Witchful Thinking (32 page)

“No, Jolie!” I heard Rand’s voice and there was a
round of gasps in the room followed by total silence, but I didn’t care. It was my responsibility to protect Sinjin.

“You are unable to make that command,” Varick said in an even tone.

“I am the Queen of the Underworld,” I shot back.

“Jolie, think about this,” Rand said. He was instantly by my side but I didn’t spare him a glance.

“My command is law,” I said.

Varick shook his head and glanced at Mercedes as if to double-check who was right and who was wrong.

Mercedes merely nodded. “If it is the Queen’s will, so it must be,” she said in a small voice, the tone of which relayed the fact that she didn’t agree with what I’d just done.

“I order Varick to release Sinjin of any and all ties between them,” I continued, glancing at everyone in the room. “From this point onward, Sinjin is his own master vampire. He will answer to no one but me.”

“You have made a terrible mistake,” Varick spat out at me. He was shaking with outrage. “And you will suffer for it.”

Before I could say anything more, he simply vanished.

The last few days have sort of blurred together in my mind, becoming like one enormous day and night with no ending and no beginning—mainly because so much has happened. And my mind is such a complete muddle, I can’t focus on one subject for more than a few minutes before another one comes flying in, demanding to be heard. I wonder if this is what it feels like to lose your mind
.

So, Diary, you’re probably most interested in what happened to Sinjin after he was attacked by Varick. Well, thank God he ended up surviving the attack. He only required Klaasje’s blood (apparently vampires can drink one another’s blood and the blood of a vampire is endowed with healing traits—something I was unaware of). Anyway, Klaasje basically nursed him back to health and in so doing, she and I had some time to … get to know each other better
.

I have to admit that I feel guilty over the way I’ve been treating Klaasje—I’ve been short with her and none too friendly. And really, she has never been anything but kind and respectful to me. Well, the ugly truth of the whole matter is that I was jealous of Klaasje because of her relationship with Sinjin. And as much as it pains me to write this now, I feel that I must. I have feelings for Sinjin and I always have. Now I can admit that
I’m ashamed of myself because the truth of the stupid situation is that I have no right to be jealous of Klaasje because I don’t want to be with Sinjin in a romantic way—that is, I don’t think Sinjin and I have any hope of a future together
.

But moving on … after the whole ordeal with Varick, I ordered everyone to leave the room so Klaasje could tend to Sinjin. At the time, Sinjin was incoherent, not even able to sink his fangs into Klaasje’s skin, so she’d had to open her own wrist while I held Sinjin’s head to it, allowing the blood to drip into his mouth. Little by little, his strength appeared to return; within thirty minutes or so he was able to hold Klaasje’s wrist himself
.

While Sinjin was out of it, probably dreaming of large-busted women with prominent veins, Klaasje and I had the opportunity for a little girl talk—a little one-on-one time. And given the fact that I was acting like a jealous ass, of course I pried into the nature of their “friendship.” And Klaasje had some pretty curious things to say on that subject
.

She admitted that Sinjin would forever hold a place in her heart because she had loved him once, back when they knew each other in Texas, but she firmly insisted that she would never drop her defenses enough to love him again. She said she recognized who and what Sinjin was and she realized that Sinjin was incapable of loving another person—that he just wasn’t “wired that way,” as she said. And of course I could relate to her story myself—she had touched on the exact reason why I believe in my heart of hearts that Sinjin isn’t in love with me. Because he’s incapable of it
.

Strangely enough, Klaasje seemed happy with their bizarre friendship even though she was convinced it would never be more than it now was. Even stranger, she said Sinjin acted differently around me—that she would
never have imagined he’d endanger himself and rebel against Varick because of a woman. She seemed perplexed over the fact that Sinjin had seemed … jealous and possessive. Those were words that just didn’t describe him. He wasn’t that type—he was the love-’em-and-leave-’em type
.

Of course I didn’t know what to think about any of that and just shelved it away as a mystery I’d never unravel. Sinjin was Sinjin and I’ve come to realize I will never understand him or his actions. But somehow I’m okay with that, I guess
.

After our heart-to-heart about Sinjin, I felt sorry for Klaasje as I wondered what it would mean to have loved Sinjin such a long time ago and be reunited with him in the here and now. Klaasje seemed to be lost in her thoughts for a little while and then she finally shook her head as she rubbed Sinjin’s forehead (he was still out of it at this point) and asked him what he’d gotten himself into
.

It was all very strange, and I’ve since replayed the events over and over again in my head until I’m so sick of them, I can’t even see straight. But at least Sinjin turned out to be okay. Klaasje informed me that he would require her blood each evening; in about three to four days he’d be the same old Sinjin we all know so well
.

What that meant for me was that I couldn’t leave the house, because I was sans my two bodyguards (Klaasje was too weak to protect me, owing to the bloodletting, and Sinjin … well, I think that much is obvious). Unless I wanted to subject myself to an entourage of wolves who had been appointed as my impromptu bodyguards, I was stuck in Kinloch
.

So for the past three days I’ve been sitting around here, playing with the cat and otherwise trying to keep myself occupied. Granted, we reanimated more soldiers
in Bella’s army—and I had the “pleasure” of more lessons, the most recent on the history of the werewolf. But other than those minor distractions, I’ve had way too much time on my hands. And having too much time on my hands sucks because it gives me plenty of opportunities to think, think, and think some more about how Rand chose not to ask for my hand. He never championed me, never played the role of white knight, riding up on his steed to steal the maiden away from the troll-faced interlopers. I know that sounds completely stupid but there is a part of me—the little girl deep down inside me—who believes in fairy tales and would love nothing more than to live that ridiculous dream. But that’s all it is—an intangible dream. And one that should be destroyed, as far as I’m concerned
.

I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that the Rand of today is drastically different from my 1878 Rand. Really, they aren’t even the same person. So maybe I’ll never be able to keep the promise I made to 1878 Rand about us being together in this century. Maybe we aren’t fated lovers—maybe we never were. Maybe we simply aren’t fated anything
.

I know it probably sounds like I’m feeling sorry for myself and I guess the truth is that I am. But, Diary, I have never felt so completely alone before—so totally abandoned. Yes, I have Christa and I’ve always had Christa, but she has her own life
.

I keep remembering my Rand of 1878, how tender he was, how our love had been so all-encompassing, so whole, true, and real … so completely beautiful. And the worst part is that I keep replaying in my head the memory of the moment he slid his mother’s ring onto my finger and asked me to marry him. The look in his eyes had been so deep, so genuine. I experienced true happiness, true love for the first time in my entire life
.

There’s a void inside me now—a void that’s been
sucking in all my hopes and aspirations for love. It’s a darkness that’s taking me over, a disease. But there’s nothing I can really do to stop it. Short of returning to 1878 and living out the remainder of my years there, I don’t know that there is anything that can be done to save my heart from splintering and dying
.

I set my pen down and felt a sob catch in my throat as I glanced down at Rand’s mother’s ring, which I still wore on my left hand. I felt a tear slide down my cheek as I pulled the ring off and opened the top drawer of my desk, dropping the ring inside. As I closed the drawer, I felt like I was closing off the part of me that believed in the idealism of love, the part of me that loved Rand.

At the sound of a knock on my door, I wiped my wet cheeks against the arms of my sweatshirt. Mercedes announced herself and I begrudgingly opened the door, realizing the reason for her visit.

“I’m not going to marry any of them,” I said with conviction.

Mercedes nodded as if she wasn’t surprised by my announcement. “May I come in?”

I opened the door obediently, allowing her to enter.

“I do hope you have considered every angle of this issue? Weighed both the pros and the cons?” she asked.

I nodded and sighed, gazing out my window at the gray clouds that now obstructed the sun. Drops of rain began to gently fall, spritzing my window. “Yes, my mind is made up.”

“Very well,” Mercedes answered, offering me a brief smile before she turned to face the door. She took a few steps toward it but then stalled and faced me again. “Do you trust Sinjin?” she asked.

“Trust Sinjin?” I repeated, my tone belying the fact that I was at a total loss.

Mercedes nodded and focused on the ocean view
outside my window. She approached the window and placing her fingers on the sill, stared down at the waves as they lapped at the rocks.

“Why do you want to know?” I prodded when it seemed she’d completely gone mute.

She continued admiring the view. “Were your hopes on Sinjin?”

“What?” I asked, realizing she meant had I hoped Sinjin would ask for my hand instead of Varick. “No! I wouldn’t marry Sinjin.”

She turned her eyes to me with a relieved expression and just nodded, although she didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I hope that in emancipating Sinjin from his master, you realized the weight of your action?”

I hadn’t really thought about the repercussions of that move so, no, I couldn’t really say I did.

“Why, what’s the big deal?” My voice was laced with defensiveness.

“Sinjin will be much more powerful now.”

I gulped. I didn’t know why but for some reason that seemed like a bad thing. “How? He’s still the same Sinjin.”

Mercedes shook her head and forced a smile. “Sinjin now has no one to keep him in line. That is why I wanted to know whether you trust him.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I think the real question should be if you trust him.”

Her shoulders bounced with surprise, as if she was taken aback. “Why should it matter if I trust him?”

I shook my head. “It seems like there’s something going on between the two of you and every time I try to get an answer out of either of you, you tiptoe around the subject or avoid it in some other way.”

Mercedes nodded as if she were weighing my words. “I do not trust the vampire,” she said simply.

“What are your meetings with Sinjin about?” I demanded, crossing my arms against my chest.

Mercedes shrugged and stepped away from my window, coming to stand in the middle of the room, just before me. “Sinjin is after power—whether it be your power or mine. He craves control.”

Knowing Mercedes, I figured she wasn’t giving me the whole picture. But at this point, I couldn’t say I really cared what Sinjin and Mercedes were up to. No, I didn’t care because I actually had another plan for my life—another path I’d just decided on about, um, ten minutes ago.

“Mercedes,” I started, searching for the right way to phrase this next part. “As your Queen, I want you to send me back to 1878.”

“For what purpose?” she asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Because I hate my life,” I said and took a few steps away from her, feeling the sudden need to escape the damning expression in her eyes.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“It’s not that I hate it,” I admitted. I took a deep breath and looked at her. “I was happy in 1878. I loved Rand and he loved me. Nothing is the same now.”

“It is your duty to make it the same.”

I laughed, but it was an ugly sound. I looked at the waves outside my window and wished I had no responsibility other than crashing against the rocks and pulling back with the tide again. I faced Mercedes and shook my head. “I’ve tried to make things right in this century, believe me.”

Mercedes shook her head. “Perhaps you are not trying hard enough. There is a reason, a purpose—”

“Yes, yes, yes, I know what you’re going to say and I’m sick to death of hearing it,” I snapped. “If this is the purpose and the reason to my life, I want none of it.” I
started to shake with anger. “I hate what my life has become.”

“I am very sorry to hear that.” But her tone said she wasn’t sorry and wouldn’t allow me to leave my troubles and worries behind. Mercedes would always protect the monarchy. She would always protect the kingdom.