Eternal Vows (16 page)

She glanced down and wiggled her finger. “I have his mark glued on my finger for all of eternity.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “You’re getting a little extreme, babe.”

The soft glow of morning light cast a brilliant shimmer on the blossoming trees. A strong scent of manure wafted past as the wagon raced through the meadow. One good bump, and she’d go flying over the pane, but she didn’t care. All Sarah wanted at that moment was answers. She sat up, her back straight, as she hung on to the haystacks for dear life. “Hey, Jules, what do you know about this ring?”

He steered the reins and glanced over his shoulder. “Not much—just that the Immortals are only allowed to marry once in their lifetime, and when they do, they’re given the ancient ruby ring.”

“Why would Victor waste his only shot at marriage on a stranger he doesn’t love, one he thinks is the daughter of his archenemy?” Frank asked, pulling himself on top of a haystack next to her.

“I told you earlier,” Sarah said. “It’s about revenge. He wanted me to have a whole herd of his babies—to mess up the pure bloodline in their family. Bloodline’s a big deal with these royal types. Remember all that talk when Charles was fooling around on Di?”

Frank nodded. “I know, but it seems like there’s more to it than that. If this Victor’s an Immortal, how can he have kids?”

“They can,” Jules said through the pounding hooves.

“That’s hard to wrap my mind around,” Frank said.

“Does this ruby hold any sort of power?” Sarah asked. She twisted her finger to catch the sunlight at just the right angles, watching the gemstone reflect the bright rays.

“I don’t know,” Jules said, “but the wearers have some kind of psychic connection.”
She knew how ridiculous it was to believe in psychic powers captured in a ring, but she had also never seen a ring that just wouldn’t come off, no matter how hard she tugged or tortured her finger. She’d also never heard of shape-shifting wolves before. She was beginning to think anything and everything was possible in this strange new—or old—world. Leaning forward, interested, Sarah cocked a brow. “What does that connection do?”

Jules shook his head.

Boy, he’s not much help, is he?
They can manufacture magic rings around here but can’t invent Google so I can look all this up? Hmm.
“You said all the Immortals receive a ring like this,” Sarah continued. “Can a human even wear one?”

Jules hesitated. “I’m not sure how it works. The Immortals are very private. They live in a secretive world, following their own set of rules. I do know that every country in our world is under the rule of King Taggert, who resides over the Kardashian Court. I also know that King Victor is rumored to be next in line to rule when King Taggert dies. The king is dying, so it won’t be long before Victor takes the mightiest throne.”

Sarah blew out a breath. “Yeah, that was what those shape-shifters said.”

“Well, it’s no surprise King Taggert chose King Victor.”

“Why not? Isn’t there anyone else?”

“Victor is one of the oldest and strongest men in our world. He’s very powerful, rules with an iron fist, and is feared by all.”

“Yet you risk your life and face his wrath for us?” Frank asked.

“I’ll do anything for Mia,” Jules said, his gaze focused on the road ahead. “I love her.”

“Wait…did you just say Victor’s one of the oldest? How old is the guy?”

“I’ve no idea,” Jules said. “Maybe centuries.”

Just my luck again,
Sarah thought.
Not only am I married to a psycho, stuck with his weird magic ring, but he’s an old man with one foot inside the grave, and he just won’t ever die.
Victor had captured and kidnapped Sarah in broad daylight, but still, she had to ask, “Are the Immortals like vampires or something? I need to know if Victor plans on biting me. Am I gonna start sparkling in the sun, sport some new fangs, and making blood my new choice of drink?”

Jules laughed, looking a bit confused. “Fangs? No, no, nothing like that—at least not that I’ve heard.”

Sarah pressed a hand against her chest. “Thank goodness! I guess Bella and I have different taste in men. I’ve never been into sipping blood through a straw.”

“Bella?”

“Never mind.”

“In most regards, the Immortals are just like us,” continued Jules. “They eat, sleep, laugh, and cry. The only difference is that thousands of years ago, they somehow tapped into the power of immortality. According to legend, they took over every country in our world and have ruled with an iron fist ever since.”

“Do the Immortals have any, uh…superpowers?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, and they can do weird things with their minds, like make somebody see visions or—”

“I had one of those! I saw the king’s knights and horses before they got near us,” Sarah said, her voice rising an octave. “I very vividly saw them coming, and I even heard Victor’s voice. I think this is…for real.”

Frank shook his head. “I know you’ve mentioned it a million times, but I find the notion of an Immortal king chasing us a little hard to swallow.”

“Think about it, Frank. We’re not in our world anymore. Things are different here. We have to open up our minds to the unexplainable, which I know is a big leap for you.” Glancing down, she whispered, “I’m just wondering how a human like me managed to put on their magic ruby ring in the first place without bursting into flames or something.”

“You know what that proves, right?” Frank said, always the skeptic.

“No. What?”

“That any ordinary person can put one on, which means those people are about as Immortal as my G.I. Joe doll I played with as a kid.”

“Can you two please go back into hiding?” Jules asked. “We’re still in Tastia. I will take you as far as Dornia, but then you will be on your own.”

Sarah shrugged. “Sure. I need to forget about all this strange stuff anyway and focus on finding my sister.”

Chapter 9

From the other side of the narrow wooden door, worn with time, Sarah had no idea what would await her inside the local pub. She stepped into the large hall, dirt crunching beneath her booted feet, and stopped to take in the vaulted ceilings and crowded space. Countless tables faced the tarnished wooden bar. Roars of laughter and conversation echoed through the air. Flames flickered from candles in iron chandelier-like wall sconces on the stone walls. Sarah had always thought of candlelight dinners as romantic occasions, but watching a large man with greasy hair bite into a giant drumstick changed her opinion in a hurry. The delicious aroma of freshly baked bread and roast beef wafted into her nostrils, making her stomach growl in spite of the crude and unsanitary atmosphere.

Jules went to place the order for their feast, and Sarah and Frank walked past long banquet tables filled with customers she could swear were wearing outfits straight out of Hollywood. They weren’t dressed fancy like the people in Victor’s ballroom. The women wore long, simple dresses, while the men were garbed in itchy-looking wool breeches with a tunic or doublet and cloaks with a simple belt.

A tall woman seated them at a dark wooden table, on long benches draped in animal furs. It looked as though the woman wore two braids, one on each side, something like Laura Ingalls, then wrapped them around her head like a headband and tucked them into place, like some kind of milk maid. Sarah smiled at the lady sitting next to her on the bench, taking in the deep wrinkles running across her forehead and face.

The woman returned the smile, revealing crooked yellow teeth. “Don’t order the peacock, milady. It’s tough as leather and tasty as one’s sandals.”

Wait…these people eat peacocks? I thought they were only for showing off their pretty feathers in the zoo! I’d rather eat sandals!
Sarah smirked. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The old woman inched closer and patted Sarah’s hand as she mumbled, “I hope you’re not into dark meat either, love. The pigeon’s too salty here.”

“I’ll take that into consideration as well,” Sarah said, cringing at the thought of eating such a dirty, messy bird that leaves feathers and feces everywhere it goes.

Frank glanced over at the woman. “How’s the dragon-tail soup?”

“Stop it.” Sarah nudged Frank playfully as she peered around. “Look how crowded this place is. This tavern must be the happening place.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely the medieval hotspot. The only thing missing is the flamethrower…and maybe the jester.” Frank slid in next to Jules and smiled. “I hope these furs don’t have fleas.”

“Thanks, Frank,” Sarah said. “Now I’m going to start itching.”

“Don’t worry, honey,” the old lady said. “The furs have been treated with wormwood. Fleas and moths are not keen on it.”

“Worm
wood?” Sarah stood and waved her hand, trying to get the woman’s attention. “Waitress…um, I mean, wench, we don’t need luxury seating. We’d prefer a nice hard bench.”

“Relax,” Frank said. “It’s some kind of plant or herb.”

Sarah sat down. “I knew that.” She chuckled.

Minutes later, a lady in a red velvet dress with a black lace-up waistcoat brought drinks in wooden mugs, along with a generous platter of raw vegetables, fruit, a loaf of bread, and some kind of braised meat on a bed of prunes and cedar nuts.

Jules ripped off a golden-brown leg and bit into it like a starving homeless man. “I hope you will enjoy the duck. Eat, drink, and be merry.”

Sarah laughed and looked around for a plate, napkins, or silverware. “Um, are there utensils we can use, or are we supposed to go at it caveman style?”

“Utensils, miss? Why do you think God gave us hands?” Jules asked between mouthfuls of food.

Frank reached for a piece of meat. “The fork’s still centuries away from sitting in a silverware drawer, Sarah. Just dig in like he said. We’re sitting on animal skins, for God’s sake. I don’t think manners are all that important here.”

“If you don’t mind, then I don’t. Just don’t wipe your greasy hands on my cloak.” She bit into a drumstick and smirked as the food stuck between her teeth. Eventually, she managed to swallow and put the meat aside.

“Don’t like it?” Frank asked.

“Well, for starters, it’s cold.”

“Maybe they could pop it in the microwave for a few seconds.” Frank tore off a piece of bread and dunked it into the meat grease.

“I guess beggars can’t be choosers.” Sarah laughed as she popped a plum into her mouth.

“Better get used to it. You’re not gonna survive on celery and plums, Your Highness.”

“What is this microwave you speak of?” Jules asked.

Sarah met Frank’s gaze. “You do the talking.”

“Well, it’s a kind of box, you see, and…well, I suppose you’d probably think it’s magic or something, but you put food in it, and it zaps it hot.” Frank bit into his pear, signaling the end of the conversation, but Jules didn’t seem keen on letting him off the hook.

“So this box carries a magic fire?”

“Maybe it’s best we don’t talk about our world,” Sarah said. “It might blow our cover or at least get us locked up in the medieval cuckoo’s nest.”

“Right. When we’re done eating, maybe we’ll start asking around about Liz,” Frank said. “I’m sure someone knows her or has heard of her.” His investigation skills were kicking in. No matter where—or when—the man went, he was destined to always be 100 percent reporter.

Sarah took a sip of her ale. “Just keep a low profile, okay?”

He grinned. “Yeah, right, like you fit right in here. Okay, I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“We should be safe here in Dornia,” Jules said. “Finish your lunch, and then I’ll take you to somebody who might be able to help. After that, you’re on your own.”

“So this is where we part ways?” Frank asked.

Jules nodded. “As I said before, I must head back to my own land. I must find out where my Mia is and be sure she is well.”

“We can’t thank you enough, Jules,” Sarah said.

After eating her meal, she excused herself and squeezed between two long tables, heading for the bar. Folding her hands on the wooden counter, she waved to get the bartender’s attention.

He was a broad man with a black beard. He turned to face her and arched his eyebrow at her inquisitively (or perhaps flirtatiously) as he wiped down the filthy counter with an even filthier rag. “May I help you?”

Sure. Allow me to fill you in on the wonders of antibacterial soap. If you learned a thing or two about germs, perhaps it would eliminate all those plagues running rampant in the history books,
she humored herself. “Perhaps you can be of help. I’m looking for a woman named Elizabeth Larker. She goes by ‘Liz’. She’s my sister, one year older, and she looks just like me.”

The man poured a mug of ale, avoiding her gaze. “Never heard of her, miss, but I know there is an Immortal who looks just like you.”

Sarah shook her head. “No, that’s not her. Liz is human.”