“I suppose so,” Weatherby said thoughtfully.
Brianna frowned. That name was familiar somehow… didn’t that have something to do with the old ruined castle she’d wanted to take Ben to see, the one he’d dismissed as being not much more than a pile of old rock? Baldric strode back to the door, where she saw a couple of men dressed in the same outfits as the horseman who’d brought her back to the hotel had been wearing. He murmured something to one of them and the man nodded, turning and heading out of the hotel’s front doors.
“With any luck, they’ll send someone by the morning,” Weatherby said irritably. “Though I must say I’d rather not see any of them at the moment.”
“The MacClarans are the local Scots, right?” Brianna asked, wanting to show these actors that she was a good sport and willing to play along. “Do you not get on with them, Lord Weatherby? Are they unhappy with the English presence in their native lands?” Ben had bored her with a lecture about England’s long colonial history in Scottish territory — she almost wished she’d paid closer attention now. But Lord Weatherby looked affronted.
“We maintain very civil relations with the MacClarans, thank you,” he said stiffly. “The Stuarts are another matter entirely. That refugee camp is an utter eyesore.”
“They’re well within their rights to let their cousins stay,” Sir Baldric said patiently. He turned back to Brianna to explain — she appreciated the exposition. “The Stuarts are a neighboring clan, distant cousins of the MacClarans. Some kind of blight ruined their recent harvests, though, and a great many of them are camping out near the Keep for the time being until they can get back on their feet.”
“They’re more than just visitors,” Weatherby said darkly. “They’re demanding food and shelter, and I suspect not many of them are interested in returning home again. They’re disturbing my men, causing chaos in the village…”
“At any rate,” Baldric said firmly, “we’ll need the MacClaran family’s expertise in dealing with your arrival, Lady Brianna.”
“Why’s that?” she said curiously. Why were they talking to her as if she was the only guest at the hotel? Hadn’t the time travel storyline been extended to include everyone else?
“Well — women have been returning to these lands from our future for years now,” Baldric explained. “It has something to do with a curse laid on the family — I’m sure whoever they send will be able to explain it better than I can. At any rate, what you need to know now is that you’re safe here, with us. I’ve already arranged for guest quarters for you, so you’ll be safe and well overnight. And I’ll organize for a meal to be sent up to you, too.”
And with that, it seemed her audience was at an end. Weatherby flicked his hand in that dismissive way he had – the actor was doing a great job of portraying a pompous, stuffy, very dislikeable English lord, she thought with a smile, wondering if the actor was Scottish or English. Sir Baldric gave her a warmly reassuring smile and then a woman was at her side, dressed in a rather less elaborate costume than the two men were – she must have been playing a maid, or something. There really was a big cast here, Brianna thought.
But as the maid led her from the room, she couldn’t help but feel the faintest prickle of unease in the back of her mind. There was something about all of this that just seemed… a little bit too elaborate.
Chapter 5
The woman led her back into the entrance hall and they began climbing the stairs. Brianna couldn’t help but scrutinize the walls, shocked by the level of detail. They must have taken down all the photos of the restoration… and was it the lighting that made it seem like even the manor’s paint job had changed? It must have been… she craned her neck toward the ceiling, looking for a sign of the electric lights, suddenly needing to see some reminder that all of this was imaginary, some elaborate game the manor was staging. The whole building seemed to be lit in authentic medieval style – the woman at her side was even carrying a lantern as they climbed the stairs. Where on Earth were the electric lights? How on Earth had these people had time to hide them?
At the top of the stairs, she turned automatically toward where she knew her room was, but the maid at her side cleared her throat, gesturing in the opposite direction. Was all this part of the game, still? Had they set aside actual rooms for this? She began to feel a kind of irritation prickling at her, the novelty of the thing wearing off. Her exhaustion was beginning to catch up with her – and she was remembering everything she was going to have to deal with concerning the end of her relationship. She needed to get back to her room, needed to talk to Ben properly about what they were going to do about the rest of the trip, now that she’d cooled down a little… she really didn’t have time to be playing these games.
“Listen,” she said softly to the maid. “This is all really great – seriously, if it was any other day I’d be having a blast right now – but I just had a pretty serious fight with my … well, my now ex-boyfriend, I guess, and I’m really not in the mood. I’m assuming he’s the one who organized all this,” she added, shaking her head a little. This seemed exactly like Ben’s kind of thing… it was odd that he wasn’t here, playing along with her. He’d always been interested in all that historical re-enactment stuff, getting into arguments on message boards about exactly what kind of armor should be worn… she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
But the maid was just staring at her blankly, with a mixture of fear and apprehension in her eyes that made Brianna feel like a traitor for breaking the realism of the game. “Seriously,” she said again, smiling as warmly as she could. “You’re great. I’m so impressed, but… I’m just going to go back to my room, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the maid said softly, and Brianna had to hand it to her – she hadn’t broken character at all. “Your room’s this way. Let me show you there, then I’ll be right back up with a meal for you.”
She hesitated… but it had been a long time since lunch, and her stomach growled a little at the prospect of food. Maybe this was just an elaborate way of serving her a meal? Some fun little exercise Ben had organized without telling her? At any rate, she didn’t want to be rude to this poor girl who was clearly some actor doing her job. So she followed along meekly, let herself be shown into a room at the other end of the long hallway. It was cozy enough, with a bed with a beautifully ornate bedhead and several pieces of what looked rather like hand-carved furniture. Not at all the same style as her own room. The maid bobbed a little curtsey then disappeared, leaving her alone in the little room.
She sat down on the neatly made bed, peering around. The room was rather dark, lit by a couple of candles, with a little fire crackling in a hearth opposite the bed. There was a table, too, where she assumed she’d be eating – but only one place was set. Something about all of this just wasn’t adding up – and perhaps it was a mark of how tired she was, but she even gave some real consideration to the idea that she’d actually traveled through time. When had the manor been built, again? Medieval times… Ben had told her the year a few times, but she’d forgotten. She’d never been very interested in history beyond the last century or two.
Before long, the maid was back with a platter of bread and cheese, and she blinked, a little surprised by the simple fare… but not ungrateful, especially once she’d tasted it. The bread seemed freshly baked, and the cheese was absolutely delicious. She made a note to find out where the manor got it from – her mother had always been a cheese fiend, and she knew that this would make a perfect gift for her when she got back. Speaking of her mother… she couldn’t remember the time zones exactly, but it had been a while since she’d checked in with her. She reached for her phone in her pocket, already debating whether or not to mention the breakup with Ben —whom she had a suspicion her mother had never really liked — when she stopped dead, frowning. Her phone wasn’t in her pocket.
That was odd. Hadn’t she been looking at it on her walk, frustrated by the lack of a signal? She patted both pockets as she chewed and s
wallowed her mouthful of bread, realizing with dismay that it was definitely gone. Did it have something to do with the horse? Could it have slid out of her pocket while she was riding? She bit her lip, hoping that it hadn’t been crushed underfoot. It was dark now, and far too late to go searching for it – she’d check with lost and found in the morning.
Her meal eaten, she felt drowsiness claim her, and fought back a yawn. Presumably another act in this time travel drama was coming up – how did she signal to the actors that she was ready to keep going? As if on cue, the door swung open – the maid was back, this time with an armful of fabric.
“Sir Baldric mentioned that you might be needing a change of clothes,” she said softly, placing the armful of fabric on the table and deftly scooping up the platter as she did. “There’s some bedclothes there for you – we’ll see to a set of day clothes for you in the morning, too.”
“Bedclothes? I’m sleeping here?” she said blankly. All of this was fun, and everything, but she wasn’t sure about changing her clothes… but at the same time, the prospect of not having to go back to the room she shared with Ben was tempting. “Okay,” she said with a shrug.
The maid smiled and bobbed her another curtsey. “Goodnight, ma’am. I hope you sleep well.”
And then she was alone in the little room, frowning to herself. What a deeply strange night. But the bed, she had to admit, looked inviting. What would be the harm in spending the night here? She could figure out what exactly was going on in the morning. Maybe the hotel staff had figured out what had happened, and this was their silly little way of ensuring that she didn’t have to spend an awkward night with her ex. Maybe this had been organized by the girl Ben had been cheating on her with – she certainly had seemed apologetic about everything. Whatever it was, the bed looked soft and comfortable, and as she slid herself between the sheets, ignoring the rustic medieval pajamas that had been provided, she decided that she wasn’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth.
But the sleep that claimed her was restless. In her dreams, she was running down streets she vaguely recognized as being Chicago… but something was strange about them. The buildings, that was it… they flashed by as she ran, blurring in her peripheral vision, but they were much, much older than the modern Chicago she knew. In the alleys between buildings she could see figures, lurking in the shadows, and she knew somehow, deep down, that they meant her harm. The faster she ran, the more shadows she saw in the alleys, edging ever closer, their eyes gleaming in the darkness… one was emerging now, getting closer and closer… she was running out of breath, her legs burning, her body crying out for oxygen, as the shape reached into his pocket and drew out a long, thin, gleaming blade….
Brianna sat bolt upright in an unfamiliar bed, gasping for breath. Outside, the wind was howling and she could hear rain drumming on the roof. It was dark, pitch dark – the fire had burned out and both candles had been extinguished, and there was no comforting glow from the courtyard below, no dull light, nothing at all to see by. Her heart was pounding and she felt sick with worry and all she wanted, right now, was her own things – even if that meant seeing Ben. Bracing herself, she climbed out of bed and pulled her shoes on again, shivering a little in the cold air.
It seemed the manor was still in medieval mode. Most hotels left lights on in the corridors overnight, but not this one, not right now – she wrinkled her nose as she walked down the corridor, feeling oddly turned around. They’d done a brief tour of the upper floors when they’d arrived, but there was something different about this section. The tour guide had said this part had been extensively remodeled when the manor had been rebuilt – why did it look so different now from what she remembered? She could barely find her own room… but finally, she found herself outside a door that felt like it was in the right place.
It must have been three in the morning, she thought, feeling oddly reluctant to disturb Ben… then anger burned in her chest at the realization of what kind of consideration she was offering the man who’d cheated on her in their own hotel room. Irritated, she tried the handle, knowing Ben had a habit of leaving doors unlocked – and sure enough, the door swung open. But when she stepped through the doorway, she frowned. Something was wrong… this wasn’t her room. The layout was completely different, the bed in a different place, the furniture unfamiliar. There was no trace of her suitcase or Ben’s – the room looked completely empty, ready and waiting for more guests.
She backed out of the room, real fear beginning to race through her now. This was definitely where her room had been – she had a decent enough memory to know that. But something was different. Something had changed, while she’d been out there. She’d blamed it on actors, on some kind of theatrical production organized for the guests… but she was beginning to suspect that something else was going on.
“This isn’t happening,” she whispered softly, feeling fear reaching up into her throat. It was pretty clear, wasn’t it?
She’d suffered some kind of psychotic break. She was losing her mind.
Chapter 6
As Brianna stood in the doorway, dealing with the fact that she’d lost her damn mind, she heard footsteps behind her. Whipping around, squinting her eyes to see through the darkness, she saw with a shock that the man from earlier was standing there – the one who’d called himself Sir Baldric. The armor was gone, though he still looked as imposing as ever. He was holding a candle in one hand, and the flickering light shone from the walls – which, she realized with a sickening jolt, were a completely different color than she remembered. Had she really believed that the hotel staff had done all of this? Denial was a fascinating thing…
“Are you alright, Lady Brianna?” Baldric asked softly, concern on his face.
She fought the strange urge to laugh. If all of this was a figment of her imagination, then what did this mean? The friendly English knight, tough but kind, asking after her health? Did this represent some part of her, maybe? “Not really,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. She was talking to herself. “I mean, I’m losing my mind, obviously, so there’s that…”
He nodded, looking grave. “I know what’s happening is perhaps the strangest thing you’ve ever experienced,” he said gently. Amazing, how consistent his accent was, given how little she knew about English accents. Or was her mind just telling her his accent was consistent? “But I assure you, you’ll adjust. All the others have.”
“The others,” she said, suspicion rising. They’d mentioned others earlier that evening. She’d assumed they’d meant other guests, also playing along in this fantasy… but it had become clear that this was no roleplaying exercise or interactive theatre piece. This was … this was something else entirely. “What others?”
“Other women like you. Women from twenty-first century America,” he said with a smile.
“Right. Because it’s not the twenty-first century, it’s… what, the sixteenth?”
“Fifteenth,” he said with a smile.
“Sure. Why not.” She sighed, shaking her head. When was this stupid dream going to end? She wanted to wake up in her own bed, she wanted to be back home in Chicago, she wanted to have a long, long talk with her therapist about what this kind of extended delusion meant about her mental health more generally. She had a suspicion that it wasn’t good news. “So I should just go back to bed, and… I live in medieval times now.”
“That’s about the sum of it, yes,” Baldric said. She could hear by the gentle tone in his voice that he was handling her, and it irritated her. “There’ll be someone here from Clan MacClaran tomorrow. They’ll take care of you. But for now… I’d recommend getting some sleep, if you can. Come down for breakfast in the morning, and we’ll talk then.”
He walked her back through the corridors to her room. Her mind was racing, alternating between worry and irritation. Worry about what was wrong with her… irritation that realizing it must be a dream hadn’t done anything to actually wake her up from it. What did it mean, too, that she’
d had a dream from inside of the dream? There was something very wrong here… and as Baldric bid her goodnight and closed the door of her new room, she frowned as she tucked herself up in bed again. At least it was warm… but was that part of the delusion, too?
She lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling, mind still racing. Every detail of the manor had been so consistent… every conversation, every person she’d met so real, so vital. There was nothing dreamlike about any of it, nothing that had tipped her off that maybe it wasn’t real… but then again, dreams always seemed real until you woke up from them, didn’t they? How could she trust anything she was seeing? How was she supposed to wake herself up? Maybe this wasn’t a dream. Maybe this was a full-blown hallucination, and she was actually sitting in some hospital room somewhere, some padded cell to keep her safe from herself as she held imaginary conversations with medieval figures who didn’t exist…
She finally drifted off to sleep sometime before dawn, but it wasn’t long before the light of the sun woke her up again. Brianna sat up quickly, hoping against hope that when she looked around she’d recognize some sign that she’d come back to her wits… but the room around her looked even more medieval in the light of day. No sign of anything modern, of a light switch or smoke detector… just half-burned candles, wooden furniture and the sounds of the manor waking up around her.
Brianna put her shoes on again, feeling decidedly unhinged as she got ready to go down to breakfast, as Baldric had instructed her. Whatever the situation might have been, whatever the delusion, her hunger certainly felt real… after her light dinner of bread and cheese the night before, she could feel her body demanding more substantial fare. She gave the pile of clothes a suspicious look, wondering if it would make the delusion worse to dress up in the clothes she’d been given, and deciding that she wasn’t going to risk it. So, she headed down for breakfast in her jeans and sweater. To hell with looking the part.
Highlander Returned: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 9) Page 4