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“Help me,” I whisper to her. “Get me out of here.”
She watches me warily as she steps closer, and a cloud of vanilla perfume chokes me.
“I can’t.”
I pause, cocking my head at those words. “Okay,” I say carefully. “I understand—”
“No. You don’t understand anything.” She squints at me, then alarm passes over her face.
She grabs my hand, yanking me back into my room. Then she uses a heeled sandal to kick the door shut, almost losing her balance in the process.
“You’re bleeding.” She kicks off her heels and darts to my bathroom, coming back with a cloth. “You need to clean this up.” She presses the cloth to my nose, and I wince. “It doesn’t look broken, but damn. You ran right into the barrier.”
“How do I get past it?” I ask. “It was at the doorway first, and now it’s further down the hallway.”
Fern smiles sadly. “You don’t. It’s magic. It reads your intention. If you intend to leave, it will hold you here until Rainer considers you even.”
“You know about the oath?”
She chuckles, her eyes crinkling adorably at the corners. It’s such a change in demeanor from last night. She appears so grounded, so normal. Her eyes are clear, her words crisp.
“Everyone at court knows about it,” she says, swiping my upper lip and cheek gently.
“So, what, I trick the magic into thinking I’m not planning to leave and then sneak out?”
“You can’t trick it.” She sighs, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small white pill. She plops it into her mouth with a resigned look then returns to dabbing my nose. “Trust me. I’ve tried.”
“Wait.” I grab her wrist, pulling it away from my face. “You have your own magic oath keeping you here, too?”
“Something like that.” She squirms uncomfortably, then she purses her lips.
The ache in my nose reminds me of the healing cream Das Celyn gave me. I pardon myself from Fern for a moment, using the bathroom to apply the cream on my backside and my face. Quickly, the ache in both places subsides.
When I return to the bedroom, Fern frowns at me.
“Do you have any wine in here?” she slurs, pulling open the drawers on my nightstand with shaky hands.
My stomach knots as I take her in, wondering what happened in the few minutes I was gone. “I don’t think so." Upon a closer look, I see her eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated. Likely from whatever drug she took. It must've kicked in while I was cleaning up. I'm not one to judge, but something about the shift in energy feels wrong. "I don’t think you need any wine right now, either, Fern,” I whisper carefully.
“You don’t know shite about what I need,” she snaps, and I recoil. “Look, just do whatever Rainer asks of you and be on your way. You shouldn’t be here.”
My body grows hot and clammy at her unexpected tone, giving me whiplash. It’s like talking to an entirely different person now than it was five minutes ago.
“I’m sorry for overstepping or making you uncomfortable, but—”
“And stay the hell away from the prince,” she says.
A nervous laugh bubbles out of me. “I’ve no intention of getting near him.”
“I mean it. If I lose my spot in the Umbra Court because of you…” she sniffles, tears forming in her eyes.
Part of me yearns to reach out and comfort her, but I wrap my arms around myself instead.
“If you need help or something, we can help each other,” I say. “We can figure out a way to—”
She wipes away the rogue tears that trek down her cheek and chuckles. It’s a snotty, bubbly laugh. Bordering on hysterical.
“I don’t need your help. I need you gone.”
