You do realize you have wil ingly, stupidly, ruined yourself for good. You’re spoiled. Used up. No one wil ever want to marry you once the word gets out. Hel , you’l be lucky if that lovesick Heath wil have anything to do with you. Nobody enjoys dipping into seconds, cousin, if you know what I mean?”
“You need to leave.” I straighten my back, square my shoulders, having heard enough of her insults, and not wanting Alrik to return and find us like this. There’s no tel ing what he might do.
But Esme wil have none of it. She’s not going anywhere. She remains rooted in place, lips curling into a sardonic smile that perfectly matches the look in her eyes.
“You need to leave now, before the maid gets here and before Alrik returns,” I say, hoping that’l be enough to convince her.
But she just scoffs. “Oh, no need to worry about that.” She checks her nails, runs a hand over her coif of red hair. “The maid won’t be getting here anytime soon, if ever. From what I hear it seems she’s had a little detour. And as for Alrik…”
I swal ow. Hold my breath. Wait. A horrible feeling creeping over me, knowing before she can say it, that she’s done something bad, found a way to thwart al our plans.
Her words confirming my worst suspicions when she says, “I expect the king is giving him a stern talking-to now. Sorry to break it to you, Adelina, but it seems that your little secret is out, and as for your marriage, it seems that it’s over before it could start.”
I turn away. Struggle to breathe. Having no idea how to respond to anything she just said. I should’ve known. Should’ve known it was too good to be true. Should’ve known Esme would find a way to barge in, interfere; it’s what she’s best known for.
“The only question that remains now is what wil become of you?” She moves until her eyes find mine, her gaze betraying her words.
There’s no calculating, no pondering, she knows exactly why she’s come, what she plans to do, and has no intention of leaving until she sees it al the way through.
Her eyes narrowing, glistening as she raises her arms, reaches behind her, and secures her hood up over her head.
Her black velvet cloak an exact replica of the one in my dreams.
The one I mistook as a mere symbol of death.
Never once thinking that I should take it literal y.
Never once thinking it would be the last thing I’d see before my whole world dropped out from under me.
nineteen
I am cold.
Hurting.
My only source of warmth coming from a trail of something slippery that streams down my face, causing my eyes to burn and sting and a coppery taste to lol over my tongue.
Blood.
My blood.
It must be. Esme never had a chance to shed any.
She was too quick. Too focused. Too sure of her intent. And I was woeful y unprepared to handle her.
Despite being warned by the dream, I never stood a chance.
Never imagined she’d be the one to bring me my death.
And now, after arranging it to look like an accident, she’s gone.
Leaving me to fal deeper and deeper into a never-ending pool of blackness.
* * *
I can hear his voice drifting from miles away. The sound garbled, distorted, as though traveling from the depths of a very deep sea, as though grappling for the surface, grappling for me.
And though I want more than anything to nod vigorously, to wave my arms, to shout out loud and clear that I’ve heard him, received his message, that I’m aware that he’s near—I can’t seem to manage those things.
I can’t see. Can’t move. Can’t speak.
It’s like I’m already locked in my coffin, buried alive, aware of what goes on al around me, but unable to participate.
Struggling with al of my might to hang onto his words, his presence, to find a way to reach him before I’m gone for good.
He is frantic, mournful, despondent, and stricken when he cries, “Who has done this to her? I wil kil them!” Fol owed by a long stream of threats that spew forth from his lips, pausing every now and then to alternate between begging favors of God and demanding to know why that same God has beseeched him—robbed him of his one and only chance at true love.
“It appears to be an accident,” says a voice I instantly recognize as belonging to Rhys. And I can’t help but recoil, can’t help but hope against hope that it wasn’t his hand I just felt at my brow.
“Get away from her! Don’t touch her!” Alrik cries. “This is your fault—you and your big mouth. Damn you, brother! Look what you’ve done!”
“Me?” Rhys laughs, a deeply sarcastic sound. “How could I possibly have caused this when I’ve only just arrived?”
I strain to hear, wondering if Alrik suspects the truth, that it’s Esme, his betrothed, who left me like this.
My hopes crashing when he says, “If you hadn’t told Father, I wouldn’t have been delayed. I would have been here to save her from …
from this … fall.” He shudders, his hand quivering, breath like a sob. “This never would’ve happened, if it wasn’t for you.”
“Brother, please. Get ahold of yourself. Why would I do this when I have as much to lose as you do?” Rhys’s voice remains steady, firm, a cruel contrast to his brother’s never-ending sorrow, his deep-seated grief.
“You haven’t lost anything,” Alrik says, his words just barely audible. “You can have the crown—I don’t want it. You are free to marry Esme, as wel —I couldn’t stand to look at her now. It is I who have lost. I’ve lost everything—the only thing that’s ever meant anything to me … Adelina,” he whispers, fingers smoothing my brow, my cheek, trailing down to my neck, where they pause, linger, his voice pleading when he adds, “Adelina, why? Why has this happened? Why are you leaving me?”
Because of the dream, I try to say, but no words wil come, so I concentrate on thinking it instead. I tried to warn you, tried to prepare you, but you brushed it away …
“Oh, Adelina, you saw this, didn’t you? You tried to warn me last night when you woke from your nightmare, but I only wanted to soothe you, I refused to listen…”
For a moment, I felt myself drifting, losing my grip, but when he just spoke, his words echoing my own, something deep inside of me jerked to attention.
Did he … is it possible that he somehow heard me? Sensed the thoughts I was sending to him?
Alrik! Alrik, can you hear me? Please know that I love you. I concentrate on the words, concentrate with al of my might, al that is left.
Wondering, hoping that he’l sense those words too. I have always loved you. I always will love you. Nothing can keep us apart, not even my death.
“I love you, Adelina,” he whispers, one hand at my brow, the other entwined with mine, frantical y pushing some cool, round piece of metal, what could only be my wedding band, onto my finger. “I have always loved you, I always wil love you. You wil always live in my heart … you wil always be my bride…” His voice breaks, as a flood of fresh tears rain onto my face.
Well, how about that? I think, wil ing a smile but not quite succeeding. I’m immobile, locked in, and yet, we have this—the thoughts that stream between us.
I’m just about to attempt it again, eager to let him know that al is not lost, that I’m not gone yet, that a glimmer of me stil exists, when I hear a rush of heavy footsteps fol owed by Heath’s voice saying, “The doctor is here.”
The next few moments are spent poking, prodding, and feeling for a pulse so faint the doctor nearly misses it. His voice grave, his prognosis grim, his final pronouncement the last thing Alrik wants to hear.
I am not long for this world.
But Alrik won’t accept it. “There are other ways,” he insists. “I have money. Lots and lots of money. You can have my entire fortune, whatever you want—just bring her back to me. I’ve heard the rumors, I know about the elixirs, the secret potions and tonics—the special brew that cures al il s, extending life
for an indefinite amount of time…”
“I know nothing about that,” the doctor insists, his tone sharp, resolute. “And, I assure you that even if I did, that is nothing you want to play with. I am sorry for your loss, truly I am. But this is the natural order of things and you must find a way to make peace with it.”
“I wil not!” Alrik shouts. And if I could see him, wel I’m sure I’d find his face as stony and cold as his voice just resonated. “Where there is life, there is hope, and you know it! What kind of doctor are you if you do not believe that to be true? I wil never make my peace with futility when there are other options stil left to explore. I have money, no expense wil be spared—do you hear me? You cannot say no to me! Don’t you know who I am?”
It goes on like that, Alrik eliciting a long stream of threats I’m sure he has no plans to make good on. It’s the ramblings of a man driven mad with grief, and fortunately the doctor recognizes that.
His words compassionate, forgiving yet firm when he says, “Alrik, m’lord, while I am truly sorry for your loss, I have done al that I can.
Now I beg of you to keep her comfortable, to say your good-byes, and to let her pass easily, painlessly, with no further outbursts from you. Please, Alrik. If you love her as much as you claim, then let her go in peace.”
“Out! OUT! ” is Alrik’s only reply. Fol owed by the press of his lips on my cheek, a rush of words whispered into my flesh. Our palms pressed together as he utters a string of prayers, pleas, questions, recriminations, and threats, then returning to prayers and beginning al over again.
The litany broken only by Heath’s quiet voice saying, “Sir, m’lord, I know someone who may offer the sort of assistance you seek.”
Alrik stops, stil s, and asks, “Who?”
“A woman who lives just outside the vil age. I’ve heard rumors. Can’t say for sure if they’re true. Though it might be worth a try…”
“Bring her,” Alrik says, burying his face into the hol ow where my neck meets my shoulder. “Go. Fetch her. Bring her to me.”
twenty
I must’ve fal en into an even deeper state of unconsciousness because the next thing I know more people have joined me. And from the sound of their voices I’m guessing them to be Alrik, Heath, an older female whom I assume is the one Heath was sent to fetch, and two younger female voices that probably belong to her daughters, or apprentices, or both.
“You must know right up front that there is no guarantee. This is only to be tried as an absolute last resort,” the older female voice says.
“Does it look like I have other options?” Alrik cries, teetering on the edge of hysteria.
“It worked on a cat. Brought him right back. He went on to live for another ful year,” one of the younger female voices cuts in. “But the last human who drank, wel , it didn’t go over so wel .”
“What does that mean? What does she mean?” Alrik is frantic.
“It means he died in spite of it,” the older woman says. “He could not be saved. Not everyone can.”
“Adelina’s not just anyone. She’s young, beautiful, in good health. It wil work for her—you wil make sure that it does!” Alrik demands.
“I wil try. That is al I can promise. I’ve recently used it on myself—just six months ago when I fel il the drink cured me, brought me back from the brink so quickly it was as if it never happened. Stil , like I said, there are no guarantees.”
“So what are you waiting for? Give it to her already! Hurry, before it’s too late!”
She moves toward me. I feel the warmth of her body sidling up beside me. Her fingers sliding under my neck, cupping the back of my head, bringing me to her as she presses something hard and cold to my mouth. Urging a cool bitter liquid to slip past my lips and over my tongue, until it sinks down my throat and I do what I can to struggle against it. But it’s no use, I can’t fight it. I’m immobile, paralyzed, my thoughts locked inside, and I’ve no way to tel them to stop—it’s a waste of their effort.
It’s too late.
It won’t work.
My energy is gathering, compressing, shrinking down into a smal vibrating sphere of color and light. Preparing to rise and lift—to drift right out of the center-most part of my scalp, what’s cal ed the crown, and merge into whatever it is that lies just beyond.
They continue to fuss al around me, voices clamoring, hands prodding—making it clear that I’m the only one aware of the fact that I’m close to being gone.
This life is ending.
I won’t be returning—or at least not in this form.
My formerly sightless eyes suddenly fil ed with a vision of a beautiful golden veil I can’t wait to merge into. Stil , I strain to hold on for just a few seconds more—I need to reach Alrik, need to convince him that it wil al be al right.
My tongue bitter with the useless concoction they insist on feeding me. Wasting precious time, choosing to focus on absurdities when there are far more important things.
Alrik! I concentrate on his name with every last ounce of my being. Alrik, please, can you hear me?
But my plea fal s on deaf ears. He misses it entirely.
His attention is claimed by his grief.
And now it’s too late.
I can’t ignore the pul . Can no longer fight it. Don’t want to fight it. And so I heave my last breath and al ow myself to soar. Hovering up near the ceiling as I gaze down upon the scene, seeing Heath drowning in anguish with his head bowed low, the older female stil feeding me the elixir, while her two young apprentices, who bear such a striking resemblance I’m sure they’re her daughters, hover over me, whispering a long string of words I cannot decipher. And final y, Alrik, my dear Alrik—frantical y grasping the hand that bears my wedding band, futilely searching for signs of a life that no longer exists.
Letting out a bloodcurdling howl when he realizes the truth.
My body’s been reduced to an unoccupied shel .
My soul has been freed.
He empties the room, wanting to be alone with his grief. Then numbed, broken, completely defeated, he throws his body over me. His lips seeking my mouth, desperate to bring me back, unable to accept what he knows deep down inside to be true.
So lost in his sorrow he has no idea that I kneel right beside him, longing to reach him. Desperate to assure him of a truth he couldn’t even begin to imagine—that I haven’t gone anywhere—that I’l never truly leave him—that the body may wither, but my soul, just like the love that we share, never dies.
But it’s no use. He’s shut down. Unable to hear me. Unable to sense me.
Convinced that he now walks alone in the world.
And it’s not long before I feel the pul again. This time so strong there is no way to escape it.
Yanking me away from Alrik, out of the lodge, and into the sky. Sending me spinning, soaring, racing through the clouds, flying over mountain peaks, peering down upon an earth so different from the way I used to see it, becoming a place where everything shimmers, where everything vibrates and glows.
The truth of our existence so clearly revealed, I can’t imagine why I failed to see it before.
Every living thing, from plants, to animals, to the very people who populate the planet—are al connected to each other.
We are al one.
And though we may pass in and out of existence, our souls, our energy, our essence, never fade.
We are infinite beings—every last one.
The realization dawning like a lightning bolt crashing overhead, and I instinctively know this is it.
This is what I’m supposed to learn.
This is what I must never al ow myself to forget, no matter what happens from this moment on.
And then, before the next thought can form, I pierce through the beautiful shimmering golden veil of light and find myself right back in a place I instantly recognize.
twenty-one
I land on the riverbank. Land with a thud.
Toes caught in the wa
ter, butt caught in the sand—the events of a lifetime, my first lifetime, stil swirling through my head.
Aware of a soft rustling sound coming from somewhere behind, I turn to see her smiling as she makes her approach, offers an old gnarled hand, and helps me to my feet.
My lips parting as a slew of questions rush forth, al of that halted when Lotus shakes her head, places her hand on my arm, and says,
“You have discovered the truth.”
I nod, clinging to what I now know, what I must always remember, never forget, but at this exact moment, I’m burdened with more pressing concerns. “And Damen?” I ask, my voice betraying my anxiety. “Where is he?”
She lowers her lids for a moment as though watching a scene that plays deep within, lifting them again when she says, “He stil has much to see. Much to learn. For him, it’s not over. Not yet anyway.”
She motions toward the river, and I fol ow the tilt of her finger. Watching the current swirl and change until it smooths out again and the remnants of the scene I just left are reflected upon it. Showing Alrik’s life stil in progress, showing him consumed by a never-ending grief.
He is broken, defeated, wrecked to the core, so greatly misguided al he can manage is to seek revenge for my death. Having no idea Esme caused it, he’s eager to place the blame on someone, anyone, ultimately seeing that the woman from the vil age, along with her two young apprentices, are charged with dealing in witchcraft and magick and put to their deaths. Soon fal ing into an even deeper despair when the act of his vengeance brings no sense of peace, no sense of redemption. Fails to compensate for his loss. Fails to bring me back to him.
The rest of his life lived in a fog of lost passions and thwarted dreams, his fervor and fight buried right along with my body. He goes through the motions, does what’s expected, settling into the path of least resistance, settling into the life his father had planned.