January Dreams by Carrigan Richards (best fiction books of all time txt) 📕

of Vincent immediately, I don’t know. It could be that I know he used to be into drugs. But if it was Vincent, someone would have told me, wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t his dad know to tell me? But with a wife dying of cancer, and now a dead son, his dad is probably overwhelmed. Tears brim on the surface of my eyes from my overactive brain.

“It was Adam.”

That brings me up short. “What?” I blink away the tears.

“Police found him dead in his home. Investigators are looking for any information as to the killer. What’s even more strange is that they don’t have any information on the guy. The article said there wasn’t anyone else living there, no pictures, no belongings. Nothing. They’re speculating a drug deal gone bad.”

“I don’t know what to say. Does this mean we’ll never know who tried to kill you?”

“I don’t know. Um, the nurse is telling me to get off the phone. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I say. “Get some rest.” I hang up and hold the phone in my hand, while curling up in the bed. Who killed Adam? Was he into more bad stuff than attacking girls? I hate him, but I never wished for his death. My mind races. Who tried to kill Casper? Was it Adam?

Who was Adam? Why does he seem like a complete nobody who attacked me, yet he knew me?

Once my heart rate returns to normal, I lay there, motionless, allowing the medicine to take over.

Chapter Thirty-Four

I stand at the back of the room as Vincent holds a celebration for my return in the palace. The delicately ornate ceiling arches over the dance room while gentle classical music plays. Musicians play violins, pianofortes, harpsichords, and a hammered dulcimer. I have always loved their music and being here in this room, but now I feel awkward.

We’re all dressed in our elegant evening attire. I’m wearing a cream, French silk dress with a low neck and elbow-length ruffled sleeves. The gown is padded with bands of blue satin at the bottom of the skirt. Some women wear white wigs and have painted their faces white, but my black hair is in springy curls.

I try to be cheerful, but something nags at me. These are my people, but I feel out of place. Probably because it’s been so long since I was here, and they seem to remember more than me. That and I constantly think of the voice calling my name in my memory. I have no idea whose it belongs to, but when I hear it, I get the same reaction when I think of the blond color.

“There’s the life of the party.” Florence flashes a wide smile and takes my hands. “I am so happy to see you.”

I peer into her large green eyes that are as vibrant as her smile. A beautiful gold gown adorns her voluptuous body, and her shiny long blond curls are held back by small barrettes.

“I’m happy to see you as well.”

“I’m surprised Vincent let you out tonight.” She winks. “He’s been miserable, so I understand.” She loops her arm with mine and fans herself with her paper fan.

We wander outside the stone palace into the hedge maze and stroll under the midnight sky with bright stars. The only sounds are our footsteps along the gravel path and the low chatter among others.

“I really have missed you,” she says. “Do you remember anything about the Elves?”

I shake my head. “Vincent says he found me with one Elf in a remote cottage. He doesn’t think I even made it to the Belle Palais. He says I was tortured. Why would they kidnap me though?”

“It’s a game. They planned to dangle you in front of him, so he’d give up the Jewel. But Vincent found you.”

“Part of me wishes I knew more.”

“Vincent would never let anything happen to you.”

But he had, hadn’t he? By letting them take me away. How had they done it? I can’t believe I would even talk to an Elf, let alone spend time with them. “Well now that I’m back, they can’t take me again. I won’t let them manipulate me again.”

“Let’s not worry about such things now.”

“Megan,” Vincent calls from behind us. I turn and he smiles. “May I take her away?” he asks Florence.

“Of course.”

He escorts me back inside to the large dancing room. Vincent asks them to play a song. The music stops, but a new song begins, and he pulls me close. We are among several dancers on the floor. Even though I have been with Vincent my entire life and I love him, something still doesn’t feel right being this close to him.

The song sounds familiar as we move with it. We touch hands and follow the steps as they are second nature. Vincent twirls me around and something comes back to me. I envision me in a maroon dress, smiling, and dancing with a faceless stranger. It isn’t Vincent, I don’t think. But it’s someone that I seem to love.

Once the song ends, we applaud the musicians and retreat to a quiet corner in the room. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my forehead. “Let us take a walk,” he says, and slides his hand into mine. We meander outside until we find the gazebo and sit on a swing under the latticed ceiling.

“I will never forgive myself,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t here, and it gave them easy access to you. I was off on an important journey. Unfortunately, that’s what happens when I’m part of the army. It was agonizing every minute you were gone. Not knowing what they were doing to you.”

“Oh, Vincent.” A tear streaks down my cheek.

“I had hoped that they would not make you forget me. But I did