by AJ Nuest
“Well, when you didn’t show up at work, I knew right away something had happened. I mean, you never missed a day at the shop. At least, not without calling me first. So, when I got to your condo, I used my spare key and let myself in.” Oliver stared at their hands, his thumb sweeping a gentle caress across her skin. “That’s when I saw the armoire and the broken mirror. I eventually figured out what had happened, of course, but once I did, I also knew no one in their right mind would believe me. I mean, come on. Telling the police my best friend teleported through a magic mirror? That would’ve only made me a prime suspect. Brought up on kidnapping charges and locked away for chopping you up into itty-bitty pieces.”
How very peculiar. Caedmon squinted. Or mayhap he should count such a thing as a gift from the Nine. In a world where light was summoned by a clap of the hands and fire sprang to life with no kindling, the magic of the veil was routinely dismissed as false.
“God, Ollie, I’m so sorry.” Rowena unwound their fingers to lift her palm to Oliver’s cheek. Biting her bottom lip, she blinked the shine from her eyes as if to hide her unspent tears. “I’ve put you through hell, haven’t I? God, I’m sorry.”
“As am I.” Caedmon waited for Oliver to meet his gaze before confirming his words with a brief nod.
The man had more than proven his character by going to such depths to protect them. Whatever Oliver asked, Caedmon would not rest easy until their debt had been paid.
“It’s okay, you guys. I knew wherever you’d gone or whatever you were doing, you’d made the right choice.” He cocked a thin brow at Rowena. “The best choice to make you happy.”
Easing away from the table, he sighed. “So, I did the only thing I could. I called the police and reported you as missing. Thankfully, they decided to drop the case before the week was up.” The skin near his eyes pleated with his smile. “Your note, doll. Remember? It said you may or may not be back, and once the handwriting expert confirmed you’d written it, no one had any reason to suspect foul play.”
She fell back in her chair so quick, Caedmon grunted. “But what about the key? Weren’t they concerned it was missing?”
Jon stood and dropped a kiss to the top of Oliver’s head, pushed his chair to the table and approached the far wall. He worked one of the knives free, slid the apple from the blade and polished it along the collar of his tartan dressing gown.
“The police assumed you’d sold it and used the money to go wherever it was you went.” Oliver shrugged. “Everything else was left up to me, so I put your things in storage, swept the mirror into the armoire and had it delivered here.” Canting forward, he spoke toward the table as if they shared a privileged secret. “The joke was on me though since, once the piece arrived, I couldn’t get the damn thing open.”
Lowering her chin, his lady released a soft chuckle. A hearty crunch split the silence, and Caedmon swiveled his shoulders as Jon swiped a droplet of juice off his lips.
Pausing in his second bite, he lifted his brows and offered Caedmon the apple.
He scowled and wrenched forward in his seat.
The man was thoroughly odd. A pair of hooves, a laurel crown, and Jon could’ve easily been at his ease amongst the fae.
“Now tell her the best part.” He used the apple to point at Oliver and the blond man sent a grin across the room.
“The Tribune ran an article about the key and your subsequent vanishing act, and the story went viral. The shop became famous. People from all over the globe showed up to visit the place where a mysterious golden key straight out of legend had resurfaced.” Oliver twiddled his fingers and oohed much like he’d just relayed the details of a haunting tale.
“All he needs is a whip and fedora, and Ollie is the next Indiana Jones.” Jon broke off another hunk of apple, smiling as he chewed.
Rowena and Oliver laughed, though Caedmon failed to find the humor behind a reference that, to him, was obscure beyond reason.
“You’re a rich woman.” Oliver nodded. “We’ve got locations all over the city. Five storefronts, in fact, and Violet and I have become the most sought-after antiques dealers in the country.”
Those same menacing fingers of dread resumed their stranglehold, though Caedmon was unsure, as of yet, if he’d pinpointed the proper source. Oliver offered a great deal of wealth on her behalf. Moreover, he was her trusted friend and could provide a level of safety far outside the dangers she stood to contest in his realm.
Mayhap a better man…a more deserving man would forego their marriage vows in deference to all the luxuries she could possess in this place.
“So, you’re still working with Violet? You think she can help us?”
“As long as we’re careful to keep your visit under wraps, I don’t see why not.” Oliver jerked his head toward Caedmon. “Though we’re gonna have to be careful about Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding over there. It’s pretty obvious he’s not from around these parts.”
Gritting his teeth, Caedmon glowered at, yet, another comment he did not find the slightest bit amusing.
“You’re forgetting something.” Jon opened a lower cabinet and tossed his apple core into a tall metal bin. “Violet’s out of town this weekend for the Autumn Equinox. She does that Pagan, wiccan thingy in the woods with her husband every year.”
Ah, yes. Thank the Nine, they’d finally stumbled upon something which made sense.
The elusive Violet was a witch then, and ʼtwould be wise to seek her aid. She could provide useful knowledge of things yet to pass. Perchance even cast a ward of protection to safeguard their cause, much the same as Fandorn.
“Can you stay until she gets back on Monday?” Oliver blinked as if beyond pleased by the thought. “That would give us three whole days.”
“Two days, actually.” Jon pointed toward a numbered disk hanging upon the wall. “It’s officially Saturday morning.”
Rowena worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “As much as I love the idea of spending time with you, I’m not sure we can wait that long.” She narrowed her eyes, and Caedmon braced for whatever devious plan was formulating behind the facets of her emerald gaze. “Wait, isn’t that one of those things where everyone wears a costume? If we dressed up, maybe we could sneak in and talk to Violet without anyone being the wiser.”
Oliver slowly nodded. “That’s not an entirely bad idea…”
“I’m going back to bed.” Stifling a yawn, Jon gave a brief yank to the tie at his waist. “Whaddaya say, Prince Caedmon? May I show you to the guestroom and we can leave these two to work out the details?”
Quite so. Caedmon shoved back his chair and stood. Much weighed heavy on his mind, and a quiet moment to sort through his thoughts would be most welcome. “I shall leave you to it, then. Rest well, Oliver.”
Rowena smiled and ran her palm down his arm. “I’ll be along in just a few minutes.”
He hesitated as a twinge of anxiety nearly kept him from leaving her side.
Only a few scant hours beforehand, she’d regained her memories. Everything she’d once believed forever lost to her had been found. Nonetheless, she’d determined to charge headlong into the unknown. Once again, risk everything to benefit the people of his kingdom.
The day he’d asked as much of her two years past, they’d both paid the price as a result.
“Hey.” Concern darkened her gaze and she hung tight to his wrist. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, my heart.” A tip of her chin, and he feathered a light kiss along her lips. “Join me whenever you are ready.”
He turned for the door, the weight of her gaze on his back as he followed Sir Jon from the room.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Wow. I’d forgotten how intense he can be.”
Rowena swung back to Oliver, though his statement of the obvious didn’t do much for getting rid of her frown. “Yeah, I got the sneaking suspicion something weird is going inside that gorgeous head of his.”
He smirked. “Maybe he’s jet-lagged.”
She squinted. Or maybe that wasn’t true. If she thought about it logically, perhaps arriving in Caedmon’s world a clean slate had helped her adapt all that much easier. She hadn’t known what she was missing, and for all her hardships, at least she hadn’t been expecting something else.
Funny how she’d never once considered the way the mirror had wiped her memories as a blessing in disguise.
“You sure you know what you’re doing with this guy?” Crossing his arms, Oliver sized her up from under a calculating brow. “And keep in mind, I’m talking about the time you spend with him outside the bedroom.”
She huffed at his habit of jumping right back into his role as her big brother. Regardless of how she’d shown him she was more than capable of taking care of herself, it was nice to know some things never changed.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything my life. Caedmon and I…” She studied her hands on the table. “Okay, I know this is gonna sound totally cliché, but we’re connected somehow. By more than just our feelings.”
Snagging the chain on her finger, she tugged the key from collar of the white t-shirt Ollie had loaned her. Recessed light from above the sink winked off the surface as it twirled back and forth. “We’re a part of something bigger. Something I don’t think either of us fully understands.” A slight tip of her head and she waited for her best friend to meet her gaze. “And apparently, so are you.”
He snorted. “Now you’re just starting to sound like Jon.”
And speaking of which. She tucked the key back inside her shirt. “How’d you two meet, anyway?”
Based on what she’d seen so far, they were living together. Jon had mentioned something about a one-year anniversary, and yet the Ollie she’d known never would’ve committed to such a serious relationship.
A girl had to wonder what could’ve happened to make him change his mind.
He waved his hand in front of his face. “Jon’s a playwright. We met last year at the opening night meet and greet after his troupe’s production of King Lear.” He rolled his eyes. “But don’t be surprised if you and Prince Growls-A-Lot end up being the chief characters in his next piece. For Jon, the line between fantasy and reality isn’t just blurred. More like it doesn’t exist.”
Rowena laughed as Oliver pushed up from the table and bumped his chin toward the hall. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
She stood and trailed him past the living room, down the long corridor of his condo to a closed bedroom door. Holding his finger to his lips, he twisted the knob and slipped inside.
Silence stretched as she waited. A moment later, the door swung open, and he reappeared with a brown paper package clutched in his arm.
Curling his finger, he retraced his steps to the middle of the hall and she followed him a second time to another closed bedroom door.
“Here. These are for tomorrow.” He handed her the package and then shifted his weight, glancing at the floor, the artwork on the wall…anywhere, but at her.
“What is it?” A yank to untie the string and the paper crinkled as she flipped open the sides. Stained and little frayed around the edges, her blue bib overalls lay neatly folded under a layer of white tissue paper.
Tears flooded her eyes at the same time she tipped her head back and laughed. “Oh my God. You kept them? I thought you said these pants made me look like a lumberjack.”
“I did.” He boosted his chin. “I do. If I possessed one ounce of common sense, I would’ve tossed them straight into the incinerator. Unfortunately, when it came right down to it, I couldn’t bring myself to destroy them.” Blinking rapidly, he cleared his throat. “Unflattering design aside, they reminded me of you.”
“Oh, Ollie.” Stepping forward, she wrapped him in her arms, smashing the bibs and smiling into his shoulder as he hugged her back every bit as tight. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
For him to hang onto something he hated so much, she couldn’t help but think that, in some small way, her leaving was the reason he’d finally decided to open up a little. Come to grips with how quickly life could turn on a dime and give love a chance.
“Yes, well, soak it up while you can. You only get to wear them until Jon and I visit Lord & Taylor in the morning.” He kissed her forehead and stood back, holding her at arm’s length. “After that, may they never be seen or heard from again.”
“Deal.” She went in for another hug, the two of them rocking side to side, completely unsure if he was swaying her or vice versa.
A parting squeeze to her shoulders and he turned away, starting down the hall for his room. “Don’t be good.” He flicked his hand in the air. “But I would ask that you keep the screaming down to a dull roar.”
She sputtered and wiped a tear off her cheek. Her dear, sweet Oliver. What in the world would she ever do without him? “I love you, Ollie.”
A wink, and he paused with his hand on the knob. “Love you more, doll.”
The second the door clicked into the latch, she pivoted toward the guestroom. A deep cleansing breath to prepare herself, and yet her smile still faltered as soon as she stepped inside.
On the opposite side of the bed, Caedmon stood facing the windows, legs braced and his hands clasped behind his back. But it was the set of his shoulders, the way he didn’t acknowledge her presence or, hell, even turn from the view that screamed she’d been right in the kitchen.
Whatever had him so preoccupied, something was definitely off.
She locked the door before setting her overalls on a small antique desk and padding across the room to join him. Countless stars littered an inked canopy above the restless roil of Lake Michigan’s black water. A great example of the tension in the room.
But being nervous in front of him was stupid. For God’s sake, they were the same two people. The only difference was, they were in her world instead of his.
A sideways glance at his face, and she followed his gaze down eighteen stories to the flow of lakefront traffic. If she’d known him then…if she’d remembered…she would’ve given anything to have him with her after she’d jumped through the mirror. Maybe whatever was eating away at him simply had to do with him trying to take it all in.
“Tell me. Do each of those lights signify an inhabitant of this port city?”
She couldn’t help but huff at his description, though she had to give him props for pretty much nailing Chicago without any help.
“In a way, they do. Those lights represent our mode of transportation.” She pointed to the other buildings stacked along Chicago’s Gold Coast like glittering sentinels jutting into the sky. “The ones that aren’t moving come from living quarters like the one we’re standing in right now. Also businesses, inns, eating establishments, shops, taverns… Almost anything a person could think to ask for is out there.”
“To bear witness to such extensive legions is unsettling.” His chest rose and he shook his head, chuckling as he exhaled.
Not that he thought anything was funny. Her stomach sank. His tone held way too much self-contempt for that.
“How did you do it, my love?”
She turned and was nearly rocked back on her heels as he lifted his eyes to hers. All the burning questions inside them. The worry over what might be coming and the way he looked at her if she were some sort of miracle he didn’t deserve.
“How did you arrive in my realm, alone and without your memories, only to barter with kings, befriend wizards and become the first woman in Austiere history to best every man in the guard?”
Oh-h-h…sweet Goddesses wept. How was it every time she thought she loved him as much as humanly possible, he said something even more amazing to prove her wrong? “Almost every man. As usual, you’re not giving yourself enoug
h credit.”
“And despite her achievements, she is meek.” Releasing his arms, he reached across the distance to hold her cheek, swinging around to frame her face with first one hand and then the other. “Regardless of the dangers ahead, she continues to put others first.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she covered his hands, seating her fingers along the seams of his. Or maybe his adjustment to being here was only half the problem. And if that were the case, then the poor guy had gotten it all wrong.
She wasn’t the undeserving miracle in their relationship, he was. If there was anyone who’d dropped the ball at reminding him how incredible he was, that person was her.
Since the first day he’d shown up in the armoire, he’d believed in her. Told her she was important. Even before she’d lost her memories, before she’d jumped through the mirror, every bit of strength and purpose she’d found had been a direct result of having him in her life.
“You know none of this is as important to me as you are.” She stepped in. “You know that, right? Meeting with Violet, the key, Braedric, Gaelleod, none of that means anything to me without you.”
“What are you saying?” He searched her gaze, thick lashes lowered as if he were trying to peer into her soul. “You would forego our time in this realm if I deemed it unnecessary?”
“Caedmon.” She slumped. God, she sucked for not reassuring him way sooner. “I trust your judgment more than anyone else. If you don’t think our being here is the best choice, then we go back. It’s as simple as that. We take our chances with Seviere and move ahead in whatever way we both decide is best.”
“You would forsake your friends, discard the mirror… You would abandon our quest and disappear someplace safe if that is what I truly desired?”
Well, of course, she would. During their time in the Cave of Tears, he’d never agreed to all this. They were supposed to steal back the key so she could remember her past and that was it. “Say the word and we’re gone.”