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Chapter Three

Stella

I wake slowly, my body heavy and my head pounding in rhythmic throbs that make it hard to focus. The couch beneath me is plush, but the unfamiliar scent of pine sets me on edge. This isn’t right.

Blinking, I clear the haze and take in my surroundings. The room is bathed in the warm glow of firelight from a hearth set into the far wall. Shelves upon shelves of books line the space, their spines worn and mismatched. A large wooden desk dominates one corner, cluttered with parchment, quills, and a brass inkwell that shines in the flickering light. Heavy drapes hang over a single stained-glass window, muting its purples and silvers. The room feels like it belongs to another era entirely.

This is not my apartment. I am not in New York.

I sit up, wincing as my head protests the movement, and the events of the past hours—days?—begin to filter through my foggy mind. The last thing I remember is falling out of that damn tree. Or, more accurately, falling through the tree. It’s not like I climbed up there to begin with. I plummeted into it before landing at the feet of the two men.

Valen and…Marek. Their names come back to me in fragments, along with their words. Something about swords. A kingdom. Towerfall. The words echo faintly, disjointed and distant, as my thoughts race—New York, the tarot deck, Elara…

Elara.

Did the same thing happen to her? Is this where she disappeared to?

I glance down, relieved to find I’m still clothed. The fabric is slightly wrinkled but otherwise untouched.

I need to find Elara. I need to get back home.

A low murmur of voices pulls me from my spiraling thoughts, and my heart skips as I realize I’m not alone. Silently, I creep across the room toward the French doors. Pressing myself against the solid wood frame, I lean just enough to peer around the edge. Through the glass, I catch sight of the two men standing in the room across the hall.

They’re arguing, their voices too low for me to make out the words, but the tension is unmistakable. Marek’s arms are crossed, the white fabric of his shirt straining across his muscular arms and broad chest. Valen, on the other hand, is completely composed, his princely air evident even when half-naked.

Despite their contrasting demeanors and the clear divide in their stations—prince and captain of the guard—Marek’s tone is sharp. It’s clear he doesn’t defer to Valen like a guard should his prince, and I can’t help but think they share a closer bond than their titles imply.

The argument intensifies, and Valen’s hand slices through the air as he gestures to the floor between them. Whatever he says makes Marek’s shoulders stiffen. His jaw tightens, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. Marek looks like he might argue further, but then he lowers himself to his knees, bows his head and clasps his hands behind his back.

Valen steps closer. My fingertips dig into the frame of the glass as he looms over Marek. Valen takes Marek’s chin and tilts his face upward. The prince’s lips move, his words inaudible from where I stand, but their effect on Marek is undeniable.

The captain’s hands move. Slowly, he unties the laces of Valen’s pants. My stomach flips, and my eyes widen when the prince’s cock comes into view. Long, thick, and flushed a deep shade of rose, it curves slightly upward. Veins trace along its impressive length, and even from here, I can see the head glistening with his arousal.

Marek’s lips part, and he leans forward, taking Valen into his mouth with practiced ease. My body reacts before my mind catches up. Heat pools low in my belly, and I press my thighs together, trying to quell the ache.

Valen fists his hands in Marek’s hair, his grip firm as he guides each movement. His expression is a blend of satisfaction and dominance as he tilts his head down and watches Marek work—every flick of his tongue, every twist of his hand, every powerful suck…

It’s erotic as hell, and I am completely captivated.

I’m no stranger to attraction, but this? This is something else entirely. It’s raw and real and has a pull so strong it leaves me dizzy.

I may have sworn off relationships and love after the Darrel shit show, but a hot hookup with two gorgeous men like them? My pulse races, and my lips curve into a wry smile as I lean closer to the glass.

Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t say no to that.

The thought barely registers before reality slams into me. What the hell am I doing? I have bigger priorities—like finding Elara and getting back to New York. This is my chance. They’re distracted. I can use this moment to slip away and figure out where the hell I am.

My breaths are shallow as I reach for the door handle. I give it a slow twist. It’s locked? Please, no, it can’t be locked. The Universe wouldn’t drop me into this world only for me to end up locked in a room. She wouldn’t allow it. Desperation flares in my chest, and I yank harder. The handle rattles, and my blood runs cold as the muffled moans coming from the other side of the door stop.

Both men freeze midmotion, and my blood runs cold as they turn to face me.

Valen tucks himself back into his pants with unhurried grace while Marek rises to his feet. He’s pissed, but I’m not sure if it’s because I interrupted them or because I exist at all.

By the time they cross the hall, Valen has pulled his tunic over his head, every inch the composed prince once more. Marek pulls a long brass key from his pocket, slides it into the keyhole, and twists. I jump out of the way as the doors swing open, and they stride into the room. Without a word, Marek pulls a chair from the desk and places it in the middle of the study. Before I can protest, he grabs my shoulders and pushes down until my ass hits the seat.

My heart pounds as I stare at them, and suddenly, my thoughts dart to the scene I just witnessed. They know I saw. I know they know I saw. What if they want to silence me? Words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone what happened. What you two were…doing. I swear.”

Valen raises an eyebrow while Marek simply stares.

“Why would we care who you told?” the prince asks. “Our relationship isn’t a secret.” Valen lowers onto the couch opposite my chair and relaxes back into the cushions. “We’re not ashamed of who we are or what we share. Perhaps it’s different where you’re from?”

“Well…” I pause, trying to find a tactful way to phrase it. “People can be, uh, pretty shitty where I’m from. You know, judgmental. Closed-minded. Like, my coworker’s brother, total nightmare, found out his son was dating—”

“Enough distractions.” Marek moves directly in front of me, cutting off my view of Valen. Unlike the prince, there’s no hint of amusement in his sharp gaze. “Time for you to answer some questions. You’re clearly not a spy or an assassin. Are you a sorceress?”

I huff out a breath and cross my arms. “I wish.”

“Drayk,” Valen says, his tone conveying something to his captain I’m not privy to. But whatever it is, Marek switches from making outlandish accusations to simple questioning.

“Who are you, and where did you come from?”

I glance between them, my pulse racing. Whatever I say next could determine whether I make it out of this place alive.

“As I said before, my name is Stella,” I begin, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the panic rising in my chest. “I’m from New York.”

The men glance at each other, then back at me, the location clearly not registering.

“It’s in the United States,” I add quickly, hoping for some spark of recognition. Still nothing. “Of America. Earth? Anything?”

Their stares remain blank, and my stomach drops to my toes.

Okay, Stella, don’t panic. The Universe knows what She’s doing. She put you here for a reason. Accept the path, and let Her guide you.

I take a deep breath and cling to that reassurance. “I was at home with my friend. We were getting ready to do tarot readings for each other with this new deck I found at this eerie little antique store. I stepped out of the room for a few minutes, and when I came back, Elara was gone. Vanished into thin air. I felt this strange energy coming off the tarot deck, and when I picked it up, one of the cards jumped out. Next thing I knew, I fell through some kind of wormhole, landed in a tree, and, well… You know the rest.”

Valen leans to the side and rests his elbow on the arm of the couch. “And your friend. Did you find where she ran off to?”

I shrug, the knot of concern tightening in my stomach. “I know Elara didn’t leave my apartment. So as absolutely shocking as this whole interworld travel thing is and as much as it shouldn’t make sense, her ending up here like I did is the only thing that does.”

“And you have no idea where she is within Towerfall?”

“I have no idea where I am. I didn’t even know this place existed until I fell out of the sky.”

Marek crosses his arms over his chest, his dark eyes narrowing. “You’ve never heard of Towerfall? Not even whispers of other realms where you’re from?”

“Not a thing.” I shake my head. “And that is something I would remember.”

“There are stories,” Valen continues. “Legends of travelers who cross realms, though they’re rare. Some are drawn here by choice, others by accident, and a few…” He tilts his head, studying me. “By the will of Towerfall itself.”

The hairs on the back of my neck rise. “So you’re saying I was meant to be here?”

“Perhaps,” he muses. “Or perhaps it’s just chance. Either way, you seem to be at a bit of a crossroads.”

“A crossroads?” I frown.

Shit. The Two of Swords.

“Yeah, I’m getting that a lot. But I know exactly where I’m going.”

“Well, Stella, as I see it, you have two options,” Valen replies with a cryptic smile. “You can either take a path that will lead you through this realm alone, where there are dangers you know nothing of, in a desperate and most likely futile attempt to locate your friend on your own. Or…”

“Or?” I echo, goose bumps cresting along my arms.

Valen tilts his chin. “You could choose to hear the proposal I’d like to offer you.”

I swallow. “And what are you proposing?”

“If you agree to help me, I’ll do everything in my power to help you find your friend and get you both home.”

I don’t look at Marek as I ask warily, “What kind of help?”

“A temporary arrangement,” Valen replies, his tone measured. “One that will benefit us both.”

I take a steadying breath and continue to avoid Marek’s gaze. I have to believe the Universe brought me here for a reason. She dropped me firmly on this path.

Go with it, Stella. Trust.

Plus, what other options do I have?

But trust doesn’t come easily. Not after Darrel, not after betrayal, not after my world cracked open and sent me hurtling into this one.

I chew my lower lip.

Valen has the kind of presence that could convince someone the sky was green if he set his mind to it. I don’t know him. I don’t know them. And they definitely do not know me.

But then there’s Elara. My best friend. My sister. She’s out there somewhere, probably terrified and just as lost as I am. I can’t do anything for her from here, not without help.

“All right,” I say finally. “I’m listening.”