Chapter 7

T he red eyes are morphing into something new. No longer are they the disembodied orbs that materialize on the edge of sleep. Through the sleep-induced haze that clouds my eyes, I see two fully corporeal beings coming into view. Their lean bodies emit a soft glow that makes them just barely visible in the dark.

I blink with all of my might, hoping to find that my eyes are playing tricks on me. But when I reopen them, I see the two bodies creeping closer.

Moose growls at the beings with his tail pointed in a hunting stance. If he can see them, then maybe I'm not imagining it. Oh, gods, please let this be another nightmare. I squeeze my eyes shut once again and try to force myself awake, but it's no use.

I am awake.

This is real.

Fear rocks through me so forcefully that I can hardly see straight.

Behind them, I see a dull glow like the body of a flame burning outside the window.

One figure extends a scaly hand toward me, and against my will, my hand reaches up to meet it. I can't fight it. No matter how hard I try to pull back, my hand continues to rise. It's acting of its own accord as if my brain has no dominion over it.

Before I can run, before I can stop what's about to happen, our hands meet. The second they do, an explosion of sound and color booms around us, and the room melts into a blur like watercolors washing away. I'm being yanked and pushed, stretched and shrunk, whirling through space like a rock flung from a slingshot. I try to grab onto something, anything, but there is nothing. Only the blur of colors and sounds surrounding us on all sides.

On and on we go, freefalling into oblivion. After what could be minutes, seconds, or, hell, even hours in this suspended state, I give in to the light, relinquishing control of my body, until finally, my feet land squarely on the ground. The roaring colors turn into inky blackness, which then fades away like paint chipping from a wall. It takes a moment for me to recognize that I am no longer in my cottage, and Moose is nowhere to be found.

My gods, am I dead? Am I dreaming?

I pinch myself to be sure. And, much to my dismay, the twinge between my fingers confirms that this is most definitely real.

The creatures, beings, people, whatever they are, stand beside me, totally unaffected by the psychedelic trip that sent us whirling through the air. Is that it? Did I accidentally eat a mushroom? I try to think back to my last meal, but all I had was rice. Maybe it was contaminated? Gods, I don't know.

Get it together, Radya. You can figure this out.

The things beside me wear stiff black tunics and gold-plated belts affixed with ruby-hilted daggers. Their bald heads and diamond eyes remind me of a snake, just as cold and stoic. We stare wordlessly at each other while I try to gather my thoughts, but I can't focus.

Those eyes… the very eyes that lurked beyond my nightmares… they were creatures! They made my hand move against my will. How can they control my movements? How are they real?

Panic rises in my chest until I can hardly breathe.

Where am I? Who are they? What in the name of the gods is going on?

Breathe, Radya. In… and out… in… and out…

I need answers.

"Who are you?"

Neither figure responds.

"Where are we?"

Only the floor makes a sound as I shift my weight.

"Can you speak?"

I take their lack of response as confirmation that they cannot, or will not, speak.

Moose! Oh, gods, they left Moose all alone! Without thinking, I blurt out the question, "Can you bring Moose to me?"

The first figure nods and then vanishes from sight.

Did it understand me? If these are, in fact, the beings that have silently lurked in my bedroom every night, then they must recognize the name. A shudder runs down my spine as I think about the things that they've seen. Have they observed every second of my miserable life? Am I no more than an actor in their creepy theater?

The figure returns a couple of minutes later with a squirming Moose in his arms. When his eyes find me, he breaks free from the creature's clutches and springs toward me. I'm so relieved to see him that I don't shy away as he licks every square inch of my face, tail wagging frantically.

The creature motions for me to sit on a chaise in the corner. I hold my feet firmly in place for a moment to test whether or not my movements are my own. They stay still, relieving me of at least one fear, and then I do as they say. I lower myself into the chaise and sit straight as a board with my hands folded in my lap.

I wait for them to join me, to begin offering some explanation for the chaos, but instead, they exit the room, clicking the lock shut behind them.

The lock.

Oh, no – they locked me in here.

Did they lock me in here?

Am I trapped?

The room feels like it's closing in on me. It's shrinking, choking me. The air is too heavy. The space is too dark. I place my head between my knees and try my best to breathe.

Happy thoughts, I need to focus on happy thoughts. Chocolate tarts. Moose's furry ears. My mother's smile. Pastel skies…

No, this can't be happening. I hold Moose tighter, and he nuzzles into me.

It's okay. I'll be okay. I'll get out of here. I'll find a way.

We will. Me and Moose. We can do it.

Time spirals as I force myself to repeat these words until the panic subsides enough to breathe normally. Every second bends and stretches like it's a malleable object, making it impossible to know how long I've been here.

I need to assess my surroundings, if I have any hope of escaping, but it takes several attempts to look around without returning to that state of panic. But finally, I see it. All of it - the dozens of candles illuminating the room, the dusty books stacked at least ten shelves high, and the bronze ladders stretching from floor to ceiling. Hundreds, no, thousands of books are in here.

I'm in a library. The realization now seems obvious, but it grounds me nonetheless. It's like uncovering a clue that leads me one step closer to solving the mystery. Now, where is this library? Is it a personal collection? A public library? It's certainly not Carcera's library. Unless it belongs to Lord Myles and Lady Lora? She did go on and on about having me in her library…

The only way to find out is to escape.

Is there anything here that I could use? Without any windows, there's only one way out. And, if I had to guess, I would bet on the fact that those creatures are right outside the door. If they can control my movements, then I stand no chance against them.

I move to pull one of the books from the shelf, looking for something hard and heavy to wield against them. It's not much of a plan, but what else can I do? A plume of dust spreads as I wiggle the book out of place. It's sturdy and dense and the title is illegible, but it will do. Then I grab a candlestick, too. Just in case.

Those creatures, my gods. I can't stop my mind from returning to them. I can't believe that the red eyes that haunted me for most of my life were cognitive beings. They watched me sleep for over twenty years! That is creepy. That is an invasion of privacy. That is unjust. That is…

The door swings open, slamming into the wall with a bang. My breath hitches as I brace myself for whoever, or whatever, will enter behind the two creatures leading the way.

A finely dressed man and woman stroll in with an ethereal grace unlike anything I've ever seen. Have I seen them before? They look so familiar. But no, it couldn't be.

The woman exudes confidence with her perfect posture and, like the figures now standing on either side of the door, her pale skin emits a soft glow. Her gown is elegant beyond measure, which is somewhat odd given the early hour. It hugs her waist and then blossoms. Flowers made of a shimmering fabric scatter across the skirt, which drags behind her as she walks. The man's ebony skin glows just the same, and his jaw clenches when his almond eyes land on me. Though he is her opposite, stiff and stoic to her gentle grace, they move in perfect lockstep.

Candle light strikes their golden crowns, and the rubies refract a red glow onto the book shelf.

Then it hits me. Only two can wear ruby crowns.

The King and Queen of Mendacia.

My heart stops.

What am I doing in the same room as them?

I'm going to be sick.

Do all royals glow? I don't want to sound ignorant or rude, so I refrain from asking that question. But, my gods, it is magnificent. How is it possible?

I bend into a deep curtsy until they nod their approvals. A wave of embarrassment washes over me as I realize that I'm still wearing my nightgown. The thin fabric does little to hide my figure, especially with the candles serving as back lights. I pull my hands across my body, trying to retain some sense of decency in front of the most powerful people on this continent.

"I apologize for my appearance, Your Highnesses," I say, though I'm not entirely sure that it is the appropriate way to address them.

"No apology needed, Radya," he says. How does the King of Mendacia know my name? There is no reality where I am on a first name basis with the king and queen. "Did neither of you think to dress her before bringing her here?"

He looks toward the creatures with nearly translucent scaly skin creeping beside them. If they do comprehend what his words, they don't show it.

"You must have so many questions for us. Why don't we head to the dining room to speak? Your friend can come along, too," says the queen as she winks at Moose. She sounds calm and casual, as if she is speaking to a familiar friend, not me. Not Radya.

I'm racking my brain to put the pieces together, but I can't figure it out.

Words escape me.

Do I have to do as they say? Can I run and escape? I feel sure that those creatures would catch me before I got very far. No, I don't think I have a choice here. And so, I nod and follow closely behind the radiant royals as they exit the library, though just the simple act of walking is difficult at the moment. My legs feel like unsteady stilts that could topple at the slightest breeze.

We move through a room with arched windows at least twenty feet high on one side, surrounded by intricate shapes and faces carved into the stone. The first rays of sunshine are peaking above the horizon, casting a soft morning light into the room. Though no windows are open, it is light and airy as if a gentle breeze was sweeping through.

Above us, rows of floral bouquets hang from the ceiling, ivory blooms and verdant leaves spilling out over the sides of each one. Marble statues of scantily clad women in various poses rest between each window, their etchings so lifelike that I question if they could be real. Impossible, yes. But still, the thought lingers.

It reminds me of Lord Myles and Lady Lora's estate, though it now seems both minuscule and shabby in comparison to the grandeur found here.

The creatures, who were beside the queen just a moment ago, have disappeared. Where did they go? Was I too distracted to notice them leave? There is no trace of them anywhere – not even their glowing red eyes.

I obediently follow as they turn into a dining room. Taking up the length of the room is a considerable slab of solid black marble resting atop claw-shaped legs of the same color. A meal fit for kings awaits us, carrying everything from berries to bacon. Even a cake with creamy white icing sits on a dessert tray elevated above the rest. Raspberries line the circumference on the top and bottom. My stomach grumbles at the sight, but I'm too unsettled to eat.

They sit side by side at the head of the oversized table. Before I can sit, a servant pulls out the chair and then hands me a thin wine-colored cloak. I thank him and wrap the cloak around my bare shoulders, leaving the hood down, even though I feel like hiding within its depths. I had almost forgotten about my state of undress, but now my embarrassment is back in full force, turning my cheeks a matching shade of red.

"Where should we begin?" The queen says to her husband.

They look so normal, except for the glowing skin, of course. I never imagined the rulers of Mendacia to be so casual. Nor did I expect to be sitting in a room with them, but here we are.

"Perhaps you should direct that question toward our guest, whom I'm sure has many questions," he replies with a nod in my direction. "And please, eat."

"Thank you." I grab a biscuit from the center of the table to be polite, though I have no intention of eating it. It serves only to buy me a moment to collect my thoughts. Where do I start?

Think, Radya. Think.

After staring dumbly at them for far too long, I finally ask the simplest and most obvious question. The only question that seems coherent. "Where am I?"

"You are in Somne, the capital of Mendacia." The queen takes a sip from her porcelain teacup and then raises her hands to acknowledge our surroundings. "This is our home, the Palace of Light."

Surveying the room makes me shrivel and shrink to a tenth my size, or so it feels. Each gold-accented detail is more opulent than anything in Carcera. One piece of silverware must be worth more than my entire annual income – pension included.

As I thumb my fingers over the finely woven table cloth, reality starts to set in. I am in the royal household. The actual Palace of Light. A few minutes ago, I was asleep in my bedroom on the opposite side of the country. How many miles are there between Carcera and the Palace of Light? Gods, I don't even know. Four hundred? I've never heard of anyone magically leaping across the country in a flash. How is that humanly possible?

The frenzy of panic takes hold of my mind, and I scramble to eke out, "How did I get here?"

"The invisibles ushered you here," she explains casually, like the idea of floating through space and landing in the presence of the king and queen is a normal, everyday occurrence.

"How did they do it? What are they?" My ears are ringing.

"They are, as we call them, invisibles. They serve as our guardians, and they can usher others from one location to another." She pauses to assess my understanding, or lack thereof. "You must have seen them throughout your life. Did you never wonder whose eyes stared back at you in the dark?"

The awareness of my own ignorance makes me want to curl into a ball and roll away, never to be seen again. It's not that I never questioned their presence. Gods know that I did. I asked my mother about them when I was young, but she dismissed them as a figment of my imagination, a mere child's fantasy. The more often they appeared, the more I questioned my own sanity. I believed that I was the problem, that there was something wrong with me. I kept my questions to myself after that. And eventually, my curiosity faded into complacency, though now that feels like an unforgivable ignorance.

I swallow the lump bulging in my throat. "My hand acted with a mind of its own. I couldn't control it, no matter how hard I tried to pull back. Did they do that?"

"Don't worry, Radya. All of this sounds very strange and new," she explains with a lilt so soothing that it could calm a stormy sea. "But yes, they can force obedience when necessary. That's what makes them such great guards."

The king breaks his scrutinizing silence to add, "They've been with you for years, ever since your parents smuggled you into Mendacia."

Smuggled? What does that mean? Why have they been watching over me for so long? I don't understand any of this.

As if sensing my confusion, the queen adds, "They were always watching over you, making sure that you grew up safe and protected."

"Excuse me? Why do you care about my safety and protection?" I'm too anxious to care that I just nearly barked at the Queen of Mendacia.

"Let me be frank." The king places his elbows onto the table, leaning forward in a hardened manner as someone well-accustomed to having difficult conversations. "When your parents fled from Umbra, they had nothing. The aftermath of the war left them hungry and desperate. With no family left to turn to and nowhere to go, they sought refuge in Mendacia, which I was happy to grant… for a price. In exchange for their safe passage into Carcera, as well as a home and employment for your father, they agreed to an arrangement between you and our son, Prince Allwyn."

"What kind of arrangement?" I blurt out, my tone edging closer and closer to hostile every time I open my mouth.

"A marriage arrangement. You are betrothed to our son." He doesn't mince words, and yet it feels as if each syllable sliced me open.

"What?" I yell, shattering any remaining sense of reserve. "Why would my parents agree to that? Actually, don't answer that. You can't speak for them. But what you can answer for me is why you would agree to it? Aren't princes supposed to marry the high ladies of the court? Don't get me wrong, I loved my parents, but they were as plain as they come."

And, as an extension of them, I am as plain as they come.

The queen seems to hold all of the patience in the world, barely allowing a flicker of annoyance to shine through her twinkling eyes. She is a beacon of unfaltering grace. "You are nothing if not extraordinary, my child. When you were young, we learned of your particular gift. The likes of which we haven't seen in… quite some time. Such a gift is only granted by the gods once in a millennium, at most. So, when we heard of your parents' dilemma, we offered them safe passage into Mendacia, in exchange for their promise of your betrothal."

Laughter bursts out from deep within me, bubbling and bursting at the absurdity. It's impossible. Every part of it. How could they expect me to believe that my parents traded me to the king and queen of Mendacia?

"You're mistaken! I don't have… " The laughter gets stuck in my throat, and I begin to choke. They're insane if they expect me to believe this. "I don't have any gifts!" My voice strains as the tears begin to sting. At this, Moose jumps into my lap, nuzzling his nose against my neck. I pull him into a tight hug, seeking comfort in his embrace.

"You are special, Radya. These gifts may not be immediately perceptible, but they are certainly there. We are sure of it," the queen explains, though her body stiffens as if a tiny thread of doubt is tugging at the strands of her confidence.

"Do you mean magical gifts? If so, I don't have any. I'm so sorry that you went to all of that trouble for nothing, but I can return –"

"That's not necessarily true," the king interrupts. "The barrier that protects you in Carcera had the unintended effect of stifling magic. We found a way to work around that blockage for a limited few. But truthfully, we don't yet know the extent of your magic."

The ring that Lord Myles showed me flashes in my mind. He must be included in the ‘limited few' since the entire mesa is filled with his enchantments.

"If what you're saying is true, then everyone in the village who was magic-born willingly agreed to forfeit their magic?" This doesn't add up. "Who would forgo their magic and agree to a life in Carcera?"

"Those old enough to remember the wars would agree that the benefits far outweighed the costs. They agreed to the terms in order to receive the highest level of protection known to this kingdom. Those were dark times, Radya. And Carcera is so close to the border that the people feared for their lives, and rightfully so with the Mad King nipping at their heels. We had to protect your land. To keep you, and the rest of Carcera, safe."

"Oh, great! As long as my freedom and livelihood were surrendered in exchange for safety!" I'm caught somewhere between disbelief and rage. It's tearing me apart from the inside, clawing at my lungs, my head, my throat. "And why did you choose today to pluck me from my cage?"

"We promised your parents that we would shield you from all of this until your twenty-fifth birthday. But after Lord Myles informed us of your recent encounters, that promise would only serve to endanger you. With the Mad King lurking at the border, we expect an attack to come soon, and delaying your homecoming even a moment longer would render you vulnerable. If those wards fail, and we fear a great possibility that they might, then the carnage would be gruesome. We couldn't allow you to get caught in the crossfires."

My ears are ringing.

I hear them continuing to talk, but my brain cannot comprehend their words.

Paul's warning – if that's what it was – is ringing in my ears like an incessant chant.

The time for your homecoming nears.

Your throne shall be returned to you.

The nations will bow to you.

Return!

If his words were, in fact, a warning, then was the knife jabbed into his chest a consequence?

Oh, gods.

His blood could be on my hands.

My entire life is a lie.

The King of Umbra is threatening our village. Creatures, invisibles, the whatever-the-gods-they-are watched me sleep every night. I could have magic, but I spent the past twenty-two years believing myself to be ordinary and powerless. My parents arranged my marriage to the prince of this whole country!

The room starts to spin, blurring my vision as it goes, until finally… I see nothing.

The darkness envelopes around me, swallowing me whole.