#Narnia 2023 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iminlovewithpercyjackson · 1 year ago

Text

THE PRINCE, THE GIRL, AND THE ASSASSIN

for the 2023 inklings challenge // part of the areotia duology

Elijah Anworth finds himself banished from his home kingdom. Instead of being sent to the far reaches of his world, though, he ends up on Earth. And as the prince of a nation at war, where he goes, trouble follows.

@inklings-challenge

read on my website

Everything was ordinary in New York, New York, and it was a perfectly ordinary night. The soft lights inside the buildings lit the windows up orange and yellow, and the glaring screens on the sides of those buildings cast more light everywhere, increased further by street lights that buzzed with electricity, and headlights from cars flying by too fast, and light from phones in the hands of every person out walking, and every kind of light in the world ― except for the moonlight or starlight that couldn't reach this bubble of artificial light ― all mixing together in one city to cast a glow nearly as bright as daytime over the city. Very few places were not splashed with light, in fact.

There was one unique corner on the outskirts of the city. It was far enough away from the center that most people didn't consider it New York City anymore, though it was indeed within the city limits. It was decidedly dark, a contrast to everywhere else.

It was a dark little alleyway, just a short pathway between buildings with a chain link fence at the back and a sidewalk at the front. There was light from the street stretching toward the alleyway, and in an ordinary place, it would have stretched just a bit into the alley. Curtains covered the windows that faced the alley, but a little light would have cast a glow into the alley in an ordinary place. Even on the sunniest of sunny days, shadows shrouded the little corner, keeping it dark and quiet and just eerie enough that everyone around avoided it, though they didn't know why they thought it so un-ordinary. But this, of course, was not an ordinary place, and it was hardly an ordinary day for one person, in particular.

And in that alleyway, for the first time in years, light appeared, and that alone made it extraordinary.

The light didn't come from the streetlights or headlights or building lights. Instead, it appeared from nowhere and from nothing, just a tiny pinprick of life hovering in the air in the middle of the alleyway. Then it crackled loudly, sparks flying from it and arcing in circles from it, creating tiny loops that sparked more light that created circles of their own. This all happened very quickly, hardly more than a blink of an eye, and the light expanded and grew until it was taller than even a very tall person, an ovular shape with a blue-ish tint to it, white lines of light crackling around the smooth perimeter of it, oscillating back and forth in wavering lines.

And from that oval of light suddenly appeared a young man. He was tall, with dark hair and dark eyes and a solemn expression. He was dressed in all black, but his clothes were unusual for New York, even for this city. He wore a tunic and trousers and boots, all the same shade of black, and a matching piece of leather armor over his chest, with a black belt hanging from his hips. Sometimes, most of the time, a sword hung from the belt, but just now, there was nothing, and his hand at his side was empty as well, his grasping fingers straining for that weapon that wasn't there.

Elijah Anworth stepped out of the portal, glanced around at the city, and swore.

Elijah didn't swear, as a rule. He was the prince of Areotia, and it was unseemly. His mother had drilled that lesson into him early on, and neither his teenage years nor the battlefield had broken him of the habit of biting them back. But sometimes, the situation warranted a curse, and this situation certainly did. Besides, his mother wasn't here to chastise him, and if she were, he would be yelling right back at her, for it was her who had put him here in the first place.

He knew where he was. He had studied the other worlds extensively just in case a predicament such as this arose, so he wasn't worried about that. What he was worried about, however, was getting home. Despite the arguments he had with his mother, the arguments that had landed him here, he was still a general in a war, and he had responsibilities. He wasn't deserting, of course, and even his mother wouldn't brand him with that disgraceful reputation. But he had a duty to the soldiers under his command, and he needed to get home for them. For Areotia.

There was only one thing to do, and that was to move. He didn't have anywhere to go, didn't know anyone in this city, but loitering around this alleyway wasn't doing him any good, and it wouldn't no matter how long he stayed here. He had to start moving. So he headed for the entrance of the alleyway.

Just as he turned the corner, something flew by his ear, struck the brick wall, and clattered to the ground.

Elijah ducked around the corner quickly, flattening himself against the wall. He glanced around, and the first thing he spotted was the object on the ground. A knife. Not a crudely fashioned one, either, but one with intricate carvings on the handle and markings etched into the blade. A knife from his world, then. His assailant stood at the back of the alley, clad similarly to Elijah in all black. However, he wore more armor, made of thinner leather than Elijah’s. That alone would have told him all he needed to know, but the hood that the man ― judging by his figure ― wore low over his face and the mask over his mouth and nose confirmed it. This was not an ordinary knife-throwing assailant. This was an assassin. He was from Keoterra, too, if Elijah remembered correctly the language he’d studied as a boy, because those markings on the knife blade were familiar.

Despite his rule against swearing, Elijah muttered another curse, this one a low whisper under his breath. Somehow Keoterra knew he was here already, which was disconcerting, to say the least. Elijah had barely even arrived, and his own people didn't know where he was. And even worse, they had tracked him well enough to have an assassin sent over.

Elijah’s mind whirled through possibilities, just as his training dictated. The first possibility was that this was coincidence, but he dismissed it instantly. The only other plausible possibility was that this man had been on him for a while, and he was taking advantage of Elijah’s vulnerability, however momentary Elijah intended that weakness to be.

Since he was weaponless, fighting off this assassin was hardly a smart choice. Running was generally thought of as a coward’s option, but Elijah was a general. He knew the benefits to a tactical retreat, and just now, that was his only option with enough benefits to be a convincing option. So instead of flinging himself around the corner at the assassin, he turned sharply on his heel and sprinted down the sidewalk.

He was rewarded for this strategic move with another knife whizzing past him. Really, he was lucky the assassin wasn’t Areotian. Anyone in the army or just in his mother’s employ learned to throw knives as part of basic training, and even the most timid maid among their servants could hit a target on either of the two center rings every time. Clearly, Keoterran training was subpar in comparison.

Elijah dashed down the sidewalks past all of the tall buildings, wishing there wasn't quite so much light so that he could hide easier. But thankfully, as he raced around another corner, the roads widened and the number of people grew. He slipped into the crowd, hoping to just blend in like another New Yorker. Assuming, of course, he was correct in his assumption that he was in New York.

Slowing his pace, Elijah ducked his head and set a course through the crowd that looked enough like meandering to fool most anyone. He wasn't sure how good a defense it would be against this assassin, though. He wasn't stupid enough to think he’d lost the man, and even if he had, he wasn't safe until he got off of the streets.

It was late, apparently, enough so that most of the doors at ground level sported bright signs that said “Closed.” Elijah didn't know much about this world, of course, but that was an easy enough signal to figure out. He ruled out each of those places as options, scanning the sides of the streets for anywhere he could go. There were loud, noisy, crowded places that he immediately clocked as bars, but those he crossed off of his mental list because bringing a knife-wielding assassin into a place full of drunks was not a good idea. He had had poor experiences with inebriated civilians before, and if his own safety was important at all, he would avoid that. And with weapons within reach? Forget it.

Finally, he spotted another alleyway, and though it was hardly a defensible position, if he hadn't been trailed to this exact position, he could hide there for a little while before relocating far away from this city. So, keeping his head down, he ducked into the alleyway, slipped behind a large metal container that smelled horrific, and he shut his mouth, waiting and watching.

Several long moments dragged by, and Elijah’s legs started to hurt from the position he’d put them in, and he longed to shift. But he was a soldier, and he wasn't safe yet, so he mentally chided his legs and stayed put. Then, almost imperceptibly over the noise of the crowds, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps.

Glancing behind the container, he had a good enough view of the owner of the feet making the sound but they couldn't see him. It was the assassin, and the man’s hood had fallen off when he’d given chase. Most people weren't as good at picking up the subtle differences between Areotians and Keoterrans, but Elijah knew what to look for. There was a small tilt to the eyes of Keoterrans, and Areotians’ were narrower. Areotians tended to have narrower noses, as well, and darker hair. He couldn't have been certain of the man’s nationality just going off of the blade markings ― it had been a long time since he’d studied their language ― but now he was sure of his guess.

“Anworth,” the man said. Elijah added the man’s accent to his list of proof of this man being from Keoterra. “You're a coward.”

Elijah kept quiet, fighting the urge to scoff. He did roll his eyes. This was a tactical retreat, not cowardice. He didn't have a sword; a one on one fight was hardly fair, and at any rate, attacking a man when his back was turned was generally considered cowardice, and that had been what the assassin had done upon arrival.

“And what is it that you are doing so far from home and from mother dearest? She must be so worried about her precious son.”

Elijah doubted it. She’d sent him here. Mostly unknowingly, but the sentiment applied, and so he felt her worry over him was rather up for debate.

“Son of the Blood Queen. Perhaps the tales of your mother are exaggerated, or perhaps you just don't live up to her legacy. Is that why you’ve run?”

He hadn't run, Elijah thought indignantly. No Areotian would ever have believed that of him, and, despite the fact that they were at war, he would have thought the Keoterrans respected him and his mother enough to know better than that. His own reputation certainly showed that, he thought.

“I will be the one to end your life, and you may die peaceless, knowing that I, a Keoterran, your enemy and a man of common blood, will own your lifeblood.”

Elijah lost sight of the assassin as he slipped into the alleyway, hardly making a sound now. Refraining from a third swear of the day, Elijah braced himself to jump. Fighting unarmed was hardly a fair match, but he was running out of options. At least he wouldn't be taken by surprise this time.

“There you are, princeling,” said the assassin, and he moved around the container, his hand loose on his knife.

If he moved quickly enough, Elijah could take it. He lunged forward, slamming into the assassin. The assassin pushed him off, slashing out with a knife as he knocked him back to the ground. The knife dragged deep across Elijah’s arm, tearing the shirt and drawing blood that stained his forearm. Elijah shouted in pain, wincing as he landed on that arm.

Then, the utterly unthinkable and completely baffling happened.

A girl stepped around the container, feet planted wide, and she lifted a small cylindrical object to the assassin’s face. He clearly hadn't seen her coming, just like Elijah hadn't, and both men stared at her. And then there was a slight hissing sound, and the man began to scream.

“Come on!” the girl said, shoving past the assassin and reaching for Elijah’s arm. She grabbed his uninjured hand, pulled him ― with a lot of assistance from Elijah, since he was a good foot taller than her ― to his feet, and yanked him around the corner at a brisk pace that turned into a run when they hit the sidewalk.

Utterly bewildered, Elijah let the girl pull him along. He kept his arm close to his body, but the quick pace still hurt it. Still, he had to get away. He could still hear the assassin’s screams echoing off of the alley walls. She led him down the sidewalks, slowing down as they got farther away until they were almost at a walk. Her hand was still firmly clasped around his.

Finally, she stopped moving beside a tall building that looked a little on the older side. There were a couple of crumbling pieces along the wall, and the bricks were weathered in various shades of dark reds and browns. A door was set in the middle of it, a plain white wooden thing that matched the trim around the windows on the floors above it. The girl grabbed the door handle, pulled it open, and pulled Elijah in behind her.

“There,” she said, letting the door swing shut behind them of its own accord, “now that man won't find you. I saw him following you, you know, for a really long time. I'm not so brave as to have followed him to help you, but our paths just crossed there, and I thought, you know, I might as well. Who knows what he would have done? He’s already hurt you. That looks deep.”

“He would have done his very best to kill me,” Elijah told her. “You may have saved my life. I am indebted to you.”

The girl blinked, a faint blush creeping over her cheeks. Elijah was trained to notice changes in people’s body language, and he was always thankful for that ability when conversing with women. This particular one, he noticed, was beautiful. The first thing he had noticed was that she was much smaller than him. This wasn't unusual, since Elijah was both tall and well-built, but he was fairly certain she was shorter than most. She had long hair that wasn't quite brown but wasn't quite blonde, either. Though he was sure their flight had messed it up, he was sure it wasn't quite curly and wasn't quite straight, either, but it was mostly held back from her face by a thin band of dark gray. Her skin was fairer than his, but she looked as if she spent time in the sun. Despite the dropping temperature outside, she wore a dark gray sleeveless shirt that matched her headband and her shoes. His favorite part of the outfit was a short, light blue skirt that hit a bit above her knees, not ordinary attire back in his world where women wore either trousers or floor length dresses. He brought his eyes back up and away from her skirt, but that only landed his gaze on her eyes. They were light, and like the rest of her, he couldn't quite fit them neatly into one description. The only word that he thought matched her was captivating. And she was. Quite.

“Ah, don't worry about it,” she told him, waving a hand dismissively. “I'm Natalie, by the way.”

“Elijah,” said Elijah.

“Can I help you bandage that up? It looks bad, and I don't like the idea of going back out there with that man lurking around, and it’s rather late, you know. Unless you have to be somewhere.” She watched him, and Elijah had the distinct feeling that he was being examined. Her eyes studied him, flitting over the rest of his body and face, taking him in, before lingering back on his eyes. It made him uncomfortable, but not in an entirely unwelcome way.

“You have medical supplies?” Elijah asked, stalling for time to shake off that feeling. He was a soldier, a general in the Blood Queen’s army, by the gods. He did not need to be this thrown off by a girl, even if she did have utterly bewitching eyes and even if she had single handedly fended off his assassin and saved his life.

“At my apartment, yes.” Natalie gestured to one of the doors. Elijah hadn't noticed, yet, too lost in her ― an extremely ridiculous thing, for a soldier to let his guard down like this ― to see that they were now in a short, square hallway with a staircase against the wall that traveled straight up, then turned over their heads to continue up and out of sight. There was one door next to the staircase, and another across from that. The third, the one that Natalie gestured to, was underneath the stairs. Her place.

“I wouldn't dream of imposing like that―” Elijah started to say, despite how much he wanted to accept her invitation, but Natalie cut him off.

“You wouldn't be imposing. And I offered. Come on,” she said, taking his arm again, looping her right arm through his left. With her left hand, she pulled out a ring of keys from a cross body purse, and she unlocked the door with a pink one and gently pulled him through.

Elijah followed. That was something he was unaccustomed to. As a prince, there had been very few people he was supposed to listen to at all, much less follow, and now as a general, he really only answered to his mother. But here was this girl with her assassin-fighting and her hand-holding and her gentle kindness, and he didn't know anything about her, but he found himself following her into her place all the same.

They entered into a tiny, dark hallway, but Natalie flipped a switch on the wall, and a light above them crackled to life. Natalie locked the door behind them and gestured down the hallway.

“Make yourself at home,” she said. “Let me grab my things.”

With that, Natalie headed down the hallway, and Elijah followed. The hallway opened up into two rooms, though it continued around a sharp corner, that section dark and unilluminated. Natalie made her way down that hallway. While she was gone, he peeked into one of the rooms and realized it was the kitchen. Above the sink, one small window was set in the wall opposite him, the dull view of the street behind her building made better by the flowers growing outside of it and the plants hanging in the corner by it. The cupboards around the room were painted a color that was almost white, and they matched the wooden countertops. The walls were painted a light blue, and there was a picture of the ocean and seagulls and waves on one of the walls. A cut out section of the wall across from the stove above the countertops provided a view of the second room.

That room was painted light green, and a darker shade of the same green colored the thick rug on the floor. There was another window in that room, on the same wall as the kitchen window, with more flower boxes outside. Her seating ― a couch and two chairs ― were almost white, like her cupboards and counters, and they were arranged around a light wooden table. A similar table was set across from them, opposite the window wall, with a black rectangular something set atop it. A bookshelf of the same wood as the tables sat in the corner opposite the window. Blankets and pillows in varying shades of pink and blue and purple were strewn about, mostly on the chairs and couch, though there were some on the floor as well. There were more paintings on the wall here, another sunset, a field of flowers, a couple of horses running in a plain, among others. Assorted knick-knacks filled the room, too, like small stacks of books or a journal next to a pile of pens. Empty cups littered the table in the middle of the room.

Before a few minutes ago, Elijah would have said his house was the best in the world. After all, he lived in a castle, when he wasn't on the battlefields, anyway. It was just him and his mother, cared for by a plethora of servants who cleaned up every empty cup. The walls were made of stone and covered in woven tapestries made long before Elijah was born. Their history was depicted in paintings of rulers set on the walls, a history he was proud of, not just because it was something to be proud of but because his mother had had to fight to earn her crown and her nickname and her throne. But now, those stone hallways seemed empty and plain. He’d only been in this building a few minutes, but he had the vague idea that the place where he lived was a house, and this was a home. It made him uncomfortable in the same way that everything about Natalie made him uncomfortable.

Natalie reappeared, carrying a white box, and nearly ran straight into Elijah. “Sorry!” she exclaimed. “I thought you’d… but never mind. Please, come sit.”

Elijah walked to the other room, Natalie trailing behind. He seated himself on one of the chairs. She knelt beside him, opening the box and drawing out bandages and rags and bottles of liquids. He couldn't quite see what she was doing, but then she reached out for his arm wordlessly. He flinched at her fingers on his skin, a soft, light, cold touch, and she whispered an apology, starting to bandage him up.

“So,” she said, and Elijah glanced up at her. “How did you end up there? I mean, I know this city has a bit of a reputation, but I’ve been here for nearly five years, and I’ve never been mugged. I assume that was what that was, anyway. What was he trying to steal off of you? And why did you go down the alleyway in the first place? You're very lucky I saw you at all. I would have stayed in the crowd, I think, especially if I’d seen him following me. And I know you did. I saw you checking.”

Elijah stared at her. “He was not trying to steal from me. He was trying to kill me. I was attempting to hide from him or at least take him by surprise and take his knife.”

Natalie frowned. “Trying to kill you? You ought to report that! Do you know who it was?”

“Some assassin,” Elijah said, waving his hand dismissively. “I expect he has been following me for some time. He is fortunate to have gotten so close. He would never have stood a chance in my home, and he is especially fortunate I did not have my sword. He would not be here any longer.”

Natalie blinked, and Elijah sensed he’d said something wrong. “Sorry,” she said, “but what on earth do you mean? You would've killed him? You have a sword?”

“I suppose swords are not common here, then?”

“Where in the world are you from?!” Natalie asked, a slight laugh escaping her, but Elijah suspected it was less amused and more terrified.

He opted for a safer route than explaining magic to a girl in a very magic-less world, saying, “I do not think you would believe me if I told you.”

“Try me, please.”

Elijah frowned. “You will think me insane. I do not wish to trouble you further. I will take my leave―”

“Oh, no,” Natalie said. “You have to explain yourself now. I mean, clearly you're not from here, and I really need to know why you have a sword. And why you would have killed him!”

“Is it not a custom in your world to defend oneself when attacked?” Elijah asked. He instantly berated himself, not meaning to have let on that he wasn't from her world.

Natalie didn't seem to have caught on, just reluctantly admitting, “Well, yes, I suppose that’s alright. But to kill him?”

“He would have killed me.”

“Alright,” she said, and then, to his dismay, she exclaimed, “Wait, my world?!”

Elijah sighed. “Natalie, you will not believe my tale if I tell it.”

“Try me,” she repeated. She finished her work and set the box down on the table, settling into the couch. Elijah surveyed the bandage and decided it was a good job, better than some of his quick fixes on the battlefield.

“Very well,” Elijah said. “There are other worlds, Natalie, other worlds like your own but different. In the world I come from, magic is a common thing. It vanished from this world many hundreds of years ago, but it used to be here as well. In my world, we used magic for many things, but most especially portals. That is the most common use of magic. They provide a quick source of transportation between countries. You may open them from anywhere, but they go to only one place in a country to regulate the passage of travelers. That is how my would-be assassin caught up with me. I exited a portal into your world, and he was very close behind me.”

Natalie gaped at him.

Elijah continued. “My mother banished me from my kingdom. In her wrath, she underestimated the strength of her magic, and instead of sending me elsewhere in our world, she sent me here. That is how I have come here. The assassin is from another kingdom we are at war with. Keoterra, it is called. I am from Areotia.”

“You're right,” Natalie said, staring at him with a completely inscrutable expression on her face. “I don't believe you at all.”

“Would you believe me if I proved it to you?”

“Prove it?” Natalie asked, halfway through scoffing, but then she stopped and just stared at him again. Or, more accurately, stared at the glowing flames flickering in Elijah’s hand. They were small and weak, as he wasn't much of a mage, but they were there.

“You weren't lying,” she said in a very quiet voice.

“No, I was not,” Elijah said pleasantly. “As you can see for yourself.” With a flick of his wrist, the flames vanished.

“You…” she paused, clearly collecting herself. Elijah refrained from saying anything that might cause her embarrassment. After all, he knew this was a bit of a shock. It was why he hadn't said anything to start with. “Your mother sent you here?”

“She did not mean to, I know,” Elijah said. “She can be a bit harsh at times, but she would not send me here meaningfully.”

“But she sent you away.”

“Yes, well, I did say she can be harsh.”

“But that's awful!” Natalie exclaimed.

“Ah,” Elijah said. “It is just how my mother is.”

Natalie shook her head, but she didn't say anything more, for which Elijah was grateful. It was hard to explain his mother even to people who understood where she was coming from. Natalie knew nothing of his world and the tumult that his mother had been put through at a young age. So Natalie could not hope to understand, and he really had no wish to explain. At best, were he to explain, she would understand enough to drop it. At worst, she would pity him and his mother, and he had no desire to have that particular feeling exerted on him. Especially not by her.

“How do you get home?”

This, he could answer. “I must construct a portal. They can be created anywhere, as I said, but they must have a solid base in order to draw magic into it. There are five magical gems that I must find, and they must be set in a circle. Once I have that, it is a simple matter of pulling on the magic in the gems to create the portal and send myself home. That is easy. Getting to the gems will be more difficult. It will take a very long time to walk across your country, as I have no horse or the fast metal vehicles your people ride in.”

“Cars.”

“What?” Elijah asked, frowning.

“They're called cars,” she told him. “That's how we get places. Mostly. There’s other ways, too. Where do you need to go?”

Elijah waved his hand, and a map of the world appeared in front of him, soft yellow lights forming outlines of countries and landmasses. Natalie gasped, and she set her mug down on the table. With two fingers, Elijah moved the map until he found his location, and he pointed to a place not far from it. “There is one here, and one just north of it. Those are not far. However,” he said, moving to the northern middle of her country, “there is another here.” He moved south and west. “Here.” He moved back north and farther west. “The last is here.”

“But that's almost completely across the country!” Natalie said. “How are you going to get there?”

“I will walk,” Elijah told her. “It will not be an enjoyable trip, but I will manage.”

“Do you have money?” Natalie asked.

“No, of course not,” Elijah said. “Not your currency, at least. I have a few coins from my world, but they will hardly do me any good here.”

“No, they won't,” Natalie agreed. “I can't drive you across the country,” she said, frowning again. This, Elijah noticed quickly, was a sorrowful sort of frown. She felt bad. “I have to work. I would if I could, but you know rent in New York― Well, actually, I suppose you don't―”

“Do not trouble yourself on my behalf, Natalie. I will be perfectly fine on my own. I have made journeys of this sort before,” Elijah told her. “If I might ask, however, do you know of any place where I might find employment for a short time? I must buy some supplies before I set off, and as you have mentioned, I have no money for those things.”

“Oh,” Natalie said, waving her hand, “no, let me take care of that.”

“I insist―”

“I've got it, really―”

“Allow me―”

“Elijah.” Natalie’s tone was firm, and he froze. “No one will hire you because you don't have the correct paperwork, and I don't know how to get it for you without a million other issues. Plus, you’re hurt. Let me take care of it.”

“As you wish,” he conceded.

“And you'll stay here, of course―”

“I could not possibly―”

“I don't know where else you would go―”

“It would be a horrible imposition―”

“Elijah.” He froze again. “I'm offering.”

“As you wish,” he said.

“Right,” Natalie said. “Now, that’s settled. Do you mind awfully sleeping on the couch? I don't have another room to put you in. And with your arm…” To his horror, she looked apologetic again.

“The couch is perfectly fine. I have slept on far worse grounds on the battlefields in my own world, you know.”

Nodding, Natalie stood abruptly and then she vanished back into the dark hallway where he now assumed her bedroom was. She returned shortly afterwards with a stack of deep blue fabric in her arms. She unfolded the fabric, revealing it to be a set of sheets, and she tucked them onto the couch. She vanished to her bedroom again, then returned with a pillow, which she shrouded in the blue fabric and set on the couch.

“There,” she said. “I don't suppose you’ve got any other clothes. You may not stand out much here, but you will in other states.”

“I am afraid all I have is what is on me.”

“We’ll have to get you some clothes, then,” she said decisively. She found a piece of paper and a writing utensil that, when he asked, she told him was a pen. She scrawled a few quick words ― “clothes” and “food” ― then passed it to him. “Write down anything you need me to get for you,” she told him. “If we can't get it all this weekend, it might take a bit for me to get it all because I really do have to work still, but I’ll get it.”

“You really are too kind,” Elijah said, but he took the pen and wrote that he needed a knife, flint, a container for water, and a bedroll. But only if that was not too inconvenient, he told Natalie. It wasn't that important to him. Natalie just shook her head at him vaguely.

They exchanged few other words that night. Natalie looked exhausted and confused, and Elijah was a bit tired himself. So he bade her goodnight, slipped off his boots, and promptly fell asleep on the couch in her extremely cozy little home.

When the sun rose the next morning, the light woke Elijah up. He remained on the couch, not wanting to wander and poke around Natalie’s home. That was rude, he thought. But after a long while of laying on the couch and waiting for Natalie to emerge, he pulled himself up and dragged himself into the kitchen. He didn't know where she kept her food, and he still thought it would be rude to look around. So he just sat down at her little tiny table, a square-ish wooden piece with two matching chairs at either end, dark blue cushions atop them. As he sat there, he looked out the kitchen window, watching the people outside walk by on the street. There was a clock built into her stove, and the minutes ticked by.

After more than half an hour of sitting there people watching, Elijah got back up and moved back into the living room. He found himself in front of the bookshelf, and curious, he scanned the volumes displayed there. Not to his surprise, he didn't recognize a single one. He selected one at random and retreated to the couch, flipping it open.

“‘Once,’” he read aloud, in hushed tones, “‘there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy.”’

Elijah promptly read the next sentence, and the next. He made it to the very end of the second chapter before he was interrupted.

“What are you reading?”

Natalie’s voice, quiet from sleep, broke his concentration, and he looked up at her. She had changed clothes, he noticed, into loose, light purple pants that fell in puddles around her feet, and a darker purple sleeveless top tucked into the pants. Cursing himself again, Elijah stopped staring at her and answered her question.

“The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,” he said. “I am finding it quite interesting. There appears to be portal magic on this wardrobe, but it is different from the kind I am accustomed to. Do you have this magic in your world, then?”

“No,” Natalie told him, “that’s all made up. But I suppose it’s a little bit true. Portals between worlds, I mean. I guess you’ve never read Narnia. They must not have it in your world.”

“I have never read any of the books on your shelf.”

“You're missing out. There’s some really good books up there. Well, finish that one. If you like it, there’s more to the series that you could read, and I have about a hundred more suggestions for you while you’re here,” she told him brightly. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Elijah said.

She headed into the kitchen, and Elijah followed, seating himself at the table again and continuing the book. It was all very fascinating stuff. This world sounded like no other he had ever heard of, but then Natalie had said it was all imagined.

Natalie set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, along with a muffin, and he thanked her, partaking quickly. She grinned at him, then pulled a thin rectangular box from her pocket and sat down across from him. The box lit up when she tapped it, and soon, she was moving words up the screen with her finger, reading them quickly.

“What is that?” Elijah asked.

Natalie startled, and Elijah quickly offered an apology that she waved off. “This is my phone. You can do all sorts of things on it, like talk to someone across the country or read a book, which is what I'm doing just now.”

“You can talk to someone across the country?” Elijah asked. “Does it have portal magic?”

“No,” Natalie said, and she laughed. It was a loud, uncontrolled sound that perfectly fit what he’d seen of her personality but wouldn't have matched her at first glance. Her laugh, like the rest of her, was captivating. He was being drawn in, he could feel it. That was not good. He had to get home, not sit here talking absently with a beautiful girl.

“It’s technology. I couldn't explain it to you. I don't really understand all the science-y stuff. But if you think that’s cool…”

Natalie trailed off, grinning wildly. She motioned for him to follow her back to the living room where she picked up a different rectangular box. This one had many buttons on it, and when she pressed it, the black box on the table lit up, and images began to play across it. She explained that this was a “teevee,” and when he finished reading the book, they could watch it here. When he asked, she confirmed that it was like a play, only you could watch it anywhere, anytime, as long as you had one of these “teevees” or her phone. Or, as he learned, her “lap top.” That was very similar to her “teevee” except that it was smaller and folded, with letter buttons on the side without images. If you pressed the letters, she showed him, they would appear on the image side, which she told him was a screen.

The rest of the day passed, and Elijah hardly noticed. She rebandaged his arm, noticing that blood had started to seep through the thick material. He finished his book, and she played the “movee” on the “teevee” ― why did all of these words end like that? ― and he enjoyed it immensely. The lion was his favorite part. He complained about most of the children being too young to fight, and Natalie laughed at him.

She made him a midday meal when he was mostly through his book, and another at suppertime after they watched the “movee.” She showed him her stove and oven, as well as a tall container called a fridge that kept things cold.

After that meal, they sat back in her living room with books ― him with the next book in the series he’d started ― and read for hours. There were books in his own world, of course, and he had read many, but none were as intriguing as these here. This world was fascinating in its entirety. They did not have magic, but they made up for it with their technology, and, as Natalie explained to him, things were always getting better. There was always a better phone or oven or car, and sometimes, she said it got tiring, always feeling like she had to keep up with the best things. But it was awfully convenient, she told him, having the world at her fingertips.

The next morning, Natalie showed Elijah in slow, careful detail exactly how to make coffee in her machine. He was fairly certain he would forget half of what she’d shown him, but in time, he was confident he would be able to manage. Assuming he was here that long, of course. He did really need to start his journey.

She rebandaged his arm again, too. Elijah was starting to get used to the feeling of her gentle hands working swiftly to wrap bandages around him, her touch light and not at all unwelcome.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked, lacing up a pair of black boots over a pair of black trousers, with a loose, light green top ― this time, it was long sleeved ― to complete her outfit. It was unfair, really, Elijah thought, how good she looked in anything.

“Go?”

“Shopping!” she said brightly. “We have to start getting your things!”

And so they headed back out of her place, her arm looped through his. Elijah almost hated how much he loved having her arm through his. But he didn't hate that quite enough to move, so he just walked down the sidewalks with her, arm-in-arm, listening to her chatter and watching with faint amusement.

She tugged him into a store, and he restrained his gaping at the expanse of items everywhere. Some things he recognized, and others he didn't, but if he asked a question about something, Natalie answered promptly, with a smile, and with a perfectly worded answer.

They found him a water container first. Natalie had suggested something made of a thin, weak material that he instantly refused. Laughing at him, her next choice was a metal bottle that he liked much more.

Clothes were next, and Natalie and a worker at the store guessed his size, picked out a couple of shirts, loose pants that Natalie called “sweatpants,” and stiffer pants she called “jeans,” like the ones she wore today.

“Why does this shirt have only half sleeves?” Elijah asked, emerging from the dressing room, glancing at his exposed arms. “This offers little protection against wind and cold temperatures.”

Natalie laughed, tossing another item of clothing at him. “Have a hoodie. Then you can keep warm in it, but you can take it off if you get hot. Layers!”

Elijah frowned. “I wear layers in my world, but they offer more protection than this. And this shirt is made of such flimsy material! Are all of your clothes like this?”

“‘Fraid so,” Natalie told him, laughing.

She told him that there was nowhere to purchase armor, so he would have to settle for what he already had. That was alright. He wasn't hoping to need it, but he did miss his sword, and there was no way to replace it. Securing a knife that suited him was hard enough, but they found one, and he sheathed it at his hip.

“Where do you keep weapons?” he asked.

Natalie raised an eyebrow. “I don't really have weapons. No sword, no knife. I don't carry a gun. My dad has one, though. He keeps it on him most of the time. Most people don't have weapons here.”

“No weapons at all?” Elijah asked, baffled. “How do you stay safe?”

“Well, I’ve got pepper spray on my keychain, and I keep that in my purse.”

“Pepper is a weapon here?”

“That's what I sprayed your assassin with. If you get it in the eyes, it’s extremely painful, you know,” Natalie told him. “Even inhaling a little bit of it is uncomfortable for a really long time.”

“That is most useful,” Elijah said. “Have you used it before the assassin?”

“Just once when some guy tried to follow me home. It was so creepy. But that’s why I have it in the first place,” she told him. “Fend off creepy guys.”

Elijah frowned. “He followed you home?”

Natalie shrugged. “It happens. Unfortunately. Creeps. Not with you around, though. Guys don't tend to pick on girls when they’re with guys. Which is a whole other problem, but, well, you know.”

Elijah did not, in fact, know, but he dropped the matter, disturbed by the nonchalance in her tone as she told him all of this. In his home, men and women alike were treated with respect. Only the worst sort of creature would ever prey on a woman like that. He would have liked to see someone try that with his mother. She had not earned the nickname “Blood Queen” by showing mercy to those who stood against her.

They found him a bedroll, or, as Natalie called it, a sleeping bag. He thought this an apt description, too. It was rather bag-like, and it was for sleeping. Natalie struggled with finding flint, but eventually she gave up and bought him a lighter. Elijah liked that more, anyway.

Food was easy for Natalie to get, she told him, but since she didn't know when he was leaving yet, she would wait until closer to his departure to get those things, and so they headed back to her home.

Back in her home, Natalie made them both a noontime meal. Elijah packed his things into a bag made of canvas that she had given him, and he set the bag and his bedroll in the living room by the couch. Natalie put music on through her “teevee,” and they ate their meal on the couch, both buried in books. Elijah was still reading the series he had started, and Natalie read on her phone, and they read in silence for a couple of hours.

“I have finished!” Elijah exclaimed triumphantly, setting down the book. “That,” he told her, “was marvelous. Is there a ‘movee’ for this one, as well?”

“There is,” Natalie said, smiling, and she pressed a few buttons, pulling it up. “You want to watch it?”

“If that is amenable to you, I would like that.”

Natalie laughed. “It’s fine with me. I love this movie.” Then she frowned. “I have to go to work tomorrow. Will you be okay here on your own? I can't exactly bring you with me.”

“I will certainly be alright alone,” Elijah said with mocking indignation. “I am a prince of my own realm; I can manage some hours on my own.”

“You're a prince?” Natalie asked, leaning forward, eyes shining.

Elijah shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yes. My mother is queen.”

“So you'll be the king one day?”

“Gods above, I pray that day does not come for years and years yet. I can certainly wait to claim my birthright,” he said. “I do not wish to rule, though I will, of course.”

Natalie hummed in response. “Tell me about your home,” she said after a long pause.

“What do you wish to know?”

“You've mentioned your mom a couple of times. What’s she like? What about your father? Do you have siblings?”

Elijah winced. His family was a hard subject to talk about. He never shared details with anyone, though, of course, most people in his kingdom knew enough to know not to ask. Still, he found himself speaking easily to her. “My father left us some time ago. He and my mother disagreed on some of her ideas concerning the fate of our nation, and they could not reconcile. I have not seen him in over a decade.”

“I'm sorry,” Natalie said softly.

Elijah shrugged. “I can hardly blame him. I share his views, and arguing over them is what led to my banishment. I have also left my mother, I suppose.” That thought bothered him. He was his mother’s only remaining family. He ought to have stuck by her. He should have sided with her. And after all, she was his queen. It was not his place to fight with her, and he was not a young boy anymore, baiting people and arguing just to have an argument.

Natalie didn't say anything, not a judgment or brushing off his words. She just watched him, waiting for him to continue.

“I have no siblings, and my only other relative I knew was my uncle. However, he, too, passed a few years ago. He was killed in battle. My country has been warring for many years, since my mother was young.” Elijah fell quiet. What could he even tell her?

“I’d like to hear about it, if you don't mind telling me.” Natalie’s voice was quiet, less energetic than normal.

So Elijah told her.

“Many years ago, a band of rebels broke into the castle in my homeland. They came quietly, and they went unnoticed as they made their way through. They entered the king and queen’s chambers. The king woke and attacked the intruders to protect his wife and infant child, but he was cut down. So his wife took up his sword to defend her child. She cut down one of the rebels. The other got past her and attacked her child. She managed to kill him, but she was too late to save her child, and he was killed.

He glanced up at Natalie. Her mouth was open, and her eyes were wide, staring at him with a horrified expression and sorrow in her eyes.

“I shall stop, if you like. I know this tale is not a pleasant one―”

“No. Tell me, please,” Natalie said. “I really do want to hear it.”

With a sigh, Elijah continued. “My mother was a princess, the third child in her family, and she was only nine when this happened. That night, her mother woke her, cradling the dead baby, both of them covered in blood. The queen ordered my mother to find her younger brother and run to safety. Then the queen left to find her elder two children and warn them, too.

“My mother found her brother, and they fled the castle easily. Young children are often overlooked, and by this time, the castle was in chaos, so it was easy for them to get out. Some sections of the castle were on fire, and blood ran through the corridors. But they made it out. They hid just outside the gates, waiting for their parents and siblings to join them.

“When morning came, their family still had not come out of the castle. They went into the city, blending in with the rest of the occupants. News of the night’s massacre made its way into the city, and they learned of their father’s death. They also learned that the queen had found her elder children after leaving my mother, but she was killed shortly afterwards, defending them to the last. Then her son, the crown prince, was struck down, and then her daughter. No one knew what had happened to my mother and her brother in all of the chaos, but it hardly mattered. They were the third and fourth children, and even if my mother was now the crown princess, she was nine. She was not a threat. The rebels had control of the castle, but as it turned out, they were not really rebels. They were actually in league with a neighboring kingdom, and their king took control of my kingdom.

“My mother and her brother made their way to the very outskirts of the kingdom, and for seven years, they lived in exile. When my mother was sixteen, she returned to the castle with a following of people who wanted the old bloodline back on the throne. More joined along the way, and she took back the castle. The corridors ran red with blood again. She killed the usurper king and his family, took control of the kingdom, and was crowned queen of Areotia.

“Two years later, she married my father, the general of her army. Two more years later, she had me. Five years following that, a kingdom who had allied with the king who killed my mother’s family declared war on Areotia. My mother and father conquered them swiftly.

“My people call her the Blood Queen. She is not known for her mercy.

“However, my mother believed that she could not guarantee peace for her family and her people while these other nations lived around her. My father disapproved, but she went to war again.

“When I was ten, only two other kingdoms remained on our continent. My father left us, and my mother triumphed over one. The other is Keoterra. We have been at war with them for many years. It is in this war that my mother’s brother perished, and it is in this war that I learned to fight, that I became a soldier. Now I lead my mother’s army like my father did.

“The assassin sent after me is from Keoterra. If I were to die, it would be a sharp blow to my nation, both because I am general and because I am crown prince.

“I disapprove of my mother’s warmongering, and we argued over that on the day she banished me. That is how I have come to be here, with you.”

“That,” Natalie began to say, “is―”

But Elijah never got to find out exactly what she thought it was because something banged loud against her door, and then it burst open with a crash.

Elijah jumped to his feet, grabbed the knife out of his bag, and unsheathed it, pushing Natalie behind him. She ducked around him, skittering into the kitchen and ducking below the counter, out of sight.

“Anworth!” The assassin moved into the room, his gait slowed to a lazy stride. He held a knife, too, flipping it between his fingers. That was a useless skill, really, as it wasn't an effective weapon by any means, but it served as an intimidation tactic with less accomplished swordsmen. It demonstrated that the user knew exactly what they were doing and how to control their knife, a power that could be turned on an opponent.

“I see you needed this woman to save you and now you cower in her home.” He turned his beady eyes on Elijah. “Face me and die.”

Ignoring the taunts, Elijah lunged forward, straight into the man. He meant to push him into the wall, but the assassin was quick, and he stepped aside just enough that both were off balance. Elijah’s second attempt took them both down in a twist of limbs. Elijah landed a solid blow to the man’s ribs, but he only retaliated with a jab to Elijah’s jaw that knocked him back.

Wincing, Elijah slashed out with his knife, and the assassin caught his blade with his own. One never used knives like a sword, so instead of trading rounds, Elijah just twisted away, slashing at the man’s ankles. The assassin kicked Elijah off, then leapt to his feet.

Hurriedly, Elijah copied that, not wanting the disadvantage of being on the ground. And then the assassin was on him again, tackling him back onto the table. Elijah felt the wood digging into his back, solid and unyielding and painful. He twisted again, elbowing the man right in the face, and the spurt of blood from his nose gave Elijah the grim satisfaction of knowing he had broken it.

His next strike with his knife landed, deep across the man’s chest, eliciting another spray of blood that he knew would stain the rug and table.

“I would prefer you not get blood on her things,” Elijah told the man with as much seriousness as he could muster. He had no idea where Natalie was hiding, but she was safe for now. All that mattered was getting this man out, and then he could take Natalie somewhere else where they wouldn't be followed.

He should have known better.

Natalie rounded the corner, light on her toes, carrying a metal pan and the same cylindrical object she had used on the assassin the first time. Pepper spray, she had called it. She crept close, quiet, and Elijah threw a taunting remark at the assassin to distract him, but he had noticed Elijah’s eyes wander, if only briefly, past him.

He whirled around. “Not this time, woman!” The assassin reached out and grabbed Natalie’s wrist, twisting it. She cried out in pain, dropping the spray and loosening her grip on the pan.

And while the assassin was distracted, Elijah slammed the butt of his knife into the assassin’s head, and the man crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Come!” Elijah called out. He grabbed his bag of supplies, leaving the bedroll, and he grabbed Natalie’s hand, tugging her toward the door. Dazedly, she let her be pulled along, but when they reached the door, she stopped.

“Wait!”

She turned around and pulled free, racing back into her home. Elijah watched her run back to the unconscious assassin and retrieve her pepper spray. She tucked it into a pocket, then slipped into the kitchen and came back carrying a backpack and wielding a ― thankfully ― covered knife.

“Are you capable of using that?”

“Oh, come on already,” Natalie said, rolling her eyes and reaching for his hand.

She led him down the streets, down a staircase into an underground tunnel. Then she swiped a small card across a machine that beeped and flashed a bright green color. There were hundreds of people crowded, even so late at night, into the tunnel that curved overhead. Loud music played further down, and chatter filled the space.

“Where are we?” Elijah stared around. He hadn't seen this many people since arriving, and he’d been too busy fleeing the assassin to notice. They were all dressed extremely differently, and he could hardly find any similarity between a person and the one beside them. Rats, larger ones than he’d ever seen before, scurried along the ground along tracks set lower than the walkway, and he grimaced. It was all rather disgusting.

“We’re taking the subway,” Natalie replied in a harsh tone, eyes watching a screen with numbers and letters that he couldn't interpret. “And hopefully, the assassin doesn't follow us this time because I really don't want to get blood on my knife. It’s a good knife.”

Despite himself, Elijah laughed.

And to his surprise, Natalie did, too.

The subway was unlike anything Elijah had ever seen before. It was a giant, long tube machine that screeched and shrieked as it stopped on the tracks in front of them. Doors opened, and people poured out from it. Natalie linked arms with him, and Elijah was especially grateful, sure he would have gotten lost in the chaos of the crowd. She pulled him inside the subway and led him to a metal pole that stretched from the floor to the ceiling.

“Hang on,” she advised him, and Elijah grabbed ahold.

“Anworth!”

Both Elijah and Natalie whirled around, staring at the doors. The assassin was back, the side of his head matted with drying blood. He raced toward them, and Natalie whispered under her breath, pressing close to Elijah, “Come on, come on, come on.” They were stuck in the middle of the crowded subway, and though Elijah could have forced his way through, there was really nowhere to go. But just then, a soft bell dinged in the subway, and the doors slid shut just before the assassin reached them.

Natalie let out a visible sigh of relief, and Elijah glanced at her. Her face was pale, and she looked terrified. But her eyes were steely, and he knew she would not appreciate his concern. Nor did he have time to express it because the subway jerked and began to move. Elijah nearly went flying. He gripped the pole tighter.

Grinning at him, some of the tension dissolving from her stiff shoulders, Natalie teased, “I told you to hang on.”

“I will listen better next time,” Elijah told her, grinning back.

The subway rattled along the tunnel. Nothing was visible through the windows for several minutes until the machine began to slow. They slowed to a complete stop at a spot that looked almost exactly like the place where they had boarded the subway. With a creak and a hiss, the doors slid open, and people pushed past each other, elbowing their way on or off.

“Not yet,” Natalie said, reaching for Elijah’s arm. “This isn't our stop.”

He nodded and grabbed the pole again. The subway rattled off again, and by the time they reached the next stop, he had gotten the hang of how tightly to hold on and how to balance. That wasn't their stop, either, so Elijah let go with one hand, testing himself as they continued down the tunnel.

A big, burly man near them jostled into Natalie, knocking her off balance. Elijah caught her, steadying her with a hand at her waist. He glared at the man, who just rolled his eyes at them. Scoffing, Elijah glanced down at Natalie. She smiled at him, shaking her head.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” she replied, smiling a secretive smile. “Nothing at all.”

When they exited the subway, Natalie took his hand and pulled him close, and they headed up the stairs, down the sidewalks, and arrived in front of a tall building. Reaching into her pocket, Natalie found her keys, and she unlocked the door quickly, tugging Elijah inside.

“I don't think your assassin should be able to find us here,” she said. “But how did he even find us at my apartment? It’s not like he could see when we escaped him the first time.”

“I do not know, and that troubles me,” Elijah admitted. “We should not stay here long. I will depart on my journey in the morning. Hopefully, the assassin follows me and leaves your city. If he does not…” Elijah paused. He didn't want to leave Natalie here alone, defenseless. No, that wasn't true. She wasn't defenseless by any means. He had seen that she could hold her own. He just didn't want to leave her. But she had to stay here, in her city, in her home.

“Well, you ought not return to your place for a while. Not until you know it is safe to do so. Stay with a friend.”

“But what if he does follow you?” Natalie asked. “You’ve got to sleep while you travel. What if he finds you then?”

“I will be just fine. Remember, I am a soldier.”

“Yes, and he’s an assassin. Your job is fighting. His is killing.”

Elijah smiled. “Do not worry about me.” Before she could say anything else, he asked, “Where is it that you have brought us?”

“Oh, this is the library,” Natalie said, waving her hand. “I work here. I didn't know where else to go.”

With that knowledge, Elijah turned and scanned the first floor as she headed for the stairs to the second. There was a library in his castle, a beautiful, grand room of archways and tall windows and chandeliers and shelves of books stretching up so high that one needed a ladder to reach. This library was nowhere near so beautiful. The lights were off, but he suspected it would have been dim anyway. Carpet of a brown color covered the entire floor, and the shelves were arranged in rows with neat stacks of books arranged on them. Several sets of chairs, made of dingy blue fabric, and tables, made of dull brown wood, sat in groups throughout the wide room. The second floor was much the same, except the chairs were a dark orange fabric instead. Natalie flipped on the lights, and they flickered for a second, buzzing with electricity, before coming on, a harsh white color. Though Elijah could easily picture Natalie working in a library, what with her own bookshelves at home and her infectious joy at sharing those stories, this was hardly the place he would have imagined her in.

She dropped her purse onto a tall desk that matched the tables, and she sank into the chair behind it, a thin black thing that spun when she landed in it. Thoroughly vested of possessions and exertions, Natalie let out a loud sigh.

“We’re going to die.”

Elijah whipped around to stare at her, frozen in the process of setting his own bag down on her desk. “What? No, we are not going to die, Natalie!”

“Yeah, we are,” she told him. “He’s going to kill you when you leave me because you’ll be all alone, but he’s going to kill me before he follows you because I’m an easy target and he can use that to mess with your head before he kills you. It’d be easy, you know. I see it in movies all the time.” She lowered her voice dramatically. “‘Before I came after you, I followed your friend.’ ‘No! It’s not true!’ ‘Do you want to hear of how she begged for mercy in her last moments? Not for herself. No, she begged for me to spare you. I told her how I would come after you, and your life would end at my hands, just as hers would. And she begged and begged, but she is still lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood, lifeless, just as you will in moments. Take comfort in that, in knowing that you could do nothing to stop me and in knowing that you will join her momentarily.’”

Elijah stared at Natalie.

She stared back, her head hanging over the back of her chair so that she was halfway upside down as she spun slowly in circles.

“You have a terrible mind,” he said at last.

“Thank you. I try.”

“We are not going to die.”

“That’s how these stories go. I’ll die, at least. The tragic heroine, felled by a cruel fate.” Natalie pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in a theatrical flourish. “You’ll play the part of the dutiful prince, trying desperately to return to his homeland and his people and his family.”

“That much, you have correct, at least,” Elijah said, crossing his arms and watching her spin and speak with amusement.

“The hand of destiny moves you,” she told him. “Whether you shall reach the end of your journey or not, I cannot say. Perhaps fate shall catch up with you, as well, and you shall meet the same fate as I. Perhaps you shall make it home to all you ever wanted, only to be haunted by the knowledge that you have abandoned a friend in her world, never knowing what became of the assassin who followed her, never knowing if she lives or lies dead and cold.”

“You are cruel.”

Natalie cackled. “Well, it’s partially true, isn't it? I mean, I’d hope we won't die, but I’ll never know if you make it home. I have no way of knowing. And you have no way to know if he came after me.”

Elijah was quiet. It was true, and he didn't like that. He already hadn't wanted to leave her, and now he was even more loath to leave, knowing what could happen. “I could return after I collect the portal gems, just to be sure you are alright.”

“You cannot walk across the entire country a second time just to check on me. You have to go home.” Natalie paused. “Don't you?”

“I do. I must,” Elijah said. “I am needed. I have duties there.” He watched her, studying her expression, but it was completely inscrutable.

“I'm needed here, too. I have responsibilities. A job. Fr― Well, no, I don't have friends. Or much in the way of family. Or much in the way of a life, really,” Natalie added. She kicked the desk, spinning her chair faster, still hanging her head back. Her skin was turning red. “I don't have to stay here.”

Elijah’s head snapped up, and he stared at her, hardly daring to hope. “What?”

“I mean, I have plenty of vacation days stored up. Don't go anywhere, don't do much. It’s a waste to take them when I don't need them, you know,” she told him. “And no one would miss me. I don't know my neighbors, and they likely wouldn't be thrilled about knowing an assassin was in our building, anyways. My family is dead. Mostly. I don't speak to the rest. And I don't even have a cat that needs feeding. There’s no reason for me to not go with you. Just to make sure we’re both safe, see? And besides,” she continued, oblivious to the fact that Elijah’s mouth was hanging open and he was watching her with some emotion, clearly written across his face, akin to joy and excitement and disbelief all at once. “Besides, I do have a car, you know. I don't use it much because, you know, New York City, but I have one. We could take it, and I could drive us around.”

“I thought you had to work,” Elijah said slowly, battling down the surge of hope and excitement.

Natalie waved a hand. “I can take a few days off. It’s only a couple of days of driving. Like I said, plenty of vacation days. Plus, this way, we both know we’re safe. I'm sure your assassin would tail us. I'm not stupid enough to think we’ve lost him, but I’d know when you made it through, and if you can time it right, you can take him with you back to your world.”

“He can kill me there, then,” Elijah joked.

Rolling her eyes, Natalie said, “You can fight him better there, with all your weapons. And I'm sure there’d be people around to help you, right?”

“I assume so,” Elijah said. “Are you set on this plan, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you certain?”

“I’m positive, Elijah.” Natalie stopped her spinning, facing him. For half a moment, he expected her to regard him with solemnity and seriousness, but she just kicked her feet up on the desk, eyeing him with a grin. “Don't you want me to tag along?”

“I would prefer you to stay safe,” Elijah told her, but he grinned back.

“Can't do that here, with an assassin on the loose,” Natalie said. “Don't you want to be driven rather than having to walk?”

“That I do want. It is settled, then. You will accompany me to collect the gems and see me returned to my homeland, and we will ensure that you remain safe from the assassin. Are these terms acceptable, my lady?” Elijah leaned on her desk.

“They are acceptable,” Natalie replied, eyes sparkling with mischief and glee, head tilted up to him. “When do we leave?”

#inklingschallenge #team chesterton #genre: intrusive fantasy #theme: shelter #story: complete #my writinggg #areotia duology #tptg&ta #yes i do think the narnia references are funny considering i'm team chesterton #this is portal fantasy too i know but technically he's intruding on our world so i'm counting it okay #oneshot #original #inklings challenge 2023

7 notes · View notes