He looked up at her, his eyes a little glassy as they always were when he was researching anything. "What are we speaking of again?"
"The elves," she reminded him. "Your people. This claims they were able to see the future, and that is why they left this realm. They saw not just a time of turmoil but... but..."
Rose had been working on learning the elven language. Most of the books here weren't translated into any human language she could read. So she'd decided to learn their language, which had taken years. Nearly three, if she remembered right.
She'd been spending more and more time in here. It wasn't as if she sought experiences that would give her a break from the real world, but... Well, she perhaps had been a little careless lately. The past year had been harder as the king's demands worsened. And she had wanted to be here with Rhydian. Learning new skills, discovering strange realities that she had never even considered. All of it was so much better than the life she led otherwise.
"Give it here," Rhydian said, striding toward her with his hand outstretched. "The translation shouldn't have made youpause like this. I'm certain you can read it, if you just give yourself the time to think about it."
She wanted to try, but her mind kept fracturing today. She was pulled between here and the other reality, the one who was doing gods knew what with a man she had never met before.
It was like the magic in her kept tugging her back to the real world, and that simply wouldn't do. She had work here. Important work that was the only reason she was still alive.
Rhydian had given her hope. He'd given her safety. He was an elf who cared very little for her people, but he was giving her a chance to learn. Why? She still hadn't gotten it out of him.
Frankly, she knew very little about the elf who stood before her with a frown on his face.
"This translation is tricky," he muttered, thumbing through the pages as though context would give him a better clue at what the author meant. "I have seen it before, but I cannot remember what they were saying. It's almost as though they slipped into a local dialect, but I cannot hazard a guess where this author was located."
"Oh!" She stepped closer, trying to lean around his shoulder so she could point him to the correct page. "I saw that in the beginning, actually. If you just turn the page?—"
Something tugged hard at her spirit. She was suddenly thrust back into the real world, staring up at the ceiling that had started to chip. King James might have wanted the room to look opulent, but she'd been in here for years. The paint they used had started to fleck, and she'd counted the pieces that were falling so many times.
Why was she back here?
Sitting up, the wild tangle of her blonde hair fell around her shoulders like a cloak. She hadn't cut it in all the years that she'd been here, and it was almost like a shroud that covered her naked body.
The man who had been with her backed away from her. His tall form was too lean, all of his bones knobby as he tried to cover himself and pick up the clothes that were still crumpled on the floor. He shook his head, refusing to even look at her as he desperately tugged on his pants.
"What are you doing?" she asked, anger a little evident in her words. "Why did you stop?"
There wasn't even an ache between her legs. It didn't feel like he had done anything to her at all. She'd slipped out of this world and into the one she really wanted to be in, and now she was back. How dare he? He was supposed to do what all the other men did so she could get out of here.
"I-I can't," the man was stammering. "I can't. You... You were almost dead."
"I'm not dead. I just disappear. Most people like that about me." She tugged the blankets up to her chest, but then some rebellious part of her burst to life.
Rose had performed for years. She'd been trapped in this room, never leaving it, never seeing the sun. The only way she even got a glimpse of the outside realm was through what the men told her before they all started to grope and grab and touch. Her life was predictable. Patterns that she had gotten used to.
But she couldn't escape from here if they didn't do their job. He had to keep his side of the bargain.
Rage burned in her chest. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so angry at anyone. Rose had been afraid in this realm for such a long time, and then just numb. It was easier for that to be how she felt rather than raging at the world. She'd only get punished more.
Now she wanted to be punished.
"You're supposed to enjoy me," she said as she crawled out of the bed. Her limbs felt shaky and wrong, like she wasn't meantto be in this body, anyway. What did it matter if this form hurt? "The king will be angry with you if you don't."
"I'll tell the king that the deal is still on. He made his point," the man grumbled as he pulled his shirt on. "I'm not this. He gave you to me as a gift and I thought... I thought it would be different. I thought you'd at least want it."
Was the man an idiot? He’d thought any woman would want this?
But she needed him angry. Or at the very least, prepared to do what all the other men did. She wanted to go back to the realm with her books and the tower that looked out over a meadow that perpetually had the prettiest flowers she'd ever seen. Rose couldn't stay here for another second without feeling her mind fracturing.
"You're meant to touch me," she said, drawing close enough to grab his hand. She pressed his palm to her breast, already feeling the flicker of that other realm.
Yes, this was good enough. If she could get him to mold his hand around her breast, then she'd disappear. She'd go back to safety and the reality she much preferred over this nightmare.
But his hand didn't curve around her. Instead, she swore tears welled in his eyes.
