Chapter 5

5

T he grand hall is bustling with noise. The soldiers are raising their glasses and toasting to celebrate the defeat of the Dark One and the beginning of a new era.

Our welcome into the Capital was impressive. As soon as people saw our entourage, they threw flowers at us, chanting the hymn of Kiya and wishing us health for an eternity.

The streets had cleared so we could make our way to the palace where we had immediately been sent off to the grand dining hall. They even took our horses to feed and clean them.

I could not imagine a better welcome. It's evident that the people of Akkaya cherish the army and celebrate them for their brave deeds, especially after such a dark time.

But it's especially now that the Dark One is dead, everyone is ready to party and forget about all the death and gloom still existent beyond the Capital's walls.

"Let me get that." I smile at one of the servers as I pick up a large jug of mead. Big mistake. I almost topple it over as I wobble on my feet, seeking some balance. Damn it! This is too heavy.

I manage to haul it to the edge of the hall, where I put it down for a moment to seemingly—and accurately—get my bearings together. I pretend to breathe harshly as I fiddle with the pink root in my pocket, squishing it between my fingers before I stealthily drop it in the jug.

Everyone is too busy to pay attention to me, especially as some conflicts arise between soldiers. With so much testosterone in the room, it's no wonder they'd eventually do a dick measuring contest.

I linger around for a few more minutes to make sure the juice from the pink root has mixed with the mead before I grab it once more and head to our table.

"Thank you everyone for bringing me here. You have my undying gratitude," I address the soldiers as I pour each a cup, one by one. Luckily, each unit has its own table, so the damage will be localized. I do feel bad about the other soldiers who are innocent victims in all of this, but I also don't want to get myself killed anytime soon.

My lips are stretched in a perpetual smile as I hand Ivan his full glass. To my surprise, he barely glances at me. He's busy arguing with another soldier. He angrily downs the glass, and I'm quick to replenish it.

Now it's a waiting game.

I take my seat at the end of the table and sneak PomPom some food while I slowly pick at my own.

My stomach growls in protest.

I'm hungry. I really am. But how can I eat when my fate is currently hanging in balance? I won't be able to swallow anything until I see Ivan passed out.

The moments trickle by and my anxiety mounts.

A loud cheer erupts in the hall, followed by a chant.

"Long live the Queen! Long live the Queen!"

Fuck.

With a wave of a hand, Lady Jocelyn silences everyone.

Heels click against the pavement as she steps inside the hall.

She's wearing a light pink gown with frilly lace around the collar, sleeves, and hem. Her waist is accentuated by a thick belt with polka dots— absolutely amazing! I am, of course, taking mental notes of her outfit to go to my tailor and have a similar one done.

Her light hair flows down her back in perfect ringlets. She's even wearing a cute headband with a pink bow at the center. Oh my, I think I'm going to die of jealousy. I need that asap!

Bad moment, Barbi. You're in danger of being discovered and subsequently killed. It's not the time to admire Lady J's fashion choices—perfect as they are.

At that moment, Ivan's eyes find mine, a sly smile curving at his lips.

He stands up.

Oh no! Goddamn it! He's going to ruin everything!

I blink furiously as I will my brain to think of something. Quick.

He gets out of his seat.

"Your Majesty. I have…"

A loud, loud crack erupts in the air.

Ivan stills, his eyes wide.

More sounds follow before he doubles over, his expression strained.

My brows knit together in confusion. For a moment, I don't understand what's happening. But as a pungent smell wafts toward me, everything makes sense.

I gag.

He tries to take another step, only to fall to his knees in the middle of the aisle, right in front of the queen.

"Your… Majesty…" he stammers, his eyes bulging in his sockets. He opens his mouth to speak again, but no sound comes out—except from his butt.

Oh my!

My hand flies to my mouth in shock.

Not only does the smell intensify, but now it's accompanied by visuals too. The previously gray pavement is stained with a dark green, verging on brown, semi-liquid concoction.

Gasps erupt in the crowd before laughter follows. But it's not long before more people from our table start exhibiting the same symptoms, but luckily not as severe as Ivan—as in, they actually manage to leave the table and go to the bathroom.

"What is this repulsive creature doing at my feet?" Lady Jocelyn thunders, effectively silencing everyone.

She stares at Ivan's pitiful diarrhea-ridden self and makes an expression of disgust.

"I… I…" Ivan is still trying to speak, but each attempt only pushes more foul liquid from his butt.

Damn it! Of course the pink root wouldn't match the description from the books either. Oh, well. Better something than nothing.

Although… Somehow now I feel sorry for him, and the rest of the collateral victims of my little experiment—being stuck on a toilet is not fun.

Being so young, Willy was the only one who didn't drink any mead—thank God for that. I would have hated for this to happen to him, too.

"What is the meaning of this? Guards! Take him away this instant! Throw him in solitary for a month for his insolence," she commands in the most supercilious voice I've ever heard.

I gawk at her, unsure whether this is a dream—more like a nightmare—or not.

Yeah, this is gross. But surely this is not the way to deal with someone who is clearly suffering? Even I feel sorry for the pain evident in Ivan's features—and he threatened my baby, which in itself is unforgivable.

The Lady Jocelyn I know, however, would have asked for help or offered him some relief with her powers—she is a healer, isn't she? Instead, she's sentencing him to a month in solitary?

My mouth hangs open in shock. Disbelief fills me to the core.

At the worst possible moment, however, PomPom jumps from under the table, sniffing the pavement and heading toward Ivan.

"PomPom, no!" I call out. I know what she's going to do and it breaks my heart I didn't think to hold her in my arms to stop her from sniffing that foul substance.

I catch her just in time, wrapping my arms around her. But as I slowly raise my gaze, I meet that of my idol, Lady Jocelyn, for the first time.

I have to control myself to not faint or fangirl too hard. But one look at her expression and I know neither would be welcomed.

She doesn't look happy.

Damn!

That is until her eyes take in the cute fluffiness that is PomPom and her expression softens—slightly.

"Oh, you pretty little thing," she coos, leaning down and patting PomPom on the head.

"Lady Jocelyn." I incline my head, keeping my eyes on the ground. "If I may have a word with you in private?"

"And who are you?" she asks in a disinterested tone.

One glance around and I note that everyone is staring at us with great interest, likely eavesdropping on our conversation.

"My name is Barbara Bancroft. This is my PomPom. We are from a world beyond Akkaya and we need your help to return there," I say succinctly.

As expected, my phrasing piques her interest.

"A world beyond Akkaya?" She lowers her voice so only I can hear her.

I nod.

"I have heard many things about your magical prowess and that of Sir Damien. It is why I have come to Kiya to meet you in hopes you may be able to help me return home," I whisper.

She assesses me with shrewd eyes.

"Follow me," she declares, turning on her heel and going out of the grand hall.

I trail closely behind her, praying she'll take pity on me. The Lady Jocelyn I know and admire would help me in a heartbeat. But I'm afraid my books may have been wrong on that count too.

As soon as we exit the grand hall, a dozen palace guards follow a few steps behind, their eyes trained on me in case I make any wrong moves. Their proximity stresses me out, but I suppose this is normal considering she's the Queen.

Lady Jocelyn leads me down a gilded hallway filled with statues of her and the King. Even the marble columns have their faces etched into them. And as we switch from the main hallway to a smaller one, the walls are littered with paintings of them. Few are with the other mages. Most are of Lady Jocelyn and Sir Damien, either together or by themselves.

A shudder goes down my back.

They wasted no time in filling every corner of the castle with their likeness.

"Uhm, where are we going?" I ask when we turn to yet another hallway.

This place is dizzyingly large. And I've been cursed with absolutely no spatial awareness, which means that if I tried to escape, I'd likely get lost.

Yeah, that's not at all assuring.

"There are ancient texts that speak of portals between worlds," she explains in a sharp tone.

"I am not lying. I promise," I hurry to say. "I truly am not from here. I was at home getting ready for bed and the next thing I know, I ended up in a field in Akkaya," I explain.

She stops in her tracks, pivoting to look at me.

"I believe you are not from here," she says, her words measured. "I can tell by your speech."

"My…speech?" I frown.

"There is a glamor around you."

She waves her hand, and shimmery particles surround me.

I blink repeatedly.

Suddenly, she closes her fist and the mist disappears.

" Ibnfiorngorngrginrig …" She opens her mouth to speak, but her words sound like gibberish.

"What?"

A smile curves her lips.

With a snap of a finger, the mist returns around me, dissipating until it can no longer be seen by the naked eye.

"We do not speak the same language," she notes. "Whoever sent you here must have also bespelled you to be able to speak and understand our language."

"You mean… Someone sent me here?"

She nods, pursing her lips.

"I do not recognize this magic signature, so I cannot say who could have done it. But if someone did this, it can be undone."

That sounds reassuring.

"We will need Damien's help, of course," she continues.

"Of course."

Without another word, she turns, continuing down the hallway.

"Thank you so much for helping." I feel compelled to add when the silence becomes overwhelming. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm a big fan."

She clicks her tongue, but she doesn't reply.

Awkward!

"I even got my PomPom because of you," I offer because I hate awkward silences.

PomPom, hearing her name, lets out a small sound of approval.

That seems to get her attention. Turning her head, she raises a brow as she glances at my dog.

"You have good taste."

That's all she says. Then she continues walking.

I swallow hard. Anxiety pierces through me as my illusions about this legendary meeting are slowly getting shattered.

In my dreams before Akkaya, we might have been BFFs. But now that I've interacted with her, I truly don't know how to feel.

There's only this slight disappointment that is taking root inside of me—this sense of feeling like a fish out of water.

From the first time I read about Lady Jocelyn, I've wanted to be like her. I've modeled my entire life to be like her. She was my role model and what I aspired to be. But now, meeting the real thing…

I briefly close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

She's a Queen now. She has an important position, so she cannot act casually with anyone. Yes, that must be it. I can't judge her based on a small interaction only.

We walk for a few more minutes before we reach a private wing of the castle that's teeming with guards.

She waves her hand around, and the servants open a wooden double door for her. I follow closely behind her, and the door closes with a loud thud after us.

My heart hammers in my chest as the moment I'll meet my second idol slowly approaches. Sir Damien has been my crush for as long as I remember and I am beyond curious to see what he looks like. But I'm also trembling from my nerves since he is an absolute legend—the most powerful mage Akkaya has ever seen.

"Put clothes on, Damien. There is something you need to hear," Lady Jocelyn calls out.

There's a ruffle of sheets and a few gasps and squeaks.

I raise my gaze, my eyes widening in shock.

Two naked girls jump from his bed, searching for their clothes. They giggle and joke around in hushed tones as they dash past us and out of the room. They never once acknowledge Lady Jocelyn or feel any shame for whatever they were doing with her husband.

Sir Damien is with his back to us as he tugs at his pants— butt naked . He turns as he puts on a shirt but leaves it unbuttoned.

His blond hair falls to his shoulders, curling slightly at the tips. His eyes are a deep blue shade, his features just as chiseled as I would have imagined.

Yet instead of butterflies in my stomach, all I feel is disgust and a deep-seated discomfort.

He has a bored expression on his face as he turns to his wife. But as his gaze flies past her to me, his eyes glint with interest.

"What do we have here, Jos? Don't tell me you brought me a gift." He lets out a laugh as he heads over to his table to pour himself a drink. "You could have at least waited until I was done with the other two, you know…"

"Cut it out, Damien. That's not why she's here." Lady Jocelyn rolls her eyes. "She's from another world," she adds pointedly—as if referencing a previous conversation.

Sir Damien stills.

"Is that so?" he asks as he swirls his drink in his glass, leaning lazily against the table and watching us.

"I believe she's speaking the truth," she continues, and their gazes connect. For a moment, neither says anything as they merely stare at each other.

Are they…communicating telepathically? Well, that's at least one thing the books got right.

"Barbara, is it?" He suddenly smiles. He is a handsome man. The descriptions in the books had not done him justice. But his smile is bleak. Instead of making me more comfortable, it does the opposite. The urge to squirm and leave right away is overwhelming, as is the fear that I might have gotten myself into something dangerous.

"You can call me Barbi," I add nervously.

"Barbi, then."

His smile widens.

My discomfort increases.

"Tell me about this world of yours."

"I'm not sure what you mean…"

"Describe it for me."

I look at Lady Jocelyn for confirmation and she nods, urging me to talk.

"We call it Earth. It's far larger than Akkaya and there are a lot of countries. We don't have magic, but we have technology. That sort of fulfills the same purpose. I come from the USA. It's one of the biggest countries and…"

I do my best to explain my country, our culture, economy, and anything else that might seem relevant. Lady Jocelyn and Sir Damien listen quietly, their expressions rapt with interest.

"And how many people did you say were on this Earth?" Sir Damien asks pensively.

"Around eight billion."

His eyes widen. Lady Jocelyn gasps.

"Eight billion ?"

I nod.

"Akkaya has a few hundred million at best," he adds quietly.

"Damien, this is…" Lady Jocelyn's gaze connects with his.

"It is, indeed," he agrees.

"So, uhm, I was wondering if you might be able to help me get back there. I'm not exactly sure how I ended up here but?—"

"Of course," Sir Damien cuts me off. "We would be honored to help you find a way to your world."

"So it is possible to go back?" I whisper in relief.

"There are portals that connect to other worlds across Akkaya. We will get you back," Sir Damien responds casually. "I will need to confer with my advisers. Until then, you shall, of course, be a guest at my court. It is not every day that we have an otherworldly guest." He chuckles.

I nod slowly, though a niggling feeling tells me this was far too…easy?

"Jocelyn will show you to a guest suite. Why don't we reunite for dinner so you can tell me more about this Earth?"

"I can do that." I offer a tentative smile. "Thank you."

"Don't even mention it." He waves his hand.

His gaze connects with that of Lady Jocelyn and something passes between them. After a moment, Lady Jocelyn nods and turns to me, plastering a smile on her face.

"I will show you to your suite now," she says, all but kicking me out of Sir Damien's room.

Not wanting to be ungrateful or rude, I follow her without protest.

The suite she assigns to me isn't far. It's at the end of the corridor, some six doors down from their own chambers. The room is a pleasant combination of brown and off-white. There is a king-sized bed in the middle of the room, an adjoining bathroom, and a sitting room with double doors that lead to a balcony.

I let PomPom out of my arms and she races across the suite to get familiar with the surroundings.

"A maid will come to bring you new clothes and food for you and PomPom." As usual, her voice softens as she mentions my baby. "Please have some rest and we will reconvene this evening for dinner."

With that, she turns to leave.

"Uhm," I call out.

She stops, turning her head to the side.

"Maybe I am overstepping my boundaries, but… I thought you and Sir Damien were married…"

"We are," she replies sharply.

"But then why was he?—"

"Have a good rest," she declares before she's out of the room, the door closing with a resounding thud. It seems I did overstep my boundaries.

I gulp down as I stare at the closed doors, the disappointment I've been feeling for a while now finally sinking in.

For over a decade, Lady Jocelyn and Sir Damien had been couple goals for me. I'd never even entertained dating someone because my standards were too high and no real-life boy could possibly live up to them.

They had always been so in love, so devoted to one another. They had been a team—a pair of equals fighting for a common purpose.

But had any of that been real? Have I been living with an illusion all along?

Not only is Lady Jocelyn not the sweet, soft-spoken lady I thought her to be. But Sir Damien is a cheating scoundrel who doesn't even care if his wife sees him in the act. And it wasn't with just one woman. No, it was two. At the same time!

Disgust rolls in my stomach. I sink down on the bed, numb and utterly devastated by everything I've found out.

For more than half of my life, I've been worshipping a lie.

Tears of disappointment and frustration stab at my eyes, and I get the urge to scream my grievances at the top of my lungs. God, to think I was so happy I somehow ended up in Akkaya and so excited at the prospect of meeting my idols. Now? I just want to go home and forget all of this happened. Maybe even burn those damned books for making me entertain so many dreams only for them to be shattered in the end.

Yet more than anything… I guess I am mad at myself. I let myself buy into their story. Because my life was so damn bleak and lonely, I let myself get absorbed into their fantastical world, losing sight of what's real and what's not.

And now that the illusion has been destroyed…who am I?

I clench my hands into fists. Tears course down my cheeks.

If there's no Lady Jocelyn who loves pink, who has a white Pomeranian named BonBon, and who is utterly devoted to her beloved Sir Damien, then where does that leave me?

Who the hell am I?

PomPom rushes to me, whimpering and rubbing her head against my legs.

"It's okay, sweet girl," I murmur, petting her on the head. "Lady Jocelyn and Sir Damien are strangers. I shouldn't get so upset over this when they probably have no idea someone wrote a distorted account of their lives in another world." I sigh. "But that doesn't make this any less painful. I…" I swallow. "I just don't know anything anymore. Oh, PomPom, I feel so lost," I cry out.

She jumps in my lap and I hug her to my chest, rocking back and forth with her as I let my tears fall down.

A knock at the door startles me. I dry my tears and take a deep breath before opening the door. A servant comes in with clean clothes and a tray of food for both PomPom and me.

I thank her and lock the door after she leaves.

The dress is a beautiful pink—something Lady Jocelyn would wear, and by extension, me. As I stare at it laid out on the bed, I get the urge to rip it to shreds.

But as I grip the soft material in my hands, I can't bring myself to do it.

So what if Lady Jocelyn is not who I thought she was? So what if their love story is a fraud? That doesn't mean the characters I read about and loved don't exist—if only in my head? So what if the real people are shitty? I'll pretend they don't exist and keep the fictional ones in my mind.

With a deep sigh, I head over to the shower, washing myself and PomPom. I'm not too hungry, but PomPom is, so I give her something to eat before we go to bed.

PomPom falls asleep right away. She must have been exhausted, poor baby. Unfortunately, for me sleep doesn't come too easily. I twist and turn, but my thoughts are too loud. I feel so silly for my obsession with Lady Jocelyn and maybe a little embarrassed of myself for trying to be something I was not for so long.

I sigh in frustration.

Eyes closed, I force myself to rest. But just as my body relaxes, a sudden noise makes me aware that I'm no longer alone in my room.

"She should be out by now," a feminine voice says—Lady Jocelyn.

My heart thuds in my chest, but I keep my eyes closed, feigning sleep.

"Do you think it's wise to do it now? We still don't have the last page," she continues.

"We don't need her alive. We just need to preserve her blood," Sir Damien adds, annoyed.

The cold metal of a blade slides against my skin. I freeze in fear.

What the hell is happening?

"But, Damien… I've been thinking. What if it doesn't work because it's not fresh blood? We can't afford to make any mistakes."

"It will be fine, Jo," he snaps, and the tip of the knife digs into my flesh, drawing blood.

I grit my teeth and clamp my mouth shut so I don't make any noise, but the pain echoes in my body.

"Will you take the chance? After what happened last time?" Lady Jocelyn counters. "We've worked too hard for this. I say we wait. She already thinks we're going to help her get back to her world. She won't suspect a thing."

He releases an annoyed sigh, removing the blade from my throat.

"Come on. Don't be impatient, darling. We're so close to our goal."

He utters a string of muttered curses, followed by more assurances from Lady Jocelyn. Eventually, they disappear from my room.

I count to one hundred before I finally dare to open my eyes, my entire being filled with terror.

What the hell did I get myself into?