and chin. From his sculpted body and broad shoulders to the hands that knew just how and where to touch me. And the taste of him…the feel of him inside me…I would never forget any of that.
But what faced me now was death. And this was not about getting with a gorgeous man. This was about what I knew, deep down, to be right. During these months I had been faced, time and again, with the evils of the wizard council. My family had been a part of the ruling class for longer than we could even trace—and we could trace our ancestry awfully far.
Byron didn’t win my trust with his incubus charm. He had simply shown me that something must be done, and could be done.
My gut knows, I thought. It always has. After all, I wanted Billie to be my friend when I first met her. My sisters turned me away from her, but here we are crossing paths again. Hell, we could have been sharing house flipping tips and stories and helping each other out all these years. And the Sullivans—I would never have been allowed to know them. I was ashamed to love them. Sometimes I still struggle with it all.
That has to stop. My heart knows who it wants.
“I trust you, Byron,” I said.
“And I trust you,” Byron said, his voice a whisper in the shadows. “Will you be my queen, dearest?”
“What are you really asking?”
“I’m asking you to save me.”
I took a deep breath. “I will be your queen.”
The cold air closed in on me. The world turned on its head. And everything went black.
Chapter Four
Helena
“My lady Hulda. My lady Hulda!”
“Huh?” I woke up in a large carved wooden bed, and…whoever the hell I was, I definitely wasn’t who I’d been. Or where I’d been.
“My lady Hulda, you must get ready for your wedding! You have slept long enough.”
I guess I was Lady Hulda. I was wearing a plain white nightgown and I had braids practically to my knees. Whatever language this girl was speaking, I understood it, but it wasn’t English as I knew it.
“I would not sleep in if I were you. You are marrying one of the strongest of demigods who still deigns to walk with mortals.”
Strongest. Strengest. I remembered that as one of the first words of Cyprium, the old language that Byron translated for me. “Oh!” I breathed. We’re speaking Cyprium!
“Indeed, it will be quite a day!” the servant girl said. At least, I assumed she must be a servant. I decided the best thing for ‘Lady Hulda’ to do would be not to ask any questions. Clearly I was reliving something and…
Am I marrying Byron?
I looked around the room and saw that I was in very primitive surroundings, all stone walls and rushes on the floor, no glass in the windows, not much furniture, but what I did have was all carved or painted or gilded. The most ornate thing in the room was an altar with a scrying bowl, a cup and knife for simple spell casting, and some small icons. I also saw a staff leaning against the wall.
So I am a witch, then…
I must be in the eleventh century. Very little was known about this older history in the magical world because at this time, wizards guarded their knowledge fiercely and would rather burn their books than let them fall to an enemy. This era had some terrible wars so that didn’t help at all, but it wasn’t until the 1400s or so that wizards finally decided that preserving all their knowledge was better, even if it meant giving up some secrets.
I was a little fascinated but also definitely a little scared. But I would see Byron soon, hopefully. I wondered if he would know who I was.
The servants caught me in a whirl of preparations. A small breakfast was followed by a chilly bath in a basin, with the servants bringing up hot water in pails. This was all sort of weird but I just went with it. Who cared itfservants saw my naked body? I wasn’t even me, although besides how long my hair was, my body still looked like mine. Then there was a lot of hair combing, braiding, pinning, face painting, undergarments, lacing of the dress, jewelry, shoes, and so on. It was very strange to be getting all the fuss of a wedding when a moment ago I’d been stomping around a 1970s house, already ripping up carpet mentally.