Waking was like swimming from deep in a well. She could see the light above her, but it was an effort to push her way through the cold water to breach its surface.
She lay for a long moment after, her eyes closed, trying to work out where she was, and fearing to open her eyes and find herself within that grey room again.
She remembered Raiden carrying her out to a car because Elior had lost to Lucian, and Alatar forcing his potion into her mouth, but after that… She must have passed out, as she could remember no other details.
All she knew that she wasn’t in bed with Raiden, there was no comfort of his scent of smoked lavender and citrus, no security of his skin against her, no beat of his heart, no rhythm of his breath. And not being near Raiden terrified her because she knew, she knew in the deepest core of herself, that he would be in the bed with her unless there was no physical way that he could be. That he was not meant that something had happened to Raiden, to her, or both.
It did not smell like the grey room, she told herself trying to find comfort in reason. There was no stink of blood, antiseptic, and recycled air. No stench of stale body fluids from an over and foully used mattress.
The bedding she lay on smelt, oddly and disconcertingly like Cael – sandalwood and bergamot. She was warm, and comfortable, and the covers around her were lush, like velvet against her skin. She was almost certain that for some reason she was with Cael, and she could not imagine how that had come to be.
“You should never have brought it here,” a woman hissed angrily. “If you were discovered, Cael, they would know that you are interfering in the slaves’ realm.”
“I know, mother,” Cael was irritable. “But I had no choice, she was dying.”
“Then you should have let it die!”
“I am tied to her,” Cael sat on the edge of the bed, and stroked Lia’s hair back from her face. “Twice now, dying, she has called to me. The first time, I was not even in her realm. That means something, mother.”
“It means that old blood ties survive amongst the slaves, and that is all,” she replied. “Past indiscretions of foolish men. Do not join them, Cael. It is healed now, take it back, and return to the slaves’ realm no more!”
There was a pause and then: “No, Cael, don’t even contemplate such foolishness. You know the punishment should you do such a thing.”
“She is mine,” he said it so quietly that even though he sat beside her, Lia almost did not hear it.
“Get rid of it, Cael,” his mother said urgently. “I beg of you. If I return and find it here… I will have no choice.”
“You would not report me, mother,” Cael was confident of that.
“If I don’t the punishment will be visited on our entire family. You know what they will do to us.”
There was a long silence between them, and Cael heaved a sigh heavy with reluctance. “I will take her back.”
“You know I would deny you nothing, my son,” she softened. “But this… This is simply courting disaster.”
“I know. I am sorry, mother.” He waited until she left. “You can stop pretending to sleep now, Cecelia.”
She opened her eyes and found him leaning over her. The light was behind him, lighting his golden hair and he beamed, his beauty radiant, his eyes bright, undaunted by the conversation she had just overheard. Whatever he had said to his mother, Cael did not intend to surrender her so easily, she thought grimly.
They were in a large room, the floor, walls, and ceiling all of highly polished gold veined white stone. There were windows behind him, open to a balcony, with filmy curtains catching a breeze, billowing in and revealing glimpses of the world beyond too brief for her to piece together.
“You have wings,” she reached out automatically and then drew her hand back when he lifted and spread the upper most wing, the almost pure-white feathers fanning out, the bands of brown and gold revealed when he did so giving them depth and texture.
“You can touch,” he offered, amused.
She reached out again, feeling the smooth feathers beneath her fingers, feeling the threads of cuticle separate. The feathers were warm, and that warmth made the touch more intimate. She pulled her hand back again, not wanting that intimacy with him.
Cael moved closer, his body against hers, and he opened the wing like a parasol over her, inviting her touch. There were delicate feathers that fluffed more than others, the downy texture innocent and almost virginal in the implied youth. Whatever he was, Cael was young, she thought, just entering adulthood, like herself. “Don’t be shy.”
She held the sheets to her chest tightly, restraining her hands in the cloth. “Are you an angel?”
“That is one of the names that the slaves give us. We have our own names.”
“What happened? Why am I here? And where are my clothes?” She added as she realized that she was bare beneath the luxurious sheets. She flushed, realizing that he had stripped her naked and laid her in his bed.
“You were wearing a rag that smelt of dog,” he pulled a face. “I got rid of it. That stink would never leave the linen. As to what happened, your werewolf lost you to a vampire who made you into a blood slave, and you were dying from withdrawal. I saved your life. Again, I might add,” he preened a little, proud of himself.
“Raiden,” she felt her heart clench. Had Cael left Raiden to fight Lucian? “Is he alright?”
Cael shrugged, indifferent. “He might have survived, I couldn’t exactly stick around to see, after all. I had to get you to safety.”
“Thank you for saving me,” she sat up, holding the sheets in place. “But I need to go back.”
“No.” He lay against the pillows, with his eyes at half-mast and a small smile on his perfectly carved lips. “You look surprised. Why would I return you to the dog, Cecelia? You are mine, and I have you. I might not be able to keep you here, but I can keep you.
“We will talk about that later,” he decided and swung himself to standing, his wings flaring behind him, adjusting to the change in balance. He strode across the room to a table and returned with a bundle of cloth. “Get dressed. We cannot stay here.”
The cloth unfolded into a dress that caught at the shoulders with golden buckles. She pulled it over her head before releasing the sheets grateful to have something to wear, even if was a shapeless and borrowed dress.
Cael wore a loose-fitting pair of grey trousers and a shirt of material so soft and fine it was almost sheer. The dress was of the same fine material, and she suspected, looking at him, that it did not hide as much as she would have liked.
“What is this fabric?” She fingered it and confirmed it’s almost transparency as she could see the warm tone of her fingertips through two layers of the fabric. Dressed, she thought grimly, but might as well be naked.
“Muslin.”
“No…” She knew muslin and this was not it. She had worn muslin mock-ups of costumes and that fabric was vastly different to this. It did not matter – she brushed the question of the fabric aside. She needed to find Raiden.
“The slaves in your realm have lost the ability to make muslin in the traditional way,” he replied disdainfully. “It is a technique that requires my people’s power to do properly. Come,” he grabbed her hand and lead her across to the windows, through the drifting curtains, onto the balcony.
She gasped. “We’re in the clouds.” There was also no balustrade around the balcony, and the plunge off the edge disappeared into the cloud cover below, giving no idea of how far down the ground was.
A city stretched out before her, the shimmering white stone buildings piercing through clouds-tinged pink by the setting sun. The sky was a rich pink, almost red in hue and what she thought at a glance was birds, was actually other winged people flying between the buildings. There was no other discernible method of moving between buildings.
“Not what you think of as clouds,” he replied lightly, pulling her against him. He was hard, and deliberately held her against his hard on so that she could not avoid it. “This is not your world, but one set apart.”
“Set apart?” She squirmed a little seeking to put distance between them. Considering the sheerness of her dress, the way he held her was utterly indecent. Not to mention that she had a mate that she needed to return to.
Oh, Raiden, she thought with despair. It seemed that destiny had brought them together only for the malicious pleasure of pulling them apart.
“If you imagine a rose, with each world a petal upon it, touching and overlapping, connected but separate from each other. Your world is one petal, and this one another. We call them realms. The ability to travel between is a closely guarded secret of my people.”
“Well, you need to use that ability to take me home now,” she said firmly. “I am sorry Cael. I am in love with another man. There will be someone out there for you, but that person is not me.”
“I will take you back to your world,” he agreed readily, holding her tightly. “But not to your dog.” And he stepped off the edge of the balcony.
She shrieked, gripping his shoulders as they plunged downwards. His wings opened, catching the air, and she felt a drag as their motion was slowed, heard the whomp of the air catching in the delicate cuticle sails that should not, by any measure, bear their weight aloft and yet, impossibly, did.
He drifted almost lazily downwards, until they passed through the cloud cover. The clouds were cold, and the moisture clung to her skin, dewing in the fabric of her dress, making it, she suspected, even more clinging and sheet, and beaded on the feathers of his wings.
As the cloud smoked away, she saw that the city had been built in the heights of a mountain range, below which lay a lush green and blue land, with primitive villages surrounded by farmland and dirt roads. There was no sign of industrialization, no train tracks, no cars on roads, no planes in the sky.