The Great and Terrible: No Monsters Like Hers
The Great and Terrible: Chapter 20

Ian stopped in front of a door with two deer carved into its center and an unarmored guard posted on each side. He grinned at me. “I’ve chosen one of the best chambers in the palace for you, my dear. Your friends are stationed in the rooms beside it. You have only to open the doors between your suites to see them.”

“I’m to be locked inside?” I demanded, scanning the faces of the soldiers, seeing Jasher, and yet not. Not a strand of dark hair was out of place, and their sunset eyes lacked the sparkle of humor and hints of warmth I’d come to expect. Few had tattoos peeking out from beneath their clothing. “Made a prisoner?”

“Absolutely not,” the Guardian assured me. “They are here for your protection only. And if there’s anything you need, you have only to alert them. They will see to your every whim, as I would do if I were here.”

Okay. All right. “I’d prefer Jasher stand as my guard.”

“Of course. I’ll send him your way after he’s briefed me on his encounter with the very rebels now attempting to harm my people.” Ian lifted my hand and kissed the air above it, never pressing his lips against my skin. “We’ll pick up where we left off at breakfast.”

With a final, firm nod, he released me and strode from the hall. I faced the soldiers. Both stared straight ahead, giving total on-duty vibes. “Hello. What are your names?”

They didn’t speak or glance at me. Fine. I sighed, turned the knob, and entered the room. The door closed automatically with a soft snick. Oh, wow. My room was as spacious as the throne room, with three distinct zones. The sleeping area, a parlor, and a dining nook. Glorious furnishings filled each.

In the sleeping area, stringed lights hung from the ceiling, creating a canopy of stars around a massive bed flanked by two immense columns. Strips of fluffy white carpet stretched between two columns. The ends split into sections and coiled like the lollipop tree roots I’d noticed my first day. A vanity and its large oval mirror trimmed in gold flowers complimented a dresser and chaise lounge, also trimmed in gold.

In the parlor, a pink velvet couch paired with two recliners, one a creamy yellow, the other a rich lavender. They formed a half circle in front of a gold leaf coffee table, all resting atop a lovely blue rug. The pieces looked upon an ivory water fountain anchored to the wall. In its center, a full-scale woman wearing a gauzy dress held a basket from which the water flowed. I didn’t know the mechanics of Iris’s ability, but I prayed this wasn’t an access point for her.

My gaze returned to the coffee table, where a pad and pen rested. Don’t mind if I do. I strode over and flipped open the cover, replaceing the sketch of Jasher I’d made during our stay at the Wild West Inn. As I studied the image with fresh eyes, I noticed the tragic dignity I’d captured in his expression. The clawing need in his beautiful eyes. The uncertainty and hope in his bearing. How had I missed all this?

My kind.

Nothing special.

My hurt and anger dulled. No wonder he’d kept his origins a secret. It hadn’t been a matter of trust in me, but lack of confidence in himself. How refreshing it must have been to be seen as an individual rather than carbon copy. I wouldn’t have wanted to ruin such a dream come true, either.

My reaction to the news must have stung in a million different ways. I’d owed him so much better. When I had confessed about the chapel, he’d given me understanding and comfort I hadn’t deserved.

Now I wanted only to tell him I understood, I’d be forever grateful we met, I would desperately miss him, and when possible, I would do everything in my power to replace a way back to him. If he’d have me.

Before I broke down and started crying, I dropped the pad and continued my visual tour of the room. In the dining nook, Patch and Leona sat at a round table with a tree-shaped base. Many different platters of food and several bottles of champagne covered the glass top. One bottle lay on its side, empty. Both women talked and laughed as they stuffed their faces, currently unaware of my entrance. It was nice, seeing them so relaxed and happy.

Behind them, a set of open double doors edged with voluminous, translucent curtains led to a terrace, allowing a cool, floral-tinged breeze to waft inside.

“Moriah! You’re here.” Leona motioned me over with great enthusiasm. “Come. Eat! In all my days, I’ve never tasted anything as delicious.”

Patch nodded her agreement, crumbs falling from the corners of her mouth.

My stomach issued a distinctive protest. “I’m not hungry.”

“More for us, then.” But Leona’s grin faded, and she slumped in her seat. “This is Claudia’s most fevered dream. I shouldn’t enjoy it while she suffers.”

“I’m happy to report the Guardian promised to free her.” I certainly hoped he came through.

“Truly?” Her whole countenance brightened. She jumped to her feet and rushed over to hug me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. This calls for a celebration!”

“On it!” Pop! Patch drank the second champagne straight from the bottle.

A cheering Leona skipped back and danced around her.

I made my way to the balcony. Unlike the one in the throne room, this possessed a sturdy iron rail. High up the mountain, I had a perfect view of the land beyond. Armored soldiers, all the same height and build, marched along the gold brick road. Was Jasher among them? Chest clenching, I tightened my grip on the rail.

Sensing the approach of another, I cast a glance over my shoulder. Patch sidled up to me, holding two flutes of champagne. She drained one. I reached for the second, thinking yeah, okay, I might as well enjoy a taste since she’d offered, but the redhead drained that, too.

A laugh escaped me, spurring a burst of merriment from her. The shared moment of humor lifted several hundred pounds of tension from my shoulders.

Leona joined us, bringing me a flute. We stood there, each of us leaning on the railing, peering out as soldiers vanished in the distance.

“I didn’t want to like you, otherworlder,” Patch eventually grumbled. “Why’d you have to go and be so not terrible? First you tame a runt rabdog, then a royal guard. Then you save my life, kill a monstra, and draw extinct pegacorns from hiding.”

I snorted. “You’re pretty not terrible yourself.”

“My turn! Now praise me,” Leona said, finishing off her champagne, then claimed mine and drank it too. “Remember how I wielded a whip and raced over with Jasher’s backpack after the monstra battle?”

The neediness in her tone wasn’t lost on me, and I patted her shoulder. “I do, and I’m still grateful. I’ll miss you both when I’m home. And who knows, if I make it back, we can go on another adventure.” I would never give up hope. “I’d love to meet Claudia.”

Patch puckered her lips as if she’d sucked a lemon. “Those who leave never come back.” Clearly uncomfortable with the surge of emotion, she returned to the table for another glass of bubbly. “I’m going to bed.” She stomped through a side door, which she didn’t bother closing.

“I love you, too, Patch,” I called.

Leona wrapped her arms around me, the spontaneous hug as surprising as it was welcome. “You could’ve abandoned me at any time, could’ve refused to help me with my sister, but you didn’t, and I will be forever in your debt.”

“You are wonderful. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“I don’t.”

We shared a smile before she, too, abandoned me for her room.

Alone, I sighed and padded to the parlor, thinking to sketch for a bit. Halfway there, the sounds of splashing water reached my ears, and I groaned. Iris.

Sure enough, the water maiden rose from the shallow depths, standing in full glory. With a seashell top and a pearlescent skirt, she eased onto the marble ledge and stretched out, getting comfortable. “Miss me?”

“Not even a little.” Deep breath in. “Here to offer a new favor?”

“It’s collection day.” The pink-skinned beauty bared her teeth in a parody of a smile. “Why else do you think the leader of the rebels attacked Lux today?”

“You wasted a boon.” I ground my molars. “They’ll never get past the guards.”

“I don’t need them to. I only needed the Guardian distracted so I could breech his barriers and have this moment with you.” Iris glided her fingertips over a ruby choker. “I’ve decided what you’ll do for me. And you will ask me no questions about it. You will simply shove this into the Guardian’s mouth the next time you are with him.” The water maiden stretched out her arm and revealed a small white disc resting in her palm. “Use any means necessary, and do not warn him of your plan beforehand.”

Though empty, my stomach curdled. “I’m not a murderer. I won’t let you make me one.”

“He’s evil incarnate. You won’t be a murderer but a hero.” She shook the disc, a silent command to take it.

I longed to ask a thousand questions, I pinched the offering between my fingers. What was it? What would it do? Nothing good, that much I could guess. Which meant I couldn’t do as she requested. Not if I hoped to get home. Not if Leona’s sister had any chance of being found and freed.

“Ask me for something else,” I beseeched. “Anything⁠—”

Iris was already gone.

Agonizing over what to do, I retrieved the hat square, folded the disc inside it, then crammed the material into my pants pocket and paced the room. No way I could do as the water maiden demanded. But if I didn’t? What happened then? Ian claimed there was a way around it.

But I couldn’t tell him. I was bound by Iris’s demands. And if I did kill him? Was Ian a bad man or a good one?

My gaze snagged on the table. On a bowl filled with fruit akin to apples and oranges. The Guardian and Jasher were fruit born of the same root. An orange tree couldn’t grow apples and vice versa. If Jasher was good, the Guardian must be too. Maybe. Probably.

When I tired of pacing, I showered and dressed in clean undergarments and a long, white nightgown. The only sleepwear available in the dresser drawers. Thankfully, there were undergarments for tomorrow too, as well as a shirt and leather pants folded and ready for tomorrow. I relocated the hat square and disc to a pocket in the leathers. Just in case.

Still my thoughts refused to settle. Failing to keep my word to Iris would make me a liar. Liars developed a crimen and summoned storms. Did I really want to fight more monstra? But wouldn’t killing the Guardian summon the monstra as well? And if not monstra, the entire royal army.

How might Jasher feel if I harmed the man who must be as significant to him as Daniel Shaker was to me?

Ian hated the monstra. How could I slay an ally against the plague upon Hakeldama?

Frustrated, I stroked my compass…which I needed to return to Jasher, who might not wish to speak with me.

I turned off the lights and climbed into the soft, soft bed, where I thrashed about, unable to sleep without the executioner’s strength and heat. Even when I finally found a position comfortable enough to settle, I did nothing but swing from one decision to another. Do feed Ian the disc. Don’t. Do. Don’t.

The constant upheaval exhausted me, and my eyelids grew heavy. Heavier. They began to slide shut until I caught sight of a moving shadow outside the canopy of falling stars. Instant awareness. Did I detect a soft pad of footsteps? My heart raced with anticipation. Had Jasher come for a visit? I didn’t move, too afraid of scaring him away.

The shadow slinked closer. Closer. Hmm. I didn’t detect his scent.

My ring heated to sizzling in a blink. Danger! Fear sparked, my mind castigating me for my lack of foresight. In my distraction, I hadn’t kept a weapon nearby.

The intruder stopped at my bedside, and I heaved with relief. Patch. Except, she lifted a dagger—and swung. I screamed as I rolled to the other side of the mattress and scrambled off. My feet tangled in the hem of my nightgown, and I tripped forward.

By the time I righted, she was ready. We faced off. It was then I noticed the chair pushed beneath the handle on the door, stopping any guards from entering.

“Why?” I demanded, darting my gaze. Weapon, weapon, where was a weapon? The table! Knives.

Torment glazed her features. “If you go home, I’ll have to return to West’s stable. I promised I’d kill you before you left. It was the only way to gain my freedom. I-I can’t go back. I’m so sorry.” Though crying, she lunged, taking another swing at me. “I’m bound by my word.”

Utilizing a move taught by Jasher, I blocked and launched a strike of my own. Contact! Knuckles met cheekbone. The girl’s head lurched to the side, blood and spittle spraying from her mouth. She fell but didn’t drop the knife.

I wasted no time, sprinting to the kitchen table. Argh! The knives and forks were gone, only spoons remaining. Not knowing what else to do, I slammed a champagne bottle against the table edge. Glass shards rained to the floor.

I stretched the broken bottle in her direction. “Don’t come at me again. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”

A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. “I can’t let you live.” She crawled closer, standing along the way. “I’ve made my move. Ensured Leona sleeps. Blocked the guards. I won’t get another chance.” She picked up speed.

The moment we reached striking distance, we slashed at each other. I cut her; she sliced me. Then we were grappling, crashing into a recliner, the floor. The bumps and cuts I acquired barely registered as adrenaline surged, dulling the worst of the pain.

The bedroom door burst open, wood shards flying. Guards rushed into the room, hurrying over to tear us apart. Strong, tattooed arms banded around me. A familiar heavenly scent filled my nose.

“Are you all right, princess?”

Jasher? Panting, I spun, facing the guard who held me. Yes! His hair wasn’t quite tamed, and concern glowed in his sunset eyes. With a cry of despair and relief, I threw myself against him.

“What happened?” he demanded, one hand in my hair, the other pressed against my lower back.

“Patch promised West she’d kill me in exchange for her freedom.”

Muscles all over his body bunched with tension. “Lock her below,” he commanded the other guard, who looked exactly like him but also somehow oh, so different. Colder. “The Guardian can decide what to do with her when he returns.”

The guard obeyed, dragging a struggling Patch from the room.

Conflicting desires warred within me. Part of me wished to help her, despite everything. A protest even ascended my throat, but it died on my tongue. She’d brought this on herself.

“I’m sorry,” the redhead screamed. “I didn’t know what else to do. Had to keep my word. I’m sorry!”

Jasher kissed my temple. “Let’s get you doctored up, yeah?”

Yes. No. I could have died. Again. I wanted…I needed…

Him.

With a ragged mewl, I surged to my tiptoes and slanted my lips over his.