by M. K. Dawn
“Do prophecies always come true?”
Brady’s sympathetic eyes recognize where I’m going with this. “Yes, Princess, as far as I know, they do.”
***
Even though the pull of my orb has grown stronger, we don't seem to be getting anywhere. Brady continues to tell me about how Nysians live as we wander around the countryside. Life here is simplistic. There are no electronics unless brought over from the human realm. Since there’s no electricity, batteries, and battery-operated chargers are a hot commodity.
People tend to entertain themselves in a more old- fashioned way. Reading is very popular. As are board games. For those who like to socialize, most towns have theaters, bars, and sporting venues.
Drugs are not an issue, as they do not have any effect on Nysians. People do get a little wild on the Nysian’s version of liquor.
We walk and talk until my bare feet ache. We stop and rest for a while. Brady offers to let me wear his shoes, but there’s no way I would be able to walk in them.
As the sun drifts below the tree line, the cool air sets in.
“I think I might have an extra t-shirt in my bag,” Brady offers.
The extra layer does well to block out some of the cold. “You didn't think I could have used that earlier to cover up a little bit?” I have been half-naked all day, for Gods’ sake. Didn't he notice?
A wicked grin creeps across his face. “I forgot.”
“Sure, you did.”
When the darkness and cold become unbearable, I stop.
“You okay?” Brady asks.
“I don't think I can go any further.” My exhaustion comes out in a whine.
“Well, it’s a good thing we are almost there.” He points to the hill a little way ahead of us. Smoke rising from the other side. He glances at my orb and I follow his eyes. “See how it’s brighter? That means we have finally found our destination.”
***
We stroll up the stone path to a quaint two-story cottage. It’s not unlike something from England in the early fourteen-hundreds. The building itself is made of cob; the roof most likely thatch. The beautiful off-white walls are covered with green vines. Surrounding the house is an assortment of plants and flowers. To the left of the path is a garden enclosed by a picket fence. To the right is another path that leads to a gazebo also surrounded by exquisite foliage. “Do all people in Nysa live this way?”
“The style of this house is common. We believe in using the earth to provide us with our basic necessities. Of course, these people live in the country so they have a garden, and what looks to be a workhouse in the back. People in the villages are more reliant on each other.”
“This is breathtaking. I bet the castle is not so…” I hesitate. Most castles I’ve seen in books are large, bland, and made of stone. “…inviting.”
“Your castle is in shambles, along with sections of the village that surrounds it.” There’s a pinch in his voice.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so cold.” It had been his home as well, a home he had lost when Lord Wright invaded.
His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Once you become queen and this war is over, we will rebuild, and you will have the authority to make it as inviting as you want. Ready to do this?”
“I think so. What’s our story?”
“Let me do the talking and follow my lead. We wouldn’t want your lack of knowledge to get us into trouble. Or your rambling mouth to say something crazy.”
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I can make pleasant conversation without getting us into trouble.
Before I have a chance to argue, Brady tucks my orb in my shirt and knocks. He shoots me a quick wink and rocks back on his heels.
A few seconds later, an older gentleman answers the door. He clutches the handle and narrows his fluffy, white eyebrows. He’s suspicious, as anyone in their right mind would be. I’m still dressed in an oversized t-shirt with no shoes. Brady may be our only saving grace as he looks like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine. “Can I help you, folks?”
Brady bows. “Thank you, good sir. It seems we have come into some trouble. You see, my wife and I were traveling home from the human realm when my orb malfunctioned.”
“Your wife does not have an orb?”
“She did not bring hers along. We arrived not far from your house without any supplies. We are in desperate need of shelter for the night, and clean clothes if you can spare them.”
The man isn’t buying it. Why would he? Brady looks the part but I’m a hot mess.
He cocks an eye and looks me up and down like I’ll be the deciding factor in whether he’ll help us out this evening.
“I know my wife looks a little out of sorts. She has some vices that are hard for her to control, especially in the human realm.” He makes the hand signal for ‘drink’, prompting a laugh out of the old man.
I, on the other hand, am not amused. Did he just imply to this stranger that I have a drinking problem?
“I practically had to drag her away from the Nysian-run bar.”
The man grins and I smile sweetly which must have put him at ease. “Well, we all have our demons, don't we? Please, come in. We were just about to sit down for dinner and would be honored if you would join us. My name is Carl, by the way.”
I offer my hand and he looks at it like I’m crazy. Brady quickly pushes my hand down and laughs. “Must have let her stay in the human realm a little too long this time. She’s starting to pick up human habits.” He grips Carl on the shoulder. “I'm Brad and this is my wife, Lane. We will be honored to share your table tonight.” Carl returns the shoulder grab thing and eyes me warily. I give him my most innocent-looking smile.
We follow Carl through the small foyer into a large room. His home is cozy and warm with high, flat ceilings and walls the same off-white as the ones outside. There is a two-sided stone hearth in the middle of the room that connects the living room and kitchen. The furniture is exquisite and handmade. Knick-knacks fill the shelves. The walls are decorated with hand-painted pictures of what I can only assume is Carl’s family.
On an end-table sits an old Polaroid camera and a dozen framed Polaroid pictures. It’s nice to know even these people - my people - who live so simplistically, still find room for modern technology, or at least semi-modern.
“My wife always loved taking photographs,” Carl said. “She took pictures of everything. From the flowers, to the animals, to the scenery. And my Gods, when we had children, she was an unstoppable force. We stumbled across this camera on our honeymoon. She had to have it. We bought out the store’s entire stock of film. And don't get me started on the batteries we had to buy. They thought we were crazy, but I didn't want my wife to run out of the things she loved. Every year we returned to the human realm and bought her as much film and batteries as we could find and carry back. That is, until the war started. It wasn’t safe after that, to travel openly between realms. We weren’t as brave as you two.” He points to a picture of a beautiful little baby girl. “This was the last picture she ever took.”
The little girl couldn’t have been more than a few months old.
“It’s our granddaughter. My wife was killed not long after that, by a group of Wright's men. A group of them stopped by one day. I was out with my son-in-law, picking up supplies in the village. They demanded a place to stay and a hot meal. She obliged, not wanting to stir up trouble. Our daughter and the baby hid at the neighbor’s house. As my wife made up the guest room, one of the men came in and tried to take advantage of her. She struck him and they took her away to be hung. When I came home, she was gone. It took me weeks to find out what happened. Finally, one day we got a letter, allowing us a visit before the execution. She was so beautiful, and so at peace, even though it looked like she had been tortured. I was a mess, losing the love of my life in such a way.” He shakes his head somberly.
Tears stream down my face. I don't even remember taking a seat on the couch. There are no wo
rds that could have been said in that moment. Brady’s face is etched with pain.
A little girl, no older than six, bounces into the room, ending the silence. “Pappy! Pappy!” she squeals.
“And here is the grandbaby now! Come here, little Alaina.” He scoops her up and throws her up in the air.
“She’s beautiful. I'm sorry, did you call her Alaina?” I must have misheard.
“Yes. My daughter insisted on naming her after the lost princess. We pray daily to the Gods that she is found and can bring peace to our world.”
Again, I’m rendered speechless. How am I supposed to be their savior? I don't know anything about this world. I have been gone so long. And I have no memories.
“Lane?” Brady’s muffled voice catches my attention. Why is he calling Lane? Who the hell is Lane? Oh, wait, I’m Lane.
“Yes, yes! Sorry, I was lost in thought. What were you saying?”
“Understandable, my child.” Carl rests his hand on my shoulder. “I didn't mean to upset you with my story. When I look at her pictures, I tend to get lost in those moments. Little Alaina was just telling me that dinner is ready.”
“Dinner time!” she screams. As cute as she is, she only has one volume, and that’s loud.
“Well, it smells wonderful.” I get up and follow Carl around the hearth, into the dining room/kitchen combo. At the stove is a beautiful young woman, with a stunning floor length light green dress that reminds me of the Renaissance era. The bodice is modest and the dark green belt that hangs off her left hip accentuates her very thin waist. Her complexion is somewhat lighter, more chocolate than Carl’s, but there is no denying that she is his daughter. Her face lights up when little Alaina screams, “Mommy!”
“You hungry, honey? Hi, I'm Charlotte. Welcome to our home. I was just setting out dinner.” Her eyes fall on my lack of clothing. “Would you be more comfortable changing before we ate, hon?”
“Thank you, Charlotte. I'm Lane, and this is my husband Brad. I wouldn’t want the food to get cold. I can wait until after dinner, as long as my attire doesn’t offend anyone.”
The back door opens and a handsome man with deep brown eyes and skin to match steps inside. “This is my husband, Thomas. Honey, these are our dinner guests, Lane and Brad.” He bows before kissing Charlotte on the cheek. A squealing Alaina flies into his arms. He and Carl take their places at the wooden table. It’s at least six feet long with benches on each side, and two large chairs at either end. Carl takes the chair at the head of the table. After Charlotte finishes setting the food on the table, she takes her place next to her father. Thomas sits to her left and sticks little Alaina between them. Brady and I take the seats just across from them. Two extra table settings are already out for us. Charlotte must have seen us through the hearth as we were talking to her father in the living room.
The food smells delicious and there is an abundance of it. Chicken pieces, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans are laid out in front of us, steaming hot. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until that moment. My mouth waters and a little drool may have run down the side of my chin.
“Daddy, can you please lead us in prayer?” I go to fold my hands in front of me in prayer when Brady grabs them. Thomas’s hand is stretched across the table waiting for mine. Luckily, I don't think anyone noticed my little slip. I grab his hand and bow my head as the others do. Carl leads the prayer.
“Praise thee Gods, above and below. Thank you for this beautiful meal. Please protect my family from the wars of our world. Protect our new friends on their journey home and guide them through whatever difficulties lie ahead. And as always, please bring our dear Princess Alaina home and guide her in the fight against evil. Amen”
“Amen,” we all repeat.
“As customary, guests always get their plates filled first.” Carl nods to us to do just that. I glance quickly at Brady as he begins to help himself. Nobody has to ask me twice. I follow suit and do the same. There are rolls, too. How did I not notice them? One bite and I'm in heaven. As Brady and I start downing our food, Carl’s family fill their plates and join in the feast. The dining conversation is light-hearted. Brady is excellent at small talk and keeping the subject off of us. Carl tells us about their farm life. That is his gift. He felt blessed that his daughter is a talented seamstress and married a man whose gift is building. This means they have little contact with the village, which is good since it’s crawling with Wright’s men. The news of this puts both Brady and myself on edge, his body tensing at the news.
Once our plates are empty and our bellies full, I help Charlotte clear the table. I try to stifle a yawn but fail. The events of the day hit me all at once. I’m exhausted. I’ve only been in Nysa for a day, but it feels like a week at least.
“Come on, sweetie,” Charlotte guides me out of the kitchen. “Let’s get you into some proper clothes.”
I nod and follow her up the stairs. “Thomas, can you please make up the guest room?”
We reach the top of the stairs and head right to the end of the hall. “Now, let’s see what I have in here that you would be comfortable in.” As she rummages through her closet, I glance around the room. I don't mean to be nosey, but wow, she has pretty stuff. The bed looks so inviting I have to fight the urge not to lie down and fall asleep. She pulls out a beautiful purple dress similar to hers, but with a little less material in the bodice area. “Here we go! This one is perfect! Enough material to keep you warm on your journey home but cut just enough to make your husband swoon. Don’t be shy, try it on, it’s just us girls in here.”
I remove Brady’s shirt and toss it aside. Charlotte eyes me suspiciously and I blush. My work uniform feels even more revealing standing in front of this very modestly dressed girl.
“Oh, honey.” She laughs. “Before I had Alaina, I had a wild side too. I'm sure Brad loves this on you. Though from the way he watches you, I think you could wear a bag and he would swoon.” My face reddens which makes her laugh even harder. “I’ll turn around so you can slip the dress on.”
The top is a little tighter than I would have picked out for myself. I feel like one wrong move and my girls will spill out everywhere.
“All ready,” I announce.
“You look stunning. Now shoes.” She turns back to her closet. After a few minutes of rummaging around, she hands me a seriously cute pair of chunky-heeled black boots. “These will be perfect for wandering around the woods.”
“Oh, my Gods, are these Nine West?”
“Yep, from about ten years ago. I can make them but I love designer shoes! Every time I go to the human realm I have to buy some.”
“Are you sure I can borrow them? I mean, I don't know if, or when, I will be able to return them.”
“Like I said, they are from ten years ago. I haven’t worn them in ages. Please take them.”
I can’t help but giggle - being somewhat of a shoe whore myself - as I put them on. They are a perfect fit. I pull her into a hug. “Thank you.” All the emotions built up from the last twenty-four hours come spilling out. Hot tears race down my face, but I'm not crying for myself. I’m crying for her, and the mother she lost at such a young age. For the isolation they’ve endured. I cry for the daughter she named after me, and her family’s faith in my ability to fix it all, even though they don’t know me. The final few tears are for me, for all that is to come.
Charlotte holds me until I regain my composure. She wipes the tears away from my cheeks, and kisses me on the forehead, in a very motherly way. She can’t be much older than me but living in a war-torn country has made her wise beyond her years. She hands me a nightgown, teasing me that she has something more appropriate for newlyweds if I wanted. I politely decline, turning all different shades of red. She probably thinks I’m a prude.
We head downstairs and find the men sitting around the hearth drinking a brown liquid - whiskey, maybe? Little Alaina is asleep on her Pappy’s lap. Brady looks up at me and grins. He’s enjoying the view a little too mu
ch.
This time I don’t bother covering my yawn, and he takes that as a clue that I’m done for the night.
“Well, gentlemen, it appears my lovely bride has had enough adventure for one day. I think we are going to retire for the evening.”
Charlotte nudges me with her elbow and gives me a wicked grin. I can’t help but laugh. “Let me show you to your room. Honey, will you put Alaina to bed for me?”
“Of course, my love.” Thomas promptly lifts the sleeping girl from Carl’s lap and heads up the stairs.
“Come on, you two love birds. This way.” Charlotte leads us under the stairs to a tiny room. Knots materialize in my stomach. The bed can't be more than a twin. I’m not sure it’s big enough for Brady, let alone two people. Not that I had any intention of sleeping in the same bed as him.
“There are extra pillows and blankets in the closet over there. Thomas left you some more appropriate clothes on the bed there, Brad. Bathroom is upstairs on the left. You guys need anything else?” We both shake our head. “All right. Lane, you know where my room is if you do. Have a good night.”
She closes the door and we are alone in a tiny room, with a tiny bed. He takes a step closer to me and I panic, bumping into the door. “Um, I’ll be right back.” I walk right back out, close the door, and lean my back on it for support. I have never been alone in a room with a boy before. It’s obvious that Brady is much more experienced in things like this than I could ever hope to be. The way he looked at me when Charlotte walked out sent goosebumps down my body. Surely, he wasn’t expecting something to happen between us. Was he? Was I?
“Lane, you need something hon?” Crap, I thought she would have gone straight to bed.
“No, no. I was going to go to the bathroom.”
“Ok, straight up the stairs.”
“Actually, Charlotte, I do have a question. Earlier you said something, I wasn’t sure what you meant by it. You said Brad would swoon over me, even if I had a bag on. What did you mean by that?”