“B-but you looked so hurt—”
“It had to be whatever magic was at play that caused such an expression.”
I stared at him because I genuinely wanted to believe he was right. That, locked away within my mind, there wasn’t some evil side of me. But it was hard to have confidence in his words when I could see myself. There, over his shoulder, standing disheveled, wide-eyed, and crazy, was me, the witch me, still in that straightjacket. I looked into my own brown eyes and saw the tears as they came down my own face.
Free us.
“Druella?” Glancing up, I met his concerned gaze. “What is it? Are you well?”
No. What if I really was crazy?
“Theseus, I-I’m scared,” I said before reaching up and hugging him as tightly as I could. I buried my face under his chin.
“I promise I shall not let anyone or anything hurt you.”
But what if I hurt him.
I was afraid of myself.
* * *
“Come, I must distract you,” Theseus said as we broke apart, his hands gently taking mine as he led me from the table.
I made sure to take the composition notebook with me as I was worried it would disappear and Sigbjørn would give me another look. We walked from the front of the library to the back and the Greek works collection. I knew that because Hinrik had labeled the side of the library shelves as such. However, Theseus didn’t stop for the books or even some of the neatly arranged scrolls stacked perfectly along the walls. Instead, he took me to what looked like a simple wooden door, the words ÁnthrÅpos métron, which meant “man is the measure of all things” in Greek, haphazardly carved into the wood near the handle. It came from one of Plato’s dialogues, Theaetetus, concerning the nature of knowledge.
When Theseus opened the door completely, and I could see inside clearly, the quote fit properly.
“No way.” I gasped, not sure where I was supposed to look. So I looked back to Theseus, and he was watching me.
“You look as a child looks upon the discovery of a sweets store.”
“Because this is my candy!” I cried, breaking away from him to enter the room properly. I had entered artist heaven. The library of books had led to a treasury of paintings I could have only ever dreamed of seeing. Some hung on the walls, others on easels, and were displayed everywhere, going on and on. Where I looked, my eyes met treasure. But there was one that nearly made me cry.
“Is that…is that Rembrandt van Rijn’s work An Angel with Titus’ Features?” My mouth nearly detached from my face.
“Yes, it is.”
Now I was shaking. “The real missing work of Rembrandt?”
“Missing?”
Mesmerized by the angelic face and the golden paint, I walked toward it carefully, nodding to his question. “It was last seen in a French countryside chateau before the Nazis took it with them to Paris in 1943. It is considered one of the most important masterpieces lost during World War II.”
“It seems we have found it,” he replied flatly, his eyes glancing around the room as well.
I turned back to him because he was far too casual about it. “Theseus, this is a real treasure. How did you all get it?”
He shrugged…and it was cutely out of character for him. “As you may recall, I do not recall anything past 1920. Thus, it was never missing to me. Besides, Rembrandt is not my favorite of the era. Though I did pity the man. He was decent enough for a mortal but rather miserable and dreary.”
I watched as he moved to take a seat at the only desk chair in the corner. The first thing he picked up was a red cloth, like a cape of some sort, and stared at it. Not wanting to get distracted from his last statement, I walked over and tilted my head so I could look him in the eye. He shifted his gaze back to me from whatever he was looking at, with his eyebrow raised as he didn’t seem to understand why I was doing it.
“Yes?” He chuckled.
“You met Rembrandt?”
He nodded. “I did.”
Once again, his tone did not fit the event he was stating. He had met one of the greatest artists of the ages, and a remote work lost to all humanity was behind a wooden door surrounded by other priceless works of art. Still, all of that was not miraculous or inconceivable to him—just…his life.
Exhaling, I dropped my shoulders and smiled gently before saying, “How amazing your past must be, Mr. Thorbørn.”
“It pales in comparison to my present,” he replied, placing his hand on my cheek and stroking it. “And I pray to any who shall accept such a prayer from one such as myself that my future shall be of greater glory now that you are here.”
“There you go with those lines again.”
“Those truths,” he muttered, bringing me closer until my chest pressed up to his chest, and his lips hovered over mine. “And I suggest you become accustomed to hearing them, my dear, for I shall not tire of speaking them.”
I reached up and touched his hand that was placed on my face. It was as if he were warming all of me, and I grew more and more aware of his body against mine. I did not know what to say in reply other than, “I will do my best to become accustomed then.”
A smile spread over his lips, and he kissed my forehead, down to the bridge of my nose, then each side on my cheeks, and when our eyes met, I thought he was going to kiss my lips, so I lifted my head to him. However, he did not kiss my lips. Instead, his mouth found its way to my neck, sending a jolt up my spine. Pinned against his body and the desk, my head went back, and a low growl of pleasure escaped my throat as he sucked and kissed all the way to my collarbone. I didn’t want to stop, locking my leg around his to keep him close to me.
“Theseus,” I said gently as a large hand grabbed my breast.
“Yes, my dear,” he spoke against my skin, squeezing my breast tighter and brushing his hand over my nipple through my dress.
When I didn’t answer, mostly because of the daze he was putting my mind in, he rose back up to look me in the eye, the space between our lips razor thin. In his eyes, I was quite sure he wanted to do more than kiss and fondle me. I could feel him pressed up against me as well. He waited for me to speak, but I had no words, and so he kissed me. I didn’t fight him. I had no more desire to as I melted into the warmth, his arms wrapping around my waist, holding me tightly. It was only when I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck did I remember the notebook in my hand as it fell.
I broke away quickly to pick it up. However, it was gone.
“No.” I groaned. “Theseus, it’s hidden itself again. Sigbjørn warned us not to look away from it.”
“To be quite honest, Druella, I do not give a damn about it right now.”
When I turned back to him, his jaw was set in frustration, and his nostrils were flaring as he stood still. I couldn’t help but giggle a bit.
“You find this amusing, leading me to paradise only to leave me behind so abruptly and unsatisfied?” he questioned, clearly annoyed.
I nodded, still trying to bite back a laugh, which only made him growl as he grabbed my arms and pulled me back to him.
“You are cruel, Druella.”
“I do not mean to be,” I said, and the slight joy I had, began to fade again. “I—”