Voilà! Enjoy!
Chapter 11
The next morning I found Scott in the library. No sign of Riley. Not that I looked. Much.
Scott was reading a book on a sofa near the windows when I walked in but he put it down as soon as he saw me. I took it as a good sign that even though he didn’t remember his identity, he remembered his manners.
I took the seat opposite him. “How are you feeling this morning?”
He grimaced. “Alive, thanks to you.”
He had taken a shower sometime since his arrival and I noticed that he was in fact, a handsome man. His hair wasn’t as dark as I initially thought, not black, just a darker shade of brown. His face was very tanned from the sun he had taken in and his green eyes were vibrant, alive, as he had said. He winced slightly as he shifted positions on the sofa but all in all, the healer seemed to have taken good care of him.
“Have you recovered any of your memory yet?”
Scott shook his head slowly. “I had . . . dreams but I’m not sure exactly if they were just dreams or memories.”
I leaned forward, forearms resting on my knees. “Tell me about them.”
Scott’s gaze dropped to the carpeted floor and he frowned, trying to collect his thoughts. “It was like, impressions and thoughts. Sometimes images. You know how dreams are.”
I rolled my eyes. “Always very clear, you mean?”
His gaze met mine and he grinned. “Exactly. I kept seeing a man, but just his silhouette, telling me that he had taken me in when my parents had abandoned me. They had left me to the wild animals and he found me before.”
I leaned back slightly, thinking. Memory or strange dream?
“Then I could see a child, surrounded by the hounds that attacked us yesterday and the child was scared, crying for it’s Mama. I saw you there too, you were trying to get to me but the animals surrounded you . . .”He shook his head. “Well, you get the idea. It was like this all night.”
“Your sleep wasn’t very peaceful.”
“How about yours?”
“I dreamt of the beasties, like you did.”
Scott’s eyebrows rose. “Beasties?”
“Well, I named them Wogs, actually, for Wolf-Dogs.” I grinned, proud of myself.
“You made up a name? What are you, a writer?” He laughed but stopped when I simply nodded. “No shit! Really? Have you published anything? What are the titles, maybe I’ve read them.”
“Yes, really, I’ve published four and even if I gave you the titles, would you remember?”
“I. . guess not.”
His eyes dimmed at the reminder and his gaze dropped back to the carpet. There was serious tugging going on in my heart as I looked at him, sitting so forlorn and dejected. The stormy weather seen outside our window did nothing to ease the feelings of loneliness surrounding us both. In a way, we were more alike than we thought. Both of us were parentless for the moment, both were in new situations, surrounded by people we didn’t know and who didn’t know us. We were sleeping in unfamiliar beds and wore clothes that didn’t belong to us.
The difference was that I knew my parents, knew I’d be going home to Terra, when all this was done. And I had Riley and that made all the difference in the world to me. Or, at least, I had Riley until last night. I could feel my face tighten into a mask of fury. He had used me! He was only keeping me safe for his father!
“Shanna, what’s wrong?”
I blinked back into focus and released my face muscles. I realised I was probably a daunting site, sitting there near the window, bathed by the gloom of the storm. “Nothing, sorry. Temperature’s getting to me I guess.”
Scott looked around the library. “Besides reading, what is there to do around here?”
I shrugged. “No idea. It’s only like my fourth day here and they’ve been busy, haven’t had time to look around.”
Excitement lit his face and a boyish grin curved his lips, a smile I couldn’t help but reciprocate. “You want to search the place?”
"Like a treasure hunt or something? You do realise we’re too old for that, don’t you?”
“Says who?” Mischief now replaced the excitement and I laughed out loud.
“Sounds good, let’s go.”
The castle seemed endless but we didn’t care. As we visited and searched every room, every floor, nook and cranny, I told him all I knew of Rydon, the castle and what I’d learned about the people. I explained how the fortress changed daily, in colour and shape, and he laughed because he’d been puzzled the day before about the yellow with orange dots.
The last place we visited was the attic and the writer in me was thrilled. Although Link was one of the few historians, he said, Rydon’s whole history was also laid down on paper. Hundreds of books lined the walls of the huge attic. There were chests and boxes strewn across the floor, but in a tidy fashion, as well as old pieces of furniture that looked dusty and worn. Basically, it looked like any attic I’ve read about and only dreamt of ever visiting.
“So, you never told me why the people of the land all live in this castle only. What’s wrong with the rest of the land? Can’t it be fixed?”
I closed the door of the attic behind me, promising myself to come back later, and we headed back downstairs to the library. My voice was quiet and serious as I said, “Technically, there’s nothing wrong with the land but there have murders here for the past twenty-five years and the murderer has not been caught. The people living in this castle are all there’s left of Rydon.”
I explained to him about the discovery of the murders, following the shattering of the villages’ crystals, the subsequent hunts and searches.
There was a faraway look in Scott’s eyes when he said, “What makes you think it’s a man?”
“Excuse me?”
“You said the killings were done by a murderer, not a murderess.”
“Oh.” I paused. “Well, I really have no idea nor any opinion on the matter. I’m just repeating what I was told recently. Maybe the trackers were able to trace the gender or something.” I shrugged. “I guess it could be a woman even though everything in me screams that a woman wouldn’t kill children.”
“And men would?”
He had me there and he knew it.
I wisely changed the subject, “You hungry? Let’s go eat supper.” With all our treasure hunting, we had foregone lunch and it was time to rectify that.
Although the dining room was huge, it wasn’t big enough to accommodate everyone in the castle; therefore people didn’t eat all at the same time. Basically, they ate when they were hungry. Food was set on several tables and was kept warm with burners. Much like a buffet, people went to the tables and served themselves.
We were halfway through our meal, seated quietly at an empty table when I spoke up. “So what’s with the gloves?” I had noticed them earlier, of course, but I had thought that he was cold, possibly from his body’s weariness from the day before. At the end of the day, though, when we had run around and joked and laughed, when it was obvious he was doing fine but he was still wearing the gloves, I had to wonder.
Scott shoved a forkful of ham in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully as he flexed his left hand. Finally he said, “I’m not quite sure. I woke up this morning without them and felt completely naked. Someone had taken my clothes away last night and when I asked, I was told that yes, there had been gloves in my pockets. The healer who came to check up on me brought them with her.” He shrugged. “I still don’t remember anything but I have to trust my instincts here and they tell me that my gloves should be on my hands at all times.”
“But aren’t you warm?”
Scott shook his head slowly. “No, I’m not actually. These fit like a second skin and they breathe well. In fact, I had completely forgotten about them until you mentioned it.”
“Obviously your instincts are right; otherwise wearing them might have aggravated you during the day.”
We ate in silence as I studied his gloves. They were black, worn, and obviously made of fine leather. I wondered why he wore them and for how long he’d been wearing them daily. I glanced at my own hands, the hands I depended on as much as my imagination for my writing. What would it feel like to always have a barrier between my fingers and the keyboard? Would I still feel so at ease with my writing or would I feel like someone else was writing in my stead?
My thoughts were interrupted as Gaspar sat down heavily on the bench beside me, startling both Scott and I. The man looked tired and oh so weary.
“Gaspar?”
He wiped a hand across his forehead then focused his gaze on me. “I heard about what happened yesterday. Shayna, why hadn’t you told me you had written about him?”
“How did you know? I haven’t told anyone . . .”
“Except for Riley,” Gaspar finished my sentence. He was studying my face, why? Did he know about my fight with Riley? “Yes, Riley told me last night. But I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me at the gate when you saw me.”
I snatched my unused napkin from the table and began wringing it in my hands. “Gaspar, all this is new to me. I only had the feeling that what I’d written was real. I was only acting on instinct, you know? If I had actually stopped to think about it, I might not have went. And, incidentally, if I had stopped to tell you about it, I would have had to think about it. I probably would have blown it over, thought I was over reacting.”
“Have you ever in your life been prone to exaggerations or over reacting?”
I paused, thought, then shook my head slowly. “Not that I can think of, no.”
“Then why would you have been so quick to disparage your instincts?”
“Because all this is new for her,” Scott answered softly.
Gaspar turned his head slowly and locked gazes with Scott. Bright blue eyes met vibrant green ones and sparks sizzled between these two. I cocked my head to the right, trying to understand what was going on. If this had been a scene from my novel, I’d have to say that the two men were trying to establish their authority, their rightful place. But in what? In my life? In the castle? Gaspar was obviously the head honcho around here and Scott was, well, taking refuge here.
Unless . . . I mentally tried to pull back from the situation. Forget that Gaspar had flung himself in front of a knife to save my parents, forget that the very essence of Scott called to me. I studied them with my mind’s eye, tried to view the situation from Gaspar’s shoes.
Hundreds of people had died over the past almost three decades. No one knew how or why or even had a clue who the murder –or murderess- was. Now, after twenty-five years, the long lost Princess –me- arrived with her family and wrote of a lost man. The intrepid young woman –still talking about me- ran out of the safety of the castle to save the lost man. So, what? I had to assume that Gaspar trusted me implicitly. He trusted my parents, had sent Riley to find us and bring us ‘home’, which he had. I couldn’t have planned any of that, not that Riley would find me, so would the trackers and that we would be brought here. So, if the old man had any suspicions, it would be of Scott.
My mind’s eye turned to the young man. He was a stranger to me; he seemed to be a few years older, maybe Riley’s age. Besides his physical appearance and his manners, I knew nothing of the man I had spent the day with. Then again, he knew nothing of himself either. Or so he said.
I mentally grimaced. Was I being my regular paranoid self or were those the thoughts coursing through Gaspar’s head like a raging river after a storm? Speaking of storm . . .
“Gaspar, have you heard of my parents yet?”
Strangely enough, there were no windows in this room so I couldn’t see the outside but the occupants all had the same distracted, preoccupied look they had worn all day. I assumed the sun wasn’t out, blinding everyone with its belated presence.
The older man seemed to have difficulty pulling his gaze from Scott’s. Suddenly, both blinked and looked around dazedly. Gaspar blinked rapidly, apparently trying to bring me into focus. Okay, that was weird, what happened?
“Um, your parents?” He shook his head to clear it. “No, no we haven’t.
My shoulders sagged. I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but I felt abandoned by my parents. They had just left me here, dumping me before departing. As if they had sent me to the babysitters before heading for a long-awaited vacation.
As if sensing my thoughts, Gaspar said softly, “They had wanted to take a trip down memory lane, Shayna, you mustn’t be angry with them. They couldn’t have known there would be a storm, even we never know it in advance.”
“But there’s a murderer on the loose!” I snapped, angry he had guessed my unease.
“Yes, there is but they are not alone; they left with one of my portals. They can get out quickly if they need to.”
“If they’re with a portal, why haven’t they come home?”
Gaspar seemed to be searching for his words as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We’ve explained it before; they magic here is taken from the earth, from the land. We draw from the elements and when the elements are this unpredictable and violent, our magic doesn’t respond as well. Our portal might try to jump to us and end up bouncing back there or to a completely different village.” Gaspar shrugged. “I’m not worried about them. As soon as there’s a break in the storm, our portal will bring them back.”
I nodded but I was still uneasy. Gaspar rose but I suddenly remembered what I’d been meaning to ask him and I laid a hand on his arm. “Gaspar, the other day in the council room, my father spoke of training me because I was inexperienced. Is that going to happen? Should I go train with the children?”
I felt Scott’s eyes on me. He was probably wondering how untrained I was, considering I had written down his arrival and had found him then patched him up.
Gaspar chuckled and laid a hand on mine, still on his arm. “I was serious when I said that you didn’t need training, Princess. You are on a different level that anyone else is and I think that any training you will do you must do on your own.” He sat back down so I wouldn’t have to crane my neck to look up to him. “Take yesterday. You reacted solely on instinct. You wrote, realised that what you had was the real thing and you ran for it. There’s nothing wrong with your magic as a writer nor your instincts. You might want to work on that self-confidence of yours or you may not obey your instincts when you truly need to.” He patted my hand affectionately before rising again.Gaspar turned his gaze to Scott. “Have you remembered anything yet? Do you know if there’s anyone we should inform of your whereabouts?”
“Not yet. At least, nothing concrete.” He shook his head. “I’ve been dreaming but I don’t know whether they represent my life, or if they’re simply dreams.”
Gaspar rubbed his chin again and said, “Maybe I should introduce you to some people who are experienced in deciphering dreams. They may be able to help look further into them and discover your past.”
“That would be very helpful,” Scott said.
I realised I had shredded the poor napkin I’d been wringing and I dropped the pieces of it in my plate as I glanced at Scott beneath my lashes. Why did I get the feeling that although he’d said it would be helpful, that he didn’t really mean it? Had Scott lied to Gaspar? Had he begun to remember? If yes, what was it in his past that forced him to lie to Gaspar, the man who had taken him in?
I shook my head, trying to clear it. Riley must be right; I was completely paranoid although unlike him, I didn’t blame my parents for it. I blamed work, if there was any blame to dish out at all. I froze. Work! Had David gotten the other night guy to replace me? Was he worried about me? What about Natalie? Had they gotten the trackers? If yes, what had Baldy and Blondie told the cops? That my guard-dog was actually a shape-shifter from another world? Right . . They were probably locked up in a loony-bin. No, they had probably escaped before the cops and David had arrived. My heart wrenched at the thought of what those thugs might have done to my boss if they were still in the store. I felt guilty for not thinking of him before, of the consequences of my hasty departure. In my defence, I had about a million other things on my mind, but still . . .
“Hey,” Scott said softly, laying a warm hand on my own.
My gaze snapped to his. “Hey, what?”
“You seemed to be a million miles away. You okay?”
I shrugged, looked around and noticed Gaspar was gone. “I guess so. Just tired, I think.”
My smile would probably win the lame award if there was ever nominations for that category. I felt guilty about my suspicions of Scott and although Gaspar had told me to trust my instincts, I had no idea what they were telling me about the man facing me, a kind smile stretching his lips.
“Me too. I was putting up a brave front but I think I’d like to call it a night.”
I glanced at my watch and discovered it was barely past seven. I chuckled. “We have to the most boring people in the castle, heading for bed this early.”
We rose from the table and brought our plates to the kitchen counter. “In our defence,” Scott said, “we’ve had a rough few days and you’re still adjusting to being awake during the day.”
I tapped my chin. “Yes, I like that excuse, I’ll go for that one.”
We grinned and left the dining hall. I headed alone upstairs after confirming that Scott could take a few books from the library up to his room. I entered my room and heaved a sigh. Alone at last. For the past five years, I’d gotten use to being alone most of the time; I slept during the day and locked everyone else out at night. I had my parents, yes, but only in the morning and on weekends. But with no friends and no outside activity, I wasn’t used to entertaining anyone else but myself. Oh, and Riley while he’d been a dog.
A ball of guilt and pain lodged itself in my throat and I felt tears welling up. I hadn’t seen Riley all day and I was afraid I’d ruin any chances of . . . Well, discovering where things might have went with him.
Had I exaggerated the night before? Riley had lost his mother when he’d been very young and his father had pushed him away to mourn. According to my mother, he had attached himself to our family but we left soon after. What had happened to the small boy afterwards? Had his father shaken himself up and taken care of his child? Had Grace cared for him? Either way, his father was all he’d had left and when finding that he had almost lost him, he’d made a desperate oath; he would find the missing Royal Magicals and bring them back. He would search and find the killer who had caused such grief.
I would have done the same thing in his place, I thought. Oh Riley, I’m sorry.
Feeling heavy with guilt and with pain, I curled up on the bed, facing the bedroom door. My tears were streaming down my face freely but I did nothing to stop them or wipe them away. My gaze remained steady on the door as I hoped and prayed that one night away had been enough to calm Riley down. Maybe, if I prayed hard enough, he would come see me and he and I could patch things up. Maybe.
xxx
