The Marble Masquerade: Echoes of Merlansoor: The Marble Masquerade, #2

By Miriam Rosenbaum

Clara never thought of her life as anything but mundane. Her recent experiences, however, have shown her just how wrong that assumption was. She continues to learn more about the mysterious newcomers, and is soon drawn into a fantastic world filled with wonder beyond imagining... and danger beyond belief. But does she really know what she's getting into?

And what will she do when she finally realizes the truth?

Echoes of Merlansoor is the 2nd book in the serialized Marble Masquerade trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Miriam Rosenbaum
• Release date: Dec 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540102713

Book preview

The Marble Masquerade: Echoes of Merlansoor

The Marble Masquerade, Volume 2

Miriam Rosenbaum

Published by Miriam Rosenbaum, 2016.

The Marble Masquerade

- Book 2: Echoes of Merlansoor -

Copyright © 2016 by Miriam Rosenbaum

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, places, and characters of interest found within are completely fictional. Resemblance to persons—living or dead—is purely coincidental, as are any and all similarities to actual events.

All rights reserved.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

SERIES INFORMATION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Indignities

Consciousness came to me, slowly, painfully…

The lack of vision gradually let up, and sight returned in its stead.

Ugh… my head… I groaned.

Easy there, easy, a familiar voice said, a pair of strong hands helping me sit up as it did.

Where… where am I? I muttered, confused, my eyes blinking away cobwebs of darkness.

You are safe, the voice informed me.

I felt a slight wave of nausea, but it passed quickly.

I sat up, and looked at the ground, testing my sight. Focus was good… depth perception… color. Everything seemed to be okay. The forest was quiet, but I still could hear the buzzing of insects and the chirping of birds – both welcome, solid signs that my senses were working… at least as well as could be expected. My hands extended downward, and touched the forest floor, its surface covered by discarded leaves and tiny pebbles. Reassuring… I thought.

Finally I looked up… and almost lost consciousness again!

There in front of me stood Maximillian van der Sol. Now, that by itself was more than enough to get my blood pumping, but this time he was—by some fortunate twist of fate?—completely shirtless! I’d caught only glimpses before, and was now finally being treated to the full Swedish buffet (though as a reward for what, I couldn’t tell).

Pale, white skin covered proportions that belonged on Olympus. His arms—corded and thick—betrayed a lifetime of weight training, and his long, tight torso told me he spent hours a week in the pool. What impressed me most, however, was the way his narrow waist flared up, gradually widening into the shape of a V-taper. Wide, bulging shoulders begged me to bite them, and rock-hard, toned pectorals taunted me with the promise of sweet torment.

My eyes greedily scanned his abdominals, their shape perfectly—heavenly!—symmetrical, and as flawless as I had come to expect from this demigod. Even his obliques were defined, flaring out, as if to spite me with forbidden fruit I knew I could never have. If Michelangelo had wanted to upstage his own David, Maximillian van der Sol would have, without a doubt, been his best bet.

Clara, you really should blink once in a while. It’s good for the eyes, Max said, that deep yet melodic voice of his taunting me with its bitter-sweet notes.

I took his advice, blinking a dozen times in rapid succession just to minimize the amount of time spent not looking at him! I must’ve appeared incredibly foolish, because he soon doubled over from laughter.

Max, what are you doing here? I asked, blushing in embarrassment, and hoping his answer would keep me from fixating on (and drooling all over) his chiseled abs.

I live here, he said, having finally collected himself after an enjoyable bout of amusement.

No, you don’t, I countered. The Mansion isn’t anywhere near.

He chuckled. "I meant here, as in, the forest," he said, motioning around him with a snow-white arm.

You live in the forest… I repeated dryly.

Yes, he confirmed, grinning.

What are you, some kind of woodland hobo?

The idea itself was preposterous, of course.

I think they’re referred to as ‘elves’, he said with a wink.

I arched an eyebrow. "Don’t you think you’re a little too good-looking to be an elf?"

Depends – we talking cookie, or mythology kind?

I glared at him. He rewarded me with a sly smile, then curled into a crouch and sat by my side. My heart sped up, even as that minty aroma of his washed over my senses, numbing my fatigue.

The physical effect his presence had on me would’ve been unnerving, had I the time to process it. Being so close to perfection manifest, however, left me with none, as each conscious moment was just as soon bartered away as it became mine to spend, the slow and steady march of these precious intervals flowing together into a stream of adoration that had Max at its center. I blinked—once, twice, thrice—remembering where I was, and what had brought me here.

I thought you died! I was worried sick, you jerk! I said honestly, desperately, slapping him on the arm… and instantly regretting it; it had felt like hitting living marble – soft and warm, but unyielding! Then again, I had managed to finally touch him…

Thank you for your concern, Clara, but as you can see, I’m fine.

You’re more than fine, you beautiful Greek statue in human skin, I thought, but held my tongue. It there was one person in the world who didn’t need ego-boosting validation, it was Max.

Why’d you jump off the cliff, you looney?! I demanded.

I considered slapping him again, yet—wisely!—decided against it (not that I didn’t want to cop another feel, but… my fingers still kinda hurt).

Max cocked his head. You saw that?

Well, duh! It’s not every day you watch someone swan-diving to their suicide!

Clara, don’t be silly – dying was the last thing on my mind.

Then what? What could possibly make you jump into the ice-cold ocean this time of year?

I probably shouldn’t should tell you, what with you stalking me and everything, he said jokingly, but I enjoy a relaxing swim every now and then.

Them abs don’t lie, I thought. From a three-hundred-foot cliff? I said instead.

He looked at me. I often pair the activity with free climbing.

I stared at him. He was lying through his teeth (his perfect, pearly, flawless teeth).

Then it suddenly hit me: I’d been attacked! I would have been freaking out by now, but Max’s presence always had a dampening effect on me – whenever I was near him, nothing else in the world seemed important.

Wait a minute! I said, my tone suddenly urgent, What happened to those wolf things?!

I shifted in place and tried to get up…

…but a wave of dizziness quickly dissuaded me.

Take it easy, Clara! Max said, and helped ease me back down.

Max, the wolves! I pressed, deathly afraid they’d be back!

What wolves? he inquired so casually, it almost sent me into a blind panic.

Don’t play dumb with me; I’m really not in the mood! I spat, my head still spinning.

Clara, I can’t help you if you insist on talking gibberish.

There were monsters here!

Really, Clara? Monsters? he said, and brushed a stray lock from my face.

I shivered in pleasure.

Yes, monsters! I confirmed, full well remembering the horrors that had chased me through the forest. "The monsters that tried to kill me! The monsters your metal cat fought off!"

He blinked, staring at me with a vacant expression.

"The same holographic one I saw that night at the Mansion, remember?"

Clara, have you been trespassing again? he asked in a casual tone.

My cheeks turned red.

No! I’m just saying, the cat was all metal… and stuff.

He grinned, and I looked away, embarrassed.

Really, Clara, at least have the courtesy to warn me before you decide to engage in these role-playing fantasies of yours. I’m as spontaneous as the next guy, but come one, a heads-up and some prep time would really help me out!

Again that tone. That infuriating, jerkish, mocking tone.

I know what I saw, Max! I said, blushing, and using anger to deflect his snide remark.

"Do you hallucinate all the time, or does it happen only when I’m around?" he asked with a self-assured smirk.

I blushed again, desperately trying (and failing) to tear my eyes from that irresistible face of his. I know what I saw… I said, a bit softer.

Of course you do, he added condescendingly.

"Stop patronizing me! I’m not crazy!"

Whatever you say, Clara, he countered, and chuckled.

I considered tackling another attempt to stand, but something told me I’d end up on the floor again. Instead, I let my eyes wander over Max, soaking in every mouth-watering detail of him. If he was to leave, and this was to be our last ‘meeting’, then I wanted to remember as much as possible… for scientific purposes, of course.

My eyes roamed over his face and body, my brain having trouble deciding which to focus on.

What are you thinking about? he asked through a smile.

Nothing much, I fudged, just wondering happened to your shirt.

I… lost it.

You lost your shirt? I looked down at his bare feet. And your shoes, too? I asked in a flat voice.

The only article of clothing he had on, was a pair of old, faded jeans. Not that they didn’t fit him perfectly (of course they did; everything did!), but still, someone as wealthy as him shouldn’t have to go running around in spare clothes.

Yup, he said, misplaced apparel is just one of the many hazards of rescuing a damsel in distress.

So you admit to saving me from those mutated… things? I asked, ignoring the damsel gibe, and focusing on his words (while doing my best to avoid shuddering at the memory of the shadow wolves).

If by ‘saving’ you mean tending to your bruise, he said, a pale finger pointing to my forehead, and by ‘things’, you mean dehydration… then yes.

He smiled, and inched a bit closer to me… With legs crossed in front of him, and pale arms casually slouching forward, he reminded me of a sculpture – like one of those ancient, brooding warrior-poets, immortalized in marble. Even like this, relaxing on the forest floor in nothing but a pair of old jeans, he looked as splendid and magnificent as no mortal had a right to.

I felt his eyes on me, and met his gaze… and those lovely, sapphire eyes.

Max graced me with another smile. You’re lucky I was nearby. Falling and hitting your head isn’t the best way to spend an afternoon… especially if you’re alone.

Aha, I said, not buying his explanation.

Reflexively, my hand rose to my wounded forehead, the fingers gingerly prodding where the gash should have been located…

Nothing… Nothing apart from healthy, regular skin.

Puzzled, I looked at my hand – no blood.

I tried feeling around the temples, thinking my injuries had left me disoriented, that maybe the gash had been somewhere else… but there was no wound to be found. Even the skin on my arm—badly burned and charred before—was pink and healthy, and as good as new!

What the-? I blurted, confused.

What’s wrong? Max insisted, his body tensing up. He was already half-way into a crouch.

My wound – it’s gone! I exclaimed.

Ah, that, he said and relaxed, taking a seat next to me once again. Yes, I told you; I tended to it while you were unconscious.

But… it’s just gone! There isn’t even a scab! I protested, like the appearance of one was the most important thing in my life at the moment.

What can I say – I’m really good with my hands, he said with a grin.

"This… it’s just… that’s impossible!" I stuttered like some lame B-movie actress.

‘There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt in your philosophy, Horatio!

Cute, I added dryly.

I love that line. Pity I don’t get to use it as often as I’d like, he said with a sigh, and tossed a pebble. It hit a nearby boulder, and bounced off…

I ran a hand over my now-smooth forehead, half-expecting the hidden wound to come popping out at any second.

Still doesn’t explain how my banged-up noggin’ healed so quickly. I said, just as confused as the moment I’d woken up (I didn’t even bother mentioning my blistered arm, fearing Max would just make fun of me if I told him a shadow wolf the size of a car had caused it).

Perhaps you have some troll blood in you, Max offered with a smile.

Did you just call me ugly? I asked, unsure of whether I should feel insulted.

"Why, yes, you’re absolutely hideous by troll standards!"

Very funny. I said, wiping sweat and dirt form my face.

God, what I wouldn’t have given for just a single wet-paper napkin…

I speak the truth! Max said, feigning defensiveness. He looked at me, his sapphire eyes caressing my face. Gracile bone structure, soft, elegant features, flowing hair, mysterious eyes the color of autumn leaves… he cooed, sizing me up.

I couldn’t help but blush. I seemed to do that a lot when around him.

No ugly monster would take a second look at you, he concluded, and briefly touched my cheek.

"That’s not how I remember it," I said, images of the shadow wolves dancing before my eyes and coaxing forth a shudder (one that mercifully masked the other, engendered by Max’s physical contact).

His face suddenly turned hard, cold. "What exactly do you remember?" he probed.

I noticed his voice was different as well – less jovial, less taunting, more… detached.

"I remember falling, and hitting my head… Then bleeding, and those things of course… The metal cat… and then… and then blacking out," I said, omitting the winged titan I suspected had been an azuldyr.

Which means your memory is still probably a bit on the fuzzy side, he said with a smile, the mirth having returned to him in an instant. So there you go, mystery solved!

"No, no it isn’t! There’s no scab, no scar, no swelling… nothing!"

"As I already mentioned, I’m really good with my hands," he said, and held them up.

I couldn’t help but admire their perfection. They were like a pianist’s – long, wide, and topped off by elegant yet powerful fingers that could’ve earned him a solid living modeling for men’s hand apparel (not that he needed it).

And you can make wounds disappear with a flick of a wrist? I asked, doubtful. What are you, a magician?

Yes, he confirmed. And I rely on an ancient type of magic called ‘me-di-cine’, he said, emphasizing each syllable.

What are you talking about? I demanded, still a bit woozy, and confused (and getting angrier with him by the second).

I had a med kit in my backpack, he clarified. I always carry one when I go hiking. It helped me deal with the swelling, and tend to your bruise.

I thought you said you’d gone swimming, I inquired.

Hiking, climbing, swimming… it’s an all-purpose med kit.

Sure it is, Max, I said, flaying him with an incredulous gaze.

Would I lie to you? he said with a smile, flashing a thousand pearly whites.

I almost melted.

It wasn’t a bruise, Max – it was a gaping, bleeding cut.

You said it yourself; you fell and gave yourself a mild concussion.

Despite what my friend Leonard thinks, I’m not a clumsy ditz – I don’t ‘give’ myself concussions!

Be that as it may, he said, it’s understandable why your memories are somewhat inaccurate, given how you hurt yourself.

That’s not what happened! I shouted, furious he kept dancing verbal circles around me.

No, of course not, he added. You were attacked by a pack of mutated coyotes, and subsequently rescued by a silver-plated wolverine, he finished with a roll of his eyes.

I paused, and my eyes narrowed to slits.

I never mentioned the cat’s color, I said, observing the way he refused to meet my gaze.

Max remained silent for a few moments. Yes, well, he said after a lengthy verbal intermezzo, as much could be inferred from the, eh… context.

Why don’t you just admit you’re trying to pull wool over my eyes? I pleaded, and crossed my arms.

I am doing no such thing! he said with a laugh, feigning innocence once again.

His smile was so disarming, so infectious, that it effortlessly sent my heart aflutter! If I’d been chocolate, I would’ve melted right then and there.

Maybe I’d believe you if you weren’t about as transparent as a window pane, I said, forcing my brain to focus on the present conversation instead of myopically fixating on Max.

Window panes aren’t transparent, Clara. They’re often criss-crossed by wooden—

Will you quit it already?! I lashed out, interrupting him mid-sentence. These lame little distraction tactics of yours don’t work on anyone except those dumb cheerleaders you date!

Excuse me? Max said with a grin, confused and amused at the same time.

You think every girl is as stupid as those popularity-chasing airheads you lead on with that perfect smile of yours!

Wait, let me get this straight – you’re accusing me of flirtatious behavior like it’s some kind of cardinal sin? he asked, cocking his head, his flowing, black mane gently sloping to the side.

Oh come on, I see the way those pretty little bimbos throw themselves at you every time you’re in school! They practically start drooling the moment they see you. And you encourage it! Chris was right; guys like you just use women before dumping them! That’s why you always go for the brain-dead type.

Annoyed by my own rant, I pickup up a nearby pinecone… only to angrily toss it into the foliage.

Max looked at me. Feeling better? he asked after a few moments of my pouting.

No, I shot back. Chris kept warning me, but I wouldn’t listen…

Another pinecone went flying, this one bouncing off a nearby log with a satisfying thwack!.

Clara, even if you were correct—which you are most certainly not—what business is it of yours?

You’re right, it’s not, I said, standing up, but still leaning against a tree for balance. "I don’t care who you date," I added dismissively.

Something sticky clung to my fingers.

I looked down – sap… yuck!

Is that so? he said, a smirk decorating his luscious, pale lips.

Yeah, it is! I shot back, fuming.

Damn sap… and damn Max, for being so annoyingly irresistible!

He studied me for long moments. Is that a hint of jealousy I’m detecting? he asked through a grin.

As if! I shot back, gently scraping my fingers against the trunk’s craggy bark.

Who’s the window pane now, Clara?

Oh, shut up.

You obviously don’t want me to, or else you wouldn’t have brought all this up, he reasoned.

Don’t think for a minute that you’re fooling anyone here, Max. I’m on to you! I shot back, desperately trying to change the subject (and just as desperately hoping Max wouldn’t notice I’d blushed again).

Aha, he said slyly, obviously enjoying my helplessness… both physical and emotional.

You’ve got every girl in school following you around like a love-sick poodle! I accused.

My intentions were never impure, Clara. But thank you for the unnecessary guilt trip.

You probably deserve it, I attacked again, pushing the offensive.

Clara, you don’t know the first thing about me, he said, a touch of melancholy creeping into his voice.

Honestly? I’m starting to think I don’t want to!

I regretted the words the moment they’d come flying out of my stupid mouth.

Wow, Clara, you really are dumber than a bag of bricks!

I expected him to get angry, but instead saw those kissable lips of his stretching into a smile. Say what you will about me, he sang with an air of leisurely amusement about him, but at least I don’t walk around hallucinating flying wombats and metallic wolverines.

I never said that, I corrected him. And stop twisting my words! I shot back, feeling exposed. You’re making me look like some kind of crazy person! My bottom lip had started trembling, and I felt moisture pooling in the corners of my eyes.

Max sighed, pausing for a moment as if to gauge the situation, before moving closer. Soon, he was right there, in front of me, his proximity pinning me against the tree trunk at my back. I felt my heart speeding up, and I looked away – his mere presence was enough to send me into delirium; I didn’t need to be staring at him as well! I wanted to, but I was afraid what would happen with him this close to me.

Not crazy, he said softly, his pale finger cupping my chin, just groggy. And confused. I found you lying here, passed out. You were also dehydrated. Loss of electrolytes can cause people to hallucinate… Our minds sometimes play tricks on us, Clara, he said, and gently parted my bangs with a firm, pale hand.

No, there’s something else, something you’re not telling me, I said stubbornly, pushing Max’s hand away as much out of anger as necessity (my heart had started thumping uncontrollably the moment he’d touched me).

I slinked out, moving away from him, quickly, before I changed my mind – it was all I could do to resist his allure, drowning as I was in his intoxicating scent…

Why would I lie? Max said with a smile, his effortless mirth a direct taunt.

Good question, I said, looking around.

Feeling a bit better, I used my newfound strength to scan the area and its surrounding foliage…

What are you looking for? Max inquired.

Your med kit.

I told you, I already used it to treat you.

So where’s the plastic container, then? I countered, still searching.

Um… around here somewhere? he fibbed.

You’re a terrible liar, Max, you know that? I said, taking a few steps to test my balance.

Max stretched out, casually draping one hand over a low branch, and tucking the other into his jeans. He stood there, like some rugged, shirtless iteration of a modern barbarian sent by fate itself to torment me with his inhuman perfection.

Care to back up your wild accusations with an actual explanation? he teased through a nonchalant grin.

Call it a hunch, I said, and clicked my tongue.

Truly, ‘tis a pity they outlawed slavery… Max commented.

I blinked, unsure of what the heck he was talking about. Come again?

He flashed a wicked, predatory smile. I was just thinking how much fun it’d be keeping you as a pet.

What’s that got to do anything?! I demanded, angry at the way he dodged my questions… not to mention the actual implication itself (though the latter excited me far more than it should have).

Max stretched again, his marble musculature flexing. Nothing, just putting it out there. Another smile found its way to his beautiful lips – this one accompanied by a mischievous wink.

I had to physically close my eyes to tear them away from him. The actual act of doing so took all of my laughable willpower to execute. And even then, all I could think about was Max himself, despite his jerkish propensity toward irresistible aloofness (or maybe, because of it?).

He truly had come to own me, both in soul and spirit, if not the flesh itself.

Surprisingly, I didn’t mind it in the least…

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Proximity

If you’d used the kit, I said, turning my back to Max (it was the only way I could resist him!), there’d be wrapping and antiseptic bottles, and discarded gauze scattered all over the place!

My eyes roved across the ground like my life depended on it, their focus guiding my arm, the latter motioning theatrically toward the leafy carpet that blanketed the entire forest floor. Max stared at me, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and disapproval.

We’d spent the better part of an hour stuck in a back-and-forth argument, and one with no end in sight. I didn’t mind; it had given me something to do while I waited for my battered, woozy brain to re-sync itself with the rest of my body. And any opportunity to hang out with Max was time well spent, despite his supernatural ability to piss me off with just a modicum of effort. He, too, seemed to be enjoying himself, though his pleasure came entirely at my own expense! Still, just being around him made such a tiny sacrifice more than worthwhile.

And what about the container itself? I added. First aid kits aren’t exactly small, Max!

Clara, why do you obsess over trivialities… he muttered, more to himself than me.

Because I don’t appreciate being lied to! I shot at him.

He just sighed, and rolled his eyes.

Even when it’s for your own good? he said a moment later, dead serious once again.

I froze