Evermore (Knight Everlasting Book 3) Page 2
Darkness. Silence. Ice cold.
She shivered now and pulled the shawl closer around her shoulders. This cold was bracing and invigorating, nothing like the cold that threatened to freeze her bones to the marrow. She mounted the horse and took in great gulps of the fresh air. Air. She loved it, craved it. Missed it when she was in the other place. No one stopped her as she trotted outside the castle walls. She looked in every direction. River, no. Road, no. Forest? Yes, that was where she was meant to go. She had work to do, that much she knew. What work, she couldn’t yet recall, but that was normal. Just like she got used to the blurred vision, she’d eventually regain her memories. Recall what she’d awakened to do. For now, she would just ride and enjoy the feel of the wind and sun on her skin.
The closer she got to the trees, the more she remembered. She groaned, enjoying the sound.
“Perfect day to rescue a fool,” she said.
It felt strange to smile but she continued to stretch her lips across her teeth until it felt natural. The last thing she wanted to do was spook the very person she’d promised to help. When had that been? It seemed like ages. It didn’t seem fair to her that she had to keep such an old promise.
“It’s a promise not yet made, actually,” she said.
She’d arrived at the edge of the forest and pulled up her horse, peering into the darkness of the densely packed trees. She was tired of darkness. She wanted to turn the horse and canter some more in the sunshine. Why should she stick to a deal she wouldn’t make for more than half a millennium?
“Let the fool flounder,” she said, laughing. The sound of the laugh made her laugh some more. Everything was so much better awake and in the sun.
She snapped the reins lightly, turning away from the trees. She hadn’t gone ten steps when a pain ripped through her abdomen. It was so intense that she fell from her horse. Fortunately, it didn’t trample her or run away, only looked at her inquisitively as she clutched her belly in agony.
The dress. The damned, bloody, forsaken dress. The final bit of her memory came back along with the pain, because of the pain. She grimaced. She was bound to it, must retrieve it. Because of yet another promise she’d stupidly made. When had that been? She decided it didn’t matter and continuing to think about it would only make her head hurt.
Once she’d remembered the dress and unenthusiastically decided to go get it, her stomach pain went away. She lay on the hill, catching her breath and staring at the few passing clouds. She’d want to remember those clouds for when the darkness came back. And the grayish-blue color of the sky, the watery yellow of the sun. She knew she’d never be able to recreate it. There was only this moment, as long as she could drag it out.
She managed about an hour, lying on the ground and gazing at the sky, counting each bird that flew by and trying to burn all of it into her consciousness while she still had it. Then the pain began to creep back again. Not a sudden, crippling stabbing this time. Only a nudge so she would remember her place.
“I’m going,” she yelled, the lovely sound reverberating out toward the sky.
She unfolded herself off the ground, reveling in every cracking joint and protesting muscle. The ground was cold, but nothing like what she was used to. She patted her skirts and the legs underneath, shrugging away the fact that she’d made them suffer.
Hobbling over to her horse, who’d found a bit of grass that had survived the winter, she pulled herself back into the saddle.
“Let’s go get the gown, shall we?” she said and turned toward the trees again.
Chapter 3
Okay, the woods were miles bigger than they were in Jordan’s time. He sat down just inside the treeline and shook his head. They’d been so meticulous about everything else. And then to say “get to the forest” when the forest seemed like it took up half the countryside, seemed woefully imprecise. He wished he’d run to the river first. He was parched after tearing over the hills, never letting up until he was safely hidden within the trees. He was grateful he hadn’t been mowed down from behind by any number of hurled weapons, but he was still thirsty.
He lay back and stared at the tree branches looming over him and tried to put out a signal. After ten or fifteen minutes, he sat up and yelled, “Lyra! I’m here.”
She was a witch. Or so she had said in his own time. She might have been an unstable person who needed better supervision. But she knew things without him telling her, and not things that she could have discerned by his body language. After he’d walked into her creepy little palm reading shop, she’d gone into a trance.
“You’re looking for someone,” Lyra had said. “She’s gone to another time. She’s not alone there but, still, you want to follow her.”
He’d nearly been bowled over by the accuracy of her announcement but was still skeptical. He sat down and waited until the glazed look in her eyes cleared away. He expected her to act like she couldn’t remember him or anything she’d said but she’d shrugged and rubbed her fingers together for payment. After he gave her the twenty pounds, she leaned back in her chair and looked at him, through him, for a very long time.
“Why do you want to go after her when I already told you she’s not alone?” she’d asked.
“Who?” he’d asked, testing her.
“Your sister, Sophie.”
He was a believer at that point. “Is she safe? Healthy? Happy? Can she get back?”
Lyra had closed her eyes and furrowed her brow. “I can’t answer any of those questions except that, no, she can’t get back.”
“Do you know how she got there? The other time?”
At that, Lyra doubled over, almost falling off her chair. He tried to help her but she waved him away. She’d done some fairly insane seeming things then, muttering to herself, making spitting noises like an angry cat. He’d been borderline afraid and was about to leave, when she sat back up as if she hadn’t just had a showdown with some invisible foe.
“I do know how she got there,” she’d said.
“Then can you help me? Will you help me?”
Again with the glazed look. “Yes,” she’d said at last. “I’ll help.”
That was his first encounter with her and the others had been just as weird if not weirder. She’d dragged him to a completely empty field where she’d promptly passed out. He couldn’t wake her for more than an hour. Supposedly, she’d gone back to 1398 via an out of body experience, but she refused to share what, if anything, she’d found out. The same thing happened at a broken down ruin on the other side of the woods from the castle but, that time, she came back very excited.
“She’s there. It’s certain. You need to hurry. I think it’s almost time. Remember everything I’ve told you, and meet me when you get there. In the forest.”
And that very day, when he’d returned to the castle, Randolph showed him the dress that had appeared out of nowhere. The rest was history. He snickered at his poor humor.
He looked around nervously, not sure what kind of wildlife there was in this time. The sun was fast fading and he didn’t want to spend the night here. If he didn’t get eaten by something, he’d likely freeze to death. After another few minutes of trying to contact Lyra with his mind, he gave up and started gathering twigs for a fire and larger branches to make some sort of shelter. It was pretty clear to him that Lyra had either been straight up lying to him or had been overly confident in her abilities to make it to this time. He’d asked her and asked her how she would do it. He was supposed to get sucked back by the cursed dress, he got that just fine. But how was Lyra going to do it? He never got an answer, most likely because there wasn’t one.
“I’m on my own, then,” he said, eyeballing the distance to the beginning of the forest. Surely, he was far enough in to safely light a fire and not be seen from the castle? The darker it got, the colder it got, and the less he cared. Maybe getting caught would be the best idea.
“It wouldn’t be a good idea at all,” a melodic voice said from behind him.
This couldn’t be Lyra. Not the Lyra he knew, anyway. She had been in her early fifties but looked like she’d lived every day twice, with a rasping, smoker’s voice and hair that looked like it had never seen a brush. Nothing like the glorious, shining hair that fell down this woman’s back.
“Who are you?” he asked. And then he realized what she’d said and wondered if she’d read his thoughts. “What wouldn’t be a good idea?”
“Getting caught and brought to the castle. Look at yourself.”
She had read his thoughts! So, it had to be Lyra, right? He smoothed his hands over his sweatpants. “Lyra? Is that you?” God, she was pretty. Her skin fairly glowed in the fading daylight. You can’t be attracted to Lyra, he told himself. That would be too weird.
“Do you have the gown?” she asked, holding out her hand. “I’m asking, but I know you do. I’ll take it from you now.”
He dug the rumpled dress out of his backpack. “Sorry, it’s all wrinkled and I’m pretty sure I split most of the seams.” Ridiculously, he hoped she’d look at his body and notice and admire how much he worked out. She didn’t look at him at all, only at the dress.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to go. He noticed for the first time she had a horse tethered several yards away. He wasn’t going to survive out here if he hadn’t heard a horse trotting through the forest.
“Wait,” he said desperately, reaching out for her but drawing back before he touched her. Something about her said definitely do not touch. “If you’re not Lyra, can you help me anyway? I don’t have any place to go.” He stared hard at her as she gazed blankly past him. It had to be her. How else would she know about the dress and be able to read his thoughts? She was plenty odd to begin with. Maybe, whatever means she’d used to time travel had made her so spacy. “Look,” he said firmly. “I think I know you’re her.” That made no sense. Still, he pressed on. “You—she—promised to meet me here and help me.”
She pursed her lips together and her eyes went from zoned out to stormy and dark. “Come with me,” she said disgustedly.
He followed her to her horse and got on behind her. Thankfully, he wasn’t a complete city slicker. He’d ridden a horse exactly once, but at least he knew how to mount and dismount. As creeped out as he was by her, he still wanted to impress her. He thought it was possible he’d had some ill-effects from the time travel as well.
The horse picked its way through the darkening woods and Jordan tried to put his trust in the woman who sat so tall and still in front of him. He himself was having a heck of a time keeping from sliding off the saddle and he gripped the sides of it, the blanket under it, and even leaned back and placed his palms on the horse’s rump to try and keep from falling. Anything but grasp her waist. It would have been the easiest, safest way to stay on the horse, but he couldn’t make himself do it. As attracted to her as he was, and he was still inwardly arguing with himself about that, he just couldn’t. He wasn’t exactly sure something bad would happen, but he wasn’t exactly sure it wouldn’t, either.
They finally ambled into a clearing and he saw a big house at the end of a tree and bramble-lined path. It looked vaguely familiar …
“I know this place,” he said, grateful that they turned up the path. That meant he could get off that horse soon. “It’s the ruins you took me to.”
She didn’t respond and he could somehow sense her rolling her eyes at him. At the front of the house, she reined in the horse and neatly dismounted. He felt he did a respectable job of getting down, only to turn and find she wasn’t looking at him at all. She gazed up at the roof, or maybe at the dormer windows there. He couldn’t see anyone looking down at them and before he could ask her what they were doing there, the front door flew open and an old man hurried out.
“What is it at this hour?” he groused at them. The sun had barely set. There was still a faint glow around the tops of the trees, but Jordan figured that was late to an old, medieval man. “The master of the house is away and my mistress is ill and won’t come to the door. If you’re selling something, you’ll need to come back during the day.”
Lyra stepped out and curtsied to the old man. “Mr. Crowley, do forgive us for the late call.”
Mr. Crowley stepped out the door and down the steps to have a closer look. “Oh, is it one of the girls from the castle, then? Forgive me if I can’t keep you all straight. But what is it? Is something wrong with Leo?”
“Sir Leo is well,” Lyra said in a dreamy, singsong voice. “But this man needs shelter. We’re completely full.”
Mr. Crowley narrowed his eyes at that whopper. Jordan had just arrived in that time but knew it was a lie. A small city could visit and that castle still wouldn’t be full.
“I can pay you,” Jordan piped up.
Lyra snaked her head around and glared at him, making him clamp his lips together. She moved closer to Mr. Crowley. “Your hospitality would be much appreciated. He won’t be a bother.”
The old man blinked and swayed on his feet, but then shrugged. “Sure, if it’s a favor to Sir Walter, of course we can make room. Lady Alise won’t mind at all if it’s a favor to the castle.”
“Good,” Lyra said harshly, turning away. She waved Jordan over to the horse and untied his backpack from the saddle. “This is all I can do for you,” she said hurriedly. “I don’t know when I can come back.”
She glanced over his shoulder at the old man. Jordan turned to see him bobbing his head and rolling his thumbs together. He looked like one of the non-playable characters in video games when you weren’t interacting with them. They just did the same repetitive motions until you walked up to them and asked them for a quest. He already had his quest. Save his sister. Get home.
All at once, Jordan was exhausted. He felt both starving and sick to his stomach. He’d been glad Lyra showed up, grateful she had taken him here, but now he wanted her gone. Her beauty was mesmerizing but there was something off about her. Something cold. He tore his gaze away from old Mr. Crowley bobbing and twiddling at the door to say goodbye to her. But she was already gone.
Chapter 4
Sophie woke up and stretched. No sooner had her neck cracked once than Batty was at her side.
“Huh, Batty, good morning,” she said, shaking the sleep confusion away. “I thought Marjorie was my maid now.”
She snapped to full alert, everything coming crashing back. Yes, Fay and Tristan were still married, by some miracle. A miracle since the curse had reset yet again and still hadn’t managed to ruin their true love. And Leo still remembered her and loved her, so there was that.
Take that, curse, she thought sourly. She supposed she couldn’t be too smug, since it had still won in the end. It had started itself all over again. Somehow, some way she and Leo and Fay and Tristan were going to have to try to break the curse again. A curse that was proving itself to be unbreakable.
The one and only good thing about the curse rolling over again was that Anne was alive once more. Which meant Marjorie was no longer her maid.
“Not yet,” Batty answered. She gave an insincere frown. “I feel awful about going to Dernier Keep with Fay and Sir Tristan, but …”
“Don’t fret about little old me. I know Brom has his eye on you. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m coming to your wedding in the spring.”
The sweet maid blushed crimson. “Oh, it’s not that. Maybe a little. But I couldn’t let Fay be all alone. I know she has her new husband, but she’s still going to need me.”
Sophie’s spirits sank a little. The fact that Fay and Tristan were still married: good. But that also meant they’d eventually ditch her to go to Tristan’s home, Dernier Keep. That was most definitely bad. She dreaded the day they would leave her to face everything alone. She had to assume it would be soon, just as she had to assume Dernier Keep was still there.
She hoped and prayed it was now, because it hadn’t been when they’d run away from the castle, trying to outrun the curse and whoever (or whatever) was working for it. It only took two murder attempts to convince Sophie to leave with Fay and Tristan, hoping they’d all be safe at Dernier Keep.
She shivered, remembering the eerie emptiness of the land where the keep was supposed to be. Tristan’s howl of despair and disbelief. Because how could a big, stone tower and acres of farmland just up and disappear? The same way her own true love’s house had been deserted. After the chilling experience at the land Dernier Keep wasn’t on, they’d thundered toward Leo’s house, just on the other side of the woods from the castle. It was a beautiful, large and airy stone and wood beam house. Sophie had been there after Leo shot her with an arrow and it was alive and bustling. They’d arrived at last, only the day before in fact, though it seemed like an age to Sophie’s weary mind. But the house was all wrong. It had a rusty, modern day satellite dish half hanging off one side of its roof. The inside was coated with dust as if no one had lived there in years. And there was someone in the attic giving Sophie creepy instructions she didn’t understand at all.
Better hurry. He’s waiting for you.
Who was waiting for her? She assumed it was Leo, who was right outside. With all the hairs on her head about standing on end, she’d gotten out of there as fast as she could. Outside, looking back at the house, it had looked like a half-crumbling ruin, the state it was in back in her time. Or forward in her time. That still made her head spin. Leo had been loopy and out of it until they’d made it back to the castle where, as soon as they entered the gates, the damned curse started all over again.