Eight

When I wake up again, the fire is nothing but smoldering embers as daylight filters through the windows. This time, when I sit up, I’m pain-free. More than that, I feel so great that I wouldn’t hesitate to be front row in a spin class.

The chair in front of the hearth is empty, and Kane’s nowhere to be seen. Confident I’m alone, I shuck off the coarse woolen blanket and tentatively reach for the dressing wrapped tightly around my waist. Dried blood flakes off the fabric and scatters onto the lumpy mattress as I unwrap layer after layer. Finally, the bandage falls away. I suck in an astonished breath and trace my fingers along the delicate shimmering-gold line where the brutal knife wound used to be. The tip of my finger skates against the soft, smooth scar. Like a velvet brushstroke, the gold glints in the sunlight, beautiful and surreal.

The door to the cottage creaks open, and Kane steps over the threshold carrying a leather pouch weighted down in the center. A warm breeze blows in around him, bringing with it the earthy scent of rain-soaked dirt and a faint hint of pine. Light and shadows fall across his face, enhancing the sharp line of his nose, the fullness of his mouth.

Shit, he’s gorgeous.

Like I haven’t been almost completely naked in front of him for the past however many days, I rush to wrap the scratchy wool blanket around me, fashioning it into a lumpy, unflattering dress.

He lifts a single black brow, and the corner of his mouth twitches before settling back into an unreadable mask. “As I said, you needed rest and magick. Perhaps next time, you won’t fight me.”

“There won’t be a next time,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

“No?” Kane smirks as if keeping a secret and kicks the door closed to stride toward the fireplace. He sets the bag on the mantel before grabbing an armful of split logs and tossing them onto the spent timber like they’re hollow sticks. He strikes a match, and just like before, he whispers to the flame and throws it onto the wood. The fire instantly crackles and pops, roaring to life.

“That’s magick, isn’t it?” With one hand, I point to the flames, while I dip the fingers of the other inside the layers of blanket to find my gilded scar.

“You’re a quick study, Fawn.” Kane’s lips tilt into a half smile as sweet and volatile as ether. “Tell me, do you learn everything so quickly?”

I swear I’m in an utterly embarrassing near-constant state of blushing around this man. “I did graduate with honors from the University of Illinois. Go Fighting Illini,” I cheer and give a lackluster fist pump.

Even from the other side of the room, Kane’s deep, rumbling chuckle brushes over my bare arms and makes me shiver.

He grabs the leather satchel off the mantel and lifts the cast-iron pan from its resting place on a hook above the hearth. He sets it down, and it clunks into place on the sturdy wrought iron cooking stand. Next, he empties the pouch and handles the eggs. They’re of average size but look almost like pebbles in his large hands. Kane cracks them with a skilled flick of his wrist, and they sizzle when they hit the hot skillet. Casually, he tosses the spent shells into the flames while he fists his hand into the bottom of his tunic and uses it as a makeshift oven mitt to move the pan back and forth over the fire.

The aroma of scrambled eggs mingling with the woodsy scent of the fire makes my mouth water. I’m not sure how long it’s been since I last ate, but I’m starving. “You have chickens out here in the forest?”

“I borrowed a cage of hens when I left the city.”

I glance around the neglected cabin with its weathered furniture and the bundles of dried herbs hanging from the walls. “Did you borrow them in the same way you borrowed this house?”

Kane’s gaze meets mine, that delicious half smile lifting his lips. “I intend to give them back. I won’t stay banished from the palace forever.”

“You were banished? What exactly do you have to do to get thrown out of a castle? Use the wrong fork at dinner?”

His expression hardens, the firelight casting blunt shadows on his chiseled features. “You would not be so quick to jest if you knew the toll my absence has had on our kingdom.”

“Because you’re the one guy who holds everything together. You’re the glue.” I roll my eyes. “I’ve heard that before.”

“I am the one man who sees the truth of what is happening within the palace walls,” he booms, and I suddenly feel like I’m in trouble. Like he’s going to ground me and take away my phone.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“You should not speak of things you do not understand.”

“You shouldn’t yell at partially dressed stabbing victims who fell through a portal into another world.”

He narrows his eyes, ready to make another scathing retort before pausing. “Fair enough.” He turns back to the fire to shift the pan, and the golden-yellow eggs bubble and pop. “I was banished from the palace and the city of Pentacles because its power and influence are being twisted, used, and changed to benefit only one—Four,” he explains, back to being calm and measured.

Confusion knits my brow. “But you said the power and influence would only benefit one person.”

“Correct: Four.”

“No, one. One person. Four is three more people.”

“‘Four’ is the corrupt wretch’s name.”

“Oh.” I click my tongue. “Got it.”

“Four sought to kill me before I could do the same to him. Alderic, our king, is the only reason I still have my head. But Four is in command of Pentacles and speaks for Alderic. Those within the palace either cannot see or choose not to see the curse Four has woven.”

“That’s the rot,” I say, continuing to piece together the how and why I’m here.

“That’s the rot,” he agrees. “At least, that is part of it.”

“And the other part?”

“That’s where you come in.”

“Right.” I grimace and shake my head. “I was hoping I’d hallucinated the whole thing about being the cure and having a job to do.”

“You are the cure, Fawn. Pentacles is on the edge of collapse no matter how much those in charge refuse to acknowledge it. Prosperity is never ensured and does not continue on its own. It has to be worked for. The townspeople and those who rule over them must be united to keep the kingdom from ruin. When they are not, as they are not united now, the tide turns, and it happens quickly. In order to go back to your home, you must finish your job, and your job is to rid our kingdom of rot and heal the—”

I cut him off, my exasperation bubbling over. “Yes, I know. The layers. The gross onion. I got it. I mean, I understand the words you’re saying, but I don’t think you’ve understood anything I’ve said.”

“That you’re a less-than-desirable bedmate who refuses to bear six children?” he replies, infuriatingly calm.

My cheeks flush, and I tighten the blanket around my chest. “That there’s been some sort of mistake,” I correct, voice tight.

He opens his mouth, and I hold up my hand before he can launch into another speech about the Tower not making mistakes and the Empress blah, blah, blah.

“Look,” I begin, forcing myself to stay calm even as the absurdity of it all threatens to push me over the edge. “You want a hero, and you seem very much suited to that role with your muscles and your—your roguishness.” I swear he flexes because biceps don’t just bulge like that on their own, do they? “But here’s the thing: I just need to get home to Wi-Fi and barely earning enough money to pay rent. Then your magickal Tower can send its tarot-card talisman back through the rotted-portal thing and find a hero who actually has her life together.”

I stand, the rough fabric scratching my skin, and confidently walk to the center of the shack. “I mean, sure, what you’re talking about sounds pretty intense—save the kingdom, stop the rot, and so on. But, honestly, it also sounds completely unbelievable.” His eyes narrow, but I plow on. “Even if it’s all real, this is your world—your problem—not mine. I just want to go home and pretend this never happened. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be leaving now.”

“And where do you think you’ll go?” Kane lifts the pan and shifts the eggs, their edges crisp and golden.

I square my shoulders. “Back to the palace.”

“Back to the palace?” he echoes, raising an eyebrow. “There’s no going back to the palace. This is Towerfall, the Kingdom of Pentacles—you cannot simply do as you please.”

“It’s not doing as I please. This isn’t some whim. I left my purse inside the palace when I, understandably, thought you were kidnapping me the first time. The card was in my purse. Or I guess it spilled out of my purse, since you saw it too. It doesn’t matter. My purse and the card are both inside the palace, which means I need to get inside the palace.”

I paw through my clothes, bloodstained and damp, draped over a stool next to the table. My phone is tucked inside a pocket. The screen is black. It’s dead or waterlogged and broken. Either way, it’s completely useless here.

“If the Tower sent that tarot card—”

“The Empress,” he interjects.

“If the Empress brought me here, the Empress can send me back.”

“The Empress brought you here because you are the one who can heal this kingdom. Running away won’t change that. Furthermore, it won’t work. You have to finish your job, heal the rot, in order to go home.”

Taking a deep breath, I straighten my spine and meet his gaze with as much determination as I can muster. “Look, Kane, I’m not the only one who knows I was pulled into this world by mistake. I’m sure the Tower and the Empress have had some magickal meeting and are just waiting for me to find the card and undo this whole mess.”

“Is it always a fight with you?” Kane sets the pan next to me on the table and motions for me to sit.

I might be starving, but the way my nerves have my gut churning tells me that I’ll regret taking even one bite of eggs. “While I admit you have a lot of useful information and have helped me—”

“I saved your life.”

“You’re not exactly familiar with my current situation,” I say, continuing on as if he didn’t just interrupt me with pertinent information. “I need to get back into the palace to find the Empress card, and you just got done telling me about how you were nearly beheaded and one hundred percent banished.”

“Fawn, there’s no denying I have helped you. Let me continue to do so.”

“How?”

His brow arches.

Before that seductive smile slips onto his lips, I interject, “If you say ‘magick,’ I’m going to scream.”

“It’s more detailed than that, and it will involve the next few months—”

“No.” I shake my head, and my tangled hair sweeps over my bare shoulders. “I’ve already been here for… How long have I been here?”

“Three days.”

“Three days?” It’s felt like both a lifetime and a moment. “I’m not waiting any longer to get out of here and back to Pepto-Bismol and cell service. I’m also not waiting around for another man to decide when and where I’m useful, Chad.”

I bite my lower lip and take a step back, trying to distance myself from the roiling anger I have for my most recent ex.

“What’s a chad?” Kane asks, a line forming between his furrowed brows.

“A miserable, festering asshole,” I mutter.

“Sounds painful.” Kane frowns further and ducks into the Days Inn–style kitchenette, sans plumbing. He opens a cabinet and pulls out a corked bottle and bundle wrapped in cloth.

“Yeah…” I adjust the blanket and glance down at the hot pan of eggs before clearing my throat.

He unwraps the loaf of bread, tears off a piece, and takes a large bite before offering me the rest of the chunk. “Eat. You must keep up your strength.”

“No, thank you.” I cringe even as my traitorous stomach growls in protest.

His brow arches again, and his gaze dips to my stomach before lifting back to meet mine.

“Fine, but I’d love a piece you didn’t slobber all over.”

He mumbles a curse I can’t quite make out before tearing off another chunk and handing it to me. It’s dry and stale, but I’m hungry enough that I’d eat the leftover Taco Bell that’s been sitting in the back of my fridge for two weeks.

“Besides,” I say, choking down a mouthful of bread, “I can’t imagine you knocked on the palace door and asked to get in when I saw you skulking around.”

“I wasn’t skulking.”

“You most definitely were. Skulky Skulkerton.”

His jaw tightens, and his fingers dig into the bread. “I was—” He pauses and takes a deep breath as he sets the loaf and bottle on the table, then pulls out a stool. The chair creaks under his weight, and he looks like a giant in a clown car on the four rickety legs.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

“It doesn’t matter what I was doing. What matters is that you cannot simply enter the palace.” He tears off another piece of bread and shovels eggs between the two hunks. “Four has made certain only those he’s approved can gain entry. It’s a wonder I had to rescue you from a mob and not the guillotine.”

“Oh, you literally mean ‘beheaded.’ Like, head chopped off and everything.”

“What did you think I meant?”

The fire crackles in the silence that follows, and Kane takes a bite of his improvised breakfast sandwich.

“The palace is open only once every six months for the king to hear the townspeople’s grievances,” he continues. “We shall wait until then.”

“But I don’t have a grievance,” I say. “I left my purse behind and, with it, the tarot card. You said the Empress got me here, and I need to find the Empress to get back home. Well, the Empress is inside the palace. I just need to get it.”

“It’s impossible.”

“ You’re impossible.”

The idea that I could be stuck here for up to six months is unbearable. Between now and the next time the palace gates open, someone will have gone into that room and found my purse and the card. I’ll be fucked for sure.

I drop the crust of bread, burying my face in my palms, and I feel Kane’s heavy footsteps thud against the wooden planks.

“Relax, Fawn. I know many ways we can fill our time while we wait for our next opportunity.”

I peek out from my hiding spot behind my hands and look up at him. That sexy smile is back, topped off with a suggestive wink as he wiggles the bottle in front of my face.

I cautiously peer into the bottle’s wide mouth. Herbs bob gently on top of the liquid, their forms obscured by the deep-brown tint of the glass. The brew gives off a rich honeyed scent, tinged with the unmistakable sharpness of alcohol.

“Has anyone ever told you that making a sexual innuendo and then trying to get a woman drunk is really off-putting?”

“I don’t put off women.” With a smirk, he tips the bottle back, nearly draining it in one gulp as he strides to the table. The glass hits the tabletop with a hollow thump, and Kane scoops up another handful of bread and eggs before offering me the rest of what’s in the pan.

I shake my head and offer an automatic “no thank you.” He shrugs, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut over his broad shoulders.

Even though my life back home might leave a lot to be desired, it’s still my life. I can’t just give up and abandon it.

“Well, Kane—whatever your last name is—”

“Blackthorne,” he says, wiping a bit of egg from his chin.

“Mister protector of this realm and its people, if some rando dropped out of the sky and was shouting about—I don’t know—dragons or some other nonsense, I’d be so ready for them to leave.”

“Don’t let a dragon hear you call her ‘nonsense.’” He winks at me again.

I open my mouth to object, but with everything I’ve experienced since I fell through the portal, the idea of seeing a dragon doesn’t seem so far-fetched.

Kane takes another swig of ale and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“And I don’t have time to sit around and wait. Someone could walk in that bedroom at any time and take my stuff and my only way out of here.”

“Fawn—”

“You’re not my dad. I don’t have to listen to you.” And, if my dad ever decided to reach out, I wouldn’t have to listen to him either.

“I did save you, heal you, keep you safe, but of course, why listen to me?”

“Exactly,” I say, blatantly ignoring his sarcasm. “I’m going back to the palace, I’m getting the Empress, and I’m going home.”

I spin around, looking for anything to put on other than this blanket or my ruined Dior. “I need something to wear.”

“There are tunics in there.” He motions to the trunk in the far corner of the room.

I kneel in front of it. The same symbols etched into his sword and stitched into his cloak are carved into the wood and filled with molten gold. This close up, and fully myself, I can finally make out the symbols: the craggy peaks of a mountain, a lantern, a six-pointed star, and the weathered face of an old man. They flow together, each symbol pouring into the next, a single line connecting them all.

“The symbols tell a story, if you know how to read them.” He unties the cloth bundle on the table and smooths the fabric down around a fat loaf of bread.

“And what story does this one tell?” I open the chest, and I’m not sure if he answers because my attention is fixed on the jewels and gold coins resting on the top shelf.

“Spoils of war?” I laugh and look over at him.

“Payment.” The look in his eyes takes away my grin.

I turn my attention back to the trunk and sift through the half-folded shirts and strange leather pants that look way too tight and have laces crisscrossed up the crotch.

“This”—I hold up the pants, the laces dangling like limp noodles—“isn’t going to cut it. I need to fit in and look like everyone else. That was my problem before. That and the fact I had no idea what was going on. But I’m smarter now, and I’m not going to give anyone a reason to call me a witch.”

“And you believe that once you’re dressed more appropriately, you’ll simply walk back to the palace and demand entry? Do you not remember what happened last time you found yourself within the town?”

“Why do I feel like you’re only half listening?” I ask, but I continue without waiting for his response. “Like I said, I looked out of place. It’s not about asking why they threw me out. It’s about asking why they shouldn’t,” I say and return my focus to the trunk of jewels and clothes. “There has to be something in here that will work and isn’t so…big.”

I dig deeper into the collection of worn leather and stiff cotton. My fingers brush against luxuriously soft fabric. Gently, I pull out the garment. The velvet dress is creamy white. Its bodice is stitched with intricate embroidery, the patterns swirling and looping in a dance of golden threads that catch the light with every movement. I trace the lines of delicate forest-green silk laces that crisscross their way up from the small of the back to the nape of the neck. The same silk borders the neckline that dips in a modest curve, framed by soft off-shoulder sleeves that billow slightly before tapering into snug cuffs.

I stand and hold it up in front of me, the skirt cascading in a full graceful fall of the same lush velvet. “This is perfect.”

At the sight, Kane nearly chokes on his eggs. “Not that one. It doesn’t belong to you.”

“It doesn’t belong to you either,” I counter. “Turn around.”

“Modesty now? I’ve seen—”

“Turn around. I thought ye olden times were filled with dashing knights and gentlemen who threw their coats over puddles.”

“You don’t find me dashing?”

“Turn.” I motion, unwilling to give him an inch. Of course he’s dashing. And sexy. With a delicious come-hither smile that makes me hot in all the right places. And, clearly, he knows it. I’ll eat my own mismatched underwear before I add to that ego.

Reluctantly, Kane sighs and turns his back to me.

Quickly, I shed the scratchy blanket and slip into the dress, the fabric even softer than I expected. “Could you?” I ask hesitantly as I gather my hair and sweep it over my shoulder, revealing the intricate line of laces down the back of the dress.

Kane pauses for a moment, as if weighing the request, then closes the distance between us in just two strides. His presence behind me is an electric current, the fire’s warmth mixing with the heat sparking through my body. He stands behind me, our shared silence punctuated only by our breathing and the soft rhythmic susurrus of the laces as he weaves them through the eyelets.

Each brush of his rough fingertips against my bare skin sends a cascade of goose bumps down my arms and across my chest. Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I’m relieved he can’t see the way they flame when he touches me.

Craning my neck slightly, I glance over my shoulder. Our eyes meet in a loaded exchange. “It fits in, right? I look like I belong here?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Kane’s dark eyes hold mine, something unspoken flickering in their depths. The intensity of his gaze makes it hard to swallow. Then, clearing his throat, he swiftly ties a final knot and steps back. “It’ll do.”

I frown. Not the most flattering compliment, but certainly not the worst I’ve heard.

“Thanks,” I say, a small part of me missing the warmth of him as he retreats to the table.

Sometime while I was in and out of sleep, letting the magick do its work, Kane placed my sodden boots in front of the hearth to dry. When I slip into them, they’re soothingly warm and coax out a contented sigh.

No more desperate-and-stuck Hannah. I begin my internal pep talk, wiggling my toes in the warm cloud of my boots. No, ma’am. She died when I fell into this world, and now I’m beginning a new era. I’m evolving and independent. I don’t need a man. More than that, I don’t even want a man. I want expansion and autonomy.

I breathe in a new sense of determination and mentally rehearse my plan once again.

I’ll go to the palace, tell them I left my purse inside, and they’ll retrieve it from that massive bedroom. Then I’ll pull out the Empress card, and it’ll open a new portal. I’ll be back at home before anyone even realizes I left.

Expansion and autonomy…evolution and independence… Expansion and autonomy…evolution and independence.

I march over to Kane, the mantra cycling through my thoughts and adding a little extra pep to my step. “I’m leaving.”

Kane glances up, pausing midbite. “Stay, Fawn. Wait until the palace reopens its gates.”

I pull the pan over and use a hunk of bread to scoop up a pile of eggs. I take one bite and then another and another, not caring that I’m scarfing down food like a barbarian.

“It’s not long,” he continues. “Only six months. That’s how I gained access before, undetected.”

“Did you sneak in to save the king and stop the rot?” I wave my hand in the air to keep him from re-explaining. I cannot get distracted. “I’m not waiting.” I grab the bottle and take a bold swig of the remaining ale, keeping my expression stoic despite its sweetness and the random herbs that stick between my teeth. “I’m going now. I’d love a ride, but I don’t need your horse. I can walk there. It can’t be that far.”

“Fawn—” Kane starts another protest, but I cut him off.

“Nooope.” I draw out the word and add an extra sway to my hips as I head for the door. Before I make my exit, I pause next to the open chest and dip down to grab a handful of gold coins. “And I’m taking these with me.”