I sit up on my elbows, defiantly. “No can do, asshole.”
“Ah, yer vulgar mouth does not become ye, Adeline.” He says, from where he’s standing at the foot of the bed.
“Bite me, the answer is still no.” We stare at one another, a battle until the anger turns into something else. He may be fighting the urge to strangle me, but the way he is staring at my lips says otherwise. He has another urge. Without further notice, he attacks me, climbing on the bed and draping his body over mine. His needy mouth drops down, just a hairsbreadth away from mine. I’m going to fight him if he tries to kiss me again. God, please kiss me. His eyes close and he drops his head as a knock sounds from on the door.
“Miss, I thought to bring ye some warm nightly towels, Oh!—” Ellie squeals, turning her head. Locke quickly jumps off me, adjusting his attire. “Ellie, it’s fine, I was just leaving,” he grunts, taking his attention away from her and back on me. I’m still sprawled out on the bed when he speaks.
“May I advise ye to replace the key before sunrise? Christof will want to know where the armory key is when he sends his men out for practice. The earlier the better, I’m sure he will be curious on why his betrothed has it.”
With that he turns and storms out of my room.
The armory key? “You have to be kidding me!” Infuriated, I find anything that is in reach and throw it in the direction of where he exited. “God! I hate you!” I huff at the door. I exhale a deep breath and stand, trying to yank off my dress. Ellie offers, bringing out her hands to assist me. “Do ye need assistance, Miss?”
“No! Jesus, Ellie, I can undress myself! Can you please just give me some goddamn privacy?” I snap. She bows and quickly takes her leave. My boob is practically hanging out, and I can still see the redness left by his mouth. My face heats almost instantly, as the memory of what just happened minutes ago flash through my mind. All the heat and the need; the want for him to go further and touch me in unfamiliar places. I find myself frantically tugging at my dress. I’m beginning to feel claustrophobic. Trapped. The dress sends me into another fit of anger. The first thing I’m going to do when I get home is remove my clothes on my own!
“Ellie!” I scream at the top of my lungs.
I was just having the craziest dream. I was kidnapped by a brute of a prince and held captive. But the bad guy was far from bad, and instead I allowed him to seduce me beyond belief. I sigh, remembering the hunk in my dream and all the ways he showed me how he was going to contain me. Dreams. Gotta love em. I slowly wake to the sun beating against my face. Dad must not have shut the blinds before I went to bed. I have to pee like nobody’s business, and if I don’t get up soon, Liam will be late for school, and I will be late for work. I throw my body up and set my feet on the ground. The second my toes touch, an awareness shoots up my legs, the cold surface feeling nowhere near my soft fluffy bedroom carpet.
“Ahhhh!” I scream in annoyance, pulling my feet off the cold floor and falling backwards onto the bed. I don’t even budge when the doors fly open, the sounds, sadly familiar, of Ellie’s pitter pattering feet coming toward me. “Is everything alright, Miss? Are ye hurt?”
I huff, placing my hands over my face. “No, Ellie, I’m not hurt. And no, everything is not alright. I’m still here. And this is actually real and not a nightmare.” I think I hate my dad. No, I don’t. Yes, I do. I question if I am really dead. But when I smack myself. “Damn, that hurt.” Nope, I’m alive.
I need to start realizing that this is really happening. That these people think I am some sort of princess, my dad’s a deserter, and I am the answer to this land’s fertile problems. I wish I could just talk to my dad. Have him explain to me what’s going on. Not that hearing this whacked out story from anyone would make it any more real, but I’ve always trusted my dad. He’s my dad.
I wonder how it was for him to leave this place. Did he wish he hadn’t? Did he ever have regrets on marrying Mom? I think about how they were together growing up. There were more times than not, that I commented on the gross factor because they were always kissing and all over each other. No kid wanted to see that. But together, even after she got sick, they were always so loving. I never remember them even fighting.
There was once, when I was sixteen. I didn’t know it then, but later, when I began to piece together the words I heard, cancer, don’t tell the kids, and death, I got it. They were arguing whether to tell us. My dad said no. He didn’t want to upset us. My mom thought we should know. We should understand why she was not well. I guess that’s where the world’s longest running cold comes in.
Eventually, when they sat us down, it was still candy coated. Mom was not going to be feeling well for some time, but she and Dad would be spending a lot of time with special doctors to make sure she got better. I always nodded so I looked supportive. But when I went back to my room at night and researched the words I heard them secretly speak of, I understood. My mom didn’t just have a cold. She was dying.
That’s when I started doing more of my part. I stopped hanging out with friends so I could help take care of my little brother. I didn’t do sports or after school activities anymore, because my mom needed me at home. It wasn’t until I was sat down mid-semester my first year at a community college that they told me I wasn’t going to be able to continue because of money, that it really hit me. Our family was suffering. My mom was still very sick. And my dad, who was a laborer, wasn’t making enough to cover her medical bills and my college. One had to go. Who was I to argue? I agreed. So I dropped out; I got a job, and I helped out with bills and running the household. It was then I realized I gave up a lot more than just a silly college degree. I had been giving up my childhood too. But it was family and I loved my parents. I saw how much my dad loved my mom. How much he loved my brother and me. Somehow, I needed to give that back. Before I knew it, I went from that little girl who loved listening to my dad’s fairy tale stories about a mysterious land, to a grown up wishing he would stop with the fables and just take life more seriously.
Little did I know he was just prepping me for what was yet to come.
I lift myself from the bed and search out where Ellie went to hide. I spot her filling up a basin. “Ellie, I’m sorry. It’s just. I’m just still trying to understand what is happening here. This all, it’s just not normal for me. To be hijacked to another world.”
She places the bin on the counter and walks to me. Sitting on the bed next to me, “I understand. It’s been hard for all. Ye must also understand that ye are from another world and we see ye as mysterious. The first born daughter of a prince, but not born and raised in Wren with two full bred Wren parents. This is new for us all, as well. But no matter how ye were bred, ye are also the missing piece to the future of Wren. I know this is not easy. To be brought to a world unknown to ye, but Wren is a beautiful place. Peaceful. Safe. To be given the rightful duty to bind with the prince, and become Queen, any girl in Wren would die to be in yer shoes.”
I try and see it from Ellie’s eyes. Should I feel lucky? I mean, I couldn’t even get a date back home, and here I am getting a binding marriage, a crown, and future babies! Then again, how am I supposed to feel lucky when I feel so forced? “What happens if I don’t agree?”
Ellie looks saddened by my question. She ponders my question for a bit before she speaks. “Well, I’m not certain. This has never happened before. Everyone has chosen. Lineages have been created. It is not us who chooses. It is the fate of the mark.”
“Did Faith and William both hold the mark?”
“Why, yes. Sir Willian bears it on his chest. Or so I’m told.” She blushes. “And Faith,” This time she laughs. “Lady Faith carries her mark on her bum. Right cheek to be exact.”
“Her butt cheek?” I look shocked.
“Ahh yes. When they were young in youth, they were not fancied with one another. When the time came for William to court Lady Faith, she refused. Said that she didn’t bear the mark and for him to search out another victim. Her
words.” She smiles. “So one day, Sir William became fed up with her denial, and decided to prove her wrong. They got into quarrel. It had been whispered where her mark lied. Maids talk. William had enough and stormed the castle in search of her. He was to prove her wrong. Eventually, he found her. But she was, well, indecent. She was in her room, bathing. William stormed in, and the moment she saw him she panicked and stood, trying to cover herself. Little did she know she gave him all the proof he needed and a little bit more.”
Mouth wide open, I gasp, “Oh my God, I would have killed him if that was me!”
“Well believe me, I’m sure she tried. Her anger stayed with her for many years. But as they grew older, they started falling into feelings neither knew what to do with. Eventually, their bickering was just their way of flirting or excuses for touching one another. It was quite lovely to watch them.” Ellie smiles and stands up, beginning to make the bed.
“What’s Christof’s story? Why is he not paired up with someone?” He is so wonderful, that it kills me to think he has to waste his time pretending with me, when he deserves love just as much as the next person.
“Well, that is not for me to say. I think Christof should tell ye his story.” She walks back to the dresser, placing some linens in the drawer.
“Fine, what’s Locke’s story? I can’t imagine he has just been sitting around with his junk in his pants waiting for little ole me.” I mean with the way he looks, and his build, I’m pretty sure he has the entire female population of Wren bringing muffins to his doorstep.
“Yes, well boys will be boys. Locke and Farah, his childhood friend, have been rumored to be more than just that.” Ugh, why did I ask? Instant jealousy flows through me. Is this why he doesn’t want to marry me? Because he already has someone else he is in love with?
“So is this why he doesn’t want to marry? Because he is already in love?”
“Oh, well no, Miss. He is not in love, but Miss Farah has fancied him since they were children.”
“Ellie, I’m still getting used to your lingo, define “fancied?” Looking uncomfortable, she goes on, “Well, as I told ye before, the Book of Wren says, that if the prince does not claim his princess by the end age of twenty-eight, then the prince is set free. He is set to marry who he pleases. Farah has been heard across town that when that time comes, and there is no princess to wed the Prince of Wren, it would leave her open to court with Locke. That they would marry.”
Damn, who knows where it comes from, but more jealousy spikes through my veins. I remember “Ellie, how long until Locke turns twenty-nine?”
“He will be twenty-nine by month’s end.”
“So then, he is just holding off until he turns twenty-nine so he can be set free. Then he can be with Farah,” I say, showing more emotion than I would have liked.
“Oh no, Miss. Locke is kind to her and polite, but don’t mind me saying, I am not sure he fancies her the way she does him.”
“So then, she like, follows him and knows everything he does?”
“Yes, Miss.”
Hmmm. She sounds like a modern age stalker, and I already hate her. I don’t even know why I am asking about this. The only thing Locke conjures up in me is anger. Which equates into heat. That causes a flush of hormonal fuzziness to wash over my entire darn body. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t even like him. And even if, even if, I pretended I had to stay in la la land, it wouldn’t be with him. Christof would be a much better fit than him. Much better for me. Liar. He’s kind. You want a challenge. Listens. You thrive for debate. “Oh shut up!!”
“I’m so sorry, Miss.”
“Oh, shit… I mean, I’m sorry. I was in my head. I wasn’t telling you to shut up. Please.” Ellie bows and stands, then returns to tending to her duties.
“Ellie? One last thing. They said my dad came back to see a sorcerer. Is that true?”
“That is correct. Per the word of Sir Locke, he was identified leaving her cottage.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
“I do. Just outside the gates in the small village.”
“Great, because we are paying her a visit today.”
Ellie finally listens to me and finds me an outfit not containing so many layers, a simple cotton dress with pretty embroidered stockings. I was happy to hear that once she returned from the mission I sent her on, aka placing the key back downstairs, Ellie learned that the brothers would be gone for the day researching new lands. Or crops. Who knows? It just told me that I was free of both of them to venture off and do some research of my own. I needed to speak to this sorcerer.
Leading the way, Ellie guides us outside the castle and down the stone path, just past the center of the village. The townspeople notice us and stop, staring without shame. I’m certain it has to do with Ellie. She is still a beautiful woman, even at her older age. Ha! Just kidding, they are totally staring at me. The freak show from Mars. Or Earth. Are we even still on Earth? I go to ask Ellie, when she stops. “Here we are.”
I turn to the small cottage before me. The outside is decorated with trinkets and flowers galore. “This is it?” I ask, not expecting such a vibrant setup, but more like a creepy old hut in the woods.
“This is the house of the sorcerer.” She nods and heads toward the front door. I follow her until it hits me.
“Wait!” I tug on Ellie’s shoulder. Twisting, she looks at me confused. “What if she won’t see us?”
“Well, then we leave, I’d imagine.” She turns again, and I tug a second time.
“Do you think she will know who I am?”
“I imagine so, she is a sorcerer.” Smart-ass. I finally allow her to make it to the door and as she raises her hand to knock, a burst of anxiety floods through my chest.
“Hello? Is anyone home?” I call out to the quiet house. I had to work a double because stupid Jake Winston decided not to show up for his shift at the diner. I throw my bag on the couch and head to the kitchen. My dad is sitting at the kitchen table, slumped over, his hands cupping his face. It’s then I notice the bottle of liquor next to him.
“Dad?” I call out to him, not sure he even heard me come in. “Dad, are you alright?” Again, nothing. I walk toward him, and it’s when he lifts his head that I notice he’s been crying.
“Oh no, Dad, what’s wrong. Is it Mom? Did something happen?”
“No no, Addie Bear, it’s not Mom.” He pats the chair next to him, inviting me to sit. I do as requested and take a seat next to him.
“I went and saw an old friend today.”
“Oh that’s nice.” Not sure why that would be so upsetting. “From work?”
“No, longer than that, baby. Someone I never thought I would see again.” He begins to choke up, “but I did.”
“So why do you look so upset then? Was this a bad friend?” I have never really heard of my dad talk about past friends, so I’m not sure why he is so upset. He said he never went to school, so it couldn’t be an old college friend. “Did they hurt you in some way?”
“No, baby, she didn’t hurt me. She actually helped me. I needed help and she gave me exactly what I needed. Sometimes, Addie, sometimes in life ye have to make choices. Not all will be easy. I had to make a choice today. I hope it was the right one. I love ye, ye know that right?”
He is starting to scare me. “I do, you’re starting to worry me. Are you sure there isn’t anything wrong with Mom?”
He cups my face with his warm fatherly grip. “No, baby, everything is about to be great with Mom. I think she is going to get better. And we’re going to be that family again. The one where we all go out for fun dinners and take trips. Maybe we will even move far away. To a place where no one can find us and live life however we want. How does that sound? Would ye like that, Addie?”
I look at my dad, imagining us as a family again, healthy and happy. Where there is no sickness or sadness. No long nights and early mornings. A life where the weight on everyone’s shoulders can be bearable again. “
Yeah, Dad, I would love that.” I smile. He offers a small smile in return and releases me from his grip.
“Good, baby. Good. I hope to give that to ye soon.”
He says no more. I leave him to his thoughts and head to my room. I stop and check on my mom, who seems fast asleep. I worry for my dad and the trouble that lies behind his hopeful eyes. I want that life he talks about so bad. I just hope he isn’t giving us all false hope.
Before I have a chance to abort this mission, the door flies open. While I am expecting a man with a long white beard, I know, totally stereotyping, instead I find a tiny, little woman with gray hair and pink highlights. I’m pretty sure she’s wearing some sort of Hocus Pocus t-shirt as she stands in the doorway. “The name’s Greta and yer late.”
Late? How is one late when they weren’t even expected? “I didn’t—”
“Two minutes late. Now hurry inside, before the town starts pulling out their stakes.” What? I turn around and see more townspeople creeping toward me. And shit! They have weapons. Okay, maybe just garden tools, but either way I practically push my way inside, plowing over the old lady. With Ellie quickly behind me, the door shuts on our heels.
“My, my, ye sure do bring out the best in this land.” She snickers as she walks over to her kitchen island. I follow her with my eyes as I notice a KitchenAid blender and an array of cooking ingredients. She walks over and as she stares into something, which looks like an iPad, I gape in shock. “I thought you people haven’t learned about technology yet?” I ask, mind boggled.
“Pfft.” She waves her hand at me, while scrolling down what looks like a recipe for cake pops? “There are just some things that are necessities, my girl. This new Pinterest app I have just discovered. Have ye used it? I have made everything under the sun from it! Nailed it!” she sings, as she cracks open two eggs, while two more fly up on their own, cracking themselves as they fall into the mixer.
This is not happening. My jaw hanging low, I begin to survey her little home. It’s like a DIY nightmare. Things I have seen flooding the Internet and Facebook. Mason Jars filled with colored sand, melted crayon canvases, frames filled with tons of grumpy cat pictures. Jesus. “Is that a crock-pot?”
Unlocking Adeline (Skeleton Key) Page 9