Pulling myself up, I turn and stare out over the landscape for the first time in the daylight. Not that there’s much daylight. Heavy black storm clouds have muffled anything bright and cheerful – and yet I still feel comfortable.
The giant tree reaches up into the storm. I don’t remember ever seeing it from the estate, but the view of the Enchanted Forest was mostly of a green mist that always looked hungry and angry. Trees could be seen through it – but no real detail.
None of that is in the way of my view out of the forest. The trees stop sharply. The dead land beyond sprawls out, streaked with stone fences, Brahman, and a small number of sheep. Some crops no bigger than the size of a house that struggle, through hard labor, to mature and have any yield. An apple orchard.
And the Manor.
A two-story stone building with a high peaked roof and three stone chimneys that are streaming thin grey smoke. One from his chambers. One from the kitchen.
And one from the great hall on the first floor, up through his private dining hall on the second story. It’s mid-morning, but the man is never in a hurry to get out of bed. He takes all his meals in his private dining room. Always has.
He’d have the fire burning hot and two plates in front of him. One piled high with meat and vegetables and the other with fresh baked bread. He’d have whiskey in his glass, rum if he was already in a bad mood. His boots off. His pants unbuttoned. The short, dark window of time when I would try to keep out of his reach.
A shiver runs through me as the details in my imagination drown out the real world before my eyes.
I can’t actually see what’s happening inside the manor. The high stone walls around the kitchen gardens are only just visible.
“Roarke,” I say.
“Yes, Kitten,” he mumbles, his words drawn out as if his speed somehow alters the way sound is moving.
“I…” I begin, struggling for an option. An exit. A distraction from the view and the memories. “I… I need to pee.”
Roarke Callon Demari Elorsin, Shade is not your pet, I repeat the mantra over and over. Sure, for the first hundred times I used the endearment Kitten instead of Shade. And a kitten is generally a pet – but I’ve amended that now. She is Shade.
“Roarke,” she says softly behind me.
“Yes, Kitten?” I absently reply – then wince.
Roarke Callon Demari Elorsin, Kitten is not your Shade – Shade is not your Kitten – Kitten Shade pet not!
“I… I… I need to pee,” she says.
“I won’t look,” I say – too late, I’m already imagining her pants dropping to her ankles.
Roarke Callon Demari Elorsin, just keep it under control for a few more hours. Find the answers. Pop this bubble… Deep breaths and push the idea of her being… satisfying… into the dark.
Into the shadows.
Into the Shade.
I groan.
Fifteen Paces
“I won’t look,” he says.
“What?” I gasp.
I stare at him in horror. Not the your-life-is-ending kind, but the pure embarrassment kind. Like maybe he expects me to pee in a bottle because there’s no bathroom in here, which I am not agreeing to in any way.
He stops, and the lack of motion makes me feel dizzy.
“Where?” I ask.
His cheeks burn pink, and he settles the jar of something buzzing onto the bench before motioning for me to follow him.
“Sorry. I was in my own world,” he says.
“I know,” I mutter, trotting after him.
“There’s a bathroom on the second story, isn’t there?” he says.
We pad down the stairs, me behind him and perving on his ass – again.
There is a bathroom, tucked back around the corner. No door, though. It’s not even really a room. Just a wooden seat and plumbing system for a toilet, and a piped shower running on gravity or something. Silvari technology is far more advanced than anything on the soot side of the border.
I count the steps from the spiral staircase to the toilet. Current bubble size is fifteen paces, and I use nine of them getting from Roarke on the staircase to the toilet. Which keeps him around the corner from me. Doesn’t mean my bubble will stay this big, though, and if it keeps shrinking, one of the guys is going to have to be in here with me.
While I pee.
Or worse.
Not a pleasant thought.
A flicker of pink and blue in the sky catches my attention, but I make sure I’m off the toilet and my pants are up before I ask, “What was that?”
“What was what?” Roarke echoes.
I cross the room, finding him with his back turned in the stairwell, so of course he didn’t see anything.
“Outside, there was a flash of light,” I say, waving toward the window.
The window doesn’t look over the stream or towards the tree but kind of cuts down the middle of the other levels, with a view directly at the border.
“Lightning?” Roarke asks.
“No, it was pink and blue, and it kind of ran from the left to the right.”
“I don’t know,” he says, stepping up next to me and examining the skyline.
“You don’t know?” How doesn’t the guy know?
“Yes, Kitten. There’s plenty of things I don’t know.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you.”
He snorts.
The sky shimmers and rolls again, right on the edge of the tree line. Straight up from the ground to the sky. Like there’s a giant piece of cloth pulled tight and someone just gave it a shake.
“There, that.”
“I didn’t see anything, but where you are pointing is where the border is.”
“Ximena,” I whisper, a little awed, though I’m not sure why.
“What?”
“The border – I named her Ximena back at the White Castle, remember? Look, there it is again.”
“I don’t remember, and I didn’t see anything,” Roarke says, turning towards me. More interested in me talking crazy than in me actually seeing something that he can’t. “Kitten, it’s a
