CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Thoran held my hand possessively as he led me through the back of the house with Cyrus a silent shadow on my other side. It wasn't at all the way I'd gone the day before. We took the front door and skirted along the side of the house.

"What about the side door?" I asked.

Thoran lowered his gaze to mine. "Side door?"

I nodded, gesturing to the brick wall running alongside us. "The one down the hall from the storage rooms."

Both Cyrus and Thoran stopped and exchanged glances. I could see them trying to bring to mind the layout of the house and the door I spoke of.

It was Thoran who realized it first. His eyes widened with horror. "Is that how you got into the garden yesterday?"

I nodded. "I found it a few days ago, but it was always raining so I never bothered going out. Yesterday, the sun was out and it seemed so nice. I thought I would take my book..." crippling horror speared through me. I clapped both hands over my mouth. "Oh! Oh no!"

The two men exchanged glances.

"What? What is it?" Thoran asked.

I told myself not to be scared. This was Thoran and he wouldn't hurt me, but what if he got angry? What if he realized what a mistake I was?

"Blue?"

But I had to tell him. He would know eventually.

"I lost the book," I croaked, "when I fell in the lake. I'm so sorry."

Thoran blinked. "You think I give a shit about some replaceable pile of papers when you nearly drowned?"

I didn't see deceit in his eyes. He didn't seem concerned by the loss at all.

He took my hand once more and tugged me along.

"How did you get inside the garden?" Cyrus asked, startling me; that might have been the first time I'd heard him speak that day.

"The archway," I said. "Behind the vines."

Thoran rubbed a hand over his face. "Not only did you risk your life crossing a corridor practically on the verge of collapsing, but you crawled through a tangled bush of thorny vines?"

I felt my cheeks warm. "I didn't crawl. There was an opening, and I thought it was okay because the other person was inside."

For the second time, both men stopped.

"What other person?" Cyrus growled.

I flinched, but answered, "There was someone already on the other side."

"Who? What did they look like?"

I didn't realize I was edging back until Thoran had slipped an arm around my middle.

"Cyrus, lower your voice."

But Cyrus wasn't listening. "Was it a man or a woman?"

My heart was thumping against my chest even as I reminded myself Thoran was there. "I ... I didn't see—"

"What do you remember?"

"Lower your fucking voice, Cyrus!" Thoran snarled, pushing himself between me and his guard.

The fury in Cyrus's features softened as he realized and he dropped his gaze. "Forgive me."

I dampened my lips. "I think the first person was a woman. I think I remember her dress. It was long and black. Maybe gray. I thought it was strange because I hadn't seen another woman here. The other one was definitely male."

The two men stared hard at each other before Cyrus spoke, but to Thoran.

"It could have been the fog. It can play tricks on the eyes. The men are always reporting figures they thought they saw in the mist."

"But I heard him," I whispered. "He was saying my name."

There was a moment longer where neither spoke. This time it was Thoran who made the guess.

"Could it have been a guard?"

Cyrus shrugged. "Perhaps. I'll ask if anyone was in the gardens yesterday, and I'll check the cameras and see who was on patrol."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell them the voice hadn't been calling for Katie Smith, but my name. My real name. But it stayed trapped in my throat.

We continued forward. Thoran talked about the lake and the grounds. He pointed in the direction of the gardens far in the distance. I followed his pointing finger to the high wall of overgrown brush I'd mistaken for the forest surrounding the house. But studying it with Thoran drawing the connecting lines, I saw how it just extended enough to appear as if it were part of the grounds while staying completely hidden with the wilderness.

I didn't recognize anything.

After my blind race through the ruins of that horrible place, it had been too dark to see anything. My only goal was to put as much distance between me and the thing in there as possible.

"I don't think you have to worry about me going back to that place," I assured both men. "It was terrifying and I never want to go back."

Thoran took a deep breath. "It's dangerous."

I didn't argue.

It didn't matter. I meant what I'd said. I was never going back to that place.

We followed the lake, the jagged edges ending in a sudden drop into black waters. I thought of the moment the ground had vanished beneath my feet and the heartbeat of a second before I'd hit icy waters. A shudder passed through me.

"Okay?" Thoran asked.

I nodded tearing my eyes away from the lake. "I can't believe you jumped in after me."

Thoran frowned. "I told you, I wasn't letting you go in alone."

We crossed the field, following a neat, cobblestone path ending at the edge of the forest. A set of high, iron gates loomed over us, a work of art bound by age and nature. Thick vines looped through rods and twisted with the high trees keeping the door a secret.

The other side opened to a path amongst rows of rigid trees as thick as Thoran's entire body. They held back what little light attempted to penetrate the overcast. With their bare branches and perfect stillness, the forest around us seemed to hum with a calm. I sucked in the overpowering stench of dirt, rot and foliage that hung thick in the air and thought I could just pick up a hint of swamp beneath it all. It should have been appalling, but it made me think of Lacroix House and Thoran, which brought on a sense of comfort.

"This is the Widow's Back," Thoran said when we reached a step rise, a compact mound of dirt rising high over our heads.

I looked at him. "Why?"

He motioned to the slightly curved row of rotten planks of wood forming a set of stairs to the top. "Like the back of a weeping widow," he said.

I gasped. "That's terrible."

He chuckled and nudged me to go first. "There are stories of a woman running through the forest after hearing the news of her sailor husband's death at sea and falling to her death here. The village people took pity on her and built the stairs to prevent any further tragedy."

At the top, I faced him. Hands over my heart. "Really?"

He broke into a wide grin. "No, just giving you a second option to go with."

My face fell. "I don't like either of those."

Snickering like the devil, he hooked an arm around my waist and tugged me along. "What story would you like it to be?"

I shrugged, nestling into his side. "Can we change the whole name?"

His lips brushed the top of my head where it rested on his arm. "What would you like to name it?"

I thought about it. I knew it wasn't something that I had the power to actually change but it was a fun concept as I thought of different names and Thoran offered a few in return. We were so lost in our own silly conversation, I almost jumped when a movement caught the corner of my eye.

Cyrus.

I felt immediately awful for forgetting the other man was right behind us. He'd been so silent. But that was no excuse.

"What do you think?" I asked him, seemingly startling him.

His navy-blue eyes snapped to mine. "Pardon?"

"If you could name the stairs back there something else, what would you name it?"

Cyrus looked up at Thoran, not asking permission to answer, but surprised he was being asked before looking at me again. "I never gave it much thought, honestly."

"Pick something," I pressed. Blurted actually, because every default button in me was terrified that I was going too far.

But Cyrus sighed and scratched his jaw. "A real name or a fantasy name?"

I shrugged, relaxing. "Both?"

Cyrus's responses were logical, I noted. Quadrant Four had my nose wrinkling.

"From a security stand point, it's helpful," he rationalized, and I chuckled.

Conversation around the stairs halted when we reached a stone wall slick with rain and moss. A wooden door with padlock stood between us and whatever was on the other side. Cyrus dug out his keys and stepped forward. I watched the heavy lock crack open with a twist of his wrist. He slid the loop out and dragged the latch open. But the door was left firmly shut.

I peered up at Thoran, questioning.

"When my great grandfather Hael Lacroix found this land, there were already people living here. Settlers mainly. A few farmers. No one with the power to stop Hael when he decided to extend his hold and power to the valley north of the house. He forced and threatened a lot of people to give up their homes and property. What I'm going to show you is the result of that horrible decision."

That didn't sound good at all. It sounded awful, but he was already reaching for the latch because there was no doorknob, I noted. He yanked the door open.

It was as if time itself was forbidden to pass, holding the world beyond as a hostage to its beauty. I had never seen anything like it outside of photos of Malcolm's senior graduation trip to Europe with his friends. It had been the longest three months of my life, but he'd brought back so many photos for me to see and, for a moment while I stood studying the old-style European style structure crafted from wood and stone, and aged so gracefully, I felt like I was in those photos.

Our feet moved across a gray cobblestone path littered with damp leaves and along a winding row of brightly lit shops. There were no cars. No unmanageable traffic and crowds. The silence was peaceful as we passed the occasional person or group. No one even glanced our way, except a few women who couldn't help stealing a second glance at Thoran and Cyrus.

Trees grew right from the very center of several streets, unchecked. Lights were strung up amongst the branches and some had little benches that were dark with rain.

More lights ran in loops overhead and twisted around lampposts. None were on, but I knew it would be a magical place at night.

"Can we come back?" I turned on the ball of my heel to face Thoran. "At night? I want to see the lights."

His arm was around my middle and pulling me to him to kiss. "As often as you like," he murmured against my lips.

Giddy, I let him take my hand and guide me through the village. I felt as if my head were on a swivel stick, constantly in motion, pivoting to see everything. Thoran didn't seem to mind when I randomly stopped at different windows to peer in at the goods inside. He waited patiently until I hurried back to him with my questions.

"How many people live here? Do they live in the village? Are there houses here or just shops?"

He chuckled. "A little under seven hundred since the last count a year ago. People don't usually move out unless they really have to, but people have kids or pass away and that number fluctuates. A lot of the buildings have apartments built upstairs with the shops below, but there's a whole residential section towards the west side of the village."

"Can people move in?" I asked.

He started to shake his head, but stopped. He gave a small grimace. "Yes and no. The process to apply for residency is very complex and we have a waiting list a mile long. But we will occasionally approve a few every few years. We get a lot of tourists. There are a couple of BBs that people rent for a few days, but they're not allowed to stay without specific permission by me."

I tilted my head back to peer at him. "Why so few?"

He motioned with the wave of his hand at the picturesque scenery. "Balance. I have to keep in mind housing for these people and how their contribution will help the community. The majority of the people living here have had family here for generations. Possibly from the very beginning. They have dedicated their lives to building and maintaining this community. It's my responsibility to make sure there is enough housing, jobs, and comfort by keeping that balance."

I unconsciously squeezed his fingers. "Do you know anyone here?"

"I know everyone."

I was so fascinated. I had a million questions, but I was distracted by the sweet smell of warm sugar wafting through the air. It spilled into the damp afternoon, unspooling onto the streets straight into our path with the exit of a single figure leaving a tiny shop on our left.

"Oh, that smells amazing," I breathed, moving to the glass to peer down at the trays of perfectly cut squares of brownies and caramels, and cookies. So many things all beautifully displayed behind gleaming glass.

"Come on."

Thoran took my hand and tugged me in through the door, and the smells ... lord, it was heaven stepping into the warm, golden hue of sugar and icing. I had to check to make sure I wasn't drooling as Thoran made his way to the counter and the small, kind looking man watching us with warm, brown eyes the same color as the rich brownies taunting me on a try me platter next to his rough hands.

"Mr. Lacroix, what a pleasure," he said in a deep, rumbling voice much larger than he was. "If I had known you would be visiting, and with such lovely company, I would have made something special."

"Hello Yael. That's very kind." Thoran turned to me. "What do you like?"

Panic washed over me as all three pairs of eyes rested on me, waiting for me to choose something I'd never been allowed to have. I knew what they all were, of course. I'd seen tables full of gleaming, silver trays heaped with an assortment of the most delectable confections, but I couldn't tell anyone what they tasted like. Never mind pick one I liked.

"I'm not really sure," I whispered. "They all look delicious."

That seemed to settle the matter for Thoran as he faced the man. "One of everything, Yael, please. Box them up and I'll have someone pick them up in the morning."

If Yael was surprised by the declaration, he never let on. His balding head inclined once before he dusted his large hands on the front of his apron and turned to the notepad by the register.

"If they come before five, they'll be fresh from the oven," he informed Thoran, scribbling out the order on the pad and ripping the top part off to hold out.

Thoran accepted the slip and passed it to Cyrus without looking at the price.

"Thank you." Warm, golden orbs lowered to the display, and he selected four, small squares from four different trays. "Can I get those to go, please?"

Caramel. Coconut. Walnut. Chocolate.

I read the labels as Yael grabbed a box and began selecting each one indicated. Thoran stopped him when he started to slap a sticker over the box to seal the lid.

"They won't make it down the street," he told the man who chuckled as he slid the box across the counter.

"Oh, no, no, it's on the house," Yael said when Thoran pulled his wallet out. "Please. I insist."

Thoran nodded, but still pulled out a crisp hundred and stuffed it into the tip jar. "For your troubles then."

With Yael's grateful farewells following us out the door, we stepped back into the cool afternoon.

"That was very kind of you," I said as we made our way onward.

Thoran barely glanced up from his attempts to pry the lid open on the box. "Hmm?"

He seemed to focused on his task that I just chuckled and shook my head. "Nothing."

The top lifted and he grinned happily to himself as he turned to face me. "You have to try the chocolate one."

The bar was held out to my lips right there in the middle of the road with people moving around us. But he looked so delighted by the offering that I found myself leaning in and taking a small nibble.

The chewy taste of gooey chocolate melted across my tongue, and I moaned. "Oh, my goodness!"

Thoran beamed. "The walnut is the best, but I'm saving that for last. Okay, coconut or caramel? Coconut it is," he decided for me when I could only shrug.

Still delicious, but...

"I like the chocolate better," I admitted.

Thoran nodded. "Coconut isn't my favorite, but I thought you might like it."

I started to tell him he didn't need to get things just because I might like them, but he was already holding out the caramel.

Chuckling, I took a bite. "No," I said immediately. "It's so sticky."

Without missing a beat, he passed the bar straight to Cyrus.

I gasped, horrified. "Don't give him that. I put it in my mouth."

Cyrus had already thrown the thing back and was chewing by the time I finished. "I'm not letting caramel go to waste," he muttered around his mouthful.

Thoran shrugged. "He's the only one who likes caramel."

"What about the coconut?" I asked.

"No one likes coconut," both men declared in unison.

Amused and still at a loss for words, I said nothing as Thoran held out the walnut.

"This," he said with a slow inhale, "this is the only bar that should ever exist."

"Disgusting," Cyrus mumbled.

"You're disgusting," Thoran returned without missing a beat.

He ignored Cyrus's rolling eyeballs as he waited for me to take a nibble.

It was good, but...

"I don't know if I like the walnuts," I murmured hesitantly.

Thoran gasped, outraged.

Cyrus burst out laughing.

"I think I might have to leave you here," he muttered, turning his body away from me. "That was just uncalled for."

"I'm sorry," I said, finding myself chuckling where normally I would have been a basket of anxiety.

Thoran shot me a glower from the corner of his eyes that contradicted the grin on his lips as he ate the rest of the walnut.

We made our way from shop to shop. If I stopped at the window, Thoran made a point of pulling me inside. Somehow, I wound up with a bunch of homemade bath products that smelled of a spring meadow with hints of sweet roses. Thoran had taken one sniff and declared that was the one and we needed everything in that line.

The short, round woman with rosy cheeks and a smile that could light up a whole room had laughed and boxed everything up to be picked up the next day.

I noted Thoran also stuffed another hundred-dollar bill in her tip jar before we left. He did that in every shop we visited.

For a man who seemed indifferent to taking a life, he was well thought of amongst the people of his village. Even in the stores where we didn't buy anything. People greeted him by name, and he asked about their families. They chatted like they'd been friends for years. Not a single person looked at him as if he were a monster or someone to be feared, but still there was respect in the way they addressed him.

He didn't introduce me to anyone. Not by name or as a passing comment. I wasn't sure if that was because he didn't want people knowing my name or he didn't want to lie and give them my fake one, but I appreciated not being drawn into the conversations. I had no idea what to say, but also, I wanted as few people to remember me as possible just in case.

"I have something I need to look into," Thoran said as he turned down a narrow alleyway. "I'm going to leave Cyrus with you. I won't be long."

I wanted to protest, and I started to.

"Cyrus should go with you," I said. "What if you need him?"

He shook his head. "I won't where I'm going." He kissed the spot between my eyebrows before pulling back. "Besides, I have a feeling you'll want to stay for a while where we're going next."

Intrigued, but still concerned, I allowed him to guide me further along until we reached a building with gorgeous gothic windows and a vastly different design from every other store we'd crossed. Victorian, if I had to guess. Two stories with stunning architecture that reminded me deeply of Lacroix House. Intricately carved woodwork ran in arches and lines across the door and trimmings. Overhead, gently swaying with the breeze, a sign read: Elysian Plains.

Thoran turned the brass knob and waited for me to cross the threshold.

It was nearly the exact replica of Thoran's office with rows upon rows of shelving spanning two floors. Each one stuffed with books in a hundred different sizes, colors, and genres. The entire place smelled of freshly brewed coffee and parchment.

Book bindings.

Dust.

Calm.

Peace.

It was ... everything my little heart had always wanted, right down to the velvet sofas placed neatly with wooden tables and lamps set just right. And plants. So many running over the arched windows and winding across railings. They nestled amongst the shelves and filled hundreds of pots littered across nearly every surface.

"Do you think you'll be okay here for a little while?" Thoran teased, tongue rolling over his teeth.

I wasn't listening.

I had spotted the spiral staircase and I was barely containing the bubbling noise threatening to spill free from my throat.

I hadn't even realized I was practically vibrating with happiness until his hands were on my face, physically turning it towards his to get my attention.

He laughed and kissed me. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Again, barely heard a word as I gaped up at him. "What is this place?"

"Yours."

I blinked, certain that weird fog that had settled over my brain was making up words I wanted to hear.

"What?"

"If it makes you this happy, it's yours."

He kissed me again and just left.