Page 16 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor’s Destiny (Time for Monsters)

T his man really did seem to have an explanation for everything. Every time I tried to trip him up, he found a way to explain himself. The worrisome part wasn't that he had another woman, Vaelora, put into a crate, which it should have been, but no. The worrisome part was that deep down, I was starting to believe him—to doubt myself, my reality. Some of the things he said resonated with me deep in my soul.

There were even moments when I looked at him that his features seemed—as insane as it sounded—familiar.

"So, somebody was attacking your kingdom, and you were worried they would win, so you had me locked up to be taken away for my safety?" He nodded. "But you won, and instead of thanking you, I put you into a coffin."

A small smile played around the edges of his lips, making him very attractive. "You always were most vengeful."

"I would never do that," I stated. "Never." I was sure of it. I would have never locked a man into a sarcophagus.

"You weren't human then. You were a goddess. You experienced emotions differently from the way you are experiencing them now."

I couldn't help it, I scoffed. He stiffened, and I recoiled. Humor him , my mind screamed. But I couldn't. There was only so much terror a person could take before they decided enough was enough. If he wanted to kill me, then fine. But I would not entertain his delusions. "You really have an explanation for everything, don't you?"

His light smile vanished, replaced by sadness that made me feel guilty. He rose from the bed. "You should really eat something. Tomorrow, we'll go buy you more clothes."

"For what?" I demanded. "Are you going to take me out into the city?"

"I'm going to take you back to Orasis. Maybe you'll remember then."

"Orasis?" I had never heard that name before. It sounded like Oasis. "Are you going to take me into the desert?"

He beamed, "You remember."

"I don't remember anything. This is stupid. You are crazy. Let me go," I raged.

"Orasis is in what I believe you now call Egypt. That's where we're going."

I froze. Egypt?

Could this really still be a coincidence?

Don't Roweena, remember he said he came out of a sarcophagus. Of course he would link things to Egypt . But I wasn't as sure as my rational mind any longer. Somehow, he had known I had taken the ring out of the sarcophagus, had known that the handkerchief was mine. For some reason, I had been obsessed with Egypt all my life. I nearly married a man who would have taken me there— before he locked me up . But he would have taken me to Egypt , I was sure of it. Somehow, all my paths pointed toward the land of Pharaohs and pyramids, the desert and the Nile. My heart had constricted with longing every time I had seen a drawing or painting of Egypt. All my life, I had been homesick for a place I had never stepped foot on.

He's using you and your deepest desires .

Maybe, I allowed. But he would take me to Egypt. And just maybe I could figure out what my long obsession with that place was all about.

You can't be serious?

Watch me.

Roweena, this man is dangerous, deranged, delusional, and certifiable crazy. You can't go with him to a strange country where you don't know anybody.

As much as my rational mind tried to convince me otherwise, I was convinced that going with him wasn't any less dangerous than marrying Thomas. A man who would have committed me to an insane asylum no matter my plans and dreams. Even if Abbie could have gotten me out of St. George's Fields, even if I had made it to America, Thomas would have found and brought me back. He wouldn't have allowed me to taint his name more than our marriage already had. All our planning had been nothing but a dream.

That didn't change the fact that Vardor frightened me more than Thomas ever had. He had kidnapped me. Bound and gagged me. This man was capable of anything. But... my mind worked feverishly. If I could make him believe I was working with him, if I could win his trust, and if I could get my jewelry from Abbie, I might be able to escape him during our journey. Or in Egypt.

Now that was a plan.

One I could get on board with.

Then I would be truly free. I could go wherever I pleased. I could stay in Egypt or make my way to America. The jewelry Abbie was hiding for me was worth a fortune. Neither my father nor Thomas knew where it was, or that I had played them against each other in buying all of it for me.

My father never buys me any jewelry , I said to Thomas, whereas I told my father that I needed a lot of fancy trinkets as a countess. He had opened a credit for me at several stores, and I had shamelessly taken advantage of it. I didn't even feel bad about it or for lying to Thomas, the two deserved whatever was coming to them.

The best part was that neither one of them would be looking for me. Well not as a runaway, anyway. They thought I had been abducted. Soon, they'd probably think I was dead. Nobody would be looking for me!

Before my brain danced a waltz in my head, I threw a furtive glance at my captor. Nobody but him.

I shuddered.

No, I didn't believe for a second that he could follow my scent . I didn't. But...

Well, I would cross that bridge when I got to it.

"How are we going to get to Egypt?"

"By ship," he looked at me curiously. Did he suspect that I was humoring him?

Since Thomas and I would have spent our honeymoon in Egypt—he had planned a six-month trip—I was well-versed in the different routes. A small flutter passed through my stomach at the memory of us sitting bent over maps spread on the dining room table. Chess figures represented our route and choice of transportation. During moments like that, I forgot about his terrible plans for me. In those moments, we were friends, a team. Planning and looking forward to a trip of a lifetime.

Did I miss Thomas? Part of me did. Despite my dreadful-looking future, I had held on to hope that he would change his mind. That I would change his mind. I had never been afraid of him. Not physically. Not like I was of Vardor, who could snap my neck with the flick of his fingers. Thomas was a gentleman, refined, good-mannered. Not like this... this beast, who hadn't hesitated to tie me up and gag me.

No, Thomas would have hired thugs to take you to St. George's Fields , the ever-present, now snarky-becoming voice in my mind whispered. He would have been too much of a gentleman to watch you thrown into the pit of humanity's worst .

I pulled myself back together. There was no use in dwelling on what could and would have been. I was here now. Determined to make the best out of this situation.

"We'll need money for this. Lots of money," I told him.

"I'm aware. Do not worry. I will take care of it."

The memory of the ruby he had given the proprietor flashed through my mind. With it came another memory. His sarcophagus, which had been filled with gemstones and gold. I had a hard time believing the Great Belzoni would have been so spooked that he hadn't plundered the coffin when he had a chance. That, however, was a mystery for another day.

"I have some funds too," I offered.

Dark eyes perused me thoughtfully. Had I gone too far?

"Why would you all of the sudden want to help?"

Truth or pretending to be intimidated?

I settled on a mix between the two.

"I was supposed to be on my way to Egypt now," I filled him in. He looked surprised. "For our honeymoon. I've always dreamed of going to see the great pyramids, Cairo." I didn't need to force the wistful smile on my face, it was just there.

"You dreamed of Orasis?" He followed up.

I nodded, ignoring the name he used. "All my life, since I was a little kid."

Hope shone in his eyes. Part of me hated myself for doing this to him, but I reassured myself that I wasn't. He and his delusions were doing this for him.

"So you do remember?"

"I don't remember anything," I confided. "But I have felt a draw to the lands of the pharaohs that grew with everything I learned about it."

His grin was getting smugger by the moment; it made him look even more imperious. It should have appalled me because it fed every fear I had ever felt for men like him, and the fact that it didn't startled me. For a moment, just a fraction of a moment, he looked almost familiar. Having been kept by a man for days will do that to you , the voice reminded me, and I was glad for the rational explanation, because... because for a second there, I had seen him differently. Leaning back on a Roman couch, plucking grapes and grinning that same grin. A large, hot sun stood high on the horizon to his back, palm trees swayed... I shook my head to clear it. It seemed delusions were contagious. If I kept this up, I wouldn't need Thomas to take me to St. George's Fields. I would take myself.

"You will," Vardor assured me with all the arrogance his expression portrayed.

I fought a smile and won.

"Help me get my funds," I changed the subject. "They will help."

He waved his hand. "We won't need it."

"Please," I fluttered my eyelashes, curved my lips just like I had learned to do with Thomas. Careful not to overdo it.

"If your heart is set to it," he sighed.

"It is, thank you."

"Tomorrow morning, after we get clothes for the journey, we will stop and retrieve your... funds."

Giddiness overcame me, but I cautioned myself. I didn't want Abbie anywhere near this man. "I can do it myself."

He let out a vile curse that rose heat into my face as if somebody lit a match. Nobody had ever said words like that in my presence. Well, somebody must have otherwise I wouldn't have known what they meant, but they were whispered by giggling girls at the time.

"You should go get some sleep," he commanded, pointing at the bed.

Did he worry I would try to run if I went by myself? That was the only explanation for him going off like that.

"I won't try to escape, I promise," I tried, but he shook his head, all playfulness gone, replaced by a frown that made my heart go faster in fear. "Alright, listen." I started with the rest of the story before I lost my nerve. "My father arranged this marriage to Thomas for me. He basically blackmailed him into marrying me."

Vardor narrowed his eyes, "Why would he have to blackmail anybody to marry you ?"

The look of bewilderment on his face and in his words stroked my bruised ego. For the first time, I realized just how bruised it was. Besides the insult of having been forced on someone, I’d found myself constantly in situations where people looked down on me and belittled me. And all the while, I’d known of the terrible plans my future husband had for me... I looked at Vardor as if someone had opened my eyes and shown me a light. He didn't look quite as fearsome just then.

"You are the most beautiful, magnificent woman in the world. You are a goddess! Every man you honor by even looking at should be falling to his knees and worshiping you. That man is a fool. Say the word, and I will slay him."

Every single one of my good feelings should have evaporated at his words. They should have appalled me. Instead, there was a part in me, a vengeful part, that cried out for him to slay Thomas. And my father. And every person who had hurt me. That appalled me. It wasn't just the thought of it, no, it was the deep-rooted sensation of feeling justified in thinking that way.

"Because Thomas is an earl." The tone of my voice grounded me, brought me back to myself. "Earls don't marry merchant daughters. So my father blackmailed him."

"You didn't want to marry him then?" Vardor seemed confused.

"I don't know. It's complicated..." I hedged. "He would have taken me to Egypt, and I already told you that was my greatest dream."

"So you were going to sell yourself to him?" Vardor summarized.

His words insulted me. "I didn't have a choice. I had to do what my father told me to do."

Vardor's brow creased in obvious confusion. "Why?"

"Because... because... he is my father." What was so hard to understand about that? "Did you never do something because you were commanded to do it?"

He tilted his head. "I was a warrior, so yes. I followed commands for a long time..." he seemed to think my words over and conclude in my favor as he waved his hand in such a magnanimous manner, I should have laughed at the sheer audacity of it. But it fitted him. It seemed as natural on him as his hair, his eyes.

"Anyway, I overheard Thomas say that a few months after the wedding, he planned to send me to St. George's Fields and annul—" I saw his startled expression. "An asylum where the insane people are kept," I explained.

If anything, that seemed to confuse him more. "You have a place where you send insane people?"

"Yes, don't you...." I broke off because the way his eyebrows rose and his body moved back told me exactly what he would have done with an insane person, and I didn't want to hear him say it out loud.

"That must be a very fearsome place," he concluded, astonishing me.

"The worst," my voice was barely a whisper, betraying how scared I was of that place and the fate Thomas had planned for me.

"I will slay him," Vardor stated, this time with a finality that sent shivers down my spine.

"Please don't," I heard myself say. It was true. I didn't want Thomas dead. I liked him; I may have even grown to love him if we had been given more time. On some level, I even understood him and his motives.

"You're pleading for the peacock's life?" Vardor frowned.

"He had his reasons for?—"

"Reasons?" Vardor came closer, making me take a step back.

I swallowed. "Yes, he didn't?—"

"How did your father blackmail Thomas into marrying you?" He interrupted.

"He was in financial trouble. My father offered to pay his debts."

Vardor roared, and I sank on the bed because it was closest. My body shook, and my blood rushed through my veins from my hard-pumping heart. He was scaring me again. Reminding me that he was insane.

"That coward. That pompous little shit. He took a payment for you !" He stared at me with eyes burning so intense they made my stomach flutter again. This time not in fear, though. No, this was something else entirely, something I couldn't quite define. "He took a payment for you, when he should have been the one paying for you."

I swallowed once again, enraptured by his words, which rang true when they shouldn't have. They were balm for my hurt soul.

"He got himself into financial difficulties, and when he found someone to bail him out, he was going to have you caged like an animal?"

His words sparked a long-dormant anger inside me. He was right. Every word he said was true. There was no justifying Thomas' plan for me. Had he been a man, a real man... I swallowed, where had that thought come from? Real men were the type I had always stayed away from.

Why ?

Why? Because they were scary. They could... they could...

Yes? What?

Force me to... force me to... to do things.

Now how do you know that?

That was an interesting question. I had never met a man like Vardor before. But for as long as I could remember, muscly men had filled me with dread and fear. Like the men who brought in our wares. They were loud and boisterous. But not one had ever mistreated me or even looked funny at me. So why in the world was I so frightened of them?

It didn't matter. Not then. There were other things I needed to digest. Vardor was right. Thomas had agreed to a deal and then sought a coward's way out. Unbidden, a memory came up.

Did you arrange this ?

One of the happy memories between Thomas and me. The moment the Great Belzoni had asked me to come on the stage.

Did you arrange this ?

Thomas had looked happy and proud of himself. At the time, I thought it was because he had done something to please me, but suddenly, the gesture took on a different light. I saw the faces of the other nobles in their boxes, the smirks on their faces, and realized that no lady would have gone down on stage like I did. With it followed an avalanche of moments where Thomas had taken me to public affairs where he made little to no effort to raise me in the eyes of his peers. An ice-cold hand reached for my heart. He had been setting me up all along.

She is not feeling too well tonight , he told the Duchess of Southerland when we left one of her parties early. I thought it had been in consideration for my feelings, since all the women had snubbed me openly once again. But now I remembered the looks passing between him and Harriet. Her’s could have been called pitying. Or the one time I laughed too loudly at one of Henry's jokes, and Thomas took the port from my hand, saying, easy, darling . He had laughed with his friends and mouthed , too much wine . It was one of the many memories I had willfully ignored because they didn't fit into my narrative that I could win him over. Make him fall in love with me. When all the while, he had been setting the stage of how unfit a wife I was. No noblewoman in her right mind would walk on the stage with a known charlatan. What had I been thinking?