Chapter 3 #2
I picked at a splinter in the table, staring down at my hands. “But what is the explanation, then? Magic? Magic isn’t real.”
“It is, though.”
“Prove it.”
Holding eye contact, he raised a hand over the table. At first, I thought he was reaching for me, but instead, he flicked his fingers and a nail popped out of the wood and clattered to the surface, before curling into a smooth ring.
“How?”
“I’m fae. An iron elemental. My magic shapes metal.”
“But… how?”
He pressed his lips together. “You want me to explain all of magic?”
“I want something to make sense.”
“Basically? There is a well of magic in all living things, including you. Some of us just have more of it.”
“That’s… not how things work where I’m from.”
“I can’t explain the differences between our worlds; I only know how things are here.” He met my eyes, his gaze cool and assessing.
I stiffened and took a shaky breath.
“There is nothing to fear.”
“You sure about that, sport? I’m in an interrogation room talking to a guy who can bend metal with his mind.”
“We are powerful, but we are just. If you are innocent in this, we won’t hurt you. We’ll help you find a way home.”
Something in the way he said it made my smile slip. In foster care, you learn to spot fake people quickly, and nothing about this man was fake. He was genuinely concerned about my presence in his world.
I pushed the thought down. If he was right, then I was utterly alone in a world I didn’t understand, with no way home and no one looking for me.
Aeldryc’s scrutiny was so intense I felt pinned to my chair. His fingers were still pressed against the table, and something moved behind his eyes.
“You’re telling the truth.”
“Duh. I’m a terrible liar,” I said. “Ask anyone.”
I forced myself to smile like I meant it, then leaned back in my chair and stretched. His eyes moved down my body and then snapped back up so fast it was almost painful to watch.
Let him look, because his eyes on me felt fucking good.
“Stop doing that,” he said.
“Doing what?”
“You know what.”
“Stretching? I’ve been sitting in this chair for ages. My muscles are stiff.” I rolled my shoulders. Slowly.
He stood and gathered his papers.
“I’ll arrange a room,” he said. “And a meal. And—” His gaze dropped to my shorts and snapped back up. “Clothing.”
“I have clothing.”
“You have undergarments. Come with me.”
I followed him out of the interrogation room and down a corridor that was, if anything, even more aggressively medieval than the room.
Stone walls. Stone floor. Torches in iron brackets, spaced evenly, casting overlapping pools of warm light.
The air was cooler out here, and I became painfully aware that I was wearing sparkly shorts and a crop top.
Aeldryc walked ahead of me. He didn’t look back. His stride was long and unhurried, the walk of a man who owned every hallway he passed through, and I had to half-jog to keep up.
Fuck, tall people walked fast. We turned corner after corner, and I was trying to keep track of the layout but this place was a maze, all identical stone corridors and iron-banded doors.
We went up a staircase, then another. The air grew warmer and the torchlight gave way to softer lanterns.
This wasn’t a dungeon anymore. He led me through a sitting room and into a small bedroom.
My eyes landed on a real bed with a thick, woven blanket, and I could have cried.
It was simple, but after the stone and iron, it felt like a palace.
He moved to the hearth and, with a few brisk movements, had a small fire crackling in the grate.
“This is—” I said. “Is this my room?”
“It’s a spare bedroom in my quarters,” he said.
“You will be locked in here when not accompanying me, until the Queen decides what to do with you. There will be food sent up. Don’t leave this room.
The door behind you is a water closet, so you should have everything you need.
The water from the tap is clean to drink. ”
“I thought you were taking me to the dungeon,” I whispered.
He glanced at me. “I was.”
I opened my mouth to say something cute, something flirty. The sort of thing I always used to deflect tension and keep things light. But my throat had gone tight, and what came out instead was: “Thank you. For changing your mind.”
His expression was unreadable. Then he nodded, once, and pulled the door shut between us.
The second I was alone, I realized I desperately had to pee. I turned to peek through the door he’d pointed to, studying the small room inside and pulling a lever on what appeared to be a wash basin. And I squealed with delight. This place had running water.
I saw a stone basin that had to be a toilet, and I finally peed, the relief so intense I nearly sagged against the wall. Why hadn’t I realized I’d been holding it?
I splashed my face with cool water from the tap, filled a small goblet and drank greedily. Those little cakes had been good for my hunger, but they’d done nothing for my hydration levels.
Muscles stiff, I forced myself to walk back in the bedroom, sat down on the bed, pulled one of the quilts into my lap. My whole body shook as I pressed the soft fabric into my face, trying to stave off a panic attack. Because this was fucking real, and not just because Aeldryc had said so.
Peeing in dreams never worked.