Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bitterness coated my tongue as Hendrix manhandled me back to the castle, and it didn’t sweeten as night fell and I once again found myself trapped in his company.
“You’re even more useful than I thought you’d be, lightwing,” he drawled in what was clearly an attempt to bait me into a fight, the pair of amulets he’d stolen from me clinking together around his neck.
Furious didn’t come close to how I felt as I scowled at the matching amulets, one carved with the figure of the Bear, the other of the Fox.
He hadn’t deserved either prize, though the way he was acting told me we didn’t agree on that.
He clearly believed that stealing one from the corpse of my friend and snatching the other from between my outstretched fingers wasn’t a problem at all.
The Fox had been mine. It had been drawn by the fire I’d lit and had only been captured by that dull-witted brute because it had paused to regard me when my trap was sprung.
I hated him. Him and his whole fucking realm full of Fae.
He was right to question whether I might use the boon to rid myself of the lot of them because in that moment, I felt like it wasn’t such a bad idea.
But I had a far more important use for the boon, one which I couldn’t allow myself to take my focus from.
I ripped my arm out of his grasp and strode away into the luxurious castle, heading for the kitchens where I planned on claiming my own meal. I had no appetite for sharing a place at his table and the sight of his smug face, for even a moment longer would certainly make me hurl.
“You did well, beastie,” he called after me, clearly still hoping for a fight, but I wasn’t going to play his game. “The perfect tidbit for a hungry spirit. And you even managed to return here with all of your limbs – aren’t you going to thank me for keeping you alive out there?”
My blood boiled and I stalled for all of half a second, meaning to turn and embark on the war of words he was hoping for, but that was just it; he wanted my ire, my wrath, my fury. It amused him. So he wasn’t going to get it.
“Your company is so dull I fear I might fall asleep should I remain within it a moment longer,” I called over my shoulder dismissively. “So I plan on removing myself from it lest I end up sleeping right here on the floor.”
“And I suppose you think yourself to be a riveting conversationalist, far above conversing with the likes of a Fae who is over six-hundred years your senior?” he called, but I’d already made it to the kitchen door and even his diabolical claim at longevity wouldn’t rouse a reaction from me.
“You know, if I wanted to, I could have you-”
I let the door thump shut between us and thankfully missed whatever audacious statement he’d been so keen on making.
I knew he wouldn’t leave it at that though, so I grabbed a broom from the closet beside the door and wedged it beneath the handle to slow his pursuit.
He was like a dog with a bone when it came to harassing me and I wondered whether he was truly so desperate to infuriate me or if he was simply so oafish that it had been a long time since anyone else had deigned to endure his company.
Either way, I wasn’t inclined to become his new confidant or plaything. I was going to get away from him whatever it took.
I grabbed a picnic hamper from beneath the large kitchen table and hurried to start filling it with all manner of delicious food and drinks from the pantry, making my very own feast which I planned to enjoy in solitude.
I couldn’t fathom the powerful magic which had been used to preserve this place and the food within it in such a perfect state but I certainly wouldn’t have minded having the ability myself.
Either way, I was going to take full advantage of its use.
The door rattled as Hendrix reached it, his muttered confusion only offering me brief satisfaction. I doubted a broom would waylay him for long.
I grabbed my supplies and hurried across the huge room, heading for the door I’d spied in the corner there and pulling it wide with hope blossoming in my chest. A second staircase greeted me, this one narrower and darker than the grand thing in the heart of the house, likely meant for servants and certainly welcome for use by me.
I closed the door at my back and hurried to ascend the stairs in the dark just as the sound of a broomstick shattering and a door banging open against a wall caught up to me.
“Playing hide and seek?” Hendrix taunted, back on the hunt for me, but I ignored him, climbing higher and higher in the dark until I found another door which let me out onto the second floor.
There were countless doors on either side of the corridor I emerged in but I hurried past all of them, ignoring the stares of the Fae woven into tapestries and brought to life in oil paints.
The corridor veered sharply right and I selected the second door I came to, slipping through it while working to ignore the sound of Hendrix flinging doors open deeper in the house.
This place was huge. With a bit of luck I could at least avoid him long enough to eat. With a lot of luck I could stay clear of him until the sun rose again and I took my next chance at escaping.
I hurried further into the room, unable to make out much more than shifting shadows in the gloom.
The brush of a silken leaf slipped across my cheek in the darkness and I stilled, my heart lurching. I wondered if I’d somehow made it outside or found my way into a room that had been breached by the trees.
I reached up to knock the fronds aside and my fingers grazed against more of them. But there was no wind here, no chill from between wide trunks or rustle of small critters in the foliage.
I could still hear Hendrix hunting for me and perhaps it was madness but I pressed on, eager to avoid him.
More leaves brushed against my arms, my face, tangling in my hair and tugging at my cape. The scent of earth and dampness surrounded me and my fear over the forest spiked again until I stumbled out into a small space where the room widened and silvery light pooled down from the roof to surround me.
My lips parted as I peered up at the glass structure which loomed over my head, moonlight illuminating a grand conservatory abundant with beautiful plants and luscious blooms. They flowed into every spare inch of space, flourishing with life and vitality.
I was standing upon a wide balcony, wrought iron staircases descending into the conservatory on both my right and left, this monstrously huge addition to the palace spanning all four of its floors and extending out into the gardens to the rear of the building.
I almost began to question how they had survived in here without anyone to care for them but I could hear a low trickle of water, and as I stepped up to the edge of a balcony, I spied a beautiful pond at the heart of the room, small rivulets running from it in every direction.
This place didn’t need anyone to care for it. It was an oasis all of its own. And the magic which preserved everything in the castle had clearly helped it thrive.
My feet chose their own path as I descended the stairs, slipping beneath overhanging branches with orange flowers bigger than my head. There were paths between the fauna, little gravel tracks which I could just about navigate by stepping over or around the occupants of this miniature nirvana.
I didn’t follow any particular path but I ended up standing before a wooden hut which was hidden beneath a swathe of leaves so big they could have been bathing tubs. There were a pair of chairs nestled inside with cosy blankets draped over them and a firepit waiting expectantly between them.
I dropped into one of them with a sigh, lifting my picnic basket onto my lap and taking out the first piece of my feast. The vegetable pie was creamy and delicious, the tomatoes bursting against my tongue and making me groan.
I was used to plain, hearty fare and though we’d never been at the point of starvation, I was more than accustomed to difficult winters with monotonous simplicity on the menu.
The kind of food the Fae had left behind made me certain they’d never faced that type of hardship, which only made me hate them more.
I devoured another slice of the pie, then a third, grinning while I ate because there hadn’t been another and I knew Hendrix would get none.
Then I settled back and took the sweet pastries from my hoard.
One filled with blackberry and apple, the second with strawberries and cream, and the last smelled of the finest chocolate.
But before I could lift any of them to my lips, something hard dug into my side from a gap between the cushions of my seat. I leaned to the left, rooting around for whatever was ruining my moment of petty victory before finally pulling a small diary free.
I frowned as I looked at the pale grey book, the journal loosely bound and nowhere near as fine as the rest of the items I’d seen in this house. In fact, if I were to guess, I would have to say that it looked distinctly… human.
I released my hold on the pastries, letting them tumble back into my hamper before carefully opening the book to discover its secrets.
A small chill ran down my spine as I cracked the pages open. I’d always loved that feeling, the moment of delving into a new world, mysteries whispering their way out of the ink for me to consume.
The book fell open on a page a little more than half way through, the spine bending there as if it had been waiting for my arrival. I frowned at the handwriting, finding something comfortingly familiar about it as I began to read.
Day thirty-seven.
I heard singing in the trees again. The Lost Children are hunting me, there is no denying it now. They don’t wait for nightfall any longer but start creeping through the shadows in my wake for at least an hour before dusk.