Chapter 5 #2
The last of the tea fills my stomach with more warmth and I almost go to make another cup but the emptiness in my stomach hits hard.
When was the last time I ate?
I begin searching through the cupboards and bins, trying to find anything edible. All I am able to find are some more dried herbs and oats that Lee unpacked. I slam the doors shut and walk back into the sitting room.
The image of the blood from my stomach returns, almost evoking another breeze of nausea. That blood could be explained. I did fall. Trauma can do that to the body. It was my blood. That is the only reasonable explanation.
My stomach growls again.
Suddenly, I remember the baskets Lee carried in.
“Yes!” I yelp, clapping before yanking some bread and apples free from the basket. Plopping onto the floor right then and there, I examine the crisp red of the fruit. The bread is some sort of simple dough but smells fresher than anything I have ever had at home.
Bread is common at home. Apples rarer, but a treat when Ma is able to score a good deal.
I bite into the apple first, not giving myself time in between bites to swallow as I dig into the bread right after.
The flavor explodes in my mouth as if I haven’t eaten in weeks.
It definitely feels like that. Making my way through the chewing portion of eating is difficult, likely because I haven’t eaten since before I was injured.
My teeth ache from disuse but as soon as I attempt to swallow, I gag.
My mouth salivates.
The food no longer tastes right.
I regain myself and try to swallow again, sure that I must have tried swallowing too much at once.
Another gag, this time my food spitting out with it.
I cough the last of the breadcrumbs out of my mouth and sprint to the kitchen, taking the cork from a bottle of wine and downing the contents.
My body is sweating, and my stomach still growls.
I lurch again because wine is also not the solution here.
Okay, so the food here is unsafe.
Ignoring the ache in my stomach, my attention shifts towards the physical exhaustion melting its way through my entire body.
I need rest, and more rest than I could have ever gotten at home.
Maybe this is my chance to sleep and recover.
The temperature here is more pleasant, actually requiring a fireplace from the waning winter’s chill.
I slowly make my way back through to the sitting room and into the back room adjoining it, the one I have not explored yet.
A large canopy bed with sheer fabrics sways in the wind from the cracked windows that line one whole wall.
The wall itself, made of various glass panes, separates me from the vast green of the forest. Though the sun has set, the dark leaves and branches are still visible.
I sit on the chaise at the foot of the bed to look at the beauty of it all.
This is nature like I have never seen it before.
Lush, full, alive. I wonder what this will be like in the rain.
The wooden bed is hand carved and has similar patterns grooved into it like the furniture in the other rooms. The duvet is similar in color to everything else in the cottage: maroon, purple, black, silver and red. They really do keep it consistent here.
Feeling particularly nosy, I crack open the armoire across from the bed and find it full of gowns of beaded fabrics and silks. Is this what Lee was unloading?
On a few of them, within the silk are traces of transparent mesh that would require the wearer to reveal a lot.
I shut the armoire and move to the small fireplace on the adjacent wall to the windows.
I’m feeling restless and that mostly derives from being wholly alone.
The foreign aspect of it is truly unsettling but I’m used to company; I never sleep alone with Ma below me.
The warmth of the fire Lee lit fills the small room, making the largeness of the bed more inviting as I crawl between the covers, not bothering to shed the comfort of the robe Avonde lent me.
Soon after, my body sinks into the bed, the effects of the elys tea settles my breath and muscles, though my stomach still aches.
I allow myself to drown in the various pillows and throws on the bed.
The breeze from outside and the crackle of the fire fills the silence of the isolated cottage.
Perhaps Sawyer will come tomorrow.
Sleep evades me, though the nightmares manage to find me once again. It seems impossible to find rest in a place that isn’t home. A place where Ma isn’t sleeping soundly beneath me. A place so terrifying I wake from sleep drenched in sweat, panting from running away from him.
Cedric.
It started in the green fields around a castle. I was resting on the grass with the sun beaming onto my skin, warming with every ray. A shadow cast upon my face and there in front of me was Cedric, blocking the sun’s kisses. Blood and flesh covered every inch of his mouth, his hands, his face.
It took every ounce of will in me to run, to pick my legs up, but I wasn’t fast enough. He was faster, stronger, stealthier. Every time I looked back, he was one step closer, closing in on his prey like a rabid animal. Our chase lasted forever, and my screams were soundless.
That’s when I woke up. Right when he lunged for the attack.
A deep shudder rolls through me and I pull the covers tighter, noticing the embers of the fire simmering in the dark, staring at the glowing wood in the hearth.
I catch the moon shining high above the forest, casting silver light upon my duvet.
It’s only been a few hours, but I know I won’t be resting tonight. How could I?
My feet pad back into the sitting room, hoping to find something else to curb my appetite in any of these baskets or trunks.
The first trunk I pull is filled with shoes of all kinds.
Some tall, some flat and some are riding boots.
But they are all very, very beautiful. Handcrafted, I imagine.
I move on to the other basket from the castle and find more apples, bread and wrapped cheese. My stomach flips just looking at it.
The largest chest sits near the door, most likely the heaviest if Lee didn’t bother to carry it in all the way. I scoot over to it and find it chilled, as if spelled to be cool like a winter morning. I snort to myself because apparently magic is a thing here in Lux, so it might very well be.
My fingers fiddle with the latches, eventually finding the narrow clasps. The lid flips open and the inside of the trunk emanates that same coolness as was felt on its exterior.
Bottles. Jars. Flasks.
All filled with some dark liquid. Spirit or wine perhaps. I’ve gotten used to tossing Trentin’s poorly discarded trash after visits to the village tavern.
I pick up the tall, narrow bottle in the middle, needing both hands to pry it from the tightness they were all packed in.
I move to hold it to eye level but with the slight frost that quickly melted under my touch, the bottle slips to the ground, shattering and splashing all over me, the trunk and the floor.
A crimson wave settles and soaks into everything in the near vicinity. It even made its way up the wall and under the crack of the front door. My nostrils immediately pick up on the lack of alcohol and fermented grapes in the air. Rather, it smells of iron.
This is neither wine nor ale.
“What…” I toe the substance and leave a thick smear across the parquet floor.
I trip backwards onto the rug and shriek. My elbow catches on a side table and I knock over a vase.
My screams of horror are no doubt heard all the way to the castle. Frantically, I try to find something to throw on the congealing puddle but nothing looks cheap enough to waste. My hands quickly pull my robe off and toss it onto the mess. The thing soaks and turns a deep red before my eyes.
I’ve never seen so much of it and I shake trying to wipe it up. It feels wrong.
Gods, who was this? Or what did this belong too? Pig or animal blood, surely. This can’t be human.
But something tells me otherwise.
Using the sleeve of the robe, I begin wiping the trunks and wall.
Everything in me stills and focuses when I notice a slow drip of blood sliding down the side of the chilled chest. The red of it isn’t bright or transparent.
It’s opaque and deep like a ruby. Thicker than water and the smell is…
decadent and rich. Could this be the very thing coursing through my veins?
Perhaps I never considered how beautiful blood actually is.
An essence of life.
From the roof of my mouth, an ache eddies and travels into my nose. My stomach responds, eager for something to fill its hollowness.
A deep hunger.
But blood?
The fact that it takes every will in my being to force myself to look away and cover my nostrils is chilling.
A wave of déjà vu rolls over me because I’ve been here before.
In a dream not so long ago. Desperately, I manage to run into the bedroom, the fresh air wafting from a few of the cracked windows.
Anything to resist the pull towards carnal urges.
Though the breeze is pleasant, everything feels tight.
This cottage is so small, so condensed. Why are the walls so low?
My head hurts and I feel my chest caving in because I am stuck here.
Here is not home. Here is scary. Here is foreign.
This body that is not my body but also is.
These people who feel familiar but are not.
There is so much wrong going on and answers are elusive.
Why can’t I eat?
I have to get out of here.
The cottage.
The castle.
Wherever Lux is.