Page 8

Chapter 8

Elsie

H is what ?

“Excuse me?” I say, my jaw almost unhinging as I stare at the savagely attractive man facing me.

“My mate,” he repeats while crossing his massive arms over the bulging muscles of his broad chest.

I search for a hint of humor in his steely gray eyes or a quirk of his annoyingly sensual lips, but nope. He continues to study me with unwavering seriousness and perfect calm.

Yet behind that serene facade churns a ravenous restlessness. I sense the dangerous desire that lurks beneath the surface. He keeps a tight leash on it. Instinctively, I know this takes immense willpower, and the magnitude of his strength, be that physical or mental, only makes me more nervous. I may not know him from Adam, but anyone with a few brain cells can see that he’s a man of unequalled power and force.

That force both terrifies and pulls at me like a dark magic spell. I should back away. Instead, I find myself stepping closer. He smells so good. Once again, I have an urge to nestle against his chest and kiss the strong column of his neck. The skin of my nape prickles with an unsettling awareness, the fine hairs standing on end.

His eyes narrow in the corners, crinkling with something like predatory satisfaction, almost as if he’s happy with my response.

Wait. What am I doing? Instead of sniffing the air for a whiff of that intoxicating scent, I should be arguing my case.

I blink, trying to clear my head. “You’ve got this all wrong. Whoever you think I am, I’m not your mate.”

He tilts his head, challenging me with the disconcerting silence of a man who’s unshakable in his convictions.

“I’m not even an Alit,” I exclaim, grasping for a logical explanation that I hope will appeal to his reason. “You’re mistaking me for someone else. I’m Elsie, Elisa Barnikoff from Cleveland.” I blow out a sigh of relief as recognition flickers across his face. “See? It’s just a misunderstanding.”

“Elsie,” he says, trying out the sound on his tongue. “Is that what they called you there?”

“Look, I appreciate that you saved me and gave me back all my teeth. I’d love to stay and chat, but my parents must be worried sick about me. I need to get going, so if you could just lend me something to wear and show me to the nearest circle of lights, I’ll be on my way.”

At that, his expression darkens so much that my stomach twists with more nerves. I glance at the exit he’s left open behind him. Maybe if I’m fast, I can scoot around him.

My hope plummets as two men dressed in the same fashion as the one in front of me enter. With black hair and gray eyes, they bear a strong resemblance to my captor. They must be related, if not close family.

“Aruan,” the tallest of the two says, eyeing me curiously. “We came to fetch you. Father has called a meeting.”

Aruan speaks without taking his gaze off me. “And you had to convey that invitation in person? Is your curiosity satisfied?”

“Can you blame us?” the other one asks in a lighter tone.

“Elsie,” Aruan drawls, saying my name as if it’s a rare delight. “Meet my brothers, Kian and Vitai.” He gestures accordingly to each of them.

“Oh.” These are the dudes who healed me and gave me the ability to understand and speak their language. The manners my parents drilled into me dictate that I thank them for their effort even though, technically, I’m still their prisoner. “Thanks for helping me.”

“You’re welcome,” they say in unison.

The sincerity in their voices compels me to try my luck with them.

“Aruan,” I say, pronouncing the foreign name carefully, “seems to be confused. He thinks I’m his mate.”

I laugh to stress my point, but when no one joins in, my laughter quickly dries up.

Holding the sheet up with one hand, I wave toward the two newcomers. “You’re both Alit, right?”

They look at each other before nodding.

“You have special powers, like Aruan,” I continue as an argument takes shape in my head. “Do all Alit have powers?”

“To a lesser or greater extent,” Kian says.

“See?” I give them a friendly, peace-offering smile. “I don’t have a power.” Voila. Point proven. “I’m not an Alit.”

I glance between the trio, anxious for them to connect the dots.

Kian and Vitai shoot Aruan baffled looks.

Their brother stares back, stone faced.

“It’s rare for a royal Alit not to have a power, even a feeble one,” Kian says. “And it’s unheard of for a powerful Alit to be fated to a mate with a weak power, let alone to a mate with no power. Yet I don’t sense anything inside her.”

Aruan turns on him with flashing eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything. Are you suggesting I don’t recognize my own mate?”

“Not at all,” Kian says quickly. “I’m merely saying that it’s strange.”

“Maybe her power was destroyed when she was sent to Earth,” Vitai offers.

My gaze bounces between them like a ping-pong ball while they discuss me as if I’m not in the room.

“That could be,” Kian muses. “Which would be unfortunate. She may be too weak to rule at your side, Aruan.”

The silver of Aruan’s eyes darkens to a deep graphite. A tremor shakes the room, the floor wobbling beneath my feet.

I slam a palm on the wall to keep my balance.

What the hell is going on? Is this an earthquake?

“Accuse my mate of being weak again, and you’ll face me in the clearing,” Aruan says in an icy tone.

Okay, enough is enough.

“Hey, dudes.” I utter another uncomfortable laugh. “While I categorically state that I’m not an Alit, that doesn’t mean you can insult me.” I hurry to tell Aruan, “Although I’m not ungrateful for your intervention when the Phaelix kidnapped me.”

Aruan fixes his piercing gaze on me, possession sparking in the depths of those mercurial eyes.

Kian’s manner is placating. “Father is waiting, and you know how he gets when we waste his time.”

This seems to bring Aruan to his senses. Bowing his head stiffly in my direction, he says, “I will see to it that clothes and food are sent.”

With that, the three of them are gone, and the stone wall materializes back in place.

I rush to it and knock a fist on it to test if any part of the wall is hollow.

No luck.

I move in a circle around the room, but the walls are solid. I even press on a few stones, hoping to find a secret button that unlocks a concealed passageway, like in one of those spooky Gothic movies.

Nope.

Whatever technique Aruan uses to disintegrate the wall, he’s not doing it with hidden mechanisms. He must be managing it with his mind, which is insane and terrifying.

Fuck.

I’m trapped in here.

Seeing that I’ve spent half my life in the narrow tunnel of an MRI machine, I’m not exactly claustrophobic, but a sense of suffocation descends on me as I spin around my cavernous prison.

No sooner does the sensation hit me than an archway opens miraculously on the other side of the room.

I dash across the floor, almost tripping over the sheet in my haste. Contrary to what I fear, the archway doesn’t close when I reach it. It opens up into a spacious, rectangular cavern framed by ornate pillars. A polished, squarish stone that serves as a table and two circular, hollow stones with silver padding, which I imagine to be chairs, stand on one end. A few more of those “chairs” are scattered around, some placed next to smaller stone tables. On the other side, two carved statues of reclining men with weird bird heads and padded stomachs form daybeds. They face a huge, arched window that reaches all the way to the floor. It’s one of those that you can step through, like French doors.

I rush over and peer out.

A gasp catches in my throat.

The drop is so sheer that it gives me vertigo. I inch back a step, stretching my neck for a better view.

Below, a slate-blue cliff plummets for miles before plunging into the black water of a foaming sea.

Damn.

Just my luck.

Scratch jumping out of the window.

The view is inarguably impressive, though. Curious, I test the latch on the window. To my surprise, it lifts. The window opens onto a narrow ledge with a rail carved from smooth, pinkish stone. A dinosaur sculpted from that same stone winds around the rail and between the balusters, creating an intricate trellis of claws and wings that acts as a safety barrier. Small children or pets wouldn’t be able to slip through the bars.

I step out onto the ledge cautiously, gripping the rail with both hands.

A warm wind ruffles my hair. Smells of moss and forest undergrowth reach my nostrils, again reminding me of that trip to Costa Rica. But this time, it also stirs memories of the camping outing Mom and Dad organized to cheer me up after a particularly long spell of chemotherapy. In the end, what should’ve been an adventure turned into a vacation from hell. I puked my guts out the entire time. It didn’t help that I woke up on the first morning with my face, arms, and legs covered in itchy insect bites, only to develop an allergic reaction to the repellent my well-meaning mom drenched me with.

I inhale the freshness of the air, appreciating it like I wish I could’ve on my one and only adventure that involved roasting marshmallows—which I was too sick to eat. Immediately, I start to feel better. It’s like being hooked up to an oxygen tank. My lungs expand with the sweet air, infusing me with an unfamiliar vitality.

Wow, this is great.

For the first time in my recollection, I have so much energy that I feel capable of running a marathon.

I lean over the rail a little so I can survey the surroundings on the sides of the balcony.

Wow! I’m in a cave of sorts. Several more caves with narrow-ledged balconies are stacked like rooms in the rockface. They stretch to both ends of the cliff, forming an impressive collection of different-sized caverns. A waterfall that tumbles from the top of the cliff covers the biggest cavern that gapes in the center of the mountain, which is below me to my left.

A bridge runs from the waterfall to a cliff on the other side. A platform ringed with ropes acting as rails is suspended in the center. Steps carved into the cliff lead down to the sea. They blend in so perfectly with the rocky cliff that it’s easy to miss them.

Where the cliff ends, ferns in vibrant greens grow along the water’s edge. Trumpet-shaped red and purple flowers stick out from clusters of grass that cover the ground.

I lift my face, enjoying the warm wind on my cheeks. Shading my face with a hand against my forehead, I squint at the brightness of the pale blue heavens sprinkled with puffs of snowy clouds.

A black dot appears in the distance. I fix my gaze on the point that slowly grows bigger.

Amazing.

My sight is incredible. I can see so far and so clearly. I never truly realized how bad my eyesight was until now.

As the object gets closer, I make out wings that slice through the air.

That’s one giant bird.

And then the bird comes into full view, and I almost tumble over the rail in shock.

A hair-raising cry splits the sky. The screeching creature flaps its wings and soars past the ledge, diving down toward the water before rising straight up again.

I pinch my eyes shut and open them slowly, but no, it’s not an apparition.

It’s a real-life quetzalcoatlus.

I watch, enraptured, as the most aggressive of all flying carnivores in history and the largest animal to ever fly makes another turn past the balcony.

Unbelievable.

I’m staring at a dinosaur that’s long extinct back on Earth.

Well, technically, it’s not a dinosaur but a flying reptile that’s part of the pterosaur species.

I bet the guys at the Jurassic Park set in LA would give an arm and a leg to see this. If only I had my phone to take a video. I have to say, the movie makers’ imitation of the warm-blooded reptile wasn’t far off the mark.

The quetzalcoatlus moves in for another round. This time, it gets so close that the swooshing beat of its wings stirs a breeze through my hair, and I can make out a small nick on the tip of its left wing, likely a remnant of some fight.

A layer of downy, light-gray hair covers its body and leathery wings. The small crest on the back of its head is blue, while its wings are black and salmon pink. The tuft of black filaments adorning the crest quivers when the pterosaur goes into a tailspin.

For a reptile that’s sixteen feet tall and weighs around five hundred pounds, it’s astonishingly graceful in flight. With a wingspan of over fifty feet, it’s the size of a Cessna airplane.

It stretches its giraffe-like neck as it makes another lunge through the air with its toothless jaw proudly thrust forward. I’ve never seen anything more awe-inspiring or riveting.

I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet, laughing with excitement as the big reptile circles a few inches from where I’m standing. Since childhood, I’ve been obsessed with dinosaurs and pterosaurs. Posters of every recorded species tiled my bedroom walls, and my bed was buried beneath a mountain of soft dinosaur toys. I named each of them. My favorite was Betty, the quetzalcoatlus that looked like a mutated stork.

Therefore, it’s no surprise that I’m drawn to the prehistoric scavenger doing this strange dance in front of the balcony. It almost seems as if she’s performing especially for me, like some kind of welcoming. What’s odd is that I’m not scared in the least, even though I should be.

Clapping my hands in delight, I praise the quetzalcoatlus for the magnificent show.

“Good dragons,” someone exclaims in a fearful voice behind me.

A woman grabs my arm and pulls me with a forceful tug back into the room. I stumble, grabbing the back of the nearest daybed to keep my balance.

When I’ve righted myself, I come face to face with the woman I saw earlier, the one who was sitting in a lotus position on the floor when Aruan brought me here and the same one who poured the milky liquid into the pool.

She lets me go and shuts the window with a firm click of the latch.

“Good, frightful dragons,” she says again, turning on me with round, bewildered eyes. “You should never go near the window when the dragons are on the hunt. They’ll pick you right off the balcony.”

“Dragons? Are you kidding me?” I throw a thumb over my shoulder. “That’s a quetzalcoatlus.”

I know my stuff when it comes to dinosaurs.

Her forehead crumples into a frown. “A what?”

“On Earth, they lived between a hundred-and-forty-four and sixty-six million years ago,” I continue with enthusiasm. “They’re now extinct.”

She cocks her head. “Our dragons are very much present. Although, the big ones like that don’t come near the palace often. They prefer to stay away from the bustle of activity around the nearby village. It’s rare for one to fly by that close, but there are incidents of people being snatched off the balconies. Seeing you there, nose to nose with the dragon, almost stopped my heart.”

“Sorry,” I say, feeling bad for scaring her.

At the same time, I’m elated. I can’t get over what happened.

I sneak a peek at the window longingly, but beyond the pink-tinted glass panes, the sky is clear and quiet.

“Never mind.” She makes a brave attempt at smiling. “We won’t speak about this to my brother. He’ll only get angry. Just don’t do that again.”

I have no intention of missing out on the experience if a freaking dinosaur flies past the window again.

My heart starts pumping as a thought hits me. “Are there other, um, dragons on land?”

“They’re everywhere,” she says vaguely, not seeming keen on the discussion. She blows out a shaky breath. “I’m Gaia, Aruan’s sister.” She adds with a smile, “We weren’t properly introduced when you arrived.”

“Elsie,” I say, holding out my hand to shake hers while making sure the sheet around my body stays in place.

She stares at my outstretched hand in amusement, not making a move to take it.

Maybe that’s not how people greet each other on Zerra.

“Come,” she says with an eloquent flick of her fingers.

At first, I think she’s addressing me, but then a small army of men carrying loaded trays marches through the bedroom archway that has reappeared again.

While they offload dishes onto the big square stone, I use the opportunity to speak with Gaia. She seems more approachable than her brothers.

“There’s been a mistake,” I start carefully. “This is all wrong.”

“Don’t mind them,” she says, waving a hand toward the men. “My brother insisted. They’re here for your protection.” She props a hand on her hip. “He obviously doesn’t trust me, or anyone, with you—not that I blame him. We’ll put up a screen so you don’t have to see them. You won’t even know they’re here.”

“Oh.” I glance at the men. “I didn’t mean them. There’s been a huge misunderstanding.” Smiling awkwardly, I continue, “Aruan seems to think I’m his mate.”

Her expression remains serious. “You are his mate.” Scrutinizing me, she asks, “Can’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“No matter.” She takes my hand. “It’ll come. Give it time. Considering what you’ve been through, I suppose it’s not surprising.”

“He thinks I’m an Alit, but I’m from Earth.” I pull my hand from hers. “Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Compassion softens her silver eyes. “Of course we believe you. The fact that you ended up on Earth is most unfortunate. But what was done can’t be undone.” Sadness infuses her tone. “For many years, Aruan believed you were dead. Most of us only feel the bond with our mates at adolescence, but your bond was so strong that Aruan felt it the day you were born.” Tears glimmer in her eyes. “He was only five years old.” Her voice turns bright again. “Look at me, getting all emotional.” She blinks several times and swipes at the wetness on her cheek. “That was a long time ago. Now you’re back, and that’s what we must focus on.”

I’m not untouched by her display of emotion, but her statement befuddles me. “Wait, what do you mean I’m back?”

She brushes my windblown hair from my forehead. “Everything must seem so confusing to you.”

Yeah, no kidding. I have a million questions about this world and how it all works, but now isn’t the time to indulge my curiosity. “I’m from Earth,” I say insistently. “My parents are there. Don’t you see? I have to go back to them.”

She abandons trying to manipulate my hair into some kind of style and cups my cheek instead. “Your parents were Alit. They were from Marikanea, the kingdom in the east known for its endless oceans and cerulean skies. You were only a baby when you disappeared.”

“No.” I back away. “My parents are Irene and Jonas Barnikoff.”

Her manner is strangely sympathetic. “They’re not your biological parents, are they?”

“No, but?—”

Holy shit.

This bizarre situation is starting to really freak me out.

Okay. So what if I was adopted? That doesn’t mean she’s right.

I lift my chin. “Where are these so-called parents? I demand a DNA test.”

That should settle the argument once and for all. Unless… do they not have those here?

Gaia scrunches up her face. “A what?” She blows out another sigh. “Never mind. My dear Laliss—” She catches herself and corrects quickly, “Elsie, I’m so sorry to be the bearer of such tragic news, but your parents died in a volcano eruption that wiped out half of their capital. It happened not long after your… um, supposed fatal accident.”

Ha.

Very convenient.

“I suppose you won’t grieve them because you didn’t know them,” she says. “Still, I know it hurts.”

Honestly, I’m not sure what the fuck to feel.

Gripping my shoulders, she ushers me toward the table where dishes, goblets, and a carafe are set out. “Let’s feed you, shall we? You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten. Aruan went to great pains to locate the ingredients so that only the best of Zerran dishes could be prepared for you.”

She nods at the men who stand at attention around the table. They’re wearing the same white tunics and tall boots over charcoal-gray pants. Each man has a dagger strapped to his belt. It must be some kind of uniform.

At Gaia’s signal, they go into the bedroom and disappear behind wooden dividers painted with flowers and scenery I recognize from outside. Someone must’ve placed the dividers there while Gaia and I were talking.

“Don’t worry.” Gaia moves behind me and pushes me down onto one of the padded chairs with her hands on my shoulders. “You can enjoy your meal in peace. They won’t invade your privacy by watching you eat. They know if they do, Aruan will dissolve their eyeballs.”

Ew. I hope she doesn’t mean that literally.

She removes the woven basket covers from the stone platters one by one, releasing delicious aromas that waft into the space with ribbons of steam.

On cue, my stomach growls.

Now that I’m no longer permanently nauseated, my appetite is back with a vengeance. Those lizards—the Phaelix—fed me not so long ago. Or maybe it was days ago. I have no idea how long I’ve been out.

“How long have I been unconscious?” I ask.

“Just a few hours. It was necessary for you to recover.” Gaia drops her gaze to the sheet that I tug awkwardly around myself. “My brother has already sent for clothes. We’ll get you out of that bedsheet soon. But first, you must eat. Aruan was most adamant about that.” Sitting down opposite me, she motions at the spread on the table. “You can try a bit of everything and tell me which dishes you prefer. Aruan will order those in the future and avoid the ones you don’t like.” She reaches over the table, picks up a small, forked spike, and hands it to me. “Use this. You don’t want to burn your fingers.”

I study the weird utensil before spearing a bright pink, juicy cube that looks like the meat of a fruit or vegetable. Chewing slowly, I enjoy the crunchy texture and sweetness that explodes on my tongue.

Yum.

It tastes like a cross between a strawberry and lychee.

The second cube I try, which is bright yellow, tastes like salty licorice.

I pull a face, at which Gaia giggles.

“That’s sagi ,” she says. “It’s a rare fruit that grows in the salty moors of the northern kingdom. By the look on your face, this one is definitely off the list.” Pushing a dish with green, spongy stew toward me, she says, “Try this one. It’s a local specialty.”

I’m doubtful as I take a bite. The color and consistency aren’t promising, but I’m pleasantly surprised by the rich, meaty flavor.

“It’s a stew made with the flowers and succulent leaves of water lilies.” Gaia leans her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her palm. “They grow wild on the lakes, but it’s difficult to harvest them because the dragons lay their eggs in that area. Men will risk their lives for a bag of pond lilies. That’s why the flowers are worth their weight in black opal, the most precious stone on Zerra.”

I eat a few more bites of the stew to show my gratitude for the expensive meal before trying a little of everything. My favorite dish is the paper-thin, butter-yellow flowers deep-fried in a thin batter, which Gaia tells me are yitaki .

When I assure her that I can’t eat another bite, she pulls the carafe closer and pours a goblet full of golden liquid.

“It’s honey wine.” She hands it to me. “It will refresh you.”

Feeling thirsty, I down the whole goblet in one go. The wine is quite sugary, so I refill my goblet with water from a terracotta jar and drink that too.

“Now for the important part,” she says, clapping her hands as she stands.

“Wait.” When she pauses to look at me, I continue quickly, “I was hoping you could tell me more about this place.”

“About Zerra?”

“Yes.” I nod vigorously. “And about how your powers work. For example, how did your brother manage to heal me? Oh, hold on. You must have a power too, right? What’s your power?”

“My specialty is creating portals.”

I sit up straighter. That may be my ticket out of here. “Portals to Earth?”

“You’re out of luck,” she says, crushing my hope with a rueful smile. “That requires a much stronger power than mine. I can open and close portals repeatedly but not across worlds. That’s how Aruan found you. The minute he sensed your presence on Zerra, he made me open portals until we discovered the right one.”

“Oh.” I sink back in my seat. “Who can open a portal to Earth?” Or is it done via a technology of some kind?

“I’m afraid your questions will have to wait. We’d better get started, or we’ll be late.”

“Late for what?”

Our exchange is interrupted when four women enter the bedroom with decorative boxes in their arms. The hems of their long gauzy dresses sweep their flat sandals. The one in the back of the line carries a shimmery gown that she lays out on the trunk while the others put the boxes on a rectangular slab of shiny black stone next to the part of the wall that shines like a mirror.

“Come.” Gaia takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. “Let’s make you pretty.”

“For what?” I ask again, starting to feel a bit drowsy from all the food.

She guides me toward the boxes from which the women are retrieving decanters of oils, pots of creams, and gemstone-encrusted brushes. “For the banquet.”

I hang back. I’ve just eaten enough food to last a whole winter’s hibernation, and I want to go home, not to a banquet where more food will no doubt be served.

“What banquet?” I ask.

A smile lights up her face. “The one where Aruan will present you to the court before you take your vows.”

“Vows?” I stammer. I’m wide awake now. “What vows?”

Continuing as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, she says, “The vows you say before Aruan consummates the mating, of course.”