CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX #4
I wasn’t sure for how long I stayed there, my entire body convulsing with sobs my muscles were too exhausted to support.
Every inch of me ached. I stared down at my wrists, at the welts that had cradled the rope lying on the floorboards before me.
The angriest bits of skin, speckled with dark purples and reds where the vessels beneath had broken in response to my writhing—though I hadn’t fought very hard, had I?
No, the wounds would be much worse if I’d resisted properly…
but I was no match for Vayen, so what good would that have done? Still, shouldn’t I have tried?
No. I would not allow my mind to wander to destructive what ifs—there was enough to chastise myself for.
Eventually my cries began to slow, harsh wails exchanged for the weak sputtering of shaky breaths. My eyes had no more tears to cry, it would seem.
I inhaled deeply once, then twice, staving off the final remnants of my collapse. I cleared my throat and wiped my tear-stained cheeks, grimacing at the now-moist grime that coated my fingers. Not for long, I thought.
I stood on trembling legs and made my way to the tub, sitting on its edge as I gripped the spigot with one hand. I puffed out an exhalation, eyes fluttering shut as I pulled the spigot down towards the tub. The spigot’s hesitation gave way, a torrential downpour of water sounding through the room.
My eyes flew open in shock. I leaned forward, cupping my hands together beneath the stream, only to draw them back reflexively as I blinked in amazement.
The water was warm.
Eyebrows pinched in disbelief, I stuck one finger into the pour to reaffirm that yes, it was delightfully hot.
Before my body could commune with my mind on the absurdity of it all, I was peeling off my clothes as though they were poisonous.
I ripped my arms from Vayen’s jacket, letting the dark brown fabric crumple to the ground.
One boot there, thrown across the room. The other dropped unceremoniously at my feet.
Socks, first the left and then the right, tossed near the edge of the bed.
The dress couldn’t come off fast enough as my fingers flew over the leather laces, and the moment it came loose, I yanked it up and over my shoulders with little regard and tossed it into the growing pile.
I nearly tore the simple white shift as I freed myself from its sweaty hold before hooking my thumbs into the edges of my matching linen drawers and pulling them down my thighs.
The tub was only partially full at this point, and there was a very real chance Vayen could return at any moment, but I didn’t have it within me to care. I gripped the polished wood with both palms, steadying myself as I tested the water with my toes.
Oh, stars above, it was nothing short of divine, so I wasted no time and hopped in.
The water only came halfway up my shins, but it was rising remarkably fast. I lowered myself until I sat comfortably, my bottom half swallowed by scorching bathwater, and back resting against the sloped edge of a tub that had no business being this comfortable.
I’d never seen a wooden tub before, or a spigot capable of producing water at an appropriately hot temperature, but each inquiry that popped into my mind about the impossibility of it all caved against the relaxation washing over me in welcomed waves.
When the water rose to the top of my chest, enveloping every bit of my form aside from my head, I returned the spigot to a horizontal position to stop its flow.
I desperately wanted to lean back and relax, to imagine Nora’s gentle fingers combing through my hair as she told me stories of Petunia’s staff and how they’d mistakenly used honey instead of beet molasses in her glazed plum rolls.
What I wouldn’t give to have the most exciting part of my day be Nora’s mundane stories.
But I would never see Nora or Petunia again.
They were not here to serve me castle tales and plum rolls, to bathe and ready me for the day.
I’d long since accepted their absence in my life, but the sting of my wrists in the water drew their faces into my mind’s eye, and I found it particularly difficult to ignore the squeeze of my heart.
For the first time since crossing the Threshold, I truly missed what Lunamor had been for me.
I forced my eyes open, willing their faces away as I focused on the small cupboard near enough for me to reach. I worked my lip between my teeth and gripped the handle, splashes of water fleeing to the floorboards with the movement.
“Yes,” I whispered, the smallest of smiles breaking through my discontent.
The cupboard had everything I would need: a basket of sticky soap blocks that smelled strongly of tree sap, woven towels that were scratchy to the touch but would get the job done, smaller linen washcloths, and a wide-toothed wooden comb.
I got to work removing the grime that had claimed me, still savoring the freedom to move my hands.
I drew the sticky soap over my entire body, including my hair and between my toes.
Not a speck of dirt remained, I was certain of it, and by the time I was clean I still hadn’t summoned the desire to leave the still-hot water despite my pruning fingertips.
But it was time. I had accepted that Vayen might return while I was naked, however it seemed I might evade that unfortunate occurrence if I dressed now.
After figuring out the draining mechanism at the bottom of the tub, I wrapped myself in one of the scratchy towels and padded over to the bag Vayen had left in her wake.
I unfastened the buckles with one hand, the other holding the towel to my body.
I dove my free hand into the bag and began removing its contents, eyebrows pulling together as I recognized my belongings.
I withdrew Catrin’s dark blue dress, the one that for all intents and purposes now belonged to me, as well as my undergarments. I also found two of my shirts, a skirt, a wide leather belt, three pairs of socks, my Sentinel-issued cloak, and—at the very bottom of the bag—one of my books.
The book seemed an odd inclusion, but I pushed that to the back of my mind as I ruffled my cloak, in search of—aha!
My cloak pin. I pressed it to my chest with a sigh of relief.
I would have felt quite lost without my moonstone, never mind Bjorn’s insistence I should never go without it.
A small part of my mother to protect me on this journey.
I set the pin safely on the bed linen, running my fingertips over its surface lovingly, before reaching back into the bag for the book.
I recognized it at once as Stories of Sor, Volume I by the upside-down V etched into its spine.
I’d read the book cover to cover more than once by now, and of all the books Catrin had given to me since my arrival in Grenythwood, this was my favorite.
I was glad to have it, but ultimately confused.
Why would Vayen have packed a book for her captive?
I was about to place it beside my cloak pin when a small sliver of yellow sticking out from the pages caught my eye.
Annoyed with propping up my towel, I draped it over the edge of the tub and pulled a fresh shift over my head before returning to the bed.
I flipped through its pages, lips parting as the book eased itself to the chapter where something had been hidden.
Chapter XII
Moonkin
Do not become their prey, for the agony of ill-fitted skin is burdensome.
It was on this chapter, the one that detailed the man-eating wolves of Grenythwood, that a letter loosed itself from the pages and toppled to the floor. With a furrowed brow, I kneeled to right the parchment and bring it closer to my face.
Dearest Lyssa,
I’ve been asked to pack for you, which can only mean one thing: Vayen has chosen to take you to Castle Sor.
I’m not privy to all of the details, but I wanted to say I will await your return with much anticipation.
I may not deserve it, but I hope one day you will forgive me for the part I’ve played in your abduction.
I know Vayen would have handled this differently if there were time to do so.
I only ask that you find it within your heart to see where she is coming from, though I understand if you cannot.
Regardless, I will miss you dearly. Vayen has promised to bring you back in one piece, a promise that I will be holding her to.
Just know that I will think of you often until your return.
Love, Catrin
P.S. Vayen will have my head for this, but just in case you need it…
I stared at the parchment with unblinking eyes, disallowing the tears that threatened to resurface. I had cried just about enough for one day. I inhaled deeply to ground myself, drawing a thumb to the dip of my neck and tapping gently, careful not to rub the raw skin of my wrist against my shift.
I wanted very much to be mad at Catrin, but could not find it within myself to summon the same breed of anger I’d reserved for Vayen.
Whereas Vayen was an informal leader of Grenythwood Village, Catrin was the herbalist—a kind, gentle woman without one rotten bone in her whole body.
Even if Vayen ordered her to pack my things, I doubt she would have acquiesced if she vehemently disagreed, but she still took the extra moment it required to write me a note, to let me know that someone will be missing me.
That I wasn’t quite as alone as I’d thought.
I read through the letter again, this time my attention falling on her postscript.
Was she referring to the book? That didn’t feel right.
I hummed softly as I reached for the bag atop the bed, pulling it down to the floor with a soft clunk I hadn’t expected.
When I peered inside to identify the last of its contents, my eyes widened.
If I managed to make it through this miserable situation with memory and life intact, I would have to pledge the latter to protecting Catrin. Because there was no way Vayen would forgive either one of us for what was about to occur.