Evelyn awakened slowly, as she usually did during summer vacation. It was a rather luxurious feeling—knowing that you could spend the whole day in bed, watching Netflix and making brownies in a mug. She breathed deeply and caught the scent of firewood. Firewood? Her room didn't have a fireplace.
Her last memories came rushing back to her, and panic squeezed her chest. She forced her eyes to remain closed, though she desperately wanted to see where her captors had taken her. But if her captors were around, she couldn't let them know she was awake. Not until she had a plan.
Whatever was beneath her was soft—no, plush. She was on a mattress. The knuckles in her right hand still ached, likely from punching that guy who'd said he was a knight. Could he be somewhere nearby, waiting for her to wake up? Evelyn held her breath, trying to sense if someone else was in the room. Except for the snap of fire and the pinging of rain, everything was silent.
She opened her eyes and glanced down at her lower body. The bed was better dressed than she was, its black silky blanket shimmering with golden firelight. And here she was, still wearing her short shorts and a t-shirt.
But what if they'd taken her necklace? Her breath stalled as her hand flew to her neck. Once she felt the chain of her necklace, she breathed a bit easier. At least they hadn't taken it from her—whoever they were.
What had her kidnapper said about where he'd be bringing her?
I've been charged with escorting you to Torva to wed the King.
So what did that mean? Had he been telling the truth about everything—even that Torva was in another world? Did that mean she was in another world?
Hinges squeaked nearby, the sound of a door opening. She closed her eyes and held still, waiting for footsteps. Which never came. Only the whisper of rain filled the room, tempting her to open her eyes once more.
Who was inside the room? The King? Did he know she was awake? Was he just going to rape her in bed? How did marriage work here?
"So you're awake."
Despite her attempt to hold still, a startle jolted her body, from her tensing shoulders to her curling toes. She opened her eyes and drew her gaze upward.
A man loomed above her, his figure tall and muscular. A pair of green dragon wings extended from behind his shoulders. Her eyes paused on the wings. Though she would have liked to believe they were fake, they moved slightly on their own, the webbing rustling against itself. How could they possibly be real?
Her question was whisked away as the golden crown atop his black hair caught her eye. So this was the King. His clothing affirmed her assessment. His pants were black, his velvet shirt a vivid green. Gold thread glimmered at the edges and seams of his clothing. The firelight edged his angular face in bronze. His nose and prominent cheekbones cast shadows on his skin. His eyes were an even deeper green than his wings or shirt—the green of pine trees and bottomless lakes. Captivating enough for her to linger. Intense enough for her to finish her perusal.
His crown proved he was the King. His wings proved this was truly another world.
The realization so muddled her thoughts that when the King spoke she didn't initially understand him.
"Strange."
He thought this was strange?
He lowered himself, pressed his forearms to the side of the bed. The mattress sank beneath the added weight, and she stiffened to stop herself from rolling toward him. "In the pictures, you had blue eyes, verging on green."
Stalker. Evelyn suppressed a shiver. If she revealed herself, would he return her to her home? Or imprison her? Or kill her? For whatever reason, the King specifically wanted Kimberly here. If the King realized he hadn't gotten what he'd wanted, she doubted the consequences would be pleasant.
So instead she summoned up the best smile she had and sat up slightly, propping her elbows against the bed. "I wore colored contacts." Which was true—she had worn colored contacts. Just not for any pictures.
A low hmm rumbled in his chest. "For cosmetic purposes?"
She nodded. "Blue eyes have always struck me as prettier than brown."
He leaned closer, and she held her breath, resisting the urge to sink back down into the pillows. His gaze delved hers and his breath grazed her skin, smelling of sweet mint and pine.
Then he withdrew. "I think I find brown eyes just as pleasing."
His words warmed her—before she reminded herself that he'd find them much less pleasing should he know that they didn't belong to Kimberly. "Thank you." She straightened before scooting back against the pillows. "Now, about this wedding..."
He nodded. "I've heard your father hasn't informed you of the engagement."
"He didn't—and the man you sent wasn't very helpful either. In fact, he was downright unpleasant." Especially when he'd pinned her to the floor.
The King lifted his broad shoulders. "He was doing his duty."
No apology. Just a statement. She was so glad she wasn't going to remain here for long. "Well, I hope you'll prove more helpful than your knight."
"Your father and I have corresponded for the past few months to arrange our marriage," the King said.
"But... why would he agree to this? He loves," she caught Kimberly's name on the edge of her tongue, "me."
"I've compensated him well."
"He has tons of money."
"Perhaps he has a debt you're unaware of."
Maybe it had to do with whatever potentially illegal work he did. But why sell off Kimberly? If anything, he'd try to foist Evelyn onto someone else, rather than her sister. "So my father knows about Torva?"
"He does, but he's been sworn to secrecy—and he's watched, lest he think to tell someone else."
"Why do you want Torva to be a secret?"
"Due to ancient laws and even older stigmas, the Torvan people are limited in the technology they can build. If humans ever discovered how to use the portals, they'd easily decimate our country with their more advanced weaponry. Any human that stumbles upon Torva's existence must be... dealt with accordingly." His expression turned grim, and a chill danced up her spine. "Your father is the exception."
So revealing she actually wasn't his intended would probably be a bad decision—likely her last decision. "So why do you want to marry me?" Given the ice crusting his demeanor, it probably wasn't for a romantic reason.
"My father made a law requiring me to marry a Hybrid. Until I marry you, I won't have access to my legislative powers." At her confused expression, he continued, "If I don't marry you, I can't abolish, alter, or create any laws. It's one of the most important abilities that comes with being king, and I've been unable to access those powers up to this point."
"A Hybrid?"
"Half-human, half-Torvan. Your father has verified that your mother was a Torvan."
That meant Evelyn was a Hybrid too—like Kimberly. Wow. She was practically part alien. And if her mom was Torvan, could her mom be in Torva? Evelyn's heart jolted at the thought. "So you're saying my mother lives here?"
The King shook his head. "She used to, but we monitor who uses the portals, and she hasn't returned. Likely she remains somewhere on Earth."
And just like that, her hope crumpled. She was farther from her mother than ever before. But she would find her way back. Somehow. "So why marry me specifically? Why not some Hybrid princess of another country?"
"First of all, Hybrids are regarded as inferior, especially half-humans. Never before has one been granted the status of royalty. Secondly, the assignment was given to my Public Relations official. He considered my criteria for a Hybrid bride and selected you."
It was still surreal to think that she was half-Torvan. What if that was why she'd never felt like she'd belonged back home? But, then again, she'd always thought a sense of belonging was more about connection to another person rather than to a place. Once she'd found her mother, she'd probably find belonging too. "So if Hybrids are supposed to be inferior, why is there a law requiring you to marry one?"
The King's lips thinned. "My father likely thought it fitting punishment—a Halfblood wed to a Halfblood."
Her gaze flicked to his wings. Her kidnapper hadn't had them—or perhaps he had been concealing them somehow. "You're a Hybrid?"
He nodded. "Part dragon, part Torvan."
How had he even become part dragon? It seemed like dragons and other beings wouldn't breed well, to say the least. She suppressed a grimace and the question. If she asked, it would probably come off as rude. "So the dragon is from your mom's side?"
"No. My father's. In Torva, we have a group of people we call the Gifted. They're shapeshifters and can only be marked by their purple eyes when they're in their natural form. Long ago, there was a Gifted dragon who morphed into a Torvan and married a Torvan princess, inserting himself into the royal bloodline. The dragon blood became diluted as time went on, and no royal has had dragon features or abilities for centuries." The King's gaze darted away from hers. "Except for me."
That explained a few things. "But if the dragon blood is from your father's side, why would he punish—"
"Forgive me, but the hour is late, and I would have us wed before the morrow."
Air snagged in her throat. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. "I–I can't."
His eyes darkened. "Why not? I could give you anything you desire."
"Not love." She bit down on her lip a moment too late, heat surging to her cheeks. "I mean, we barely know each other." And it didn't seem fair that he was springing this on her right after telling her that her dad had sold her and that she was part alien.
"In time, you will come to know me."
She wasn't sure she wanted to. "Maybe you could return me to Earth, and I'll think about it."
"Unacceptable. Until I can trust you with the secret of Torva's existence—and that you won't flee—you will be confined to the palace."
"So I'm not your queen. I'm your captive." She lifted her chin, daring him to counter her.
He stepped back from the bed. "It's truly regrettable you weren't informed of your engagement before this point, but I'm afraid it's too late now. The old laws are keeping my people in bondage, and without you, I'm powerless to free them."
"Find another Hybrid."
"It took months to select you, and I'm not willing to make my people wait any longer."
Heat gripped her bones. "So you're going to ignore my decisions just because you're bigger and more powerful."
His nostrils flared, and he closed the distance between them. "Understand this: my people's welfare will always eclipse yours. As my queen, consider this to be the first of many sacrifices on their behalf."
"But I didn't choose any of this." Pressure was building inside her skull, begging to be released in a scream. But she wasn't going to melt into a temper tantrum in front of this arrogant jerk. She was going to show him if he married her, she'd be a force to be reckoned with.
"Which is unfortunate." His gaze skimmed her—from her shorts to her hair. "I'll summon witnesses, so the wedding can sooner commence."
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and folded her arms. Regardless of what happened, he couldn't make her do anything. And if he tried, she'd make him regret it.
Someone knocked on the door.
"Come in," the King said.
Two knights entered the room and stood before the King at attention. The King glanced over his shoulder at her and gestured her to come forward.
Seriously? He thought she'd agree to this after some blustering on his part? "I told you I wasn't going to do this."
His jaw muscles rippled as he contemplated her words. "This will go easier for you if you cooperate."
And why would she care about things going easier? All she wanted was to go home and then to Colorado to find her mom.
"We can either conduct this ceremony here in my room—or in the dungeons," the King said. "And should you continue to prove uncooperative, you'll remain in the dungeons for the rest of your time here." His eyes narrowed, only a slit of emerald green visible.
Evelyn dropped her gaze, as much to alleviate their intense eye contact as to conceal her thoughts. She could fight him all the way, but obviously he didn't need her consent. She'd gain nothing from her resistance but a tighter leash, making escape truly be impossible.
Her best bet was just to go along with whatever he wanted and wait until he was certain he'd crushed her spirit. When he was least expecting it, she'd make her move. But how long would that take? And how did time work here? What if, by the time she escaped, everyone she knew on Earth was dead?
Crash.
Evelyn blinked, and the King disappeared, replaced by the familiar interior of her mind's Room. A picture frame had plummeted to the floor. The wooden frame was scratched, the glass shattered. It was the Room's centerpiece. All the other pictures in the wall had been arranged around that one picture. It was a picture from the future, a picture of the moment she'd meet her mother, or what she hoped it would be. Her mother's face was blurry—she wasn't quite sure what her mother looked like—and her own face was plastered with the goofiest, widest smile she could imagine.
She bent to pick up the shards of glass. A piece sliced effortlessly through her skin, like a knife through microwaved butter. Drops of blood splattered the floor.
"Kimberly?" A gentle finger grazed her cheek.
She blinked, and her vision filled with the King's room instead of her own imagined one. Somehow the King had closed the distance between them while she'd been in her Room. His legs brushed her bare knees as she perched on the edge of the bed.
In her Room, she dusted the glass off the picture—the sensation so real her actual hand tingled with pain. She hung the picture back on the wall. This wasn't the end of her dream. This was just another route. She would find her mother, but first she'd have to lull the King into complacency.
She released a long sigh, infusing it with a dose of weariness. "I suppose I don't have an option." She glanced up, leaving her Room behind.
To her surprise, the King didn't affirm her statement. Instead, his face and gaze softened until their caress tempted her to glance away. "I'm sorry, Kimberly. I'll try to make this right."
He could make it right by sending her back to Earth. She bit her tongue, so the words wouldn't escape. She was supposed to act defeated, which meant no snarky comebacks. Instead, she slumped her shoulders, as if they bore the weight of the world.
"Shall we proceed?" He gestured to his desk.
Evelyn slid down from the bed and nearly startled where her bare feet touched the icy marble. She curled her toes to resist dancing from foot to foot. It felt like ice. For the first time since she'd arrived, she studied the King's room.
Behind her was the bed. A privacy screen sat in the corner a few feet from the bed. On the other side of the room was the fireplace and a rug with two wingback chairs. Arched windows ran along the wall—from the privacy screen to fireplace. In front of her was a desk and bookshelves, and a variety of weapons were mounted on the wall behind the desk. She took note of the doors in the room—AKA potential escape routes. There was one sandwiched between the windows—perhaps leading to a balcony—one by the fireplace, and another by the desk.
If not for the mounted weapons, the room would have been completely unadorned. Everything was neat and orderly, carefully controlled. Given what little she knew of the King, she wasn't surprised.
Evelyn crossed the room, halted at the desk, and stared at the document laying on its polished surface. Though the letters were penned in a strange font, she could read the title clearly: The Binding. Below, it explained marital positions and duties. A knot twisted in her gut.
The King's voice sounded from her side, surprisingly close. "It says The Binding."
Just because she was a Hybrid didn't mean she was stupid. She nodded and sighed again. Was she sighing too much? Maybe she should tone it back a bit. "I understand. It details my duties as queen and wife."
"You can read Torvan?"
Confusion overtook her defeated façade. "That's English, not Torvan."
He lifted his eyebrows and didn't speak.
Was he serious? She glanced at the paper again. For a split-second, the symbols became foreign gibberish. She blinked, and the paper was legible again.
"Torvans inherently know their written and spoken language," the King explained. "They learn it gradually as they mature. I'm pleased that your Torvan blood is strong enough that you can read. It will make the transition easier."
"So can I speak Torvan too?" she asked.
"Perhaps. Ebbi ayo versti aok?"
"Yes, I can understand you." His words were strangely familiar... Her secret language. That's how she knew the words. This whole time, she'd thought she'd been speaking her own language, but she'd actually been speaking Torvan.
He scooted an ink well and a spear-like implement, with a metal prong protruding from its rod, toward her. "Now, you'll have to leave your signature below, in the blank space."
She drew a vertical line for the E in Evelyn before pausing and turning it into a K and signing as Kimberly. Even though this wasn't consensual and she planned to ditch the King as soon as he looked away, she was glad she was signing Kimberly's name instead of her own. It made their union feel less real.
The knights signed in the place of two required witnesses and left.
Then they were alone—groomand bride.