The Lost Prince (29 page)

“I need to erect a protective web around the hotel,” Lelani said.

The girl talked of magic webs while Cat bled emotionally.

“I have to go to Central Park to acquire the energies to accomplish this. I should not be long.”

“I’m coming,” said Cat. “I can’t sit here doing nothing, or worse listening to Balzac. I’m already stir crazy.”

“I’ll send Collins with you,” Malcolm said.

“Great,” said Cat. “Which one is he?”

“Big scary black man; wears sunglasses indoors.”

“Perfect.”

Cat helped Bree with her coat. She hesitated, then turned to Malcolm. “You need to tell Scott,” she said.

“Tell him what?” Malcolm asked.

“The truth.”

Malcolm scratched his beard. “My situation’s not the same, Cat. I recently discovered I’m a dwarv and I’m straight. But I can’t tell Scott I don’t love him, because that would be a lie. I can’t say I don’t look forward to his company because I still do. My father arranged my marriage in Aandor. She’s a good wife. Scott was
my
choice. It’s not really that complicated. I’ve been living under the notion that I was gay for years now … ever since I left my wife in this reality for Scott. Call it what you will.… my feelings are real.”

“He should hear that from you,” Cat said. “Tell him, before someone takes that choice away.”

They left for the park.

CHAPTER 21

CALLANTHA

Cat, Bree, Lelani, and Collins approached the Seventy-ninth Street entrance to Central Park. Cat couldn’t remember the thirty-block walk from the Waldorf. Her brain was numb, floating in the never-never realm beyond reality, trying to wrap her mind around the thought of her husband’s fiancée. Collins had insisted on using the car, but Cat refused; the whole point of getting out of the hotel was to get fresh air to clear the fog from her brain—at least what passed for fresh air in Manhattan.

She was struck by the irony of her fairy-tale life being turned on its head by the intrusion of an actual fairy-tale life. It was the reverse of what a Disney princess had to endure … she’d had the perfect life, the mysterious knight—strong, protective, truthful, loving, putting her needs above all others, and it was being chipped away bit by bit. Her life had been almost too good to be true—no ex-girlfriends to contend with or live up to, no nagging mother-in-law, no awkward holiday dinners haggling over whose house to go to and where to spend Christmas or where to put the uncle that made inappropriate jokes, which invariably every family has one of. Cat never thought she’d been a good enough person to deserve the life the universe picked for her. And pick it did, since it was Callum that chose her from among an entire room of scantily clad dancing nymphs that he could have virtually chose from at will. Her husband’s blank past had been a secret blessing neither of them knew about; turns out it was really a hidden charge that she was now paying for in spades.

Cat was livid that after everything they had been through, Lelani had never mentioned Callum’s engagement. The centaur could have made better time on foot without her, but she remained at Cat’s side as they walked. Whether this was to fulfill her pledge to protect Cal’s family or out of sympathy, Cat didn’t know. The girl was all business, but had warmed up to their ensemble like an au pair who eventually becomes part of a family. Every time Cat thought she had Lelani figured out, the centaur surprised her. This was probably the way of wizards.

The view before them as they entered Central Park was timeless … it could have been any era. The light dusting of snow was as if a sieve of sugar had been rapped over nature—a mad confectioner’s masterpiece. The sun dipped toward the tree line, painting a kaleidoscope streak of pink mauves and yellow purples across the western sky. The bare branches were dark lines under white crowns, streams of wet black ink on a hanging page—a street drawing from a gilded age.

Catherine and Lelani were solemn, so Bree walked with the more chatty Collins several feet back. He took her hand with no complaint, clearly a man that was comfortable with children. Collins scanned the area constantly and spoke softly on his Bluetooth, leading Cat to believe the redhead at the suite was monitoring them by satellite. Malcolm had certainly done well for himself in this reality. From what Cal had said of Aandor, the best luxury his wealth could provide—provided she went back with him—was indoor plumbing, as 90 percent of the populace still used outhouses. Her sister’s blue-collar Jersey-boy husband could provide that in his sleep. On this world, Malcolm ran a corporation and had his own helicopter and satellite.

The conversation with Balzac had infected her brain. His observations were turning out to be like poison poured in her ear. Was that how a jester exerts power? Cat tried to shut out the conversation, but a seed had taken root. What kind of society was she thinking of joining? Cal’s family was part of the 1 percent that ruled his violent world. They stayed there through brute force and marriage beds. Was that really a life that she wanted for herself and Bree?

The path to the left of Turtle Pond led to Belvedere Castle.

“Up ahead where the base of the castle meets the pond is where I entered this universe,” Lelani said.

“That’s the lay line?” Cat asked.

“Yes. Usually they run like a fifth-dimensional river, dipping and surfacing in and out of realities. This one is unusually stable—I discovered an obelisk several hundred yards northeast of this position that anchors it to this point. You can just make it out through those trees.”

They looked across the pond, through the skeletal trees. “That’s Cleopatra’s Needle,” Collins said. “Gift from Egypt. Very ancient.”

“Who knew it was magical?” Cat said.

“It is not necessarily magical,” Lelani said. “Lay lines can be drawn, repelled, or pooled into reservoirs using a henge. The pattern and composition of the stones is crucial, but they are often normal stones. Clerics have a natural instinct for henge building.”

“Clerics?” Cat said.

“Priests with a sensitivity to magical energies, which they call mana. They believe the lay lines are connected to divinity. They call their spells blessings and their studies are limited to what dogma claims are moral magicks. My uncle was a druid and preached often to have me take up the calling. Hidden among the trees and myriad objects of this park is a massive henge pattern that uses the obelisk as its anchor stone. Whoever constructed this henge is likely long dead. It is a mystery.”

Cat’s husband was the only mystery she was interested in. The revelation of his fiancée had eroded Catherine’s trust. How many other secrets had he kept from her? Executing innocent men? Bastard children? Ever since Cal’s old memories came back, Cat had suppressed the notion that her husband had become an alternate version of the man she married. But now it was glaring. The Callum she knew would never have kept this fiancée a secret. How could she go to another universe with this imposter? And yet, looking at Bree and feeling the possible new life within her, how could she not? They resumed walking.

“What’s her name?” Cat asked, out of the blue.

Lelani stopped and blew out a strong gust as though she’d been holding her breath. “My lady—it is not my place to—”

“I’m not
your
lady,” Cat interrupted. She held Lelani’s gaze—gray eyes subjugating green—anger dominating uncertainty. “I’m trying to hold my life together after a mysterious redhead came out of nowhere and blew it up.”

That broke Lelani’s resolve. She frowned and turned her head away to study the path they’d just come up. Cat couldn’t muster any sympathy for the girl’s discomfort at the moment.

“Look at me when I talk to you,” Cat said.

Lelani turned, misery etched in her eyes.

“Did I deserve to have my life blown up?” Cat asked.

Lelani waited a moment before answering a simple, “No.”

“Damn straight. We had—have—a good marriage. Do you know how hard that is even under the best circumstances? Do you have any idea how many women would love to have my husband? He’s a good man … strong. He’s the shield between every bad thing in the world and us,” she said, gesturing at Bree. “I had to bat girls away with a stick before we got married. He’s such a yokel … too decent to see what those girls were really after. They said I have a temper. They said I’m a bitch…” A tear on Cat’s cheek scouted ahead for the deluge behind it. Cat took the lapels of Lelani’s coat in her hands gently and brought the centaur close. “Well, I never cared what anyone called me because I had him. Because I knew if I lost him, I’d spend my whole life trying to find him again … and that person doesn’t exist. I had to claim a man from a whole other universe to have my prince charming. And now, I have to fight for him all over again.”

Lelani stayed silent. Most women would launch into a litany of comforting statements and outright lies of comfort. The centaur was stoic and seldom uttered a word that didn’t have a purpose. Cat wondered if this was the way of centaurs, or if Lelani was unique—awkward even among her own people. She was truthful and loyal, so Cat believed her silence spoke volumes.

“Does he still love her?” Cat asked, point blank.

Lelani shook her head and turned away. “I do not know what lies in Captain MacDonnell’s heart, my lady. We were never friends in Aandor. He does not confide such things in me.”

Bree squealed with delight as Collins swung her by her arms. Cat was grateful for his distractions. Lelani resumed walking toward Belvedere Castle.

“He is tortured by this predicament, that much is clear,” the centaur said. “He cannot win either way. This is a man who has never broken a pledge in his life—and now, he
must
break an oath to one of the women that he loves. Most men could recover from such a thing, but Captain MacDonnell is not like most men—the decision will haunt him either way. For what it’s worth, I do not believe the captain will leave you for Chryslantha.”

What a stupid name,
Cat thought. “Have you met her?” Cat asked.

“Once,” Lelani said. “Her father is a benefactor of Proust’s Academy. We held a banquet in his honor.”

“Well—dish…”

“My lady, this is truly a conversation you should have with the captain—”

Cat stopped her again. “Lelani, do you respect me?”

“Absolutely,” she said, with no hesitation. Lelani looked hurt that Catherine would even consider otherwise.

“Are we friends?”

“I—I would be honored if you considered me your friend, Catherine.”

“Please … if I’m going to fight for my marriage, I need to know. Just tell me the truth. I’m on my last nerve with all the secrets.”

Cat could see her own pain reflected in Lelani’s eyes … or perhaps she was subliminally picking up her own reflection in Lelani’s large pupils. Whichever it was, Cat felt she’d broken through the girl’s defenses. Lelani exhaled and spilled.

“She’s the oldest child of Lord Godwynn, one of the wealthiest and most powerful nobles in Aandor after Archduke Athelstan, and one of Archduchess Sophia’s ladies-in-waiting.”

Rich brat. Paris Hilton wannabe.

“The MacDonnell and Godwynn estates are north of Aandor City and border each other. The captain and Chryslantha have known each other since they were children. They were betrothed a year before the invasion that sent us here, and though I don’t usually follow gossip, I know this because it was all the scullery maids at Proust’s talked of for a week. Callum’s family are minor nobles and not particularly wealthy, though they are held in high regard because of their loyalty to the archduke and their skills on the battlefield. Lord Godwynn could’ve married her off to someone politically more advantageous to his interests, but Chryslantha is his favorite, and he’s allowing her to marry for love.”

Great,
thought Cat.
In a society where fathers pawn their kids off for money and power, Cal finds the one girl to marry for love.
“How sure of this are you?” Cat asked. “I thought you didn’t know Cal back there.”

“Catherine, we don’t have movies, television, or radio. What we do have are tourneys and jousts. Our knights are what every lad wants to become and whom every lass wants to marry. Callum ranks high in the lists. He’s won a number of tourneys. So people know of him and talk of his adventures, both on and off the field. The scullery maids, shopkeepers, servants, town guards, and even the baser denizens of our kingdom follow the knights’ exploits, even who they are—uh … courting.”

“Okay,” Cat said, satisfied. “Tell me she’s stupid, short, and ugly.”

“Dumb as a sack of rocks, a bowlegged dwarv practically, and has the nose of a pig,” Lelani said, very seriously.

“Really?” Cat said. It was the most cheerful she’d been all day.

“No.”

Cat punched her
friend
in the arm. “That’s not funny.”

A hint of a smile crossed Lelani’s lips. Cat realized she had been overreacting. Her husband hadn’t left her and he’d given her no indication that he intended to. Perhaps some levity wasn’t a bad thing.

“Thanks for trying,” Cat said. “So … dish.”

“Blond hair, green eyes, tall, thin. I spied a mummer that looks similar to Chryslantha in this reality.”

“Mumm…? An actress?” Cat guessed.

“I do not know her name,” Lelani added. “It was a—movie—on the television. I only saw a small portion of it … the lead player was a tall man with great abilities. He wore a tight costume, more exciting than peasant dress, and searched for his purpose as he stumbled through life drunk.”

“Superhero?” Cat asked.

Lelani scratched her head. “The character’s name eludes me. He wrecked a train simply by standing before it. The mumm—uh, ‘actress’—played his long-lost lover.”

“Train?” Cat remembered a train in
Superman,
but not a wreck. “More about the hero.”

“Dark of skin, tall, somewhat handsome … if you like the look of a jokester.”

A black superhero searching for his purpose …
“
Hancock
?” Cat said excitedly.

“Yes!” Lelani confirmed.

Cat never thought her Netflix subscription would turn out to be this useful. “Will Smith and…” Cat’s heart sank into her gut and lodged into her colon like a sharp stone. The revelation slowly seeped into conscious thought. “You’re shitting me?” she said. “Tell me you’re joking again … please.”