Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“They will love you,” I tell Tristan as our open carriage passes through the invisible border between the realms. The woods around us shimmer like the aurora borealis, and then I spot the familiar neon of our ‘local’ fast food franchise, Best Burgers Bonanza, looming against the background of the dark sky. Apparently, the Lord sourced the food for his wedding from this very restaurant, so I don’t even think the pizza idea was that surprising anymore.
“Are you sure the hat wouldn’t go well with the outfit?” Tristan asks, glancing toward the neon sign matching the logo at the front of the baseball cap he wore the night he came for me. I’m not sure how to explain not all ‘human’ things go together just because they’re human, but he’s adorable.
“A hundred percent sure,” I say and lean against him as the coachman slowly steers the carriage onto the asphalt road that will lead us to the place where we’re picking up my grandparents. I’m sweating from the stress of it, because what if they think this is all a prank? What if they hate the Nightmare Realm and choose not to stay? If this were the case, I’ll likely only see them a couple of times before they pass away, and that’s an excruciating thought.
I can already see them as we approach the abandoned bus stop, and my heart is in my throat. It’s been over four months since our last meeting. Fortunately, I can’t see any cops or EMTs, and they both have two big suitcases each. It’s late summer, but the night is chilly, so they’re both in their favorite matching sweaters.
I rise before the coachman even stops and wave at them with a big grin.
They’re in their early seventies, still active, and as I leap off the coach before Tristan can do his usual thing and gallantly help me off, Grandma steps forward in time to pull me in.
She smells of her favorite perfume. It’s old-fashioned and sharp from the alcohol content, but this was the scent of comfort in moments when reality crushed me. I briefly lift her off the ground before stepping into Grandpa’s embrace. “I missed you so much,” I tell them, grinning from ear to ear.
Tristan is silent, but I can sense him behind me when he ever -so gently pokes my shadow with his.
“You’re growing out your hair? Aren’t you dapper!” Grandpa compliments me as we also hug. He’s grown a beard since I’ve last seen him, and it’s definitely grayer than the last one he sported a few years ago.
“And who might that be…?” Grandma asks with a smirk, looking over my shoulder.
“Prince Tristan Bloodweed, madam,” he says and when he bows and kisses her hand, she giggles.
“Oh my!”
Grandpa reaches out to him and firmly squeezes his hand. I chuckle when the handshake lasts longer than usual.
“Firm grip,” Grandpa says and nods at me. “I like that.”
I step closer to Tristan and discreetly rub his back, because I know he’s been missing sleep over this meeting. “And this is my husband.”
“The prince?” Grandma inquires while the coachman loads their suitcases into a compartment at the back of the carriage. “Does that make you a royal as well? I was trying to learn about how those things work, but it depends on the country, apparently.”
Tristan leans in and gives the side of my head a tender kiss. “Yes, as my husband, he now has the title of Prince Consort. I am so honored to meet you. Nate had nothing but good things to tell me about you and what a wonderful childhood he had thanks to you. I am so very proud to call him my husband every day, and you should know I love him more than bones love the flesh they inhabit.”
My grandparents stall, as shocked as I was when I first heard this kind of comparison, but I spring into action and help them into the carriage. “Cultural differences. The elves like being a bit morbid.”
“It is called the Nightmare Realm,” Grandpa quips before stretching on the seat. “You have a good stock of horses. Never owned any so large. Is it a special breed?”
I meet Tristan’s gaze, knowing that the two kelpies attached to the carriage are surely discussing this conversation in detail. I’ve learned from Kurt, the stableboy, all about how much they like to gossip, but I’ve yet to find out how he communicates with them.
When Tristan starts telling Grandpa about the kelpies, I finally relax a little, because I was worried about awkward silences. Instead, the conversation starts flowing as the carriage takes us back to the crossing. Unlike the one we first took through the cave, this one allows even for the transport of goods and will be much more convenient for my grandparents, even though they did need to travel to Maine to reach it.