CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
The South Iron Room
I woke up in the luxurious bed in Christian’s room in Nhagaspir, which meant that I opened my eyes to a ceiling full of the pin-pricks of night’s glory. It was the same room as the last time I had been there, but it wasn’t. Something was irrevocably different. Before, the feeling had been like the wind blowing across your skin at night. The room was underground, but it didn’t feel like it. It had been a place waiting for the dawn, waiting for the master of the house to return. When Christian had been here before, anxious to leave and angry, he was the master and at the same time, he wasn’t.
Opening my eyes wider, I saw that the dawn had come. All the sleepy parts of the room were alive with light. The stars were overhead, brighter than ever, but so was the golden glow of morning. What did it mean if you saw the dawn break when you were underground? What had cracked open to let in the light?
I rolled onto my side and through my drowsy eyes, I saw a tray that had been left for me on the nightstand. There was a teacup with a lid and a stack of three saucers on a stand. The bottom one had a cookie sandwich on it. The second layer had a lemon tart. The top layer had an enormous chocolate strawberry on it. I reached for the tea and removed the lid. It was honey milk and one sip sent me to heaven.
“There’s my bride,” I heard Christian say from across the room. He came striding toward me with an energy in his walk that I had never seen before.
“Feeling better?” I asked with a grin.
“I have the dress,” he gloated with a smug smile on his handsome face as he approached the bed. Looking at him more closely, I saw that he had taken charge of the Red Forest inside him. He had wiped out any imperfection, not only on his face but throughout his whole body. He had never looked so good. The dark hair dye had been washed clean and his fair hair was cut in a style I’d never seen on him before, all sideburns with his longish hair slicked back. Had his hair grown since our helicopter flight?
He threw the white dress he had been carrying across the footboard with most of it draping over the edge of the bed. Once that was discarded, he came to me, kissing me lightly on the lips before snuggling in next to me on the bed, careful not to jostle me in case I spilled my drink.
“I thought humans couldn’t live down here because there isn’t any food?” I asked with a smack of my lips.
“There isn’t any food when the only gods here are weak. I can turn water to wine, or in this case, a dainty tea service,” he said with another kiss.
The kiss felt different. As he felt my lips with his, I wondered if you could turn water to wine with matter manipulation. My thoughts muddied as he kissed me and derailed my train of thought.
“Are you really Christian? My Christian?” I asked when the kiss ended.
He scoffed. “To answer your first question, this may be the first time in eight years when my chest hasn’t hurt. Yes, I’m feeling much better. It’s amazing for the clock inside me to keep proper time. I keep checking my pulse, though hopefully, soon it will no longer need to pump blood. There’s still a lot of work to be done inside me.” He changed gears. “I took the red out of your hair while you were asleep. You’re back to caramel curls. Do you want to see your wedding dress?”
I took a sip of the honey milk and it almost made me forget that Christian was acting strangely. The only difference inside him couldn’t be my working heart. It had to be more than that, but whatever was going on, he was still a fashion fanatic.
The dress he presented was little more than a white slip with a stupendous ruffle at the hem. I took it, examining it. It was a sundress. My brow furrowed as it puzzled me. Wasn’t Christian an expert on fashion? Why had he brought me a slip with a crinoline instead of a real gown?
Christian had searched for a wedding dress like he was possessed when we were in Vancouver and he finally admitted that he didn't know if our marriage was valid if he didn’t have my heart. Now that he had my heart back, did we need a wedding? Was this dress going to be my wedding dress whether I liked it or not?
I looked at Christian’s clothes. He was wearing suit trousers. They were dove-gray and paired with a crisp white shirt and matching vest. The contrast between what he was wearing and the dress he presented to me was very sharp.
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I suddenly thought of what all the different versions of him wore in his heart: the King of the Red Forest wore a red tailored shirt and trousers, the Other Christian wore nothing but a bedsheet, Doctor Christian wore something like scrubs, and the last Christian… What did he wear? Did any of those outfits match my dress?
“Why am I going to wear this dress? It doesn’t match your clothes. Why can’t I match your clothes?”
“Because you’re going to go into the chamber for the woman with the white heart. What happens to you there will destroy your clothes, no matter what you wear,” he explained heavily. “This dress is only symbolic… I’m presenting it to you to show you that I know who you are when you’re alone in your head. I’ve been there with you.”
I knew what he was talking about immediately. This was the Other Christian speaking to me with my Christian’s lips. They were the same man, and the dress was proof of that. Then it came clear. This was the dress I wore in my head when I ran through the Red Forest, except that it wasn’t black like the one I wore inside myself. It was white. Was I going to be a girl running through a White Forest in a black dress? I couldn’t imagine King Christian allowing it once my body was changed. It was a dress to indicate the change from impure to pure. It was not a wedding dress.
“You’re really hot when you talk about mercury and iron,” I said softly, hoping he would understand what I meant when I said that.
“I’m hot when I talk about anything,” conceited Christian replied.
“Hmm…” I said, leaning my lips onto my knuckles, giving the other part of what he said some thought. This dress would be ruined when we flipped the poles?
That all sounded quite sacrificial. Why go to all the trouble of making me such a meaningful dress just to destroy it?
If King Christian had not worked like a slave to change my insides from corruptible to incorruptible, I’d be afraid that more than my outfit would be ruined. I wondered if the ordeal of flipping the poles would be something like when I delivered the sword, immeasurably painful, but the thought was hard to believe. Ever since King Christian had taken over my Red Forest, I had felt the pressure on my chest that the sword inflicted, but not pain. Pain was a memory.
“Is this a test?” I asked gravely.
“A test of what?” he laughed.
“Me?”
His eyes were all gray like polished steel. “Maybe,” he said reflectively. “If it’s a test, then it is testing me as well as you. I was sent here to fix the Earth’s polarity and have not completed my task.”
“Do you remember everything about your past then?” I asked with a wry smirk.
He scoffed in reply. “I remember that I wanted to get this issue with the poles sorted before I start acting like your husband.”
“Oh?” I laughed.
“Yeah. I mean, I remember all sorts of things, like how weddings used to be in the old days. Once upon a time in Egypt, if a woman crossed the threshold into your house, she was your wife. In Japan, if a man ate cookies in your home and stayed the night, he was your husband. In a dozen other cultures, if her father signed over her guardianship to you, she was your wife. I’ve been slowly checking off the boxes. I’ve been married to you at least half a dozen different ways, but today if we finish forging our connection and fix the poles, I’ll finally stop being your guardian and start being your partner. Then it will be permissible if I undress you, tell you you’re mine, and kiss you in all the places your clothes covered before.” He pushed my hair over my shoulder and kissed me, his warm lips on mine and the scent of him, his breath, his closeness messing with my brain and making me forget that there were people who…
KNOCK! KNOCK!
We broke apart and I glared at the door. “We have to take care of them first, right?”
“We can block the sound,” he offered, and instantly the sound of the knocking at the door was killed. With the Other Christian inside him, he was a master of all the elements. “Except, if we do that, we won’t get our connection forged. I wanted to do it at the same time we correct the poles. Of course, we could forge our connection right this second and do the poles later, but that’s not very efficient… And I want to leave Nhagaspir and never come back.”
“Are you sure?” I questioned softly.
“Oh, yes. If we flip the poles, I will have done everything my friend requested of me. My reasons for being here will be gone and the little gods here will not be able to ask anything more of me.”
“Where shall we go?” I asked, my mind abuzz with possibility.
He smiled and evaded. “Put the dress on. It will make a nice memory for those little gods who are lining up to watch me take you to the room made for the woman with the white heart. It has somehow become a legend in a place that is a legend for people who are little more than–”
“Legend?” I finished for him.
“Yes, but first, let me feed you this strawberry.”
I obediently bit off half before I pushed the other half in his mouth. He was surprised, but he bit into it. “Is this what we’re going to be like?” he asked, as he shoved the half-eaten strawberry into his cheek.
“Yes. I want you to love me… all the way.” I licked the melted chocolate off my fingers.
He stood up. “Get dressed. I’ll be over here, thinking about what I want to dress you in because that’s all I think about anyway.” He went down the hall to one of my closets.
But I was in no rush. I leaned back in his softer-than-soft pillows and ate the lemon tart.