“Do you want to win him?” Amber repeated.
Temper rising, ready for a change of scenery and topics, Cookie clasped the oracle’s hand and flittered to the garden she’d cultivated outside her bedroom.
Warm, dusty air became dry and smoky in an instant. Servants worked out here, smiling and laughing as they pulled weeds from a garden. Pride filled Cookie. She had created so many different kinds of plants and herbs for her prototype garden. She’d even begun experimenting and splicing. The bushes and foliage grew from the earth, thriving in the soil.
The revitalization of the land brought her a sense of fulfillment as nothing else ever had.
Grins widened as the servants spotted her.
“They aren’t being nice to you because Kaysar demanded it. Though he did,” Amber told her, urging her forward. They walked along a dirt path, bushes of every kind flourishing all around. Connected to Cookie but not, exactly as Jareth had predicted. “They know you’re the one responsible for the thriving plant life. They are grateful.”
“Oh. Well.” She cleared her throat. Because of the smoke, not embarrassment. Or need. “What am I going to do about Kaysar, Amber? Nothing is working.” So much for changing topics. “Before you answer, turn off your foresight and live in this moment, okay? So yes, I’m asking you to pretend you’re as dumb as the rest of us.”
“Very well. Here’s something even a fool should know. To get what you want, you’ll have to fight and fall and stand and fight—and accept help when it’s offered.”
Marched right into that one. See? Hadn’t taken long for the oracle to talk her around. “Fine. I’ll peer into Kaysar’s past. But if he protests about it, you’re getting full blame.” She fluttered a hand over her throat, pretending to be scandalized. “Kaysar, darling, Amber forced me to watch.”
The oracle rolled her eyes. “As if you can do any wrong in his mind.”
True. A definite mark for the pro column. “Why do you need to show me this, anyway?” Amber might be a gifted talk-arounder, but Cookie was an excellent staller.
“Did I forget to tell you? King Hador and King Micah are on their way to the palace. They’ll arrive later this evening with thousands of trolls. That’s the bit of news that is currently occupying Kaysar.”
“What?” She spun into the other woman with her skirt, then gripped her shoulders and shook. A habit she’d picked up from Kaysar. “Why didn’t you start with the headline, you exquisite nut? Tell me everything.”
“I’ll give you the highlights of the future, so we can return to the business of the past. The two kings will arrive and seek an audience. They’ll offer a truce Kaysar will refuse.”
“Shocker.”
“This will mark a crucial moment in your relationship with him, and I want you prepared.”
Crucial moment? Gulp. “Are you gearing up to tell me I...lose?”
The seer gave her a pitying look. “That depends on you. And no pressure, but your actions with Hador and Micah this day will have eternity-long consequences.”
No pressure. Right. “I swear you have five seconds to explain what—” Cookie went silent, her spine bowing, throwing back her head. A scream ripped from her.
“Oh, yes,” Amber said with a sweet smile. “I probably should have warned you. Accepting an image or two is easy. Receiving an entire memory is not.”
“You’re the meanest of us all, aren’t you?” she asked between wheezing breaths.
The oracle’s smile widened, her eyes twinkling. “Probably.”
A response lived and died within the same heartbeat, Cookie’s mind consumed with a virtual reality she couldn’t switch off. She watched a young boy lead a younger girl through the forest. They were the most beautiful children she’d ever beheld, with wavy jet-black hair and light brown eyes framed by ultra-long lashes.
She didn’t have to ponder who they were. The knowledge came with the memory. This was Kaysar and his sister, Viori. The realization punched Cookie, and she flattened her hands on her stomach to ward off an oncoming ache. The siblings were so thin, so dirty, wearing rags and boots barely held together by string.
Kaysar carried a large satchel on his back, stooped from its weight.
“This,” Amber said, “is the day Kaysar lost her. Watch it. Watch his capture. And his escape.”
Her heart squeezed painfully. This was going to tear her up inside, wasn’t it?
CHAPTER THIRTY
MICAH AND HADOR. Here. Soon. Not soon enough.
Kaysar poised at the edge of Chantel’s throne, vibrating with readiness, Drendall in his lap. A group of farmers had come to request his aid regarding some kind of swamp monster and offer bribes. He half listened, his mind too active.
Did Micah know Viori? Had the usurper ever interacted with her? Had one of his people? Had someone simply found the doll? But why store it in a treasury? The lack of answers left him ragged.
Failing Viori.
Losing Chantel.
More and more, his woman stared out windows, pensive. Anytime he inquired about her thoughts, she smiled the most heartbreakingly sad smile and changed the subject.
They lived in the same castle, with her glorious plants budding around every doorway and window, yet he missed her as if they were separated by oceans. She kept a part of herself separate from him now. He felt the distance.
They hadn’t made love again.
Chantel had said she wouldn’t ask him to choose her over his sister, and she’d kept true to her word. Why did that disappoint him?
She still hadn’t donned the claws, their team uniform. Her mouth often smiled at him, but the affection no longer sparkled so brightly in those big, beautiful eyes. Though he’d held her lush curves in his arms every night, they’d stopped whispering secrets to each other. She’d kissed him once, forever ago, but his guilt had prevented him from enjoying it, and she’d never tried again.
The strain was starting to wear on him, his patience nonexistent with everyone but her—with effort. But he’d never been a calm individual, and he feared the inevitable snap. Would he only drive her away faster?
But how could he enjoy his woman while his sister suffered a fate unknown? Did Viori need him? He didn’t know. Had she forged a life for herself? One filled with regrets? Horrors? Was she happy? Dead?
Kaysar pulled at hanks of his hair, the uncertainty increasing the likelihood of that emotional snap. He’d already used up the drops of satisfaction and contentment he’d gained during those too few times they’d made love. Nothing remained of them, and he desperately, fiercely yearned for more.