Page 92 of The Time Of Queens

“Like I said, there is something I want you to see.”

I frowned in question but let him lead me there without pressing for more. Of course, I was worried about him, as we hadn’t yet had the chance to be alone and talk about stuff. Of course, we had argued about my trip to the past, but that had been in front of others and had ended with my emotional rant.

As for now, well I couldn’t help but question where his mind was at. Especially when I found myself facing a huge stone door. One that I instantly knew belonged to my husband, thanks to the large picture of our family crest at the centre. Although it was the hole above it that held my attention, one that was edged with a ring of symbols. And without a handle or another other way to open it, I had a feeling I knew what that hole was for.

Something Draven confirmed when he shrugged out of his dark-grey suit jacket, leaving him in his charcoal-coloured long-sleeve T-shirt. One that moulded deliciously to every muscle, making me momentarily forget about the door or the way hetossed the jacket to the floor. Even the way his dark blue jeans hugged his muscular thighs had me wishing for us to be back in our room.

“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he commented, making my head snap up and despite my blush giving me away, I lied anyway.

“No, I’m not.”

To which he replied first with a devastatingly smug grin, that I swear should have been illegal. Especially when he stepped closer, pulling up his sleeves as if he was getting ready to toss me over his shoulder. However, this unfortunately didn’t happen. No, instead he pulled me to his chest, and said,

“I wasn’t complaining, little queen.”

Then the barest hint of movement from him had me looking to see what he had done. My eyes widened upon seeing half his arm consumed by the door after he had plunged his hand inside the hole.

“No, but I am if that door is biting your skin… Draven, what are you…” My question died as he removed his now crimson-soaked hand.

“It only opens with my blood,” he told me.

“Jesus, baby, we really need to upgrade your locks… you know, I even hear there is this magic thing out now, called fingerprint detectors, and retinal scans… in fact, if the spy movies are to be believed, you can even speak to open some locks,” I teased, making him smirk down at me.

“Yes, but there is little chance of anyone else getting my blood and besides, what is behind this door is too precious to me to risk… come, let me show you,” he said, taking my hand in his clean one.

I watched when our family crest sank into the floor before the stone behind it split in two. Then it creaked open, allowing us entrance into a place I didn’t expect to see.

A long hallway carved from stone greeted us, with its row of roman style columns on the left-hand side. Columns that stood before a long pool of clear water that looked as though it had naturally formed this well. Draven walked towards it after letting me go, so he could dip his hand in the water, cleaning the blood from his skin.

As he did this, I decided to take in the rest of the unusual space. Opposite the pool of water and columns it looked more untouched. As if we had just entered a large cave of sorts, with its right side rough and rocky.

Down the centre were huge slabs of stone in what looked like no pattern or reason at all. But as I looked ahead, I could then see a large doorway. One that was framed with even more stone columns and held a big stone tablet above that looked to be carved with some type of picture.

“The story of how I came to be.” Draven’s voice was heard from directly behind me as he placed his hands at my shoulders, one being slightly damp.

“Is it really?” I asked.

“Nah, it’s just a recipe for a great meat pie,” he teased, making me turn and smack him playfully.

“It is not!”

“No, but it would be more interesting than that boring story,” he said, nodding to it.

“Your life isn’t boring,” I stated, making him grin.

“No, and let me show you why it isn’t anymore,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me towards the door. The light at the end was bright enough to have me wincing, only calming once we were through it. I gasped at the sight, for as soon as my vision cleared, I couldn’t help but gape in awe at the cavernous space around us.

“It’s an Aladdin’s cave,” I said, dumbfounded at all that Draven had obviously collected throughout his years on Earth.All of which looked like they had been housed inside of an actual hallowed out mountain!

There were thousands of artefacts and relics displayed in various ways, whether hung on walls or mounted in glass cases. There were pieces of art from what looked like every era, along with statues and solid gold figurines. But this wasn’t all, as there were rows and rows of shelves that looked to contain a large volume of books that would have been enough to fill a library. The place reminded me of a museum.

“This is your treasure?” I asked, making him smirk.

“Not my most precious possessions, no, as those are over there,” he said, nodding to a place that seemed separated from the rest. And at first glance, it was like something from a thrift store. I frowned in question before looking back to Draven who simply nodded for me to go take a closer look. His expression showed a sort of nervous tension.

So, I did as he asked and walked closer to it, gasping the second I recognised my own artwork. But then the moment my eyes started to take in everything else, I was soon left standing there with my mouth agape. Because there wasn’t just artwork I had done, it was everything! A maze of walls like some gallery held not just paintings but pictures of me. Black and white pictures printed on large canvases, ones I had never seen before. There was even a collage of small colour pictures, some of which I did recognise from our many years together. Places we had been, holidays and celebrations, even simple times just taking selfies together.

Then there was the shelving, that housed an array of random things from our past. The mask from the Venice ball, our silly souvenirs we had picked up from our day in Milan. Even the wigs we had been trying on, something he must have gone back and bought later on. The collection of my diaries I had gifted him once, joke presents I had bought him over the years. Whatlooked like every card I had ever given him, whether it be birthdays, Christmases or Valentines. It was all here. Even the silly stuffed bear holding a heart in its hands was sitting on that shelf.

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