“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Frid snapped.
I shook my head and walked to one of the rooms. Both bedrooms had a good sized bed and were almost identical. That was so different from what you would expect to see in other houses. Usually one room was used as a bedroom and the second room could be a sitting area, kids room or storage.
“Can we take this room?” Frid pointed.
“Go ahead,” I said.
“Come on, Aly. I’m dying to take a bath and go to sleep.” Frid grabbed Alina’s hand and pulled her inside one of the rooms, closing the door behind them.
“That leaves the two of us.” Victor sighed.
I walked into the second bedroom.
“There are two of us and only one bed,” Victor continued.
“Do you prefer to sleep outside?” I asked.
“Of course not. I’ll just sleep on the floor.”
“Suit yourself.” I walked into the closet and found multiple gowns and suits displayed on the racks. “What in the holy hell?” I pulled out a bright red silk shirt and a pair of black pants to go with it.
“I guess you found your change of clothes. What exactlyis your grandma into?” Victor asked as he stretched out on the bed.
“I‘m trying hard not to think about it.”
A knock on the door made me turn from the closet. Without waiting for a response, Frid swung the door open, and stood in the doorway holding two hangers.
“She said we could use anything we want, right? I looked through the clothes.” Frid shook the hangers in her hands.
“It’s a little too masculine for you,” Victor observed.
“Very funny. I thought it could work for you, Ty.” She handed me the black shirt and black pants made out of a thick, smooth material. “As for you, I think she has some kids’ clothes here.” Frid threw the second set right at Victor's laughing face.
“What are you up to?” I asked, hanging the suit on the closet door.
“We started a fire and Aly is boiling us some water for a bath,” Frid responded.
I returned my gaze to the window, watching the low fog creep down from the mountains. I had forgotten how the peaks crowded the horizon, adding contrast against the dark blue sky.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ALINA
After the water for my bath was ready, I stepped into the oddly shaped porcelain bathtub, wincing when the bruises and scratches burned everywhere the heat touched my skin. I almost moaned, trying to adjust to the temperature. My eyes closed and I leaned back, enjoying a rare moment of being completely alone. Never before have I thought that being alone was a luxury. I sighed, thinking about the last couple of days we had. But then my thoughts returned me to the prison cell and I remembered all the horror in the Devil’s Cave. Moist cold air, growls that came from behind the door, and then the quiet that was somehow even worse. The overwhelming, soul crushing headaches and the constant fear of waking up another day,watching the cracks in the ceiling and the growing wet patches of mold. I could smell the stench of decaying flesh. My eyes opened wide. I was not ready to revisit those memories, not yet.
“Hurry up! Grace brought us food. I’m trying to save some for you, but the boys are really hungry.” Frid shouted from the other side of the door.
I scrunched my nose when my stomach growled at the thought of eating something. With a sigh, I picked up a bar of lavender soap and scrubbed my skin, carefully tending to the scratches I received during our long trip. I rinsed my hair and was just about to reach for the towel, when the door swung open and Frid walked into the room holding a piece of bread.
“What?” I paused, wrapping my arms around my legs.
“I’m serious, you have to hurry up.” She placed a thick piece of cornbread in my hand before leaving me alone.
I sat back, watching the door. Not knowing what else to do with it, I took a bite, enjoying the taste of the sweet corn and the richness of the butter melting on my tongue. The crust was glazed with honey and so delightfully chewy. I took another bite, savoring every morsel.
When I finally stepped out of the bath and dried myself with a clean and fluffy, oversized towel, my eyes landed on the flowers on the side of the counter. I did not want to admit it to anyone, but I loved this cottage, I enjoyed looking at the furniture, odd sculptures, and unconventional paintings.
The only thing that I would change was the abundance of fake flowers. The quaint cottage deserved fresh plants, and I would place them on every window and every corner in all the rooms. I could imagine festive compositions of different sorts, sharing large ceramic planters, filling the place with warmth and comfort. Even the large picture of Grace holding an apple did not bother me. I loved the small details and the smells of the herbs. I had not realized how much I missed all of that.
