A Curious Twist of Lime

by Heather R. Blair

  The Elders file out one by one, Kolya on their heels. With an effort, I loosen my death grip on the table and get to my feet. Stephen steps aside without a word as I make my way to the latticed window. Whatever thoughts he has, he’s managed to silence them, too, and I’m grateful for that. There’s too much noise in my own head at the moment.

  I look down into the gardens. Alice is sitting under a willow with Jada, both of them laughing in early twilight. Some passer-bys give them surly looks, but the servant girl is pretty good at surly herself, and no one does more than glower before walking hastily on.

  A few even seemed intrigued by the pair. The blond who I saw in Alice’s room the day she went missing sidles over at one point, eyes downcast. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but while she doesn’t join them, she does go away with a bemused look on her face.

  It should give me hope. I know my people can change, given time. I know it.

  Thing is, time is the one thing I don’t have.

  “It’s over, Georg. You can’t take a human bride. I tried to warn you.” Samuel’s voice is sharp and clear, even over the slap of my boots pacing up and down his chambers a few hours later.

  It’s just him, Agatha and me. Stephen is gone, back to the Den, and his own mate. The day is fading fast and I’m still looking for a way to mine.

  “A witch might have been acceptable”—the king continues even as Aggie flinches— “but a human, never. If I name you heir and you take her over the Elders’ objections, they will name Kolya their successor. If you push your claim, that will mean war.”

  “And you think Kolya would win?”

  He looks at me, those once-sharp eyes dull and impossibly tired. “You don’t? You’re the better choice. The Elders know it as well as I do. But the people, Georg. They don’t know you the way they know him. They’d follow you if you were crowned, sure enough, because they trust me. And I believe you’d win their hearts, in time. I always have. But take Alice to wife, and they’ll never give you that chance. They’ll flock to Kolya and his poison like bees to honey.”

  “The prejudice can’t be that ingrained,” I insist, thinking of what I saw in the gardens tonight. “They just need to get to know her. Hell, Aggie, even you like her now, and you don’t like anyone.”

  My aunt presses her lips together. “I admit, the human has a way about her.” She sighs at the look on my face. “Very well, yes, I like her. But that doesn’t mean she’s a worthy mate for a king.”

  “She’s worthy to me,” I growl.

  She sighs. “She’s timid still, weak. They’ve already hurt her. Do you really want to see them tear her apart, bit by bit?”

  I shake my head. “I won’t let them. And they’ll see it, eventually. All of you will.”

  Aggie turns away as Samuel sighs again. “You have more faith in them than I do.” His face drawn and weary, he lies back against his pillows. “I know it’s hard. But this is the choice you have to make. You want things to change, then take the lead and change them, cub.” He hasn’t called me ‘cub’ in years. Samuel’s eyes close, even as his voice carries on. “The choices of kings can never be about what we want, but what our people need. I thought you understood that.”

  So had I.

  No, I don’t regret breaking the vow that led to the werewolves’ attack, and I don’t regret losing Seph or even my own life. How could I when it led me here, to Alice?

  But I do regret how my people suffered for my stubbornness. Stephen’s leadership averted outright disaster, steering the New World bruins away from a bloody war with the wolves, but the consequences here could be far more severe.

  Kolya. The continuation of the old guard, a slow and steady extinction.

  And if he did kill all those heirs before me . . . even worse.

  Civil war, a thing unheard of in all of bruin history.

  I can’t risk that.

  I have to face the truth—I didn’t end up in Niflheim because of a broken heart or because I was trying to find myself, but because I was trying to escape the weight of what I’d done to my people.

  The guilt of a king who failed his sworn duty by making the wrong choice.

  The self-serving choice.

  If I’m going to be king, the king I want and need to be, I can’t afford to be selfish anymore. This is a turning point for my whole race. If I walk away, Kolya will win the crown. And nothing will change. They’ll continue to fester amongst themselves, becoming ever more isolated and distrustful.

  If I choose to stay and claim Alice, it will mean war. It will mean death and scars that will last for lifetimes. Win or lose, what kind of choice is that?

  If I want what’s best for them, I can’t have what’s best for me.

  Or Alice.

  The shadows are long and Samuel is already lost to sleep before I get to my feet and shake him awake one last time.

  21

  The throne room is still and dark.

  I left Samuel and the Elders less than half an hour ago, right as the bells tolled midnight. The announcement was witnessed, signed and sealed. I am the heir apparent and, as of today, acting bruin king of the Old World. But not even the bitterness on Kolya’s face can ease the pain of what comes next.

  Familiar light footsteps ring out and I look up. The instant our eyes meet, her pace slows and a shadow veils her pretty face.

  “Alice, we need to talk.”

  “I had a feeling.” Her voice is small and it makes my heart beat faster. She bows her head and drops a low curtsy. “It suits you. The throne. I take it they found me less suitable.”

  She knows.

  Our bond may not be complete yet, but I can feel her heartbeat just as strongly as I can feel my own, and I can feel the way it knocks against her ribs, light and scared.

  “I want to—” I lick my lips and try again, the words sticking in my throat. “I’d like to make you an offer.”

  She sways. It’s slight, just the barest movement before she catches herself, but that’s all it takes for me to know that I’ve broken her heart.

  “Alice.” I don’t say please, because kings don’t beg, but I’m begging here, and we both know it.

  She lifts a hand, fingers trembling. I want to run forward, to wrap her in my arms and make it all better, but I can’t. Gritting my teeth, I wait.

  And wait.

  “Men don’t make ‘offers’ to women they love.” The whispered words fill the chamber like a death knell. She looks up at last and my throat closes at the haunted expression on her face. “You said you loved me.”

  “I do.”

  She closes her eyes, and the tears that slide down her cheeks are like acid in my soul. “I don’t have a lot of practical knowledge about such things. But being a mistress—well.” Her lips twist as she opens her eyes again. Wet and dark, those once-bright pools threaten to drown me all over again. “It’s a bit like being a whore, isn’t it?”

  Rage spears through me, hot and violent. “That’s not how I feel about you and you damn well know it.”

  “But that’s how you’ll let them treat me.” Her breathing is ragged now, the words coming out in bits and pieces instead of her usual perfect articulation. “They’ll whisper about the king’s kept woman behind your back, and they’ll be right. Because that choice you made tells everyone that I’m not good enough, for them, or you.”

  “That’s enough.” The words crash through the room, echoing off the stone as I get to my feet. The shadow of my bear climbs the walls, huge and silent, waiting.

  She watches me stalk down the dais. Her cheeks are pale, her delicate hands clenched tight in the folds of her skirts. I take one of those hard, little fists between both my palms. She’s ice-cold and shaking, her eyes bright with more tears she’s too stubborn to let fall.

  Her lips part when I go to my knees right there at the foot of the throne. “Don’t,” she whispers. “Goddamn it, Georg. Please don’t.”

  The pain in those words takes my breath away, but I have
to say this.

  I have to make her see the truth before it’s too late.

  “I can’t give you a ring, Alice—and that fucking kills me.” She doesn’t know how literal those words are. Doing this to her has my bear clawing at me from the inside out, desperate to repair the damage I’m doing, to make it right.

  But this is as right as it gets for us.

  “I chose a woman over my people once. It was my choice and I own it, but I can’t do it again.” I squeeze her hand between mine. “This is too important.”

  She brushes my beard with her free hand. At her touch, a sweet rush of relief surges through my chest, easing the tightness there. ““I understand.” Then she lets her fingers fall. “But this is my choice to own, too—and I won’t make this one.”

  The finality in her tone sends me reeling. I grit my teeth and focus on breathing. Just like I taught her. “Why?”

  “Because I refuse to be hidden away ever again,” she says quietly. “Not even in the name of love.” She shakes her head, looking around the room and I know she’s remembering the ball, the whispers and the sidelong looks. “If I do this, accept this role—what kind of heroine am I?”

  I pull her knuckles to my lips. “A practical one. Modern life isn’t a fairy tale, Alice.”

  “I don’t want a fairy tale. I want a better story, remember?”

  I remember. Where the woman is brave and strong and saves the guy just as often as he saves her.

  But she can’t save either of us from duty.

  “Don’t worry.” She tries to pull away. “I won’t make a scene. I’ll leave tonight. Quietly.”

  My jaw tightens along with my grip on her hand. “Like hell you will.”

  A beat of silence. “Will you cage me, too?” she whispers.

  Another tear finally slides down her cheek and I close my eyes. “Do I have to?”

  Her fingers brush my beard again, soft as a fairy wing. “If you expect me to stay, then yes.”

  Gods, I can’t take it. “Fine,” I growl, getting to my feet and shoving her hand away even though losing that small connection is like losing the ability to breathe. What I really want to do is yank her into my arms right here and now and say fuck it all.

  But I’ve already made my choice. And apparently, she’s made hers.

  “Fine. Fucking go then.”

  I stride back to the throne, ignoring the muffled sob behind me. It’s the whisper-soft goodbye that hitches my step and almost brings me to my knees.

  But when I turn around again, Alice is already gone.

  22

  I’m almost home.

  Traveling is hard and scary when you’ve never so much as taken a train before. Agatha insisted on coming with me. Actually, I think Georg insisted, but I didn’t ask. She even got me a cell phone of my own. I suspect Georg had a hand in that, too, but again with the not asking.

  The tiny box is astonishing. I’m still not convinced there isn’t magic of some sort involved, even though Agatha swears otherwise.

  By the time I’m standing outside of a village called Daresbury, I’m exhausted.

  Of course, it would be cold and raining. I pull up my slicker and shiver. Not that I mind the weather. It’s a good match to my mood.

  We left Hearthstone three days ago. The very same night Georg made his ‘offer.’ I haven’t seen him since that awful goodbye in the throne room.

  That heartsick feeling of disappointment hasn’t faded a whit, and I don’t expect it ever will. Trudging down this muddy, wet road, watching the raindrops roll off my slicker to splash against the sodden ground, I play the game I’ve been playing since the day I left.

  What is Georg doing now?

  Is it raining in Hearthstone? Or is the sun out? Shining through the waterfalls and turning them into gold. Streaming into the library where I realized I loved him for the first time. Playing peekaboo through the willow where he used his hands on me. Is it trailing over the pillows in his bed where . . .

  I stop, blinking at the mud oozing around my boots as the question I ask most often when playing this painful game whispers in my head.

  Does he miss me?

  I miss him so terribly sometimes I think the emptiness will swallow me whole, and there’ll be nothing left of Alice at all. I’ve grown to cherish my tiny circle of friendly acquaintances like a dragon does the jewels in their hoard. Aggie, Jett, Stephen, Jada—even Konstantin.

  But none of them are Georg and they can’t fill the hole he left inside of me. With a sigh, I lift my head. Maybe my home can.

  I’m almost there. I have to be. I reach into my pocket to check the dot I’ve been following since Aggie first programed it into the phone for me. She’s back at the bed and breakfast in town. I wanted to come alone. At least this first time. She wasn’t happy, but in the end, she relented.

  Something in the shape of this hill gives me pause. I forget about the phone as my pulse picks up. Thump thump.

  Thump.

  My feet move faster, mud flying up to dot my slicker. I barely notice because I’m running now. Sliding and slipping, I make my way to the top of the rise. There’s a low wall of white stones in front of me. It winds down into the fog, marking the property line, but I don’t need it to tell me where I am.

  Holding my breath, I place a hand on the wall and peer over it.

  Home.

  It’s not at all the way I remember it in my head. The hedges are black in the gloom and overgrown. The lake from my dreams is a dull grey expanse at the foot of a soggy hill. The manor tucked back against a stand of trees is still beautiful, though. Imposing and dark, but it calls to me. Especially the window third from the left on the second level. Diamond paned, it seems to wink at me even through the rain.

  Come away from the window and read to Papa before dinner, there’s a lass.

  The sound of his pocket watch ticking in my ear.

  No one lives there now, according to Mr. Ainsley at the B&B. But the sign in the drive is clear.

  The Liddell House

  Est. 1799

  Slowly, I lift my leg and step over the low wall of stones, swallowing against the lump in my throat.

  “I can’t believe I’m really here,” I whisper.

  “Believe it, Alice.”

  I jump at the familiar voice, mud squelching under my boots.

  Konstantin steps from the shadows of the hedge. “You’ve found your way back at last.”

  “Did Georg send you?” I snap.

  He folds his arms, a slight smile twisting his lips. “In a manner of speaking.”

  Of course he did. Because how in the world could poor little Alice be expected to find her own way home? Then I shake my head, rain flying everywhere. That is unfair. No matter what Georg has done, he’s always believed in me. More than I have believed in myself.

  That painful emptiness tugs at my chest again as Konstantin looks around, nudging a pile of stones with his foot. It used to be a birdbath, I remember suddenly. I liked to watch them clean themselves. The goldfinches were my favorite. Ignoring Konstantin, I start up the hill. I want to see the house before it gets dark.

  “I would’ve come anyway.”

  Konstantin’s words have me turning, almost sliding again on the slick grass. “Why in the world would you do that?”

  “Because I can’t afford to lose you again.”

  “Lose me again?” My head is starting to ache, but not from the thunder or the perpetual gloom. The silence seems to weigh on me, even the falling of the raindrops muted and slow.

  Through the fog and mist, his smile raises the fine hair on the backs of my arms. “Did you think your Master would let you go so easily?” he says softly.

  I shake my head, backing up, away from him. “No. It can’t be you. I would’ve known. Your voice—”

  “An effect tied to the mask.” He shrugs, then seems to blur at the edges before tossing something at me. “I paid a pretty penny for the thing, I’m glad to know it wasn’t in vain.” />
  I catch the mask, staring down at it. Black velvet, lined in silver. The mask of my nightmares. My stomach is churning, but my head is silent. No drums, no ticking, just this oppressive silence.

  When the foul thing finally falls from my numb fingers, Konstantin tilts his head. “Shall we go inside? You’re cold, and we have so very much to talk about.”

  “I’d rather not,” I whisper. The lack of sound is making me dizzy, or fear is. I don’t know what it means. I’ve grown so used to echoes in my head whenever danger is near, I can’t understand this silence. What does it mean?

  “It wasn’t a request.” He lifts a hand. “Now—”

  Out of choices, I simply fly at him. But my feet can’t get any purchase on the soaked earth and when I swing wildly at his face, the mercenary simply sidesteps and grabs my wrist in one hard hand, twisting it behind my back.

  In vain, I wait for the familiar thrumming to fill my ears—the beating drums that always appear when I am threatened—but there is only the sound of Konstantin’s harsh breathing in my ear.

  “Your power doesn’t work right here, no more than my own.” He sounds amused as his fingers tighten on my wrist, pushing it higher until a white-hot pain engulfs my shoulder. I swallow a sob as he marches me up the hill. “Regardless, I am stronger than you and you’d do well not to push my patience any further.”

  In front of the deep-red door, he releases me to kick at the lock. With a splintering crack, the door swings open.

  I stare at him. “You know?”

  He shoves me inside. “Latched on to that right away, didn’t you?” He shakes his head and shuts the door without turning on a light.

  I suppose there is no power with no one living here. The greyish gloom outside does little to penetrate the darkness inside. It smells musty and old, but, crazily enough, familiar. But I’ve no time for memories. I can barely make out Konstantin’s face; it’s like he’s wearing the mask all over again.