It turned out Ella had nowhere to rush. The magician Voldemar could not use his magic until he had drunk his coffee.

  So they went straight from the library to the nearest café.

  Ella sat down at a table by the window and waited impatiently, tapping her fingers on the tabletop, for Voldemar’s coffee to arrive.

  When the cup appeared in front of him, the magician picked it up with his long, slender fingers, and she felt as if she had known him for two hundred years. He looked like any other elderly man, simply sitting with a young acquaintance in a café, sipping coffee serenely.

  But none of it was true.

  She did not know him. And if she did not know what awaited her in half an hour, how could she claim to know this powerful wizard?

  One thought kept spinning in Ella’s mind: What if she was late for Thunder?

  What if her husband—the man she had suddenly confessed her love to, at least in her own heart—was no longer waiting for her? What if she was now so far from him and his world of the fae that only powerful magic could bring her back… and even that might not be enough?

  This treacherous, painful thought gave her no peace.

  Who could possibly believe that a fae prince would truly fall in love with her—an ordinary young woman from a world completely foreign to him? Could he really love her, the bride who had become his wife only because she had been chosen to restore peace to his fae kingdom?

  Perhaps Ella had turned out to be nothing more than a tool for Thunder—something he used to achieve his goal: to marry a woman from another world who, according to Voldemar, was destined to be his bride, a woman whose fate was entwined with both beauty and scars.

  Thunder’s face appeared before her inner eye. Ella saw him so clearly that she thought she could smell him, touch the long, tar-black curls of his hair. It felt as if, at any moment, she might fly back to the fae kingdom without the magician’s help—so real did Thunder seem before her.

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  Suddenly, something nudged her elbow.

  It was Voldemar, touching her lightly with his hand. He must have noticed that she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything and decided to interrupt her daydreaming.

  “Well,” the magician said, sounding like a capricious boy, “are you going to eat at least a little, or may I have your piece of cake too?”

  Ella pushed her cup of coffee and the plate of cake away and replied, “I don’t want to eat. I need to get back to the world of the fae as soon as possible.”

  Voldemar nodded, with obvious pleasure, and pulled the coffee and cake closer to himself.

  “Well, I promised I’d take you back to Thunder, and I will,” he said. “Just let me finish your cake first.”

  She had no choice but to sit and watch him eat.

  Finally, the magician pushed the coffee cup away, neatly lined up both cups in front of him, and suddenly turned them over—one after the other—placing them upside down on their saucers.

  Ella knew what he was about to do. Her grandmother, Lily, had taught her how to read coffee grounds.

  A few minutes passed. Neither of them spoke. She watched with growing curiosity, wondering what the magician would see in the spent coffee.

  A thin stream of fairly clear liquid flowed from beneath the overturned cups onto the saucers, showing that the grounds had already settled along the sides.

  Carefully, Voldemar turned the cups upright, one after the other. He looked into the first with interest, then frowned as he examined the second.

  Her heart began to beat like a bird trapped in a cage.

  At last, Voldemar broke the silence. In a slightly creaky voice, he said, “Well, Isabella, it’s time for you to return to your unloved husband. He is waiting for you.”

  Yet there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. She did not understand what was happening.

  Noticing her anxious expression, the magician explained:

  “Thunder is waiting for you. Yes, my girl—your ugly and beautiful husband is waiting. However, first you must promise to return to the very beginning of time… back to where you first met him. That will show what you are capable of for love.

  “And there is more. You will forget everything that happened to you in the world of the fae. You will once again become the bride of the fae prince, and you will begin all over again. You must forget everything you have learned about Thunder. You will see him—but not as the man you fell in love with.

  “That will be your test.”

  The magician looked at Ella intently, as if hoping she would refuse—and spare him the burden of this difficult task: sending her back to the fae world and taking her memories away once more.

  (to be continued...)

  Every choice shapes destiny… and the arena never forgets.??

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