As I did so, Valentine continued. “Therefore, the craft being passed through my line for millennia, I am powerful. Very. This power gives me the ability to move between worlds, which is very difficult and consumes an enormous amount of magic. And with the strength born in me through countless generations of witches, I can not only move myself at will and as often as I like, I can also move others.”
Move between worlds.
Oh boy.
I was already ready for her to be done but, alas, she kept going.
“And you will see, of course, looking around you, that you are no longer in our world. You’re in a parallel universe. Specifically Fleuridia, my favorite of the countries in the Northlands. Though, saying that, I have no favorite in the Southlands.” She gave a delicate shudder that was barely a movement but said it all about whatever the freaking Southlands were. Then she finished. “And you will have noted that in this parallel universe, we have twins, as you’ve already met your husband’s.”
Okay.
Seriously.
How hard had Pol hit me with that gun?
“I see you don’t believe me,” she stated, telling me I was not hiding my reaction in the slightest. “And this is what I wish for you to come to terms with quickly, for I speak the truth.”
When she quit talking, I held her eyes and laid it out.
“Let me get this straight. Twenty minutes ago, I was running from my husband, a really not very good husband I’ve been running from for years. He caught me, started to do what he does best, that being inflicting pain. Then you and that other Pol show up, coming from another dimension. The other Pol wears romance novel guy clothes and he also doesn’t hesitate in cutting off the Pol of my dimension’s hand and whacking him upside the head with the flat of his sword. After that, you spirited us to wherever-we-are-now which is someplace that has twins of people in our dimension, very comfortable beds and really lovely wineglasses.”
“We are not in another dimension, chérie,” she corrected. “We are in a parallel universe.”
“There’s a difference?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” she answered. “There’s only one parallel universe but there are many different dimensions and you don’t want to go to any of those.” Her lip curled in a refined sneer that, no matter how freaked I was, I had to admit was all kinds of cool. “The creatures there…” she trailed off as she shook her head.
“Well, thanks for not taking me to another dimension,” I muttered and sucked back another healthy sip of wine.
She leaned slightly forward, again catching my eyes and her smooth voice was deadly serious when she stated, “Ilsa, this is not a jest. This is not a hallucination. This is not a dream. This is real. All you will experience in the coming days and weeks will seem very strange to you and you must prepare for it, accept it and adapt to it. Quickly. That said, you are here now, you’re safe, and you’re not going back. But with what is to come, it’s important that you adjust swiftly to your new circumstances.”
That didn’t sound great. None of it did, to be honest. But that really didn’t.
“With what’s to come?” I inquired when she didn’t explain.
She threw out her hand not holding her wineglass. “That’s not for now. What you must understand for now is that you’re safe here, you must learn to trust in that, and,” she leaned deeper toward me, “the man who just left this room is not the Pol you know. He’s Apollo Ulfr of the House of Ulfr of the ice country of the north—Lunwyn.”
“Pol is also Apollo Ulfr of the, um…House of Ulfr, I guess, but from the rain city of Portland,” I joked, perhaps getting a little hysterical (and who would blame me?).
“Again, this is not amusing.” Her voice held a vein of impatience. “This is real. And you must understand these two men are not the same man,” she stressed.
“I got that,” I mumbled and took another sip of wine.
“Chérie,”—more leaning and her eyes got kind of scary— “they…are not…the same man.”
She was freaking me out and to freak out while freaking out didn’t feel all that great.
So the only thing I could do was whisper, “Okeydokey.”
She studied me a moment before she sat back. “It will be difficult, with what you’ve endured at the hand of the other Apollo, to remember that. But don’t forget it.”
“You’ve made your point,” I assured her.
“I haven’t,” she disagreed. “You see, in each world the same people reside, yet they aren’t the same.”
“You’ve already told me that,” I reminded her, wondering how she could forget considering we were still talking about it.
“No, beautiful Ilsa, you’re too dazed by all that’s occurred to put it together. If there are two Apollos, then there are two Ilsas.”