I go through the motions, slipping on my dress. Then I step into my boots, brushing the lint from my skirt.
My fingers disappear beneath my pillow, searching for the weapon. When my fingers graze cool metal, I pull it out, gazing down at the shining bronze.
Tegwyn had given me this knife on my second day here. He told me to go and clip some heather on the slope so I could use it to stuff my bed.
He didn’t have to do that. It wasn’t in the contract. As far as he was concerned, he’d already done his due diligence, giving me a bed made up of furs, no matter how uncomfortable they may have been.
He also protected me from the bugbear. The faerie could have just sacrificed me to that vicious beast, getting me out of his hair once and for all. He already had my necklace by that point.
Yet, he protected me… Maybe hedoescare deep down, but he just has an odd way of showing it.
Finally, I pocket the knife, moving down to the kitchen to find it empty as usual.
After a warm breakfast of porridge, I grab my cloak from the mounted antlers, heading further down the mountain.
A morning hike along the northern slope should help clear away the cobwebs. As long as I stay within the safety margins of Tegwyn’s wards, I should be safe from bugbears or worse.
A golden sun glimmers in a clear, sapphire sky once I emerge onto the grassy slope at the mouth of the tunnel, inhaling deeply. It may be sunny, but the weather is crisp cold, and fogs the breath.
I veer right, heading for the northern slope where the heather grows in abundance. It’s a beautiful sight to behold, and one of my favourite places to unwind.
A peaceful, craggy footpath leads the way, rocky outcrops towering above me on either side as I watch wild goats scaling the cliffs and creeping across narrow ledges to reach tufts of thick grass.
When I finally arrive at my destination, a sigh leaves my lips, and for the first time today, I smile.
The slope is blanketed in purple heather and yellow gorse, and the bright colours lift my spirits, right along with their sweet scents.
If I had my easel, I would paint every single one.
A brook twists down the hill, a bright, glistening ribbon of crystal-clear water. I plan to take a dip today, cleansing my mind, body, and soul.
Following the brook, I trek further down the path, wending between bushes of gorse until I stop at a bank of smooth rock.
Untying my boots, I submerge my toes in the water, shivering when it sends ice-cold knives up my leg.
Despite the frigid temperature, I plunge my foot deeper, freezing my bones. This is where I come to bathe, but every time I strip off my clothes, I feel as if something watches me.
I’ve heard harrowing tales of Fae snatching away maidens who’ve wandered too far. Perhaps I should tie my dress back up.
But I’ve already loosened my corset.
I slip out of the dress, dragging it down until it bunches at my waist. When it drops to my feet, I step out carefully, bundling it up and placing it onto the smooth rock.
I start taking my undergarments off, too, despite my apprehension. I pop the buttons off my bralette and tug off my silken panties until I’m completely naked.
Finally, I step into the freezing brook, holding my breath as I drop to my knees. My hair hangs like a golden veil around my shoulders as I shut my eyes, tilting my face towards the sky.
Sunshine kisses my cheeks, and I dip my head back, letting the cold water soothe my scalp.
Water drips in rivulets between my breasts, gooseflesh encircling each peak, and it’s so cold. My lower lip trembles, yet I sink deeper until no part of me remains above the surface.
The water is murky, but I keep my head under. I used to hold my breath in the lake all the time back at home, and the longest I’ve gone is two minutes.
I try to repeat my record, but when the pressure builds up in my lungs, I breach the surface, gasping for air.
So cold…
My teeth are chattering.
