“The spirits say you don’t have a clue, actually.”
“Wrong! There is a cluster of trees that only grow in Dementia. The leaves hold rare properties that, if boiled and consumed before intercourse, would prevent the victim from falling into a coma.”
My heart races. “And what are these trees called?”
“It’s said a great dragon died there. It’s called The Red Oaks.”
I could drop to my knees in tears. All this time. The answer was among the trees that surrounds our home. The fiery red leaves that would fall around my parents when they were children, sprinkling across the ground they’d play on.
But I must keep my composure.
“Drinking the tea made of red oak leaves would cure such a powerful neurotoxin?” I ask skeptically.
“Yes. You’ve raised my blood pressure with this debate. It’s like explaining astrology to an infant.”
“Hmm.” I nod with only a sliver of interest in the topic.
Maxwell angles himself to a more comfortable position in his chair. “You two lost me at all of your neuro-nonsense topics. It’s a decent start, my beautiful prisoner.”
I sigh. “Three days then?”
The brothers come to a firm agreement, then continue conversing and playing chess like we are not there, and then we are sent back to our cages until the House of Jester Night commences.
Niklaus walks the entire way back in silence. Even as we sit against the chipped, dented bars of our cages, he cranks his neck back and closes his eyes.
“There’s so much to unpack,” I murmur, breaking the ice. Our situation isn’t great, but it feels relieving to be away from the other inmates for the day.
“Mmm hmm.”
“So, we’re what? Over fifty years in the past?” I prompt.
“Sixty or seventy, I’m guessing.”
“And we’re here distinctly by the anchor of my grandparents.”
“Let’s go back. You said you dreamed my dad was in The Blackspire Ward of The North?” Niklaus does move, not even to breathe as he waits for my response.
“Yeah.”
“And Krimson saw you?”
“I think he was searching for me,” I say.
“If he knows you’re missing, he would have gotten your mother involved. By now, the rest of the family must know,” Niklaus contemplates in a hushed, gravelly voice.
“And he saw where Uncle Niles was. He’d relay that to my mother.”
Niklaus nods. “Good.”
I peek over at him and can’t help but trail over his bare chest and the prominent muscles over his strong arms. Does he want to stop talking and sleep? He’s so uninterested, I feel like a grating little pest for wanting to keep talking.
He speaks again. “Three days here, little witch?”
I sigh. “That or I could’ve gotten comfy in his bed chamber.”
Niklaus growls in the base of his throat.
“Of course I’d never do that. I’m a devoted, faithful wife.”
