Océane’s hand flew to her mouth in shock and the nurse gasped.
“Oh, my goodness, no! I didn’t mean she’s gone. She hasn't died.” She looked horrified at the slip up but Océane’s concern did not diminish as she continued. “At least ...” The woman blushed, clearly flustered. “I meant she’s not here!” She wrung her hands together, looking anxious. “I checked on her when my shift began and she was still fast asleep. She looked really peaceful and to be honest ...well, I thought she would likely pass soon. I just sat down for a moment and ... I don’t know. I must have fallen asleep.” She frowned and put a hand to her forehead. “I never sleep like that, not at work - not without waking,” she murmured, “but ... But I only woke up a few minutes ago and when I checked, she was gone.”
Océane stared at her in disbelief. “How is that possible?”
The nurse shook her head. “It isn’t! I just don’t understand it. No one could have gotten in without me knowing and she was ... Well she was dying. There is no way she got out of here under her own steam,” she insisted. “I’m going to call the hospital and the police.” She turned and went into the flat and Océane moved to follow her.
“No, Océane.” Corin grabbed her arm to stop her.
“What?” Océane glared at him. “Come on, Corin, we have to help.”
He shook his head with a smile. “She’s not here, Océane, but I think I know where to find her.”
Corin would say no more, but insisted that she return to her flat and gather a few of her meagre belongings before they crossed back into the Fae Lands. The moment they got back to her place, he collapsed into the ratty brown armchair. Even hung over and crumpled it didn’t disguise what he was. Like a gold Cartier watch slung down on a dirty Formica table. She dragged her eyes from him and scurried around the tiny flat as quietly as she could manage, shoving a very few precious items and necessities into a rucksack. Checking her wardrobe and finding absolutely nothing that she wanted to take, her eyes fell upon an old shoe box gathering dust under a disgusting pair of trainers.
She knelt down and chucked the shoes to the back of the wardrobe and lifted the lid. Inside was miscellaneous paperwork, an out of date passport from her time in the UK, and an envelope containing the very few photographs she had of her childhood. There hadn’t been many to begin with but there were even fewer she had wished to preserve. That period of her life had been carefully boxed up and mentally shelved, very high up, in a dark place and the doors were locked tight. She found she didn’t want to look at them now either, though the memories were happy ones at least, she and Carla together one summer. It seemed not only a lifetime but a world away now. One day she would want to see them again, but not now. She put the envelope in the bag, careful that they wouldn’t get damaged, and was about to put the lid back on the box when she noticed the tatty red cover of a notebook. She paused as a forgotten sensation returned and felt anxiety lay its cold fingers against her back with a delicate touch. She wanted to slam the lid back on the box and put it away but ... something made her reach in and take it out. Her breathing sped as she told herself not to be so silly. It was only ever make believe. Except ...
She thought about the other story she had written so long ago, long before the one that had mirrored Laen’s reality, and she felt her skin prickle with fear. All for a crown. A war for a crown. It couldn’t be true, not possible, not twice. But she saw the flames, greedy and bright behind her eyes and the shadowy figure that screamed and burned as they devoured and consumed. So much death and destruction. So much power. So much power.
“Are you all right?”
She squealed as Corin’s voice brought her back to reality, and then laughed, holding her hand to her heart. “Oh, don’t do that, you frightened the life out of me.” Suddenly her fears seemed ridiculous with his solid presence standing beside her. But somehow she couldn’t leave the notebook behind, so she stuffed it in the rucksack. “Ready.”
To her surprise Corin summoned the gateway in a dark corner of an alley behind her tower block. Apparently on this side of their world if you were powerful enough you could summon it anywhere. She asked if Laen could have done that as she had worried about him finding his way back to where they’d come through but Corin’s silence seemed answer enough. She knew now that he was full of secrets and contradictions and his admission to Carla that he hid his power from his own kind seemed significant.
The thick skin that kept their world from hers pulled away from his hand just as it had for Laen, and she felt a rush of clean cold air as the Fae Lands came into view. The sight of the snow-capped mountains peeking out from behind thick cloud against a backdrop of urban Paris was enough to make her head spin, it was so absurd. Once again she felt the prickle and pull of magic against her skin. The sweet scent wrapped around her and whirled in her brain until she felt quite dizzy and Corin reached out a hand to steady her as she stepped through, the tear in reality sealing off behind them. Corin instructed her to stay where she was as he walked away to retrieve their horses and she nodded and shivered, looking curiously at the meadow grass that was coated in a thick covering of frost.
It was much later in the day before Laen’s castle came into sight. Océane trembled as she looked down the valley at it. Huge, intimidating and fiercely defended, it reminded her of the owner and she wondered what he would say when she returned. It was still daylight but the skies were bleak and the clouds so heavy she could believe they would fall to earth, crushing everything beneath. A thick, swirling mist surrounded the castle. It looked like some great ethereal snake had curled itself around the building, coiling the heavy grey stone within its sinuous embrace and enveloping it in gloom. The temperature had plummeted and was now even colder than Paris had been with a dense white frost that coated the entire landscape. The frozen covering gave the world a strange kind of sorrowful beauty, because she now knew what caused it. Océane’s hands felt numb, her fingers brittle as they held onto the reins and the horse’s coat steamed in the icy air, the beast huffing out great cloudy breaths as it bore her closer to Laen. She looked over at Corin, whose pallor matched the surroundings.
“Are you feeling any better?” she asked him and was rewarded with a look that clearly said what the hell do you think?
“Marvellous,” was the reply he gave out loud.
“I was only asking,” she muttered, burying her head further into her scarf with a shiver.
He sighed and his horse trotted closer to her. He reached his hand out and she offered hers so he could take it and give it a squeeze.
“Forgive me, darling. I am not very good company today, am I?”
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand in return. There were too many words in her head to find anything appropriate to say to him.
As the horse’s hooves clattered over the cobbled surface of the stable yard, Océane wondered if she would have a heart attack before she made it inside the vast doors of the castle. Excitement, fear, longing and hope made up her state of mind, but she was in too much turmoil to settle on just one as her emotions bounced from euphoria to desperation.
When they got to the stables, some of Laen’s men rushed over to help but Corin dismissed them. His voice was sharp and impatient and Océane felt another emotion add to the overload as concern for him layered over everything else. He turned to her and she saw the effort he made to relax his features and appear calm and composed as usual.
“Well then, here we are,” he said with a smile.
“I don’t understand what’s happening, Corin. Why won’t you explain?” she demanded for the twentieth time since they had left Carla’s flat. Hope was alive and burning and she felt sure that if the news was bad he would have told her already. “Why would Laen bring her here? The journey here, in this freezing cold ... That alone could have killed her. What was he thinking?”
He just smiled at her enigmatically and dismounted, walking over and helping her off her horse. He lifted her easily by the waist and didn’t let her go. She looked up into his tawny, golden eyes and sighed. “You have eyes like a lion, did you know that?”
“Well, thank you ... I think?”
She nodded, feeling a surge of affection for him. “They’re very beautiful,” she said, putting her hand against his cheek.
He sighed and closed his eyes, touching his forehead against hers. “Don’t be nice to me, Océane, I beg you,” he said with such quiet despair that her heart hurt.
“Oh, Corin, this is such a mess.”
***
Corin pulled her into an embrace. He knew it was the last time and hoped he would be able to leave without making a complete fool of himself. “No, my dear, I think you will find that things are going to work out quite well. He has broken the law, you know, bringing her here. You were a prisoner and that was one thing, but to bring a human into our lands as the law stands at the moment ... He could be disinherited for that. He could lose his title, the Kingdom - everything.”
She frowned at him, perplexed. “Then why would he do it?”
He shook his head. He would let Laen explain what he had done and why. “Why don’t you go and find out?”
She laid her head on his shoulder and he had to breathe hard and steady to remind himself he was going to let her go. “He loves you, Océane, remember that, and please, I beg you ... don’t let him mess it up again. Don’t let him push you away when he needs you.” He put his hand under her chin, tilting her head and looking into her eyes. “Don’t let him go.”
She frowned, her soft brown eyes full of concern. “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”
He shrugged. “I cannot stay here and watch the two of you together, and you do not want me around to make you feel guilty when there is nothing you can do.”
“Oh, Corin, I don’t want you to go.” She held him tight and he swallowed hard. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered.
Corin smiled but didn’t speak, afraid his voice would betray him. Instead he kissed her forehead and released her, gesturing for her to go inside. Océane kissed his cheek gently and began to walk away.
She turned back to him, anxiety in her eyes. “I will see you again, won’t I?”
He nodded and tried hard to smile again. “Of course, my dear, but ... maybe not for a while.” She looked at him with such concern that he knew he had to get away. He had never felt so alone in his whole life as he did when he turned from her.
“Wait,” she said suddenly and began to search in the rucksack she had brought with her. She pulled out the tatty notebook, looking at it as though it frightened her before handing it to Corin. “I wasn’t sure what to do with this but I think ... I think you should have it.” He took the book from her with a quizzical expression. “The Dark Prince, the book I was working on when Laen took me, it wasn’t the original.”
He stilled as he looked at the worn book cover and the childish writing that covered it, spelling out the same title as he had seen on Laen’s story, and felt nausea swirl in his stomach. “Oh?” he asked, praying it was simply the hangover making him unwell and not a premonition of trouble.
She shook her head. “There was another version, much older. I was just a little kid when I wrote it and ...” She paused, shaking her head. “The story got too tangled, far too dark. I didn’t really understand what I was writing and I think somehow it got tangled up with my nightmares. There was a fire you see, at the orphanage. No one was hurt but it must have played on my mind and ...” She pointed at the book, thankfully not looking at him because he could not now disguise the fear in his eyes. He heard her sigh and tried to remember how to breathe. “It’s about a man who tries to become King, to save the Fae Lands ... I could never figure out how it ended so I gave up on it.” She shrugged, looking awkward. “It’s just that I think you should have it.”
He held the book in his hands, feeling like it was burning his fingertips, like the fire waited for him just inside the pages. “Why?” he asked, hearing his voice, flat and emotionless, and wondering how that was possible when he wanted to scream.
“Open it,” she said quietly.
Corin looked down at the book as foreboding crawled over his skin. He had thought he could not feel any colder than he did, but fear sent a chill deep in his bones as the damp air clung to him. The only heat was where he touched the accursed book and he could almost smell the stench of burning flesh. He had the sure and certain feeling he did not want to see inside but he did as she asked and opened it, turning to the first page. There were two drawings, carefully wrought, though clearly in a childish hand. On one side of the book there was the drawing of a crown enveloped by flames drawn fiercely in thick red crayon and on the other ... A pair of familiar gold eyes looked back at him. He shut the book with a snap and handed it back to her. “I don’t want it.”
“But, Corin ...”
He shook his head, resolute, and pushed it back into her hands. “Please, Océane, take it away. Bury it, burn it, I don’t care, but don’t ever show it to anyone. Promise me.” He knew she was shocked by his tone but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to run, to leave now and keep on running. “Please, Océane, please ... Promise me.” He wondered if she thought him quite mad. Judging from the desperation in his voice he wouldn’t blame her. Running from a child’s drawing - surely he was being a fool.
Nonetheless she nodded and gave him the promise he demanded, though she looked even more concerned for him than she had before. In normal circumstances he would think it beyond humiliating to have her know how low she’d brought him, but right now he could not muster the energy to care. He watched as she stuffed the book back in her bag and smiled at him sadly. She squeezed his hand briefly before turning her back on him and walking inside.
Corin watched her go with a yearning ache in his heart, and tried his hardest not to feel bitter. On top of everything else, the old stories about his golden eyes would continue to haunt him. Though surely his track record of hell-raising and debauchery should have long since extinguished any expectations of greatness for him. It damn well should have done. He gestured for the stable lads to come and take the horses now, and walked away across the yard, heading into the gardens. He would go in another entrance in case there was a romantic reunion going on in the great hall. He couldn’t see her in Laen’s arms - didn’t need to torture himself any further. At least Laen would be happy now and for that he truly was glad. He was pleased for both of them, he told himself. They would marry and live happily ever after, like in all good Fairy stories. He snorted at the thought. Gods but he needed a drink, a lot of drink. In fact he thought it quite likely that he would not be sober again for some time. Maybe not ever. Anything to rid himself of the feeling in his chest.
He walked slowly through the gardens, as even though he was frozen and miserable he could not yet bring himself to go inside what he knew would become Océane’s home. He looked up to find himself back in the dead orchard and sighed at the sight of the wisteria. All the flowers were gone and the stems were grey and bare with a rime of frost layered over them. From out of nowhere the murmuring voices began whispering in his mind once again and he grabbed hold of the branch of a dead apple tree, sick to his stomach. He stood with his eyes closed for a moment only to open them again and find that the branch he was holding was covered in buds, fat and green and spreading to all the other branches. He shouted with horror and leapt away. No! Not here. He should not be able to bring life to the dead here.
He stepped away, turning blindly back to the castle. He needed to get away - back to Alfheim. His heart pounded as he followed the path back to the castle. It was just because he was upset, he reassured himself. His powers were always the hardest to rein in when he was emotional and that certainly described his state of mind right now. His heart began to settle a little as he talked himself down. Of course, that would explain it. It was just a fluke, a burst of magic because he was not himself. It didn’t mean anything. He just needed to get a grip, that’s all. It didn’t mean anything. He put his hand over his heart and massaged his chest. The pain and the tightness made it hard to breathe and he wondered if this was what it felt like to a human who was having heart trouble. Was this what a heart attack felt like? Never again, he swore. He would never, ever let another woman get under his skin like this again. It was just too painful. He had been right to always keep the women in his life at a distance and he would not be caught out again. Somehow he had let his guard down with Océane, but he had learned his lesson well. From now on his own needs were his priority - he would not live the same life his father had. Shutting his heart away as firmly as he could manage, he headed into the castle to gather his belongings and change his clothes before he froze to death. Though the only item he really intended to take was Océane’s book. Even though it was Laen’s story, not his ... It was all he had left of her, and with the darkness he sensed coming, he would soon need that comfort to hold on to.
***
Once inside the castle, Océane grabbed the first person she’d seen and asked where Laen was. The man who appeared to be a butler of some description frowned at her and said he didn’t know. She narrowed her eyes at him and wondered if he was being deliberately obtuse. “Well what about a human woman, she’s very sick?”
He frowned harder and pointed out reluctant directions.
Océane had flown down the corridor and flung the door open before the man had time to turn around let alone question who was asking. What she saw made her gasp in shock.
Carla sat by a roaring fire with a blanket over her knees and was tucking into a sandwich with Aleish sitting beside her.
“Carla!” she exclaimed and ran across the room to kneel beside her, almost flinging the sandwich to the floor as she tried to take hold of her hand. “Oh, my God! I thought you were dead!”
“Well I guess we’re even then,” Carla said with a laugh as she set the sandwich aside and grasped her friend’s hands in return. “And so did I! I think ... I think I almost was.”
Océane looked at her friend and was astonished to see how well she looked. She was still far too thin and frail but the colour and spark had returned to her eyes, and there was a pink flush in her cheeks. She reached out a hand and touched her face in wonder, trying to reassure herself it really was her. “How is this possible?” she whispered.
Aleish got up from her chair. “It is the effect of our lands and our magic. Carla will be quite well again, providing she stays here.” She gave the two of them a warm smile and leaned down to hug Océane. “I am so glad you came home. This land would never have seen the sun again if you hadn’t.” She laughed as Océane hugged her fiercely in return and stood up again, smoothing down the perfect lines of her gown. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I will leave you two to talk.” Aleish smiled again, wiping her eyes, which were suddenly shining very brightly, and left, shutting the door behind her.
Home, Océane thought to herself, Aleish had said she’d come home. She turned to Carla, wondering what on earth she was making of all this. “You have to stay here?” Océane asked. “Oh, my God. Carla, what will you do?”
“Yeah, cause it looks a really crap place to live!” Carla laughed. “Oh, Océane, that man ... My lord, he is one fine hunk of Fairy.”
Océane opened her mouth and closed it again. “He’s Fae, don’t call him a Fairy. He doesn’t like it.”
Carla gave a dramatic sigh. “I’d call him anything he wanted,” she said, looking wistful. Océane glared at her and she chuckled and shook her head. “Kidding! I guess you called dibs.” She squeezed Océane’s hand tightly, all trace of humour gone. “You know, I thought he was the angel of death when he came to get me?”
Océane sat up on her knees and leaned on the arm of the chair. “What happened?”
“I was in bed, just ... waiting for the end, you know,” she recalled, sounding suddenly breathless, as though speaking of it made her chest tight all over again. “I was finding it hard to breathe and then suddenly he was there, sitting on the bed. He asked me if I wanted to live and I said, hell yes! So he gave me the choice. He said he could bring me here and that I would live. He said I’d live a long, long time ... but that I wouldn’t be able to go home again.” Carla squeezed her hand, her eyes alive with happiness. “You know what he said? He said I can stay here in the castle until I’m well enough and after that there is a little cottage in the village. He’s giving it to me, Océane! He said no strings, I don’t owe him anything and you know the best bit? He apologised that it didn’t have much of a garden!” Carla laughed, until the tears ran down her face. “Not much of a garden ... After that shitty apartment, priceless!”
Océane looked at her friend, her heart aching with joy and regret. That Laen had done all that ...
As if she was reading her mind, Carla narrowed her eyes at Océane. “Now then, my friend. Tell me why he would do all of that for someone he doesn’t know?”
“I ... I ...” Océane fought for an alternative explanation, just in case ... but she kept coming back to the same conclusion. Could it really be true?
Carla pouted and plucked at the warm blanket draped across her knees. “He asked me a lot of questions about you,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“He did?” Océane thought her voice sounded a bit wobbly and wondered if she was going to pass out. It was very warm in here, what with the fire blazing.
“Uh-huh.” She patted Océane's hand. “He explained too, what he did - why you weren’t there for me.”
Océane felt tears spring to her eyes again. “Oh, Carla, I’m so sorry.”
Carla laughed and waved away her apology. “He’s apologised quite enough, thank you and it obviously wasn’t your fault.”
“He ... apologised?”
Carla paused as though she was considering her answer. “Well he never actually said sorry. In fact he kept building up to it and backing off again but ...” She chuckled at the astonishment in Océane's eyes. “Oh, that poor man is carrying around so much guilt at the moment. I don’t know how he isn’t drowning under the weight of it. Lord, Océane, can’t you see he would do anything for you - anything to make you happy.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Carla rolled her eyes. “That’s all you got? Good grief, Océane, get your backside off that floor and go find him. Tell him you love him and that you’ll never let him go, because if you don’t ... I sure as hell will!”
Océane just sat there, dumbstruck. She was too dazed to be happy yet and nothing was ever certain with Laen, but she was going to do everything she could to make sure he didn’t frighten her off. Not again. She glanced up at Carla, who was clutching the arms of the chair in impatience.
“You do love him, don’t you, Océane?” she demanded, and Océane looked up at her friend, at the pretty blue eyes that were going to sparkle and see life for a great deal longer.
“Yes.” A smile spread out over her face and she laughed. “Yes, I do.”
“Well, then! Go, woman, go! I’ll be just fine. I’m going to live! And that gorgeous man loves you. He’s just rescued your best friend from the jaws of death, what more do you need?”
“Nothing!” Océane squeaked and leapt to her feet. She had just reached the door when Carla called out to her.
“Oh, and, Océane, if you try to seduce that man wearing those clothes and those ... Boots,” she said, gesturing at her DM’s with distaste. “I will never ever speak to you again.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Océane laughed and flew out of the door.