The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2)(112)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Harold.

My Pop.

“She’s okay?”

Oh God. Yes. My Pop!

I tried to open my eyes and turn toward his voice, a voice I never thought I’d hear again, but I just could not fight off the sleep.

“She is…” a hesitation, “fine.”

“Circe, darlin’, if you haven’t got that you can’t hold back with me…” Pop’s warning trailed off and I heard a sigh.

“I’m sorry, my beloved father, they are weak but my senses tell me she’s with child.”

I heard my father suck in a hard, rough breath.

Then I was out.

* * * * *

“Are you with me, my love?”

My eyes slowly opened and I saw my bed and then, beyond that, my bedroom.

In Seattle.

Holy crap!

I turned to my back and looked to the side of the bed. Sitting in one of my dining room table chairs was me.

Or… the other me.

“Circe?” I whispered and she smiled.

“Sit up, my twin,” she whispered back, moving off the chair bent toward me, she helped me pull myself up and arranged pillows behind me.

I stared at her in shock.

Totally me. The spitting image. Wearing my clothes but having had a haircut in the last few months.

She sat back down and scooted a bit forward, taking my hand.

“You know I am not you?” she enquired.

I nodded.

“You know who I am?” she continued.

I nodded again and she smiled.

“You worked out what happened,” she whispered.

I nodded yet again and she nodded back.

“How are you?” she asked.

Flipped out was how I was. Totally.

“Um…”

“Still tired?” she went on.

I nodded.

“Are you thirsty, hungry?”

I shook my head though I was. I was both.

“How…?” I started and she shook her head this time.

“I do not know. Though you clearly have powers, like me. That said, Harold tells me you never did and, indeed, he told me no one in this world does. But he is wrong; those holding power here are smarter than we at home. They keep it guarded, the most guarded secret. This is wise. Nevertheless, it is clear from your extreme exhaustion that you discovered how to spirit yourself out of that world to your home. I felt the same when I…” she hesitated, her face going soft yet cautious, “spirited myself.”

I knew it. She totally bailed.

Good for her. Way bad for me.

“We have been searching,” she continued, “to find a way to bring you home. My magic is depleted. I did not know, though had been warned, but it takes much power to move between worlds, vast amounts. I feel it growing inside me but it is feeble and it may take years, even decades, for it to replenish. But we have located a witch in this world who we thought could help. Before we could try, you returned.” She smiled a small smile. “This is good and has caused our father great relief.”

“Our father?” I whispered and she gave a small, wary shrug, still smiling.

“He has forgiven me for what I’ve done to you, especially since I have worked so hard to locate this witch at the same time trying to find ways to rebuild my own powers to bring you home. My father was murdered by my king when I was very young so that he could um… well…” She stopped then went on, “I have talked much with your father. I have explained things and we have grown close.” Her eyes grew warm. “He is a fine man and has a big heart. He says since my father looked exactly like him, but, of course, through memory, much younger, then he is really my father anyway, in a way.” She smiled again. “But I still call him Harold.”

I stared at her. Or, more to the point, at me.

Her smile faded and her eyes grew intense.

Then she whispered, “Now I must ask the same of you, if you could find it in your heart to give it to me.”

“The same what?” I whispered back.

“Forgiveness.”

I stared again and she leaned closer, squeezing my hand.

“I knew, I knew you existed,” she said softly, closed her eyes tight and opened them before she continued. “I knew what I would… what I was doing to you in an effort to protect myself but… but…” she pressed her lips together and released them before she said so quietly it was an effort to hear her, “I could bear no more.”

I knew it. I knew that. Shit, I knew it.

“Circe,” I whispered.

“For years,” she whispered back, “my king…” she shook her head, “then those pirates taking turns. Then those scouts apprehending me. I knew about Korwahk. I knew about the Hunt. I’m so sorry, my sweet twin,” her hand squeezed mine hard as tears filled her light brown eyes that looked, I noticed for the first time on her but never noticed on me, golden, “I could bear no more. I knew of the spell, I had heard of it and considered it often. But the only spell I knew was to change places, not to move between worlds on my own, but to switch me with you, and I couldn’t live with myself if I did that to the unknown you. But standing in that pen, having been prepared for the Hunt, I had no more strength to do the honorable thing and instead I did the selfish thing. So I changed places with you and I know why I did it. I know why. But learning of you, living your life, being with those you love, you must know I regret it.”

I squeezed her hand back. “Don’t.”

She blinked at me in surprise. “What?”

“I met Baldur,” her eyes widened and I nodded, continuing, “I heard about the pirates. I put it together and I know why you did it,” I said gently. “I get it. Boy…” I smiled as best I could at her, “do I know.”

She nodded and her eyes moved to my belly then back to me. “I know you do. Oh Circe, the horrors you must have endured because of me.”

“Don’t do that either.” I squeezed her hand again. “It’s over.”

She nodded. “That it is.”

Yep, that it was.

“What has been, has been,” I whispered, “and what will be…” I trailed off, my eyes filled with tears and unlike the other me, I could not hold them back.

“Oh, my twin,” she whispered, pulled me into her arms, sat on the bed at my hip and held me while I cried. My arms wrapping around her, I shoved my face in her neck and sobbed.

And I sobbed for my lost kingdom. For my lost Ghost. For my lost Diandra, Narinda, my girls and my posse. For my lost guard.