responsible for his constant headaches. Andrew didn’t like it, but was nonetheless intrigued.

  Andrew breathed in the stillness, sending out feelers for anything that may have stirred him.

  Then he heard, after a very long moment, what he knew had awoken him: A very quiet, distant cry. A cry of help.

  It was true that in a place like this, someone crying for help was not so rare an occurrence but…this felt different.

  Andrew tilted his head, straining his ears. He couldn’t explai
n it, but he felt it was calling for him.

  Finally he looked to his left. Victoria wasn’t beside him. He sighed. He’d grown used to having her company, but best to not have to explain his madness to her.

  He slipped into thoughtlessness, focusing in on the strange energy, closing his eyes, struggling to sense what he felt rather than heard. It was hardly human, the cry: lost and sad…not something he found easy to identify with.

  Ah, there.

  Andrew stood fluidly, staggering as yet again another stab of pain knifed through his skull. Ignoring it, he moved towards his door, straining his eyes in the dark.

  Once he reached the hall, the pull was all the stronger. It tugged at his insides from somewhere beyond, reminding him of a snared fish.

  After a breath to steady himself, he started off, tracing his fingers over Victoria’s door as he went.

  Andrew didn’t know where he was going; if he was honest, he didn’t even really know why he was going. But he wanted to follow it.

  So, he drifted down the hall, keeping alert, not sure what he was to expect from this. Green-white light filtered in through the open windows, bringing on an unwanted sting of homelessness.

  Ahead, at the end of the hall, Andrew thought he could distinguish the beginnings of a shape. A trick of the light? Possibly. Nothing solid, nothing real, but there all the same.

  His bare feet padded more hurriedly along the warm stone. As he approached he understood. It was the woman, the ghost he’d met so briefly the night before, watching him. Before he could reach her, she turned to continue on her way.

  ‘Wait!’ Andrew picked up his pace, hurrying after her in desperation. He found it so preposterous. He didn’t even believe in ghosts, and yet here he was, racing down a corridor after one in the dead of night.

  ‘Stop!’

  She obeyed; turning slowly to face him, drifting, shimmering. Andrew was momentarily taken aback. ‘Who are you?’ he asked, for lack of a better question.

  She tilted her head to one side, eyes shining. ‘You can see me, boy?’

  Andrew stepped closer. ‘Yes. As clear as day. But you know that. We spoke just last night.’