Black Moon Draw(5)

I really hope Prince Charming has a castle. It figures I have to go to a fictional world to find the perfect man.

“I think I’ll stay here,” I reply. “In case I can go home.”

His eyebrows lift. “Home is Black Moon Draw?”

“Oh, god, no. Never. From what I know of that place, it’s hell.”

His brow is furrowed.

I swallow hard. I’m not going to cry, at least, not until I’m fully convinced this isn’t a dream or psychotic break.

“I would encourage you to cross the bridge,” he says. “Before the Shadow Knight comes to claim you. We are in need of a battle-witch. You will be safe and protected.”

“Battle-witch?” I’m thinking hard through my headache to recall what LF wrote about the mysterious women that the warriors of this world believed could predict and influence the outcome of battles.

“Every knight-ruler in the realm has heard of your coming. The last great battle-witch,” he replies. “Come. We have food and clothing to warm you.”

It’s kind of hard to say no. Jason definitely wasn’t a looker and I’ve never had a man this handsome give me the time of day. While I know nothing of his little kingdom, I do know that I don’t want to be here when the violent Shadow Knight shows up.

Getting to my feet, I make my way through the grasses to the stone path leading across the bridge. I pull on the medallion Panther-man gave me, just in case.

Just in case WHAT? I wake up in a different book? Get lost in the forest?

Nothing is making sense right now, except that I’m definitely hungry and could use a blanket or warmer clothing.

“No tricks? I’ll be safe?” I ask, pausing at the foot of the bridge.

“You have my word,” the Red Knight responds quickly.

Why not? Maybe this man is the elusive Hero I hadn’t yet discovered in LF’s book. Or maybe he’s the Red Herring meant to lead me astray or the Betrayer . . . How the hell do I figure it out?

The panic bubbling within me makes my head pound worse. Whatever I think of the Red Knight, I at least know the Shadow Knight will probably behead me if he finds me.

I walk and join the Red Knight in the middle of the bridge, pausing to gaze up at him. My gods – he’s utterly beautiful.

“You will need new robes,” he observes, gaze lingering on my breasts. “You are in the correct color, but not the correct cloth.”

Purple. I’m remembering more details now. The battle-witches of this world wear purple. The color is rare and only the elite seers wear it.

What happens when they realize I’m not a battle-witch?

The thought makes my head ache. I touch it gingerly.

“You are unwell?” the Red Knight asks.

“Drank too much wine last night.”

“Ah. A common ailment.” He waves over one of the three men waiting in the area between the bridge and forest. “Come.” He starts down his side of the bridge.

I glance over my shoulder, noticing for the first time how the mists hanging in the branches of trees on the Black Moon Draw side of the bridge are absent in White Tree Sound. There are birds on this side of the forest, and it smells of pine. The forests are different – one alive and one dead – yet divided only by a stream. It’s sunny on this side of the stream, too.

This is too weird. I need time to think or maybe to get rid of my headache first because thinking is too difficult right now.

Trailing the Red Knight off the bridge, I pass the three guards waiting for him and follow him onto a deer trail. We don’t walk far and stop on a rustic road hedged by trees. There’s a shoebox looking, wooden wagon with four horses out front and a driver in the middle of the road.

Another guy in white opens the door for the Red Knight, who sweeps off his cape before climbing in. I get in as well and sit opposite him. There’s a trunk between the two benches and a lantern hanging from the low ceiling in the center whose light doesn’t reach the corners of the wagon.

The wooden benches are covered by pillows. It’s warmer in here and I rub my upper arms to help warm me.

“’Tis a half day ride to my hold,” he tells me. “You are hungry?”

I nod.

He taps the trunk. The top slides off as if by magic and he reaches into its depths to lift a tray of food: jerky, cheese, bread, and whole fruit. There’s a pitcher and two stocky goblets as well.

Another tap and the trunk slides closed.

“Eat,” the Red Knight urges me. “The moon apple is a specialty of my lands.” He holds up a white apple.

“Thanks.” I accept it and put it in my lap. I’m not much of one for apples. Bread, though, is my weakness, as evidenced by my thighs, and I grab a piece. “You said you’ve been waiting for me?”

“Battle-witches are rare. The knight-rulers of our realm are sent visions or dreams when a new one is to come,” he explains with another charming smile. “The Shadow Knight has been eyeing my lands for many years. We are at peace, but I’d like to be ready.”

What do I say to that? “I don’t blame you,” I reply awkwardly. I take a huge bite of bread and then a sip of wine. The bread is dry and hearty, the wine a little stronger than I’m used to.

The carriage jolts into movement and I rock back, catching myself on a pillow.