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When I get to the room Ro specified, I stay at the threshold while searching for danger.
Suddenly, Ro gasps.
I tense up, raising my blade because I’m ready to fight, but she says, “It’s okay, Kai.”
Before I can stop her, she pushes past me. Making a beeline for the far corner on the right, she goes straight to a cream-colored crib. There’s a light-yellow blanket folded over the side.
“Careful,” I warn as I follow behind her, thinking it’s a trap.
Gathering the blanket in her hands, Ro brings the soft knitted material to her nose and sniffs. As she exhales, she lovingly pets it as if it’s familiar.
Now that I’m closer, I can clearly see that the crib is empty. Yellow sheets are tucked tightly around the mattress, and a brown teddy bear sits propped up against one end with a little silk pillow. A wispy gray canopy hangs from the ceiling, surrounding the whole thing to make it dimmer.
Going to the end of the crib, Ro runs her fingers over the sleigh-style headboard. The woodwork is fancy, with designs carved into it. Ivy. The leaves are painted gold. This piece of furniture was designed for royalty.
As I look around, I note the big four-poster bed, the standing wardrobe, a vanity, a desk, and a rocking chair. It’s the perfect set up for a new parent.
A nursery for a prince.
“This is where Zander slept when he was a baby,” Ro tells me, even though I’ve already come to the conclusion myself.
Raking my fingers through my loose hair, I muse over the confusing question in my mind.
Why is this crib here now?
King Zander would’ve used it when he was young, but that was thousands of years ago. So, either Ro kept it around for sentimental reasons or the crib belongs to someone else. Maybe one of King Zander’s children.
“Was this crib handed down to Queen Maelyn?” I bump over the bars on the side.
“No,” Ro replies with sadness as she lays the blanket on the railing where it was before. “That wouldn’t be possible. Zarid liked to destroy things I valued, and this crib had become meaningful to me when Zander was a baby. One day, after Zander had outgrown it, I found it burning on the lawn. I was devastated.”
As much as I’d like to comfort her amidst a terrible memory, I’m too busy having an epiphany.
“So you’re saying this is from the past.” I gesture to the setup.
“Yes. And that duvet.” Walking to the silky gray fabric on the big bed, Ro smooths the surface. “I remember picking it out for myself when I designed the nursery. And I always used to keep a burping towel right—” She lifts one of the pillows to reveal a yellow flannel square. “—here.” Baffled, she squints at the familiar item before turning toward the standing wardrobe. “And all my dresses were in there.”
After marching over to the chest, she flings the doors open. I’m not far behind, ready to pull her away from danger if I must.
Inside the wardrobe, there’s nothing nefarious. It’s just a row of about two dozen dresses of different colors.
Spinning, Ro faces me and voices the same realization I’ve had. “We’re in the past.”
I nod. “That’s why my scars are gone. Armand is showing our minds and bodies a different time. But the question is, why?”
Ro’s face is confused and thoughtful as she ponders my question.
Then a crease forms between her eyebrows, and her lips tighten with anger as she states, “He wants to rewrite history. He’s going to taint one of the most peaceful phases of my life with something terrible.”
“Peaceful?” I glance around the room that was her prison. “You call being kept here, forced to have your abuser’s child, peaceful?”
She flinches at my harsh analysis, and she explains, “I know it sounds awfully like Stockholm’s Syndrome, but these short years at the beginning of Zander’s life were almost normal. Zander was the light of my life. Zarid was satisfied with the outcome of an heir, and he had other women to give his attention to, so he wasn’t coming to my bed. Although he wasn’t kind to me, he wasn’t always cruel either. Most of the time, he ignored me, and I thought that was how it was going to be. I was okay with that. It was the best I could hope for.”
“When did that change?”
“When Zander was three, Zarid started to become impatient about his son’s power. Or lack thereof. He thought a prince should develop his power early. You see, Zarid’s talent for creating fire showed up when he was only twelve months old.”
“That’s extremely dangerous. Youngsters lack impulse control, so that’s a recipe for disaster.”
