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)
“We can arrange that,” he says in that soothing warm way after which I expect a kiss to the side of my head. But it doesn’t come, because I asked him not to flirt. So why am I disgruntled about it? “You don’t have any siblings then?”
Out of the dark corridor, we emerge into one with tall latticed windows to one side. They let in lots of silver moonlight, revealing the snow-covered garden. And there are people! In the bright glow coming from above, the silhouettes of elves wandering between snow-capped fountains and flowerbeds are like an enchanting shadow play, and I grin at Tristan.
“I wish! No, they had plans for two more kids, but… they didn’t have the time. But I had a dog. And several cats. And mice… plenty of company.”
Lady gives a happy bark, as if she understands what I’ve just said. Could the creatures in a magical realm possibly grow to be more sentient than in mine? I’m excited when I imagine myself spending a lifetime researching this question, but then again, I’m not planning to stay here.
“I’m glad to know your grandparents took good care of you. I never even met mine, as they left for other lands long before I was born.”
I have to remind myself that he’s fifty-seven, which should make us incompatible yet he acts like someone my own age. Maybe the possibility of indefinite lifespan prevents people from exercising the caution so typical in those of more advanced age?
“They were great. My grandmom was the first person I told… about my sexuality, and she understood. She told me she suspected as much and supported me. That meant so much, because in my world, this is not always accepted,” I tell him as we continue down the corridor.
“Another reason to stay,” he teases, but then redirects my attention to the clothes. “There’ll be warmth provided where we are dining, but later, we will need these.” Tristan gallantly pulls a long coat off the hanger and holds it out for me to wear. “It’s wool, so nothing was killed for it,” he reassures me, and while this doesn’t exactly meet the principles I’d choose my clothing by back in my world, I know the Nightmare Realm doesn’t have vegan alternatives for warm outerwear. This is the best choice available, and I appreciate the thought behind it.
“You always remember,” I say, sliding my arms into the sleeves.
Tristan smiles and puts the fluffiest grey scarf I’ve ever touched around my neck. “I try. And this is all cobweb yarn,” he adds with so much pride I force myself to keep a straight face, despite dreading that there’s a stray spider about to crawl up my neck. The coat is relatively simple for Nocturne Court standards, as its decorative trim is discreet, but I can’t say the same about the hat Tristan puts on my head. It has pleated fabric descending the sides and getting longer toward the back, and a large shimmering brooch above the forehead.
“So… how do you coerce spiders to produce this much webbing?”
“I never thought about it much. I think they get fed to do it. I can get you to meet the people who gather the yarn. Or the spiders even! They’re massive, and each has sixteen multi-colored eyes. True beauties.”
A reminder that I’m not ready for the full scope of Nocturne Court aesthetics. An awkward laugh leaves my mouth when I imagine my ‘meeting’ with a herd of arachnids bred for their ‘yarn’, but then Tristan’s on his knees, pulling a pair of warm, soft boots on my feet.
I have to give it to him that no man has ever treated me so attentively. Maybe this is just decorum, a ritual he’s learned throughout his life at this fantastical court, but that doesn’t make me enjoy it any less. Soon enough, Tristan is dressed in an exquisite tailcoat in dark red, and we finally leave the safety of the walls.
The cold is a shock to the system.
Icy air pinches my cheeks, rubs at the tip of my nose, and breathing feels like swallowing ice cream before it can melt on my tongue, but as my feet start growing roots, Tristan puts one arm around me and leads me along a quiet pathway made private by two rows of evergreens.
I have seen elves through the window, but this place is deserted, just like the library was.
My laugh comes out in a series of vaporous puffs. “What emergency befell this part of the gardens?”
He smirks at me. “Oh, the Midnight Gardener has some work to do on the flowerbeds. No one wants to be around for that.”
I’m baffled, but I don’t get enough time to ask what that even means when we turn a corner and a tall glass building emerges in front of us. Despite the snow, different types of blue and white flowers bloom in the garden we passed, but what I already see ahead is greenery and midnight blue roses, all bathed in warm red and yellow light glowing inside the structure.