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Fucking Roan.
It’s like his scent is imprinted everywhere. Which makes sense, because this ishistavern. But it’s not that. It’s like it’s imprinted inme.I hate it.
That’s a lie.
Perhaps Ishouldcall Seldon back. He can knock me unconscious, and I can just not face this.
Big deep breath again.
Ok, maybe facing this doesn’t have to be so bad. Maybe I don’t have to face being kidnapped by a murderous ancient fae- also known as Marieth- and having her steal my fae gift and power, the very essence of my being, who I am.
Or that without them I have no future. Well, certainly not one in academics, anyway. Or that I put my brother and his friends in mortal danger. Or that she was going toeat my heartwhile I still breathed.
Maybe I can just face this room, and another shut door, and being alone.Again.
I’ve had enough practice being alone, even before the whole kidnapping and being held captive thing. One night in a tavern full of people shouldn’t be hard.I can do this.
Strengthening my resolve I push myself away from the door, scrubbing furiously at my face, wiping away the tears that had escaped, as though erasing them erased their having existed. Stepping away from the anchor of the door, I take in my room here at the tavern.
It’s big, warm and inviting, and utterly perfect. A fire burns in the wooden fireplace beneath a beautifully shining mantle piece, hand carved in dark timber that matches the rest of the room's furniture. Above the mantle, a large oval mirror reflects the light of the candles burning there.
A small table with two chairs and a steaming bowl of something that smells delicious is tucked into a little breakfast nook off to one side of the fireplace and a large chest of drawers to the other.
Standing large and imposing, taking up much of the room, is a four poster bed with navy and emerald green patterned bedding and more pillows than I know what to do with.
It looks so soft and cosy, but nearly anything would after sleeping on the ground for the last few nights and before that, the awful cot at Marieth’s. A shiver wracks through my body as the memories seep into the edge of my consciousness.
Violently shoving them back where they belong, into the deep dark recesses of a box labelled “later”, I cross the room to push open the only other door in the room. And there it is, one of the many things I had dreamed about during my captivity.
The Bathroom.
Blessed and gloriousindoor plumbing.
The bathroom is only small, tiny really, compared to the bathroom in my quarters at home. Myparents’home. Everything there is big, though, as they tend to be in castle-like mansions like our family estate.
But this tiny, white-tiled bathroom is fresh and clean and comfortable. Which is a billion times better than having to scrubyour bits quickly out in nature, or thebucketI’d been subjected to in the basement.
It takes me a second to figure out the hot water but I manage to get it turned on and let it run to get the water steaming hot.
Sitting on the toilet lid while I wait, steam billows out of the shower and fills the room, fogging up the mirror I have been avoiding. I don’t think I am quite ready to face myself just yet.
Once the water is perfect I strip my borrowed, too big clothes, refusing to look at myself. I have always been skinny—unlike my brother and his perfectly sculpted muscles. I had never really grown into my “grown up” body.
I can do without the reminder that I’ve become weaker, scrawnier and paler than ever. Stepping out of the pile of clothes gathered at my feet, I wobble over the edge of the tub and into the shower.
My legs are exhausted and trembling, but I refuse to give in to the weakness and manage to get myself under the scalding spray. I have a lot of experience shoving down uncomfortable feelings, painful experiences. Growing up a gifted fae prodigy, blessed with the gift ofKnowledgelike no one had ever seen before hadn’t been the boon everyone assumed.
As a child I’d easily blown past my peers. I’d then been pushed into higher and higher levels of academics until eventually I landed in amongst a bunch of adults who had no idea what to do with the brilliant but weird kid that had landed in their midst. As I had gotten older, their amused tolerance had become more jaded, filled with envy and scorn.
It was lonely. It was isolating. It was a curse.
And now it isgone.
Soaking under the water I let my mind drift, the depressing thoughts floating to the surface, too tired to fight the memories of schoolyard bullies and teasing, of my academic peers’ rejection and eventually of pain and torture. Of Mariethstanding above me, boline poised to rend my heart from my chest to complete her ritual.
And that’s enough of that.
I slam off the water and grope in the bathroom for a towel, almost slipping when I step over the tub edge. Rubbing myself with a towel, it finally dawns on me,I have no underwear. Nothing to wear at all actually.
