7. Señorita Normal and the Giant Mushroom
Senorita Normal and the Giant Mushroom
SAPPHIRA
“ S he pulled a blade on you?” a harsh male voice whispers somewhere above Sapphira. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone with this—”
“Shhh,” Isabel whispers. “See, I shouldn’t have told you. I knew you’d react this way. I already told you she wasn’t going to hurt me.”
The male groans. “This is why I can’t leave you alone, Isabel. You’re too trusting. Maybe if I keep our link open, you’ll be more careful.”
“No. We promised we’d open the link only for emergencies. There are things I do not want to know about you.”
The male chuckles, but it quickly cuts off. “She’s waking.”
The room is quiet as Sapphira groans, rolling to her side.
She blinks her eyes open to an unfamiliar man standing over her.
He has a round, kind face and skin like the sands.
But his eyes are angry, brows furrowed down at her.
His pale pink hair and the dangling crystal in his right ear stand out the most.
Sapphira returns the man’s glare, and he huffs, turning away with his arms crossed over his chest. Sitting up, Sapphira turns to Isabel, who looks better rested than the last time she saw her.
Her curls are brushed out and falling around her shoulders.
Sapphira’s eyes trail down her figure. A white top over her chest bares her smooth stomach and scarred shoulders, and a long, earthy orange skirt falls to her bare feet.
The man clears his throat, and Sapphira’s gaze snaps back up, her cheeks heating.
He busies himself in the kitchen, eating what looks and smells like pie. The scent of cinnamon and apples fills the tiny home.
Isabel must notice because she says, “Es pastel de guayaba fresco.” At Sapphira’s blank look, she says, “Guava pie,” and sucks her lip between her teeth. Sapphira’s eyes linger on her plump, red mouth.
“I’m sorry you had to sleep on the couch,” the woman continues. “I only have one room.”
The man huffs from the kitchen and turns as if unable to mind his business. “You shouldn’t be apologizing, Iz. This barbarian should be glad you’re helping her at all.”
Sapphira’s fists clench as she holds herself back from snapping at him.
Isabel sends him a pleading look, then smiles brightly at Sapphira. “Don’t mind Kaelen. He’s a bit protective. I would have slept outside, but it rained last night, and the wet isn’t great for my horns.”
She motions to the things, and Sapphira’s eyes can’t help but be drawn to them. So it wasn’t a dream.
“You don’t have to sleep outside,” Sapphira grumbles, crossing her arms. “The couch is fine. I won’t be here long anyway.”
“Oh, don’t worry. The moss is lovely. Best sleep I ever get.”
Sapphira figures she must be staring too hard because Isabel’s smile fades, and she looks like she wants to run and hide. So she turns her gaze away and grows quiet for a moment. She isn’t sure how to react around this woman.
Kaelen looks between Sapphira and Isabel, his brow furrowing. “Don’t give up your bed for her, Isabel. She’s an ungrateful wretch.”
“I’m ungrateful?” Sapphira snaps. “I just said it was fine, despite the fact that my back is hurting now from those cushions. You can’t blame me for being a bit frazzled when I woke up in this madhouse with no idea what’s going on.”
“What’s going on”—Kaelen says, hopping down from the table—“is you fell from the sky sporting all manner of nasty wounds. And out of the kindness of my best friend’s stupid, big heart, she saved you. Now all you can do is sit there gawking at her as you bleed out on her couch.”
Sapphira looks down at herself and notices she’s bleeding. “Not again,” she mutters.
“Here, let me help,” Isabel says. She grabs a leaf and a jar of paste, then drops to her knees before Sapphira.
She’s adorned with necklaces and armlets, shells and golden chains curling around her horns.
They jangle as she goes down. Her reaction is immediate, and she doesn’t hesitate to help Sapphira as the intense focus she had while helping that little girl yesterday comes over her face.
Sapphira’s stomach drops, and guilt creeps up inside her.
As the Princess of Dansui, she’s used to people doing things for her.
She’s used to not holding her tongue, except when it comes to her aunt, who would punish her for any word spoken out of turn.
But Kaelen is right. Isabel owes Sapphira nothing.
And yet she’s giving her everything without hesitation.
Sapphira doesn’t like the feelings that are stirring inside her.
Sapphira pulls away, unable to look at Isabel.
“I’m . . . sorry, okay?” the princess says.
“I’ve had a hell of a night. I think I deserve to freak out a bit.
My mind is a mess right now, and where I come from, things like this shouldn’t happen.
Magic is a fairy tale.” Isabel moves closer, reaching out again.
Sapphira shudders at the soft touch. “I’m trying, okay? ”
Isabel looks up with her big, round eyes. They shine like the first rays of sunlight at dawn. “What do you mean?” she asks, breathily.
“Well . . . where I’m from, people don’t have horns growing from their head or ears like yours with tufts of pointed fur and that swivel at the smallest sounds. The people are just like me. Normal. No magic, or interesting… features.”
Isabel and Kaelen share a look Sapphira can’t decipher.
“And where are you from, Senorita Normal ?” Kaelen asks.
“Dansui. I’m the p—” Sapphira slaps a hand over her mouth. “From there,” she finishes, remembering that King Cornelius is after her. For all Sapphira knows, revealing her identity to these people could be dangerous. They might sell her out for a reward.
“I’ve never heard of this ‘Dansui,’” Kaelen says, placing his hands on his hips. “And trust me. If that was anywhere near here, Isabel would have talked at length about it. Are you sure you didn’t just hit your head very hard?”
Sapphira glares at him and says, “No, I didn’t hit my head. Or I did, but that’s not—ugh! Where is this? The east end of Avaria? Or, Percion, perhaps? It’s small and in the countryside.”
“No, you’re in Sule?hare?n. The Sand Isles.”
Isabel finishes patching up Sapphira and stands. “Your injuries must be more extensive than I realized. I didn’t detect any cognitive impairment, but the brain isn’t really my area of expertise.” She looks to her friend. “Do you think there’s any way she—”
“No, no!” he argues, waving his arms. “Do not go believing this woman’s delusions.”
“But,” Isabel continues, “there are so many creatures I have yet to discover and places to explore. Maybe she’s from a far-off land that doesn’t have creatures like you and me.” She looks up. “Maybe she’s from the sky. Maybe the stars brought her here for a reason.”
There is awe and wonder on Isabel’s face, and Sapphira almost wants to be the undiscovered creature Isabel believes her to be. A specimen for her studies.
“Whatever you are or wherever you’re from,” Kaelen says, “I’m sure your family is missing you right about now.”
He holds Sapphira’s gaze, and she meets it for a while before looking away. The only family she has turned their backs on her. They betrayed her.
“I don’t have anywhere to go back to. My parents are . . . Well, even if I could return home, I wouldn’t know where to go. I’ve never left before, and I don’t know how to return.”
Tears swim in Sapphira’s eyes at the realization, but she fights them back. She doesn’t cry, not even when her cousins tease her or her aunt pinches her nose. Maybe that’s why her people call her Ice Princess.
“Oh, great,” Kaelen sighs, whispering much too loudly. “She’s a prisoner.”
“I’m not a prisoner!” Sapphira says indignantly, pride overriding her sorrow. The man’s words hit too close to home. In many ways, he is right. She was a prisoner. But she says, “I was just sheltered.”
He whistles. “And in denial.”
Sapphira’s eyes might start shooting fire, especially when she finds herself glaring holes into Kaelen.
They get into another stare-off, but Isabel steps between them.
Sapphira leans back, thinking about her situation.
I’m far from Dansui. Far enough that these strangers don’t recognize it.
I might not even be on the island at all.
And if that’s true, I’m truly free for the first time in my life. Free.
But, I don;t know how to take care of myself. Where would I go? How would I make money? I know nothing about the world, or working.
“You said you found me. Where exactly was that?” Sapphira asks. Though part of her wants to stay here forever, she knows that isn’t possible. She has to try to find her way home eventually, and maybe she can find her way from where they found her.
As if reading her thoughts, Kaelen says, “You can’t return to ‘Dansui’ from Marrowmere. I went back there after I gave the potion to Senor Abisai. As far up as I went, I saw no place you could have come from. It’s as if you just appeared in the sky.”
“How about you stay here until you’re better,” Isabel tells her. “I can keep an eye on you, and when you’re better, I’ll help you get home.”
Kaelen tries to argue, but Isabel gives him a look and says she won’t be moved. And as freaky as this all is, Isabel feels safe to Sapphira—as safe as she can feel in a strange place. So she agrees. Staying with Isabel is better than the unknown.
Sapphira spends the week resting while Isabel goes in and out of the cottage to forage and study. When she returns, she changes Sapphira’s bandages and lathers more sweet-smelling poultices onto her skin.
Sapphira enjoys watching her cook, and the cottage always smells fantastic—sweet and salty and buttery.
She’s become very familiar with the smell and taste of cinnamon.
Isabel goes through it so much that she forages for it daily.
It goes on bread and in pies, in her coconut milk and tea, and even in her stew.