Everealm: Book One of the Everealm Series Read online

  “You can do that? Enter someone’s dreams?”

  “Yes, but it requires a great deal of magic, and only lasts for a short time. It isn’t often used as it invades someone’s deepest level of subconscious. It can be very dangerous. What happens there can affect your conscious mind when you wake.”

  “Are you sure you want to try it? I love my mother, but I don’t want to lose you both in the same day, Dagan.”

  “I will be fine. I’ve done it before, so I know what to expect.” He didn’t elaborate and she chose not to press for details.

  There was a knock on the door downstairs and a guard called up to Bree. She left Dagan and went down to the study. Nick was waiting outside.

  “Please tell me you’ve found her,” Bree pleaded.

  Nick frowned and shook his head. “No, but it will be light soon and we will expand the search as quickly as possible. Did the wizard have any luck tracking her? Did he use the glove?”

  This time is was Bree who frowned and shook her head. “My mother has gone too far away for Dagan to track her now. Oh, Nick! What are we going to do?” She couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face. She had tried to be strong, but her fear won in the end.

  “We will find her. I will find her,” Nick said though he was beginning to doubt himself, as well. Cicilly could be anywhere, and even though he assumed Silas was involved, there was no clear evidence that he was. It could very well have been someone else, acting alone or on orders.

  ~*~

  The moment the first ray of sunlight slipped across the sky, the barracks were emptied so that another, much larger sweep could be done on the grounds. Rowan and Nick left with four other knights to try to track Cicilly. If whoever took her had left a trail, Rowan would find it. Dagan was elected to stay with Bree in the castle, with a handful of guards watching over the others in the hall until the rest of the guards could return. Bree watched from Dagan’s tower as her men scoured the area trying to find her mother. This was the third time someone had infiltrated her kingdom. How were they getting in? What could she do to stop them?

  “Dagan, what happens to a wizard’s magic when they die?” Bree asked from the window. Dagan was reading through the spellbook, desperate to find something he may have missed. He looked up when Bree spoke.

  “Well, their magic usually stops. Any leftover spells would fade and any magical items they had charmed would stop working. It doesn’t always happen immediately depending on the strength of the magic, but it does happen. Why?”

  “Elric. He had placed defensive spells around the kingdom for protection. I wonder if they have faded now that he is gone.”

  “I felt the spells when I first arrived. If they have stopped working, I didn’t notice. But I have been distracted lately. However, I don’t think the spells he had cast would do any good in this particular situation. In case that is what you were hoping…”

  “What do you mean?” Bree asked, turning to look at him.

  “Those spells were to protect the castle from harmful magic, not from people. Magic can do great things, Bree, but even it is limited. That is why you have your knights and guard, to defend the areas that magic cannot.”

  Bree sighed and glanced back out of the window.

  “I guess there is a lot I still need to learn.”

  “We all do,” Dagan agreed. “Even me. There are many spells I cannot find in this book. Spells I know my grandfather used. Many I’ve seen him use myself, but for some reason, they are no longer in the book. Almost as if he had torn them out or masked them somehow.”

  “But why wouldn’t he want you to have them? Especially if you were to replace him. Wouldn’t you need to be able to recreate the spells?”

  “I don’t understand it either,” Dagan said. He walked back over to the scrying mirror and waved a hand over it. After a moment, he chuckled.

  “See something amusing?” Bree asked, raising her brow.

  “You tried to find a spell to make your, umm… bosoms grow?” he said, trying not to laugh.

  Bree’s mouth dropped slightly. “Reading minds now, are you?”

  “Not exactly, but you really should be careful what you think about when you’re near the mirror. It reflects many things, including some thoughts. It is a mirror, after all.”

  “What else can it do?” Bree asked as she walked over, curious now.

  “Well, other than reflecting thoughts and memories, it can be used to track people, usually,” he said with a frown. “It can also predict future events.”

  “So this is what Elric would use when predicting the crop or storms?”

  “Yes, among other things.”

  “Can you see the same things? Everything he saw?”

  “Yes, mostly. But the mirror feeds from the people and the magic in the room. It can show different things to different people. Here, let me show you.” He waved his hand over the mirror and the surface turned back into a reflection, like any typical mirror.

  “Now,” he said, “think of something from your past. A memory, good or bad.”

  Bree tried to clear her mind, but all she could think about was her mother. The mirror turned dark and a picture started to form. Then the picture started to move. Bree blinked to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. She was standing in the wardrobe, her mother kneeling below, fussing with something on the hem of her gown. Bree couldn’t see herself in the mirror because the view was from her own eyes. Chambermaids were bustling around the room and the Bree in the memory could see herself in the mirror. She was wearing a familiar gown and Bree realized the memory was from before a winter ball when she was eight years old. Staring into the mirror, Bree suddenly felt like she was inside the memory.

  There was a small knock at the door. A chambermaid opened it and Ethelda entered. She was dressed in a beautiful red gown with red and purple rhinestones all over the bodice. Her dark hair was pulled back and covered in a band with more matching rhinestones. Bree’s mother stood and turned to Bree.

  “I am going to see about your father, Bree. I will return soon.” Cicilly turned to Ethelda. “Good evening, Ethel. You look splendid in your gown!”

  Ethelda gave a quick curtsy. “Thank you, Aunt Cicilly,” Ethel said, with an innocent smile on her pudgy face. Ethel was almost as tall as Bree now, even though she was two years younger.

  Once Cicilly had left the room, however, Ethel’s smile disappeared as she gawked at Bree. Her gown was pale yellow with pink roses embroidered onto the skirts, and she had one large pink rose, made of fabric, in her hair.

  “Why do you have a rose in your hair?” Ethel spat.

  “It matches my dress,” Bree replied, looking down at her gown.

  “Well, I think it looks silly. You look like you stuck your head in a flower vase.”

  “I think you are just jealous,” Bree replied, redness beginning to show on her face.

  “Ha! My dress and headpiece are prettier than yours, so why would I be jealous of you? I have my own castle and my hair is much prettier than yours. You look like your hair is on fire. You’re just a spoiled little father’s pet.”

  “Yeah, well at least my father loves me!” Bree’s hand flew to her mouth as soon as she said it. The look on Ethel’s face was horrifying. Even though Bree knew it was the truth, she never should have said it aloud, especially to Ethel’s face.

  “Ethel…” Bree began, but Ethel’s eyes swelled up and she fled from the room, almost running into Cicilly as she was returning.

  Cicilly turned to watch Ethel run out, then looked at her daughter. “Breestlin! What happened?”

  But before Bree could answer, the memory ended and the mirror went dark again. Bree stared at it, confused. Why, of all the memories that the mirror could have shown, had it chosen that one?

  “Is that the memory you chose or did the mirror choose for you?” Dagan asked, looking up at Bree.

  “I didn’t choose it, no. Can it do that? C
hoose its own memory?”

  “Sure. Sometimes it shows us what we need to see, not what we want to see. Though, I’m not sure why it chose that memory. Who was that girl?”

  “Ethelda. My cousin. She’s Silas’ daughter. Or at least she was. I don’t know, exactly. After the ball was over and she went home, I never saw her again.”

  Dagan shrugged. “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything now. It could have meaning later on, though.”

  Bree sighed and walked back over to the window. Or maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all…

  Chapter Eighteen

  “That evil bastard! He cannot lock me in here like a damn prisoner!” Vallica was hysterical. Silas had ordered her to be locked in her room and Simon had just delivered the news. “What does he think he’s doing? Am I being punished for something?” she demanded.

  Simon was also in the company of two other soldiers and unable to speak freely in front of them. So he ordered them to wait outside her chambers while he secured the room of any items she might try to use for escape. It had also given him the opportunity to speak with her alone. Though, she didn’t seem to be in any condition to listen to reason at this moment.

  “It’s not like that, Vallica. You are not being punished,” he tried to assure her.

  “Then why am I being caged like an animal?” she screamed. The thought of being trapped under Silas’ control was too much for her to bear. Even though she knew he controlled her, being able to roam the castle at least had given her a small sense of freedom. Now though…

  “I can’t say why.” Simon was avoiding eye contact with her.

  “Simon… Why won’t you tell me the reason? If this is not punishment, then what is it?”

  Simon hesitated. “The king is expecting company.”

  Vallica jerked her head back, appalled. “Company? I have never been kept from company before.”

  “This isn’t usual company, Vallica. That’s all I can say about it.”

  “No. That is not good enough, Simon.”

  Simon grabbed Vallica’s arm and pulled her to the far side of the room, then his voice dropped to a whisper. “The king has kidnapped the Queen Mother of Junacave. He is bringing her here. Now.”

  Vallica was astonished. Why in the realm would Silas want Cicilly? The woman was dreadfully boring and plain. This didn’t make any sense. Vallica tried to compose herself, taking deep breaths.

  “Did he say why?”

  Simon hesitated again. “He calls her his lost love. I’m sorry Vallica. There is nothing I can do about it.”

  “Love? What does Silas know of love? He barely knows the woman and hasn’t seen her in many years. This just doesn’t make sense…”

  “Maybe not, but I need to go. When the sentry changes, I will come back.”

  Simon grabbed Vallica’s chin and kissed her, then left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

  Vallica crossed the room and sat at her vanity, then picked her hairbrush up and began to brush her long, silky hair. If Silas had loved someone else before they were married, why didn’t he marry her? Maybe she was already married to Frederick? Is that why Silas treated women the way he did? Mistreated me? Because of that awful bitch?

  The longer Vallica sat there thinking, the angrier she became at Cicilly. Blaming Cicilly seemed like the only way to explain this turn of events. And now he had brought her here, to Vallica’s home and locked his wife away like a bird in a cage. Looking into the mirror at herself, all Vallica could see or feel was rage.

  ~*~

  Darkness was all that Cicilly could see. She was inside a building of some sort; that much she was sure of because she felt no breeze. But she didn’t remember being brought to this place. The last thing she remembered was a guard coming toward her in the courtyard, hitting her on the head with something, then all of her memories were empty after that.

  The room smelled of iron and dust. A dungeon, perhaps? She began to feel around the stone floor beneath her and the wall behind her. And she was about to attempt to stand when she heard a noise. Footsteps, coming closer. Suddenly there was a sound of creaking wood as a door opened directly in front of Cicilly, revealing a small amount of light from behind it.

  There was a man standing in the doorway, extremely large and intimidating. He was dressed in armor though it was too dark to see any insignia on his clothing.

  “Get up,” the scratchy voice demanded. “Your presence is requested.”

  “By whom?” Cicilly dared to ask, standing slowly while bracing herself against the wall behind her.

  “You will see,” the man said, simply.

  Cicilly considered fighting the man and refusing to leave the room, but the idea of getting out of the dark and creepy space won over her stubbornness. So she followed him out of the door and into a passage of some sort, with lit torches every several feet. The hallway was bare and quiet. When they reached the end of the passage, there were stone steps leading up. The man pushed Cicilly toward the stairs and she followed them. She stopped at the top of the stairs, in front of a large door. The man reached around Cicilly and used an old key to unlock the door. Then the man led Cicilly down a new hallway and up another flight of stairs to another hallway. If she had been attempting to remember the path, this would have proven difficult. Finally, the man stopped her outside of a door and opened it, pulling her in. When Cicilly stepped into the room, she couldn’t’ believe her eyes.

  It was someone’s royal chambers, which was evident by the drapery hanging from the walls and finely crafted furniture that filled it. She must be inside a castle though she didn’t recognize it. The room was quite large, with a giant bed on one side, two full-size wardrobes against a wall on another side, and a table with velvet covered chairs in the center. There were torches and candles lining the room.

  Cicilly had forgotten about the man in the room until he spoke.

  “There,” he pointed to the wardrobe, “you will find suitable clothing. Your host will be joining you shortly.” Then he turned and left the room. Cicilly heard a clicking sound as the door was locked from the outside. She stood in the middle of the room, unsure if she could move. For the first time since she arrived in this place, Cicilly looked down at her clothing. She was still wearing her gown from the ball. However, the skirts were incredibly dirty and stained. There was also a large rip on the side of her bodice, revealing the skin underneath.

  Deciding that the opportunity to change into fresh clothes wasn’t a terrible idea, she walked over and opened the first wardrobe. It was full of gowns, in every color and design. They seemed to be in her size though she wasn’t sure how anyone could know what her size was without measuring her. She moved to the second wardrobe and opened it, realizing that it was also filled with gowns. Cicilly took a simple cream-colored dress from the second wardrobe. If there was to be a chance for escape in the future, it might be a better idea to wear something less distinguishable.

  Cicilly’s thoughts of escaping were short-lived, however, because within moments of changing into the clean gown, she heard a noise outside of the door, followed by the sound of the door unlocking. Suddenly it swung open, revealing the person who had ordered her kidnapping. The person who was her host and captor. Revealing Silas.

  He looked exactly as she remembered from her dreams. He was clothed, barely, with his robes draped over his shoulders but completely open in the front, revealing his toned chest. Cicilly tried to stop herself from looking down any further, but she knew from the first glance that he was naked under the robe and he was poking out, already stiffened.

  Cicilly held her head high, refusing to show any sign of shock or emotion. She knew he was expecting a reaction, or he wouldn’t have presented himself this way. Instead, she simply blinked at him, silent but steady.

  “Oh, come now, my love,” Silas began, gesturing toward his lower half. “You must see something you like, hmm?”

  “What do you want, Silas?” Cicilly
asked, determined to avoid his games. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “I think you know what I want, love. And I think you want the same thing.” He walked toward her. She braced herself and didn’t flinch. “And now that we are alone, we can both get what we want.”

  “I think you are mistaken, Silas. I do not now, nor have I ever, wanted you.”

  “Oh, I love it when you say my name. Say it again, oh. It makes me tingle,” he said, reaching down to grab himself. Unable to stop herself, Cicilly stepped backward. Silas didn’t seem to notice her backing away or the look of disgust on her face.

  “I know that living with my brother for so many years must have been agonizing, my love. I have brought you here to set you free. Now that you are no longer married to him, we can be together. I hope you like your chambers, love, and your dresses. We will have so much fun taking them off, one at a time.” Silas reached out and ran a finger across Cicilly’s collarbone. She stiffened up and looked away, ignoring the tingling trail left by his finger that was giving her goosebumps.

  “Now don’t tell me you have forgotten the time we’ve spent together recently? Since we already know each other so intimately, I hope we can skip over any unfortunately boring—“

  “Why are you doing this?” Cicilly interrupted. “Why are you attacking my daughter’s kingdom? You have your own kingdom to ruin. You are not the rightful heir. Leave Junacave alone!” Her temper was beginning to get the better of her.

  “Ah… I thought you would have figured this out by now, my love. That message was simply a distraction so that your queen would focus her energy on protecting the kingdom instead of protecting you. It would have been much more difficult for us to be together if you were so closely guarded. Even though, I’m sure my daughter would have found a way eventually…”

  “Your daughter? What does Ethel have to do with any of this? How was...” she trailed off, looking down at the floor. How was Ethel involved in this?

  “Our joyful reunion would have been nearly impossible without her, I am afraid. As much as I trust my men, it takes a certain kind of… skill… to infiltrate a kingdom as secure as Junacave. And even more so to gain access to such valuable information.”