Cookie wiped her eyes and turned her thoughts to the array of garments in her closest. A much safer topic, and a promise Kaysar had actually kept. Her racks overflowed with different personalities. She thought she understood the purpose of every garment—seduce, command, rebuke, punish, tease, submit—but one. A clinging ivory frock with both soft and sharp edges. A severe but hauntingly lovely...wedding gown? Maybe, possibly?
Except, he already had a wife, didn’t he?
Argh! What did vengeance give him that Cookie didn’t? She just...she missed him so much. And she shouldn’t. Not if he made her feel this crappy. Unwanted. Alone.
Tears gathered again, and she sniffled. How many times had she watched the door at home, waiting for a parent to come get her? Or stared at a phone, willing it to ring so someone would tell her happy birthday? Oh, and how could she forget the evening she’d overheard her parents arguing about who had to keep her over a weekend. Had to. As if she were nothing but a burden to bear.
Did Kaysar think of her? Was she an afterthought? What was he even doing? They were partners. They were supposed to torment Hador Frostline together.
Jareth Frostline, as it turned out, wasn’t such a bad guy. Even when his impatience got the better of him, which was almost always, he never insulted or hurt her. Not with real barbs. He’d stopped judging her for being different from Lulundria.
Every day, his circumstances bothered her a little more. Chained for a crime he hadn’t committed, and ignored by the man responsible for his captivity.
When an opportunity presented itself, she planned to broach the subject of Jareth’s release. Gently. As an added bonus, Kaysar’s reaction to the topic could reveal her current placement in his hierarchy of needs.
Whispers erupted behind her, and her step faltered. Servants. Gossiping again. They’d taken an instant dislike to her. Maybe because she’d slaughtered their guards? Possibly?
Too frazzled to deal with the malice today, she turned around and snapped, “Go ahead and keep talking behind my back. You never know when I’ll decide to stab you in yours.”
They paled and scurried off, leaving her alone, guilty and shamed on top of everything else. They’d done nothing worth such ire from the strange woman demanding they serve her. She needed to do better.
Cookie sighed. She would grow everyone their own personal apology plant. The Dusklands had been barren so long. A little color could really make the terrain pop.
Feet heavy, she continued on her journey. Another tour, checking the final group of bedrooms and...uh, where was she? Mind swirling, she spun in a circle in an effort to catch up with her thoughts. Seconds ago, she’d stood in a sunlit hallway with gilt-framed portraits, elaborate side tables and velvet settees. Then she’d turned a corner and boom. A dank, dark catacomb with a handful of torches anchored to stone walls surrounded her.
A surprisingly sweet scent wafted. Heart thumping, Cookie readied vines and strode forward. With every step, a staff clinked against the floor. The perfect accessory for the Little Bo-Peep’s dress she’d chosen today. Why, why, why had the garment called to her? How could she find her missing sheep while she remained lost?
Cookie rounded a corner and—Whoa! A beautiful arch made of metal shards stood anchored to the floor, the belly thick, blue and rippling. A doorway? Amber stood before it, dressed in a flowing white gown and peering inside, quiet and contemplative.
Sensing the invasion, Amber spun and pressed a hand over her stomach. She relaxed when she spotted Cookie. “How did you find me?”
“I don’t know.” The dress? Maybe this was why she’d chosen to be the shepherdess. She’d noticed Amber tended to vanish at certain points throughout each day. “What is this place?”
“A type of treasure room, I think. The doorway—” the oracle motioned to the metal “—never closes. I discovered it the day after Hador’s arrival in the Dusklands.”
Cookie wouldn’t ask for an update about her boyfriend. She wouldn’t stoop so low. Nope. She would keep those humiliating questions to herself.
“What’s on the other side?” She had a right to know where her kingdom’s perma-doorway led. Part of the castle, all mine.
“My guess is the mortal world.”
Homesickness took another jab at her, silencing her response.
She and Amber stood in the quiet, both peering into the azure glow. For a long while, Cookie contemplated doing something wild and spontaneous and...going through. There was no better time for a discovery mission. But what if the doorway was a trap set for unsuspecting usurpers? Go through, and you ended up in a dungeon or something.
“Tell me about your visions,” Cookie asked, and licked her lips. “Are they ever wrong?”
“No.” Amber toed a pebble with her slipper. “I see events as if they are my own memories. Sometimes of things that have already happened. Other times I observe what’s happening in the moment and even situations that have yet to occur. Forcing myself to look into specific times, places and individuals is straining but doable.”
“Have you seen into my future?”
Amber’s shoulders sagged the tiniest bit. “I have. And I don’t need to be an oracle to know you crave answers about it.”
Her emotions had run the gamut today. Apprehension decided there’d never been a better time to shine. I’m doomed?
Maybe, maybe not, but Cookie most certainly didn’t wish to know about it.
And yet? “Yes,” she croaked. “Will I crash and burn with Kaysar?”
Today’s trials, tomorrow’s strengths.
“Let me show you what he’s doing right now. Then, you tell me the answer to your question,” Amber said.
An image appeared in Cookie’s mind, there and gone, but she had no trouble memorizing every detail. Kaysar, prowling over scorched earth, smoke billowing all around him. Shadows cloaked his powerful form as he approached a patrolling soldier.
With a slash of his claws, the soldier died.
“I’m confused,” Cookie said. “Is that supposed to be a deal breaker for me?” She only wanted him more. That soldier had guarded Kaysar’s abuser. Meaning, not innocent.
The ground shook with enough force to impel Amber in her direction. They crashed together, and Cookie bounced back, her shepherd’s staff clattering to the floor. The oracle toppled.
“What’s happening?” she cried when the shaking intensified.
A large stone fell from the ceiling, hurling straight toward the seer. Cookie unleashed a wall of vines, protecting the other woman long enough for her to roll out of the way.
As her leaves withered, dust plumed the air, tickling her nose and throat. She coughed and coughed.