by Belle Malory
Serena sighed again, distraught. Marcellus would not be happy about this.
She considered running, but she knew it would be pointless. There was nowhere she could run nor hide. Not from Marcellus de Clemente.
Thirty
He sought her out after dinner. She presumed he would.
Serena inhaled a deep breath, praying she’d be able to get through this. “My daughter is in love with someone else. I cannot ask her to marry you.”
“You mean the Constantin abandoner?”
he guessed. He didn’t wait for her answer. “Forget him. You have good reason to deny a union between them.”
“I won’t deny it,” she countered.
Marcellus flinched, taken aback by her obstinacy. Serena would bet it was the first moment it occurred to him she might actually turn down his request. No one ever risked the wrath of a witch.
They could do things gypsies didn’t understand, could live unnaturally long lives and make things happen that shouldn’t. Their magic was something altogether different than gypsy sight.
“Punish me how you’d like,” Serena continued bravely. “You can take my life if you want, but I won’t let you take my daughter’s.”
Marcellus had been standing on the other side of Serena’s large tent. He moved closer to her, tension building in each stride.
Just a breath away, he warned her in a low menacing tone. “Do not cross me, Serena. I guarantee you’ll regret it.”
The harshness in his voice made her wince. She stood tall though, keeping her shoulders straight. She wouldn’t be a coward.
“Ask me for anything else,” she said.
“Please.”
“You think to beg your way out of this?”
He laughed bitterly.
“There must be something else you want.”
“No,” he barked. Marcellus wasn’t the type of man who raised his voice. Immediately, he lowered it. “Liliana is a rarity. She is educated, and she can adapt to any culture.”
“She is beautiful. You want her as your trophy.”
“There’s that, too,” Marcellus admitted.
“You cannot have her,” Serena said stubbornly.
“Be that as it may, you will wish you had given her to me.” There was color showing in Marcellus cheeks. She must of hurt his pride. Serena began to realize how much she had angered him. A knot of fear coiled inside her stomach.
“I have the perfect punishment for you, my dear,” he said, looming over her. “Since you cannot give me what I desire, you’ll be forced to give everyone whatever they desire with just the touch of your hand. For eternity.”
The words seemed to hold weight, sounding ominous in Serena’s ears. That was it? That was how he intended to punish me? She’d considered everything from torture to a slow, agonizing death. Not some cryptic statement about desires.
With just the barest of smiles, Marcellus had spoken those haunting words to her, then vanished from her sight. She ran out of the entrance to her tent, thinking Marcellus had tricked her and intended to do something more horrid, but he was nowhere to be found.
He was gone.
Serena went back inside her tent, shaking her head, and puzzling over Marcellus’s strange words. She felt no different; everything seemed normal.
Liliana could marry her Constantin, Serena realized. She nearly laughed as all the pent up anxiety she’d carried over the last fifteen years released itself from her body.
Serena couldn’t believe how fortunate she was.
Part Three
Redwood Forest
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” –Marcel Proust
Thirty-One
Shades of light danced before my eyes, indicating pockets of sunlight beaming down over me. I hadn’t yet opened them, too afraid of where I’d find myself. Was I still alive? Or would I awake to whatever came after dying?
A gentle breeze stirred and the sound of children’s laughter came from the distance. I bravely slit my eyes open.
I was lying on my stomach with my head turned to the side. The first thing I noticed was the color of a deep burgundy pillow. I prodded my eyes open a little wider.
No, definitely not a bed. It was some sort of pallet, covered in a plum silk coverlet adorned with dozens of woven pillows that smelled of sage and cedar wood. I turned my head just slightly. About a foot in front of me, a flap of white fabric flailed back and forth, revealing blades of bright green grass.
Was I in a tent?
My muscles were weak, but I managed to push myself up off the pallet, resting on my elbows.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Xavier said, his familiar accent giving him away.
He sat next to me Indian style, wearing all black, of course, with a laptop resting across his thighs. “How are you feeling?” he asked. He smiled a little, completely transforming his face into someone who appeared much more friendly than the brute I’d come to know. I swear, I’d never seen that man look so damned cheerful since I’d first met him, which could only mean one thing: He was up to no good.
Xavier traced the pallet I’d been sleeping on. “Let’s see,” he began. “You thought you were dead. Now you realize you’re alive. Oh, and you’re a little pissed off, too. Wait, it’s because I look cheerful? That annoys you? Well, that’s not very sporting of you, love.”
Before he had a chance to read any more thoughts, I sprung at Xavier. Wrapping my hands around his neck, I squeezed as hard as my tired arms would let me. I swore I was going to choke the bastard to death.
With hardly any effort, Xavier lifted my hands from his throat, swung me around and interlocked my arms over my own shoulders. “Owe!” I screamed.
“Serves you right for trying to kill me!” he shouted back.
“You tried to kill me first,” I argued.
His grip on my arms loosened a bit, but he still maintained his hold over me. “What are you talking about?” he asked, confused.
“Salazar. He poisoned me.”
There was a moment of silence. Then the sound of Xavier chuckling reverberated against my back. “You thought he poisoned you?”
I tried to wriggle out of Xavier’s grasp, but he wouldn’t let me budge.
“Stop squirming,” he ordered. “Before I start to enjoy it.”
“Oh, gross,” I said, wrinkling my nose in distaste. This only made Xavier laugh harder.
Finally, he let me go. I leapt away from him, trying to put some distance between us. As soon as I was across the tent, I stretched out my arms, circling them around. They were sore from Xavier’s hold, and would undoubtedly show bruising soon.
Sunlight poured in as the flaps of the tents were stretched open. “You’re awake.” Salazar beamed at me.
“Careful, Uncle,” Xavier warned. “She thinks you tried to kill her. She just lunged at me.”
Ah, so Salazar was Xavier’s uncle. I knew they were related somehow.
“Kill you?” Salazar feigned a mock portrayal of concern. It was clearly part of his whole innocent act.
“Yes, kill me,” I repeated. “Tell me, Sal, did you get someone else to do your dirty work? Is that how you got Rex to believe you weren’t lying before?”
Salazar batted his eyes, looking dumbfounded. “Estelle, why would you be alive right now, if I wanted you dead?”
“Your plan must’ve backfired. Your poison wasn’t as strong as you thought it was.”
A look of understanding settled across his face. “You think I poisoned you.”
“I know you did!” I accused him. “I couldn’t even lift my own hand after drinking that wine you gave me.”
He sighed. “That wasn’t poison in your drink, dragă. It was a brew my potions maker concocted. It’s for your thoughts. We wanted to hide them, for your safety.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said shakily. “Xavier read my thoughts only moments ago.”
“Xavier’s sight is only capable th
rough physical touch. Your thought frequency has been shut off. You can’t transmit thoughts to other mind readers now. Well, at least not for the next month.”
I stared at Salazar skeptically. I had been so sure I was poisoned. But here I was, alive and well. And I suppose Salazar’s explanation for the wine was reasonable.
“Come on now, Estelle,” he cajoled me. “I couldn’t bring you to the heart of gypsy lands without hiding your thoughts. Besides, why would I kill you before I’ve even asked you how to get what I want?”
Damn. He made a good point. I hadn’t even considered that.
I absently straightened the wrinkles out of my dress, looking at the carpeted ground of the tent uncomfortably. “Perhaps I was a little to quick to accuse you.”
“A little?” Xavier asked sarcastically.
“So why didn’t you just tell me about the potion beforehand?” I asked Salazar.
“Clearly, there are trust issues between us,” he pointed out. “I figured you’d just fall asleep thinking you were extremely tired. I never thought you would realize you had been drugged.”
I placed my hands on my hips, tilting my head to the side. “The trust issues are not one-sided. You weren’t honest with me.”
“I apologize,” Salazar offered. “It will never happen again.”
I bit my lip, wondering if I could believe him. Another thought occurred to me. “What if there are others like Xavier? What happens then?”
“There are only a handful of Roms who are like Xavier. That’s why we found you first. As long as we’re careful, we should be okay.”
“What about psychics?” I inquired, thinking of Zetta. “What if one of them sees me coming?”
He shrugged, hopelessly. “There is nothing we could do about that. If it makes you feel better though, you should know that true psychics, like Rex’s mother, are extremely rare. There are even less of them than there are mind readers. And anyway, it’s only the self-serving ones we’d have to look out for. Any psychic that’s worth their salt will know better than to out you, especially if it means you’ll end up in the wrong hands.”
I narrowed my eyes on both of them, looking back and forth between the two men. “I already thought I ended up in the wrong hands,” I admitted.
“Trust me,” Salazar said. “Though we’re a little rough around the edges, we are definitely not the worst tribe out there.”
That remained to be seen, but I figured I’d give Salazar the benefit of the doubt. I relaxed, feeling a little more at ease. “The trust thing,” I mentioned. “We’ll have to work on that.”
He nodded in agreement.
“So when do we get to Romania?” I asked curiously.
Salazar smiled. He moved to hold back one of the tent’s flaps and gestured to outside of it. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to Redwood Forest, Estelle Spencer.”
“Oh,” I murmured. I slowly stepped outside. The bright sunlight blinded me. I held my hand to my forehead, shadowing my eyes in order to view the magnificent scene I was met with.
Our tent was perched next to a babbling river, which snaked along mountainous lands and dropped off into a dazzling waterfall. It was beautiful, like something out of a dream.
Hundreds more RVs and tents in an array of colors and sizes were scattered alongside the river. Closer inland, there were crowds of people concentrated into some sort of marketplace. “Would you like to check it out?” Salazar offered.
Feeling like a little kid in an amusement park, I nodded eagerly.
“Xavier, why don’t you show Estelle around?” he suggested.
“Uncle, do you really think that’s a good idea?” Xavier’s tone implied it would be too dangerous. Either that, or he simply didn’t want to take me anywhere. I wouldn’t blame him if that were the case. I did just try to kill him, after all.
Salazar smiled at me. “I’d like to present our newest tribe member with a measure of my trust.”
Xavier shook his head, clearly disapproving, but obeyed his uncle’s request. “Come along,” he ordered me. “And don’t touch anyone, or anything.”
I rushed ahead of Xavier gleefully, more excited than I’d ever felt.
“Slow down,” he called from behind, trying to catch up.
I stopped in my tracks, noticing the amazing structure in the distance. It was some sort of stone building, cloaked in twisting vines and greenery. “What’s that?”
“That would be Castelul de Prieteni,” Xavier answered me. “It means castle of friends, or some nonsense like that.”
“I know,” I said. “I mean, I remember what it means.”
He gave me a curious sideways glance.
“I remembered a lot while I was asleep,” I explained. “Some of my past, most of the Romanian language. It’s coming back to me in waves.”
“No wonder you thought you’d been drugged,” he joked. “That was quite a sleep.”
“You’re telling me.”
Together we headed down into the marketplace where dozens of merchants had set up shop and were hawking their wares. They were selling beautiful clothes and fabrics, spices, jewels and trinkets. I took every little thing in, absorbing the bright colors, smelling the food, listening to all the different sounds and voices. I was in awe.
“Stay close,” Xavier advised as soon as the crowds became dense.
The tantalizing scent of roasting lamb overwhelmed us both at the same time. “You hungry?” Xavier asked me.
I felt my stomach growl, almost in sync with his question. Xavier directed me to one of the food vendors. He handed the merchant a few bills, and a few moments later presented me a mouth-watering gyro.
“Thanks,” I said, before taking an enormous bite.
“You’re welcome.”
“Omigoodness,” I said, my voice muffled from the food. “This is incredible.”
Xavier grinned, eating his own gyro. “Let’s go this way,” he directed. I followed him towards a crowd of onlookers. Up ahead, there was a little man playing a flute next to a woven basket. I looked closer to see there was a cobra peeking out of the basket, swaying hypnotically to the music.
“It’s a snake charmer!” I held my breath, enthralled by the performance.
Xavier shook his head at me. “Does every little thing excite you?”
I shrugged, grinning. “I don’t get out very much.”
“Clearly.”
When the snake charmer was finished with his performance, Xavier and I continued walking through the marketplace. It was more of a slow stroll though. I stopped and looked at almost everything. Persian rugs my mother would kill for hung from nearby awnings. They were lovely and handcrafted. Mostly everything was. These people, well, my people, were skilled at creating the most beautiful, intricate things.
As we walked closer to the castle, I marveled at its beauty. A giant stained glass window ran the length of its two stories.
“What are those?” I asked Xavier, noticing a cluster of designs inlaid on the stone.
“Carvings,” he answered. “Our people have chiseled them over the years to pay homage to the Royals.”
“They’re beautiful,” I said, impressed by the craftsmanship. Some of designs were so detailed and large, they must’ve taken years to carve.
Xavier pointed to one of the larger carvings on the edge of the castle. “You see that one, the owl?” he asked. When I nodded, he informed me, “It was created to recognize the Bonjara family’s wisdom.”
I gazed at the owl, feeling a pang of pity for Salazar, who had lost everything he’d held dear. This feeling of pity surprised me. It also made me feel enormously guilty. This was a man Rex hated, and I was practically befriending him. Salazar considered me a member of his tribe. I felt like I was betraying Rex.
“Salazar is a good man,” Xavier said. He seemed to know exactly what I’d been thinking…
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Stop reading my thoughts, Xavier.”
He grinned, not even bothering to hide it
from me. “I can’t help it,” he said. “You’re just so captivating.”
I snorted. “Puh-leez. Don’t even pretend to be interested in me that way.”
“Why not?” he asked. “You’re the only girl in my tribe.”
I burst out into laughter at that. I wasn’t even sure if Xavier intended it to be a joke, but he seemed pleased to see me laughing so hard. I realized then, that for the first time, I felt totally at ease, and perhaps safe. This place was so comforting, like a home I’d never known I had.
All I knew for sure was how much I hoped it would last.
Later that night, after Xavier and I returned from our trek through the marketplace, Salazar asked me if he could ask me his question. I agreed and we began our work after dinner.
I warned him beforehand a request such as his would probably provide a very longwinded and detailed answer. So he’d come prepared with a notepad and a pencil. He seemed to be feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, both of which were strangely transferring to me.
When he took my hand in his, I felt colder, clammier. Helping Salazar felt wrong. It felt like the worst thing I could’ve done to Rex. I reminded myself this would be the one and only time I would have to use the curse to help Salazar. I didn’t have much of a choice.
We sat there for nearly an hour, outlining our plan to regain his throne. First, Salazar would have to appeal to the Gabor king in residence. The king would agree to grant him a hearing, so long as he could provide witnesses. He needed the witnesses to give their testimonies against his embezzlement crimes. Apparently those were the crimes that ultimately led to Salazar’s dethroning, though they were stacked against many others.