Disappeared (Books 1-3 Box Set)

Imperfect (Disappeared #1)

Prologue

Fireflies flickered in the darkness like sputtering candles. The man slept deeply in the treetops, unaware of anything but the sweetness of his dreams. Great clouds of mist swept along the ground, rolling in like a silent storm. The fog did not rise to his level, so he was unaware of its chill.

The man turned over under his quilts, smiling reflexively in his sleep. Far away, at the fringes of his world, a wall of mist quivered and pushed in. Another inch of his world swallowed. How sweet is the sleep of innocence when we can block out the worst of existence for a brief moment.

The mist paused on the ground under his tree as if listening. It gathered around the trunk and tried to rise but something pushed it back down. It shimmered with deep frustration and then, unable to do anything else, it crept on.

Not today. But soon.

1

Helenshire, England

1813

What do you want, Theo? Cecilia said irritably. Don’t you know it’s impolite to stare? She put down the letter she had been reading with rapt attention only a moment earlier, her rosebud mouth pursed.

Theodosia had been watching her covertly while eating a cup of strawberries and cream. The family was gathered at the long table in the sunny breakfast parlor. She was wondering, for perhaps the millionth time, how the two of them could possibly be related. Cecilia was pink and white and blonde and, even at fifteen years old, a perfect model of decorum. Theodosia was three years older and tall and curvy with strong shoulders, an awkward demeanor, a famous temper, and a wild tangle of dark brown locks.

She’s probably thinking about rolling about in the mud like she always does, said George, their eldest brother. He ran the estate with their father, Lord William Stafford, Earl of Helenshire, and always wore a cravat that looked a shade too tight.

Henry, a gingery boy of twenty who was fond of vice and not much else, leaned in toward her and sniffed. She doesn’t stink this time, at least.

Theodosia glared at him. I don’t stink. Shut your mouth. You’re both swine for the way you treat me. All your education and for what? Neither of you has a shred of decency.

Cecilia’s china-blue eyes widened. I could say the same. Your manners are simply disgraceful. I’m surprised you’re not hem-deep in mud and smelling of sheep. I know you’ve been out again this morning even after Papa told you not to.

Theodosia shot her sister a sharp look. Her father had strictly forbidden morning walks, as he thought such early wanderings unladylike. Still, Theodosia was irrepressible and went out anyway, as she had that very morning.

Her father, a stout man with a reddish face, low shaggy eyebrows, and a prominent nose, usually ignored their banter. But at the mention of Theodosia’s defiance, he immediately put down his paper and fixed her with a severe look.

Theodosia, you know I expect better from a lady of this house. You are the daughter of an earl, not a milkmaid. Have you no sense of dignity?

She knew better than to argue with her father. Any answer that wasn’t perfectly meek would earn her days confined to her room. I do, Papa. I didn’t go far. I find my room awfully stuffy, you see, and I thought if I just got a little air—

You may take your walk later, the earl interrupted. Your duty in the morning is to get dressed and be at breakfast on time. You have no business wandering about the countryside at dawn. It’s unseemly.

Theodosia sighed deeply, willing herself not to answer, her eyes fixed on her strawberries. It seemed her father never talked to her except when he was angry. She always hoped that he would smile at her lovingly or pat her hand, as he did with Cecilia. Yet this was rarely the case.

The earl stared at her a moment longer. We don’t want Lord Merton’s son to hear that you’re prone to strange behavior.

She felt a sharp pang in her chest. Please, not this again. Her mother had decided at some point that Lord Merton’s heir and oldest son, Edward Merton, would be a perfect match for Theodosia. It was easy to guess why, and not just because the two families were good friends. It was because Lord Merton had a sizable estate in Derby. His son received a handsome income that would only increase when he inherited his due. Her family would benefit from such a connection.

I don’t see how Mr. Merton would hear of my behavior, Theodosia said, unable to help herself. He seems far more interested in London society. I hear he’s almost never at the estate.

Cecilia sighed dramatically. "And so he should be. Papa, I can’t see why I can’t marry Mr. Merton. Emma wrote to me last week from London and said that he is the wittiest man in town and always dresses in the latest way."

Cecilia, you have not yet been formally introduced to society. You must wait until then, her father replied, smiling at her fondly. Next year, you shall be feted properly and find yourself a handsome suitor, you mark my words.

The last time Mr. Merton saw Theo, I swear he looked as if he wanted to run a million miles away by the swiftest horse in his stable, put in Henry.

He did not. Hold your tongue, thundered their father.

Henry shut up, though he and George exchanged knowing smirks. Theodosia knew both of them thought her useless: unable to sing, dance, or paint, unattractive and dull besides. Hurt bloomed in her heart. It was an unhappy thing to have your own family think you worthless.

Theodosia had always felt like a changeling, as if she had accidently been handed to the wrong family at birth. She had always felt out of place, though she didn’t know where she really belonged. Her only clue was the feeling of connection she had with the gorgeous green hills and forests of Helenshire. Escaping to them early in the morning, before she made to dress and act like an earl’s daughter, was her only bit of respite. The only time when she felt at all like herself.

2

After breakfast, Theodosia raced up to the nursery to rescue Louisa. In the morning, she was expected to stay in the sitting room where she usually whiled away her hours re-reading favorite novels such as Mary Brunton’s Self-Control and Frances Burney’s Evelina. She preferred her younger sister’s company though, and smuggled her in whenever possible.

Louisa sat in a corner of the nursery trussed up in a pink dress with puffed sleeves, her embroidery in front of her and the sour old nurse at her side. Upon seeing Theodosia, the little girl threw her work aside and raced to hug her waist.

The older sister hugged her back and kissed her riot of gingery curls. The nurse, a stout woman who had a rule for everything, frowned.

Miss Louisa is to practice her stitch this morning, my lady.

Theodosia rolled her eyes and cupped the little girl’s chubby cheeks. Doesn’t that sound horrid, my pet? I don’t think you’d like that, would you?

Louisa shook her head vigorously. I would hate it, Thee. I shan’t do it, I shan’t!

Then you won’t. Theodosia took her hand and looked up at the nurse. I’m taking her down to the morning room. She’ll be back in time for lunch.

The two of them headed downstairs together, the little girl prattling on about a new butterfly she had spied the previous day. She was obsessed with butterflies and always wanted to go out to hunt for them. She loved nature just as much as Theodosia and hated to be cooped up indoors. Their mother despaired over Louisa because she wasn’t an obvious beauty. She was carroty with a rash of freckles and plain features, though Theodosia knew her to be smart as a whip, funny, and compassionate. And all this for a girl of only eight years old!

They entered the morning room, a long space with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side that were decorated in yellow silk curtains. Cecilia was already sitting on a little settee by the fireplace and working on embroidering pink roses onto a little cushion. She looked up as soon as they came in.

Theo, really, she said, putting down her work. Louisa belongs up in the nursery. We can’t have children running around here all morning. I have so much correspondence to get through. I simply can’t suffer the distraction.

Louisa ran off to sit at the windows and look for butterflies. Theodosia sat opposite Cecilia. She hardly makes a peep. Don’t be so uppity.

Better to be uppity than to have no manners, Cecilia said, blue eyes flashing. You were disgraceful at breakfast this morning. Can’t you hold your tongue?

Theodosia stared at her. You certainly didn’t help! It’s all I can do not to say anything about Mr. Merton. And you deliberately try to provoke me. I know it. Papa’s already at his wits’ end with me.

Cecilia sniffed and picked up her embroidery again. As he should be. Mr. Merton is the best match you’re going to make. He could have his pick of beauties, but he knows you come with rank and money.

Kind words. Thank you, Cecilia. I’d forgotten what a toad I am. Theodosia felt her face flush hot. I can’t wait to marry Mr. Merton and have him despise me all our lives.

Cecilia sighed impatiently. You won’t have to see each other often. And you’ll have plenty of time to go on with your reading and wandering so long as you don’t make a fool of yourself. It’s a position, nothing more.

And could you accept the same? A position without love or respect for your husband?

"I’ll marry for love and position, her sister said with a sunny smile. But I can afford to."

Theodosia had to restrain herself from clobbering her sister on the spot. The nerve of her! Theodosia so wished they could be allies instead of enemies. Until Louisa had been born, Theodosia had been miserable. Cecilia and her older sister Charlotte had always excluded her when they were in the nursery together. She had learned to play by herself early on. Her rich imagination had been good company, but that hadn’t prevented the long moments of loneliness.

At least Charlotte had made an excellent match not long ago and moved to her new husband’s estate a couple of counties over. It was a relief to deal only with Cecilia now, though that was difficult still.

Her sister tossed her blonde curls prettily. Oh Theo, I simply do not understand you. You speak as if you don’t even believe in love. And with Mr. Merton, what an easy thing that would be. I know I should love him in an instant. And imagine marrying him in a beautiful dress trimmed with yards of French lace and being mistress of his astonishing estate! Could there be anything better?

Theodosia had never been in love — not even half in love. True, she had read scores of books that detailed just what the feeling was. Something to do with butterflies in the stomach, sweaty palms, and a feeling as though you might faint at any second. To her, that sounded like reason to call the doctor, not get engaged.

She got up and began to pace. First of all, courtship lasts what, a month? All that excitement certainly isn’t going to last forever. Second, you barely know the man, and anyway, he is likely to change within the year and drive you half mad in another. Third, most of the men we meet are nothing but fashionable copycats with not an ounce of sense in their heads. So how am I supposed to fall in love?

What terrible things you say! You’ve scared me half to death. Cecilia was pinker than normal and her eyes were angry. Leave me be, Theo. You’re nothing but an awful grump who can’t be happy for half a second. I won’t be ruined by your scandalous opinions.

With that, she began to work on her embroidery with renewed dedication. Theodosia turned away with a huff and walked over to where Louisa sat at the window, eyes glued to the scene outdoors. The tall windows of the morning room provided an impressive view of the estate’s grounds. Theodosia sat in the window seat next to her little sister and gathered her close.

Thee, I’ve seen ever so many butterflies! the little girl said, turning around. A red admiral, a common blue, and lots of green-veined whites.

Theodosia kissed the top of her head. How did you become so smart? You know the name of every butterfly and bird in the gardens.

I’m going to learn all the insects next, the little girl said solemnly. And you can teach me the names of all the plants and flowers in the forest. Then we can make a book. I’ll draw the pictures and you can write things, or maybe I’ll write some of it. Then we’ll be very famous and we can buy a house in the forest and live there forever.

Her sister laughed, though there was a tinge of sadness to it. Louisa often talked about them having their own home, as if she was already planning her escape. She didn’t understand yet that she would be expected to marry a rich aristocrat and live in his house and follow his rules. Theodosia prayed that she wouldn’t realize this for a very long time. She did her best to preserve her innocence, though sometimes that felt more like cruelty than kindness.

Yes, my dear, she said and kissed the little girl’s ruddy, freckled cheeks. We shall have our own kitchen garden and bunny hutch and a library full of books. And you shall know every plant and animal in the forest down to the teeniest, tiniest little earthworm.

Louisa clapped her hands in glee. When can we go, Thee? Can we go now?

No, my love. Mama and Papa won’t let you go until you’re big because they love you too much. And even then, they have to give you permission to live in the forest. You see, it is a little strange to do that and they might not like it.

The child sighed and pouted. You always say that, Thee. But of course they will let me. We will live nearby and they can come for tea whenever they like.

Theodosia didn’t know how to respond to this. There was no response. Not really. Instead, she looked out the window and pointed at a red butterfly with blue markings that looked like eyes. A peacock! she said weakly. How beautiful.

The strategy worked. Louisa was up in a flash and pressed against the glass. I haven’t seen one in days. How marvelous, Thee. I shall draw it this afternoon.

3

The sisters’ quiet moment was interrupted by the appearance of their mother, Catherine, the countess. She was dressed elegantly in a midnight blue and gold stripe dress with a cameo hung around her neck.

She frowned when she saw them. Louisa, what are you doing in here? You should be upstairs with Nanny working on your sewing. She rang the bell and then sat down on a settee by Cecilia, who was still industriously embroidering.

A maid came in and collected Louisa, who didn’t go without a fight. She protested and complained, made promises of good behavior, and tearfully implored that Theodosia help her. Yet in the end she was carted back upstairs, leaving her older sister with a heavy heart.

The countess signed deeply as the door closed behind them. Louisa belongs upstairs with Nanny. How many times do I have to tell you?

Theodosia scowled and paced about, refusing to sit down as she knew she was supposed to. She doesn’t like being trapped up there any more than I did. Nanny is no better than an ogre, and sewing is tedious. Louisa likes being down here better.

"It’s not about what she likes. She belongs up there and that’s that. Now, you know I’ve asked you to pay more mind to your correspondence. Cecilia spends a good two hours of her time at her desk before breakfast. Theodosia, please come here and sit down instead of walking about in that loutish way."

Reluctantly, she came over and sat in a dainty chair opposite her mother. She thought, as she often had, how similar her mother and Cecilia looked with their soft blonde hair and pink cheeks. Lady Catherine Stafford, the Countess of Helenshire, had been a famed beauty in her day and was quite vocal about how much she missed the balls and other social gatherings of London.

Your father confessed to me that you were out again this morning. You know I find that kind of behavior highly disgraceful. Ladies do not romp about in the fields in the early hours.

Well, what else am I supposed to do? I don’t have anyone to correspond with, Mama. Who am I supposed to write to for two hours? Aunt Jane? The cook? Myself?

The countess pursed her lips. Being saucy doesn’t suit you.

I’m sorry, Mama. Theodosia sighed and tried to summon up a measure of patience. It’s just that I can’t stand being compared to Cecilia. We are completely different. To expect the same for both of us is unreasonable.

Her younger sister looked up from her embroidery. Indeed. We should all agree now that Theodosia is hopeless. Especially after how she shamed us all during her coming out two summers ago.

Hush, her mother put in, the color high in her cheeks. That is simply uncharitable. I want to have a private chat with your sister. Go up to your room, please.

Cecilia went out, her face red. The countess patted the settee next to her and Theodosia moved over, her stomach twisting. Her coming out had been a disaster. She had given a wobbly, cringe-inducing curtsey during her presentation at court. Then, at the Queen Charlotte’s Ball, she had forgotten her dance steps, fumbled through conversation, and told most of the eligible men that they were idiots. Her mother had taken her home long before the full six months of her season were over. Since that time, their every interaction had been strained by what her mother thought was a great disappointment.

The countess sighed and patted her hand. I don’t mean you to be a copy of Cecilia, darling. I only want you to exemplify the characteristics of a lady. For that is who you must become. You have to develop confidence, poise, and social grace, as that is what will be required in your married life. Without those things, you will suffer. She squeezed her daughter’s hand. My love, I swear I am only trying to prepare you for what’s coming. Nothing else.

Theodosia shifted in her seat. "But Mama, what if I’m not a lady? I hate to pretend to be like Charlotte and Cecilia or any of the other fine ladies when I am clearly unlike them. I have tried to be more like that — honestly, I have. I took lessons in the pianoforte, embroidery, painting, and French, and each attempt was a greater failure than the last. And then I went to London for my coming out and I discovered that I had no social skills, either. But I don’t want to hate myself for those flaws. What if I’m fine the way I am?"

Don’t be so hard on yourself, my dear. The countess reached up with a bejeweled hand and stroked Theodosia’s cheek. Poise is not your strength, that’s true. Yet your social standing puts you in a good position to marry Edward Merton. And you must think of the practicalities. Your own house to manage and an independence that spinsterhood could never grant. The time to marry has come, Theodosia. You have had your coming out and you are already eighteen. You must marry and secure your future.

Theodosia hung her head. She realized that nothing she said would sway her mother. The countess could not understand that anyone might not want a home and husband of their own. In actuality, Theodosia wanted to want that, for what else was there to desire? Time and time again, she had tried to be the person who would want to marry a lord. But the effort was making her increasingly uncomfortable, even desperate. She felt claustrophobic, and in this case, the small space was society.

Her mother patted Theodosia’s cheek and smiled at her tenderly. I intend to do right by you, you know that, darling? I know how hard you find some aspects of our life, and I mean to position you well by marriage so that no one can find fault with you, even if you are a bit different.

Theodosia looked into the pretty blue eyes of her mother, so guileless and honest, and felt as though she were being stabbed in the heart. Her mother was only trying to help by obtaining for her a financially and socially secure future. There was nothing else she could or was supposed to provide. What’s more, Theodosia didn’t even know what she wanted, if not a rich husband.

She yearned desperately for another kind of life, one that she couldn’t even begin to imagine. She often thought that it was cruel to be made to yearn as such. Still, she must put that aside. In truth, it would be better for her to be married and out of sight so that her poor mother wouldn’t have to worry anymore. The countess could then dedicate herself full-time to Cecilia’s future — a much happier proposition.

She squeezed her mother’s beautiful hands bedecked with so many sparkling jewels. Thank you, Mama. I know how worried you are. I know you only want the best for me.

Her mother’s rosy face brightened and her cheeks became even pinker. Your words are so sweet to hear, my Theodosia. To see you happy is my only desire, you know.

And with that she kissed her daughter affectionately and went to consult with the head housemaid. Theodosia watched her go with a heavy heart. Was this really her one calling — to make her family happy by doing as told without complaint? It was a dreadful vision, but realistically she knew it was the one she was born for. She felt sick with sadness. How was she ever to be happy?

4

Theodosia paused at the crest of the hill that afternoon to give the mansion a lingering look. After the conversation with her mother, the sight of the great house made her feel equally guilty and resentful.

Goodbye forever, she whispered, trying on the phrase for size.

The massive three-story sandstone structure was always impressive at a distance, with its Doric columns, many bay windows, Welsh slate roof, and Greek statues. Originally built around 1400 and much renovated and expanded since that time, the imposing estate seemed to mock her words. As if she could ever leave it. The ancient building and the customs within had survived the flight of fancy of many a young woman.

A wave of anxiety flooded Theodosia, making her heart pound. And what about Louisa? Her maid, Sarah? Even her mother. She loved them all. Leaving them seemed impossible.

Leaving them was impossible. What was she thinking? It wasn’t even an option. What she did have were these few precious hours of tethered freedom. She should enjoy it. Theodosia gave the house a defiant look, turned around, and descended the little path that snaked through the last of the ornamental gardens. It eventually led to the woods, where true wild nature began.

The first part of the wood was tame enough. Tall aspens with bleached, smooth trunks and great spreads of green, waxy leaves framed a narrow path. Bluebells grew in great riots among the lush grass on the forest floor. Dappled sunlight lit up the delicate flowers and danced as the breeze disturbed the branches above.

Theodosia walked along leisurely, comfortable in a favorite sage muslin dress, tan overcoat, and wide brimmed hat. Something else was chewing at her. She knew she had no right to be upset. The price for her lack of freedom was incredible privilege. Yet it was hard to banish the sense of loneliness that had dogged her since she was a child. There was nothing she wanted more than to be understood, especially by her own family.

Louisa, she feared, would grow up with the same problem. Dear Louisa. She so wished she could be with her. She tried to sneak the child out with her on her walks as often as possible, but now Louisa was shut up in the nursery in punishment. Theodosia remembered many days when she had suffered the same fate.

Her unhappiness drove her even deeper into the forest as she searched for respite. Tired of the standard footpath she always took, she skirted off onto a smaller path and took several more turns after that. Soon the path was little more than trodden grass. She wasn’t worried about getting lost, as she knew the forest like a childhood best friend.

In this part of the woods, the bluebells were more dispersed and feathery ash trees blocked the light. Patches of sunlight still danced here and there but it was darker, and much quieter, too. Theodosia eagerly pushed her way through the dense branches. Always in a hurry to explore, that day she felt especially frantic to push farther than ever.

Marrying Lord Merton’s son was now inevitable. Her fate had been sealed. The London social season had already begun, which meant that in a matter of weeks, she might never be able to return to the woods again. Never! The idea was too horrible to bear. She rushed onward, faster and faster, forcing herself into the depths of the woods, as far away as she could. Her heart hammered dreadfully, urging her on.

It was some time before she stopped, realizing she had reached an area she had never seen before. The forest was flooded and a dense mist had collected, partly obscuring the weeping willows and their drooping branches that hung into the water. It was so quiet that the silence took on an almost deafening quality.

Theodosia realized that she hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going. Indeed, she was lost, though she wasn’t afraid. The woods didn’t scare her. Being married off to Edward Merton — that was real cause for concern. Being lost was just opportunity for adventure, nothing more or less. After all, the woods of Helenshire were no great tangled wilderness, and she was sure she would find her way soon.

Thus, she walked on, lifting her skirts and hopping from one patch of dry land to another. Eventually the ground dried up. And there in front of her was the strangest, largest tree she had ever seen. She stopped in her tracks, awed.

It was enormously tall, as high as the mansion house if not taller, wide as a cottage, and gnarled as the hands of an old woman. The top was a riot of short little branches with strange leaves. It looked just like a drawing Theodosia had seen in a book, though the caption had said the tree was native to Africa, not England.

And yet there it was. And stranger still, it seemed vibrantly alive. The trunk appeared to breathe; it pulsated in and out like a set of lungs. The tree seemed to radiate its own light even within the thick fog.

Entranced, Theodosia walked toward it. The massive tree towered far over her. She put a tentative hand on it, almost expecting to wake from a dream.

Instead, something else happened.

Energy filled her entire body. She felt the fibers of her being expanding and contracting along with the tree. Theodosia stood, not afraid but enraptured, feeling the movement and the light it created inside her. She felt at peace. Happy.

And resolved.

She pressed her heart against the trunk, breathed in deeply to her very core, and shut her eyes. Theodosia felt then as if every atom in her body flickered suddenly, like stars glinting in the reflection of a lake before a sudden wind. Then there was a brief though intense feeling like she were being heated, melted, and then re-formed again. A great sense of hope welled in her, as if she were reaching toward something she had always longed for yet never been able to articulate before, until now.

Perhaps that was why she wasn’t afraid when she felt herself disappearing. Her loneliness, fear, and uncertainty all vanished, leaving an immense feeling of calm.

It’s time to go home, she thought. She opened her eyes.

Yet what she saw wasn’t Helenshire. Far from it.

5

Nextic World

Year 500

A column of baobabs stretched out before her, their spindly, crooked branches reaching far into the gray sky, their thick trunks more like stone pillars than trees. The entire scene was steeped in mist. Between the trees was a dirt road that seemed to stretch on forever, the dim outlines of more baobabs hugging it in the distance.

Theodosia’s eyes widened. What was this place? She spun around immediately, sure that the tree she had touched would be gone. No, it was still in place, glowing and pulsating still. She touched it. It warmed immediately, and she felt that now familiar dissolving feeling spread up her arm. Quickly snatching her hand back, she massaged her palm. Did that mean she could go back? But her curiosity trumped any anxiety. She turned around cautiously.

Theodosia realized then that this place not only looked different, it felt different. The air seemed pressurized in a different way. It smelled softer, and the slight breeze felt strange on her skin. The silence even sounded different, if such a thing could be.

No one needed to tell her she wasn’t in England anymore. The world felt as unusual as if she had landed on the moon. And yet a part of her still refused to believe that she wasn’t in Helenshire.

Theodosia stood there a moment, her heart pounding in her chest, her fingers still tingling from touching the tree. A slight chill touched the back of her neck and she shivered. She didn’t want to go back, that much she knew, yet she was afraid of going forward. Who knew what lay in wait for her?

But her heart wanted this adventure. Clearly she had asked for something and it had been delivered. I’ll walk for just five minutes, she thought. If it’s too much, I’ll come back directly and forget this ever happened.

Stumbling forward, Theodosia clutched her long tan coat tightly around her as if for protection. Her skirts swished, the only sound in the forest. She looked up as she passed through the baobabs, their gigantic size making her feel no bigger than an ant. They reached far into the misty sky with silent, regal power. As she walked, her heart calmed. Nothing lurked in the mist or behind the trees.

And then the baobabs ended, vanishing. Now, conical pine trees grew in dense stands and red needles carpeted the forest floor. The mist persisted, enveloping the tops of the trees and completely obscuring the sky.

It was then that Theodosia noticed the first sculpture. Boulders jutted out of the ground and moss-covered earth had been packed around them to form a sleeping person. The face was carved in stone, with green grass sprouting as hair. Theodosia stood in wonder, looking at the sculpture. There must be people who had made this. But who? And why?

The forest gave her no answers. The sleeping sculpture merely lay there, perfectly content on its bed of earth. Theodosia blinked and walked on. Her mind scurried around like a trapped animal trying to make sense of where it was.

Soon, she came upon ruins of stone buildings rising in the forest. Moss covered the foundations, partial walls, and even weathered archways. The spaces where there had once been windows looked like unseeing eyes. The gray stones were ancient and weathered, as if they hadn’t been inhabited for centuries. Whoever had lived here, they hadn’t been around for a very long time.

Theodosia took a deep breath and rubbed her temples. She wasn’t sure how to process what she was seeing. Had she fallen and hit her head? Had she lain down in a little grassy grove and was she now having a bizarre dream? Or was she so desperate to escape Edward Merton that she was experiencing some kind of breakdown? It could be possible. After all, Edward was intolerable for an evening and impossible to contemplate for a lifetime. Hysteria might be all she had left.

What she did understand was that this place was intensely beautiful. It seemed so alive — saturated with color and pulsing with energy. Like the giant tree that had brought her here, the trees surrounding her seemed to be breathing slightly, their trunks expanding and contracting to a degree almost imperceptible to the eye.

Theodosia walked on and eventually came to a stream filled with smooth river stones. She bent down to drink and thought for a moment she could hear the river murmuring. She jerked back and the sound faded. She leaned in again and the soft, steady clamor filled her head. Cautiously, she lifted a scoop of water to her lips. It tasted sweet, but as it traveled down her throat, it was as if the voices were inside her, whispering before finally dying out. She froze, transfixed.

And then the water began to ripple. Softly at first, and then with more force, as if an earthquake were beginning. Little yellow birds burst out of the woods and flew off in one frantic flock. And then the earth began to shake.

It all happened so fast. The air seemed to waver and then a gray shape tore through the woods. It had no definite form, though it looked a bit like a jellyfish she had once seen in the sea. Her eye took in a translucent silver mass that pulsated and faded in and out. Or at least this was the best Theodosia could describe it. It happened so quickly that she barely saw it at all. And then, in a flash, it was gone.

The air continued to vibrate as if a note had been played on the piano and the strings within continued to quiver. Theodosia could feel the vibration in the very fibers of her muscles. She clutched her coat closely around her as she tried to decide what to do.

Then the wolves came. A pack of them, pure white with eyes of crystalline blue. They didn’t simply walk forward but came in from all angles in a weaving motion that suggested water. They surrounded her without aggression, their gaze curious and alert.

Theodosia closed her eyes for a moment. She thought that maybe if she just paused for a minutes, shut all of it out, she would wake up in her bed. The idea both terrified and relieved her. She had begun to wonder whether she was way in over her head. Whether this was not an adventure but something else entirely.

She opened her eyes. She was not in her bedroom. Instead, before her were two yellow-gold eyes. Human eyes. Staring right at her.

6

Blinking rapidly, Theodosia took in a tall man with shoulder-length, wavy, brown hair. He was muscular and tanned and about her age or a little older. He wore simple linen clothes and carried a bow and arrow.

Theodosia flinched and backed up. Who are you?

The muscles in his face tensed and then a stream of words came out, none of which she could understand. They sounded like a nursery rhyme all mixed up with a ballad. She stared at him, wondering if he had just said he was going to take her captive. Or maybe he was trying to get directions to the post office. It was impossible to know.

The man blinked and then put up his hands and slowly inched forward. She stood her ground and glowered at him fiercely.

I am Lady Theodosia and if you dare touch me, my father will have you hanging within the week, she shouted. She wasn’t proud of saying it, but she also didn’t want to be hauled off by some wild-looking stranger.

The tall man shrugged and let out another stream of singsong words. Theodosia looked uneasily at the wolves around her. They watched her with their unblinking, pure blue eyes, as if waiting for something to happen. She felt her heart slowing. What were they doing to her? Was she being willed into submission by some kind of spell?

She looked back at the man. He was much closer now, and about a half-foot taller than her. She stared up into his shocking golden eyes. Around each pupil was a fiery yellow sun. He looked her up and down with naked curiosity.

Theodosia was not a swooning kind of girl. Yet, as this man reached out to touch her, she felt herself transfixed by his unusual eyes, so devoid of the artifice and coldness she saw in the men of her acquaintance. He looked almost innocent — though maybe it was just part of his plan to lure her to her death.

Then his massive paw of a hand landed over her heart. She felt a surge of warmth and a vague tingling, just like when she had passed through the baobab, though to a lesser degree. Rooted in place, she put her hand over his without any forethought. The tingling reverberated up her fingers, making her gasp. His touch was so strangely intimate that she felt her cheeks begin to warm and her stomach turn.

Now that’s better, he said in a deep voice. I wasn’t sure if it would work.

It took a moment for Theodosia to realize that he was speaking her language.

You know English?

Is that what it is? He lowered his bow and arrow, though he continued to closely examine her face. If you say so. We touch in this way to communicate when words aren’t enough. Our energy does the talking. I guess in this case it’s acting as a translator. I’m Ahuiliztli, by the way.

She blinked, trying to grasp that he was now speaking perfect English, albeit with a honeyed lilt.

He laughed at her confusion. I’m afraid I can’t translate my name. You can call me Ahuil if that’s easier.

Er, I’m Lady Theodosia of Helenshire, she stuttered. Oh goodness, he probably didn’t know what a lady or Helenshire was. She tried again. You can call me Theo. Wait, why aren’t you afraid anymore? You were just acting like you wanted to kill me.

He smiled apologetically. Sorry about that. I wasn’t sure if you were real. There are lots of half-beings around now, just like the silverbeast you saw. They only partially exist in our world. He scanned the forest around them. "They haven’t hurt anybody yet, though I think