Black Moon Draw (17 page)

“Witch!” the Shadow Knight snaps.

“Can you leave me in peace for two seconds? Please?” I groan.

There’s a moment of quiet and then, “Very well. Do not leave this chamber.”

Thank god.
I say nothing.

The door closes behind him and I lay still. I’d give anything for a bath or maybe some Icy Hot. I wonder if it’s possible for my ass to be broken; moving even a little bit makes me wince. I have enough padding down there that a day on a horse shouldn’t faze me.

“Are you hungry?” the squire asks.

“Starving.”

“Shall I fetch you supper?”

I lift my head. “You’d do that?”

He nods.

“That’d be amazing. Thanks.”

The kid leaves.

After a good five minutes, I sit up with a grimace. I check my hand, hoping to find a note there from LF with instructions on how to get out of here. There’s nothing, aside from the countdown, and I stand and do some stretches to loosen up my miserable body.

A knock draws me towards the door and I open it, expecting the kid.

“M’lady.” A man with a white tree on his black tunic bows. “The Red Knight will see you, if you are available.”

“I am.” Interested in what the Red Knight can tell me, I hesitate only for a moment to consider what the Shadow Knight might want me to do.

No. I’m strong enough to make my own decisions and apparently, magical enough to flatten full-grown men into pancakes. I’m no longer waiting for permission from someone else to do what I want to.

Take that, Jason!

The messenger leads me through the maze of a hold. Torches light the hallways cheerfully and provide a source of warmth. It doesn’t seem like we go far despite the many turns and he opens a door leading into a garden lined by torches. Dark hedges line cobblestone pathways leading toward a black splotch I assume is a pond in the middle of the small garden. Benches squat beneath trimmed trees and I can smell flowers without seeing them.

A form near the pond stands and I wade through the well-maintained foliage towards him. The Red Knight stands beside a low table with a pitcher and two chunky goblets on the tray.

I approach and glance at the still pond. It reflects the stars and moon, rippling in a breeze too light for me to feel. It’s chilly in the garden but also peaceful.

“Wine?” he asks, motioning me to sit.

I hesitate. In the real world, it’s not a good idea to accept a drink from a man you’re pretty sure you can’t trust. I can’t think he wants to do me harm – or he would’ve killed me instead of offering wine the first time we met. I know enough about him and this place that I’m tempted to pass.

But come on – this is
wine
.

“Sure,” I reply and sit.
Had to be stone.
I wince, my butt too sore for me to sit in one spot long.

He pours then pinches and sprinkles something into it from a low, ceramic bowl.

“What is that?” I ask.

“Herbs to enhance the drink.” He puts some in his as well, so I assume they’re not going to kill me.

I pick up the goblet. Before it reaches my lips, I can smell vanilla and maybe cinnamon. Their faint, familiar scents reassure me, and I take a drink. The wine is dry and tart.

“How is he treating you?” the Red Knight begins, sipping his wine.

“Good. Battle is rough.”

“He has shown a certain level of restraint I find intriguing.”

Restraint? Really?

“He has not decided to keep you. Not the witch he expected?”

I lower my goblet, uneasiness stirring. There’s a political aspect to this meeting I didn’t expect. I’m not about to give the Red Knight information that might embarrass or hinder the operations of the Shadow Knight. I’m quiet, thinking of a response that won’t shut the door on anything the Red Knight might be able to tell me, but will also derail this line of discussion.

“He has not performed the traditional ritual between a Knight and his battle-witch. You have failed him somehow?”

Don’t. React.
I’m gritting my teeth. I hate,
hate
the sense of feeling like I’m not good enough.

“It has the others talking as well.”

“What ritual?” Dread flutters through me even as I ask the question.

The Red Knight’s face is hard to read in the starlight. I wonder if he chose this place on purpose because it would be more difficult for me to read his expressions.

“Wait,” I say quickly, aware he’s drawn me into something I’m not here to discuss. “I don’t want to know. I wanted to talk to you about a couple other things.”

“Very well. But first, how do my sisters fare?”

“Great, I think. I haven’t seen them much.”

“My eldest sister is not yet bonded?”

I hold up my hands. “Totally not my place to say.”

“This is concerning.” He gazes off into the distance.

“Maybe they’re not ready. Better they take their time then bond in haste, isn’t it?”

“Ready?” he repeats, eyebrows shooting up. “’Tis
duty
, witch, not a choice. Their alliance will secure a more lasting peace than either kingdom is accustomed to.”

“Sorry. I have no idea how this works,” I reply. “It’s a shame they can’t choose who they wish to bond with.” I’m more disappointed than warranted, my thoughts on how incredible it would be to be the woman the Shadow Knight’s world revolved around.

“My elder sister thinks as you do,” he admits. “There was a time when she was betrothed to the son of the Desert Knight of Brown Sun Lake. It took some . . . convincing to break off their betrothal and promise her to the Shadow Knight instead. The two Knights are mortal enemies and I fear I made their brittle relationship worse.”

I could listen to him talk forever. He’s got a beautiful, cultured, upper class British accent. “Was your sister upset about it?”

“They both were. ‘Tis why the younger left with her, to escape their manipulative brother.”

“Maybe you should let her choose who she wants to be with,” I say again.

“’
Tis not our way,” he says and straightens. “Now, you had questions. I’m listening.”

Thoughts on the two princesses following the Shadow Knight’s army, I can’t help feeling bad for both of them this time, even the Disney Princess. “You weren’t surprised I was from some other world,” I start. “Why not?”

“You aren’t the first to come here. There are records at my palace that document the appearance of men and women from places that do not exist.”

“Seriously? Where are they?” I ask anxiously. “I need to find them!”

“You are the first in this era. The others are long dead.”

Disappointed, I absently sip my wine and then stretch forward to pour a second cup. It’s strong enough that I already feel like I’m starting to buzz. Or maybe, I need food to soak it up. I haven’t eaten since this morning.

I copy his movement and pinch at the herbs to drop into my goblet. I gaze into it for a bit too long, fascinated by the reflection of the stars.

“If you know this much, do you have any idea about the way back?” I ask.

“There is no way back.”

“You see, I just can’t believe that,” I say with some impatience. “If I got here, I can get back.”

“If you could get back, I could find who sent you here and stop this nonsense.”

“That’s just . . .”
insane.
It almost makes sense that I’m here, but I can’t fathom the idea of a book character seeking out its author. Maybe because he’s not real. I draw a deep breath and try to figure out where to start to unravel this mess.

“You have no memory of who sent you here or how?” the Red Knight asks.

“None. I mean, nothing but what I told you. I don’t know LF and can’t really remember how I got here.” I nibble my lower lip, realizing for the first time I really don’t know what happened. The last thing I recall was watching the ending of
Labyrinth
where the heroine realized the power had been in her hands all along, not the bad guy’s. I sort of blacked out towards the last part of that scene, only to wake up in Black Moon Draw. “Do you think I’m missing something?”

“I believe it to be possible. You arrived here by some means. As you pointed out, if you could return, would it not be by the same means? Mayhap you need to remember it.”

“That doesn’t usually happen when you’ve drunk that much,” I say with a frown. I shake my head. I’m tipsy. Before I lose my ability to focus, I change the subject. “The Shadow Knight. Why is he obsessed with reclaiming his lands? What happened?”

“To discuss a past era is to invite tragedy,” the Red Knight warns, a note of discomfort entering his voice.

“So you won’t tell me?”

“I am an ally to all. Do not turn to me for such knowledge.”

“That reminds me. I found the Brown Lake coins in your carriage and he found them on me. He doesn’t really consider you an ally right now.” The words come out before I can stop them, the side effect of buzzing.

The Red Knight stiffens. I study him with effort, the world fuzzy and unsteady. He says nothing in what feels like
forever.
I know it’s because I’m no longer sober that time seems to slow, but I quickly grow tired of waiting for him to respond and pour more wine for both of us.

“’
Tis not so simple,” he replies finally. “Your arrival complicated our alliance.”

“I mess up everything. There has to be a reason I’m here.” I sigh.

“To become the last great battle-witch.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re right. I am a terrible battle-witch.”
Whoa. I should not have said that.

But it gets worse. I have the urge to tell him everything, from the time my parents divorced to the way the Shadow Knight makes me feel when he’s close enough for me to smell brownies. The compulsion isn’t natural; that much I know. I’ve been drunk enough times to know what it
should
feel like.

“Is something in this?” I ask, setting the goblet down and staring at it.

“’
Tis strong wine.” He sets his down as well. “I know you have some magic. I saw it.”

“I do. I guess it’s not what it’s supposed to be. Maybe because I’m not a damn witch to start off with!”

“You are.” His calm, firm assurance makes my brows furrow. “There is a legend about Black Moon Draw, that if the last great battle-witch fell into the hands of the Shadow Knight ruling the dark kingdom, he would know victory over all. Reclaim the lands of his ancestors, break the family curse, and all war would end for an era.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I say, thinking about the horrible battle I witnessed yesterday. I wish I knew more about the curse; it seems like everyone has his or her own understanding of it.

“If you are a knight of this world, it does,” the Red Knight says dryly. “No one wants to lose his kingdom.”

“Ah. Makes sense.” I’m starting to understand a little more about what’s going on in this world. “What happens if he fails?”

“The eternal fog of Black Moon Draw consumes all.”

I stare at him blankly for a moment. “So you do know what happens. And you’d rather have that happen than be ruled by someone like him?”

“That is the position of many of the Knights. They want to kill him in order to stop him and his curse from spreading. ‘Tis just a legend after all. No one knows if it is true. They are wagering ‘tis not. He is the last Shadow Knight with no son to succeed him. If he is gone, many believe the curse will be gone with him.”

I listen, soaking up the information. It’s not what I expected to hear. The Shadow Knight is sounding more like an underdog, someone who needs more support than I thought. Hearing about the alternative – that his death might also stop this – leaves me a little more interested in his welfare than I am ready to admit. I can’t escape the image of him saving my life and those of his men in battle or the instinct that there is more to him than I’m willing to consider right now. I don’t want there to be some part of this place that makes me want to stay, no matter how my body responds to seeing him.

It’s getting harder to concentrate. I shake my head.

“The best way to kill him is to first eliminate his battle-witch,” the Red Knight continues, drinking more wine.

“That sounds smart,” I agree. It takes a moment for his meaning to register. “Oh. But that’s me.”

“It is,” he agrees with a smile. “Which is why we’re talking.”

“Because . . .”

“I was paid by Brown Sun Lake to ensure that happened.”

I hear the words, but they’re competing with some random thoughts about how strong the flowers smell here. When they click, though, a shot of adrenaline blows away everything but the idea the man before me was paid to kill me.

“But . . . why . . . I mean . . . you had a chance to do that.” I stand. “You didn’t. And you haven’t. Or . . . maybe you did?” I lean precariously to glance into the wine once more.

“Not yet,” he admits softly.

I struggle to focus on him. I’m fevered from the alcohol, my vision too blurry for me to make out the finer features of his face. “And why not?”

“You have something I need: a way back. I and the Shadow Knight are all that stand between you and the other eight knights out there that want you dead.”

Swallowing hard, I say nothing, trying hard to process everything. My heart feels like it’s flying, and my muscles are warmed by the alcohol but aching more with my sudden tension.

“Unhand my lady!” The squire’s cry comes seconds before he stumbles from the pathway into the area around the pond. He’s off balance worse than me, probably because he’s carrying a sword almost his size.

“Calm yourself, squire,” the Red Knight responds, amused. “I have done no harm to your mistress. Take her back to her chamber, if it pleases you.”

The squire stares, slightly bewildered, and then gives a firm nod and lowers the weapon. “I will. Come, witch.”

“Oh, don’t you start!” I snap, facing him. I spin too far and end up facing a very large hedge. It’s moving, or appears to be in my drunken stupor. “You’re too young to . . . why is
this bush moving?” I poke the blob.