Worlds Away
By Michele Mason Bumbarger

Chapter Thirty-Three

Adam stood in the doorway leading onto the balcony and watched Ami. Unable to remain part of the celebration and festivities of the wedding feast all night, as much as they may have wanted to, they had been sent off, with flower petals and well wishes, to the privacy of their apartment. Not his bedchamber, because as of now, tonight, it was no longer his. As of tonight, he was to share the newly decorated and newly commissioned royal apartment with his wife. His wife, who stood on the balcony, quiet and still, a startling contrast to her earlier mirth and liveliness.

Ami had wandered out onto the balcony shortly after they came up to their apartment, and she had not ventured back indoors since then. Noting the candle marks again, Adam realized that she had actually been out there for over half an hour. Over half an hour, saying and doing nothing. And most importantly, avoiding having any contact with him.

No, that wasn't very fair and Adam knew it. Ami was not avoiding him; she was avoiding the situation with him, which came down very nearly to the same thing. Not that Adam cold blame her for that; he was no more comfortable with the situation than she was. As many times as he had thought about this night, had sent it spinning round and round in his head, Adam knew that there was truly no way for he and Ami to get out of this painfully awkward situation. This was no simple peasant marriage; this marriage was not only between the heirs of two powerful kingdoms, but the marriage was between the two kingdoms as well. And it would be consummated; if it was not, it would be seen as a terrible slight and the gods only knew what would happen then.

Downstairs, surrounded by revelers and merry-makers, it had been easy for both of them to put this moment out of their minds. Upstairs, alone, without any music or friends or anything else to distract them, it weighed heavily upon them. Enough so that, Ami had all but teleported away when he accidentally touched her hand; enough so that she fled onto the balcony the moment the heavy oak door to the room closed behind them.

So, he sat in the bridal chamber and stoked the fire, giving Ami the time and the space that she needed so desperately. He'd give her the next decade of time and space if he could, but unfortunately it was out of his hands. Barring another portal opening up and depositing them all right back on the beach where they started from, there was no way around this.

He was Prince Adam Aldaric of Stiborn and she was the Damiar Princess Amideira. And this was their wedding night.

Half an hour later, with the outside temperature dropping and a slightly cool wind blowing into the wind, Adam decided that allowing her space to adjust did not include permitting her to stand outside in her wedding gown until she caught pneumonia. It was still early spring, and the weather here was more brisk than that of England. He would at least coax her back inside, and then . . .

Well, he would coax her back inside.

She didn't even hear him step onto the balcony, or if she did, she gave no indication of such. Ami continued to lean forward, apparently not chilled by the brisk night wind in her layers of silk and velvet.

Adam chose his words carefully, trying to keep the situation light. "Oh this is nice. Married less than a day and you already want to throw yourself off the balcony?"

Ami rewarded him with a soft smile that told him that he had said the right thing. "No, not quite yet. I'm just enjoying the night air. I'd actually forgotten how nice it is to have some real breathing space. And some elbow room. I feel like I've spent the past three days in a sardine can.

"Do you know this is the first time in days that I've been able to turn around without finding out that Nynie is looking over my shoulder?"

Adam laughed softly, able to identify with her words. It had been hard for him to get any breathing space as well as the day of the wedding drew nearer. If he was not being attended to by one butler, then it was another. Not to mention the endless drills and schooling from Master Ilarms to be certain that the prince did not embarrass himself or the kingdom on the day of the wedding. More than once in the past week he had actually found himself appreciating Hagen's crude humor and dry wit.

Ami didn't even have that respite. All of her attendants came from the ranks of priestesses and acolytes, who spent the majority of their lives behind cloister walls and had little use for foreigners - particularly the foreign men of Stiborn. She'd even been denied Jade's company these past few days - Adam had heard Jade lament about it often enough - left with only Nynie who took her duty as an honor maid quite seriously.

"Well," Adam folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the balcony wall, "For some peculiar reason social etiquette bans ladies-in-waiting from the bridal chamber on the wedding night."

If his first words had been the right words, his latter words were wrong in every sense. Ami's face fell immediately and she turned away from him, the color draining from her yet again.

"Right," she whispered softly into the night.

Any other time, any other place and under any other circumstances, Adam might have found his ego to be a bit bruised by her reaction. But he knew that her reaction wasn't personal; she wasn't reacting to him, but rather to the situation that they were in. A situation that was only growing more awkward by the moment, and one that would never be resolved if they didn't do something to banish the growing tension between them.

Adam wondered what the real prince would do, if he had been there now. Would he have been worried about the nervousness and awkwardness of his new bride? Or would he simply have 'jumped to' with no questions asked because it was expected of him? Adam could almost hear Hagen making more than a few crude remarks somewhere in the back of his brain, and he pushed them aside.

He couldn't do that to himself. Most importantly, he couldn't do that to Ami.

Adam clapped his hands together, startling Ami out of whatever thoughts she was losing herself within. Blowing on his hands for a bit of warmth allowed him to see his breath condense on the air in front of him, and that meant it was cold enough. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not really," Ami shook her head, and then promptly shivered as the wind blew past them.

"Liar," Adam accused. "Come on, let's go inside. Where it's warm. We can talk by the fire, all right?"

"I like it out here," Ami insisted.

"You'll like it a lot less when you catch pneumonia," Adam chastised her. He took her gently by the shoulders, propelling her indoors, relieved when she didn't put up a fight or offer any resistance or argument. "And you know, I really don't want to spend the next few weeks feeding you weak broth."

Again, she gave a small, albeit somewhat strained laugh. "You wouldn't have to. Nynie and Sephrine would take care of me. That's what ladies-in-waiting do."

Adam steered her towards the sitting room sofa, doing his best to keep his attention - and hers - distracted from the bedroom area of the bridal chamber. "I've always wondered about that."

"About what?"

"Ladies-in-waiting. What are they waiting for anyway?"

Ami blinked at him in surprise. "I can't believe you just said that."

"What?" Adam asked, "Megabyte has a monopoly on using bad jokes to break the tension?"

"No, but," Ami paused, settling back against the sofa and straightened the layers of her wedding dress, "That was considerably worse than a lot of Megabyte's jokes."

"Everyone's a critic." Giving her a last - and what he hoped was reassuring - smile, Adam crossed the room and closed the double wooden doors that led to the balcony.

"So," Ami spoke quietly, her words barely audible over the pop and hiss of the fire in the hearth and the resounding thud of the balcony doors closing, "this is it."

Adam paused, his hands still on the doors. Her less than subtle approach revived that curious fluttering, twisting ball of anxiety that he had led himself to believe he had banished and beaten into submission during the wedding feast. The way his heart skipped, and the manner in which he was forced to take several deep breaths, showed him just how foolish and misplaced that notion was. "Yeah, this is it."

"It's nice."

Nice?

With a confused frown, Adam turned to look at her and quickly felt his cheeks warm as he realized that Ami's words had not referred to the topic that he had assumed. Instead, she moved around the room, touching tapestries and furnishings, the smile on her face reminding him of a kid at Christmastime.

"Nice?" Adam repeated the question aloud.

She nodded, lifting a heavy quilt to her face and rubbing it against her cheek. "It's very nice. And this is all ours, right?"

"Yes, it's all ours but . . . " Adam paused, surprised at how easily the words fell from his tongue. His mind had no problems reconciling Ami as his wife; but, looking down at the thick braided gold and silver band on his right hand, he realized that he was left with little choice other than reconciliation after the ceremony today.

"But what?" Wrapped in one of the fur lined cloaks that was evidently meant as a wedding gift for the new bride, Ami prompted him to continue.

"But I don't think my mother would be very pleased to hear you describe this place as 'nice.' A lot of time, effort, work and ... yelling ... went into this. Somehow, I think that it warrants a little more than 'nice.' " Adam shook his head and laughed softly as she tugged the hood of the cloak over her head, burying herself within the depths. "What are you doing?"

Ami straightened her shoulders, her head held high with the royal poise and dignity that seemed so fitting on tonight. "I'm enjoying our gifts."

"You're like a kid in a candy store, aren't you?"

"Maybe," she sniffed condescendingly, and held the elitist pose for all of a few seconds before a wide grin broke out across her face. "Oh, come on, Adam. Look at all this stuff. I mean, what on earth are we going to do with five . . . six ... seven different cloaks, and how many meters of silk do I need for a few dresses?"

"You're a princess." Adam crossed to her, playfully tugging at the ties which held the cloak closed. "You can have as many dresses and cloaks as you want."

"I forget that sometimes." With a sigh, Ami pulled the hood back from her head, shaking it slightly. "I haven't gotten used to his whole royalty-princess thing. I'm not like you."

"Like me?" Adam lifted an eyebrow inquisitively. "You think that I've gotten used to - any of this?" He punctuated his words with a wave of his arm, indicating not just the bridal chamber, and more gifts than the High Prince and Damiar Princess could ever figure out what do with, but the entire Lion Palace as well.

"You have." Suddenly serious, Ami sank to the sofa and began untying the cloak. "We may have only been here two months, but - you're adapting. You've adapted. You're not just playing a role anymore, Adam. You're the prince."

"And I think that you had too much wine at the wedding feast."

"I'm serious, Adam." She busied herself folding the cloak and putting it aside before raising her dark eyes to look at him again. "You have this air about you now. You carry yourself . . . like royalty. You look the part. I mean, you really look the part.

"When I look in the mirror, and I see all this finery and this silly fire diamond," Ami touched the bluish-white stone that set on her forehead, held in place by a finely crafted silver chain, "I see a girl who is all dressed up and playing make-believe. It's like I'm getting ready for a role in a play or to act on television. It's not me. But it is you. It's becoming you more and more.

"And it fits. It looks good on you, Adam."

"Ami," Adam licked his lips, searching for the right words. For some reason, her words unsettled him. He didn't want her to think - he didn't want any of them to think - that he had changed. That he wasn't still Adam Newman.

"We don't," Ami spoke up, smiling apologetically as she responded to his unspoken thoughts. "You are still our Adam, but you're Prince Adam too. You're both of them, and that's all right. I rather like both of them."

Adam considered her words for a moment, not quite certain how to respond. Or even if he should respond at all. He didn't see it - what she claimed that she and the others saw; to him, he was still Adam Newman. Yes, he was more comfortable in the persona he had been given, over the past two months he'd grown more comfortable with his role and status, but that didn't mean that he let go of his roots or past or who he was. He understood what Ami said when she spoke of looking in a mirror and playing make-believe; he still felt that way sometimes. Just not as often as he had in the beginning.

Maybe there was some truth to her words after all, but that wasn't something he wanted to think about too hard or for too long.

Yet, on the other hand, the same could be said for her as well. Adam had the opportunity to observe Ami quite intently tonight. If she was as uncomfortable in her role as she claimed, then she did not show it. She carried herself like the princess that she was supposed to be, full of power and pride and an almost childlike sort of haughtiness that could only have come from being a spoiled and pampered princess.

Sometimes, the persona was so strong with her, that Adam could swear that he could see two images overlapping. One was the Ami Jackson he had always known, shy and kind and bold as brass when needed. Ami of a million braids and a smile that was the sun coming out from the clouds. Ami who radiated vulnerability, arousing his protective instincts even when she was brave. His best friend. The other...

The other he could only name Amideira. In that ghostly image he saw a girl tempered in her own abilities, supremely confident of herself and her place. Amideira was more mysterious, more cagey than Ami. Power thrummed out of her and around her, creating ripples of in his vision. Amideira was confident because she knew that no one in their right mind would attack a mage of her skill. Or so she hoped. There was nothing of his Ami in that arching smile and mildly bored set of the head...except in those eyes. There was something there...Some spark that echoed something he had glimpsed in Ami.

More and more of late, that ghostly image had become less transparent, the two women slowly merging. Adam wondered how long it would be until she--until all of them, became so consumed by the identities they had assumed for themselves that there would no longer be anyway to separate Ami from Amideira. And what really panicked him was the growing feeling in the back of his head that whispered, would it really be such a bad thing? There were worse destinies to be born into than that of a prince.

Adam shuddered. He had no wish to think on this tonight but with Ami's and Amideira's eyes staring at him curiously, it was impossible to ignore. Impossible to ignore, and he wondered if that was what she saw when she looked at him? When she told him that he was Prince Adam.

"Adam?" The feathery light touch of her hand on his, pulled him from his wandering thoughts. [Adam?]

He shook his head to clear away the lingering thoughts and gave her hand a squeeze. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

"I know. You were a million miles away. Share?"

"I was just thinking that it looks good on you too," Adam wound his fingers through a handful of braids, giving her a smile, "Your Highness."

"Don't start," Ami averted her gaze, and tried to free the one hand he still held onto, but Adam refused to relinquish his hold.

"I didn't start, you did." Adam raised her hand to his lips and brushed a light kiss across her knuckles, "I'm finishing it."

Whatever objections or comments she would have made, whatever words would have been exchanged between them, whether playful or serious, all died the moment her gaze returned to his. In that moment, all was startling clarity. Without a single word passing between them, they both acknowledged the truth of their situation, of what they were dancing around and trying hard to avoid.

"Ami--"

She pressed her fingers to his lips, forcing him into silence. "Do you have any regrets?"

"Regrets?"

"If ... if we never go home again, if this is it, Adam, if you're stuck with me forever . . . do you have any regrets?"

He didn't answer her immediately, but neither did he worry about his silence offending her. Adam knew from the earnest pleading in her dark eyes, that she wanted nothing more from him than the truth and he owed her nothing less than that. So, he held her hand for a moment, looking inside of himself for answers. Did he have any regrets? Could he spend the rest of his life married to his best friend, married to the beautiful woman sitting beside him, waiting on his answer?

"I think that I'd have to feel stuck before I could regret anything," Adam told her gently, pressing a soft kiss to her fingertips, "And I really don't feel stuck."

"Me neither." Then she leaned forwards, her mouth pressing against his . . . and it was the beginning of everything.

*** End of Chapter Thirty-Three