“Great. A field trip to the yard. I’m sure the Queen has nothing better to do than worry about whether or not I get some fresh air.” That had come out sharper than I’d intended. I took a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate the... whatever this is. But there’s nothing for me here. I want to go home.”
The words hung in the air between us, raw and honest in a way I rarely was. I looked down at the floor, mortified.
When I looked up, Aeldryc’s expression had softened. Not much, not even enough that I was sure I wasn’t imagining it. But his mouth had relaxed from its usual stern line.
“We’re working on it,” he said quietly. “But this has never happened before. Not that we’re aware of.”
Aeldryc stepped closer. For a second, I thought he was going to touch me, brush the hair out of my eyes the way Sky did when I was having a meltdown. But he stopped just short of contact, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin.
“I know this is difficult,” he said. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be so far from everything familiar.” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “But while you’re here, you’re under my protection. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“It’s not about protection. I’m safe here.” I gestured helplessly at the room, at myself. “But there’s nothing for me to do. No one who wants me here. I’m just... in the way.”
Something in his expression shifted—a subtle tightening around the eyes, a barely perceptible straightening of his spine. “That’s not true. But I’m here because I thought you might want these.” He reached for the basket and set it in my lap.
I lifted the cloth and gasped. “What is this?” I picked up a roll of paper, then a small leather pouch of different sized brushes. A collection of small clay pots sat beneath it.
“Art supplies,” Aeldryc said, as if it were obvious. “You said you were bored, and I thought perhaps… the charcoal I gave you wasn’t enough. They’re making you something so you can read, but it may be a few days.”
I lifted the lid from a clay pot and found it filled with paint. This one held a blue pigment so deep it was almost purple. “Where did you get these?”
He paused. “The palace has an artisan’s workshop.”
I picked up one of the brushes, running my thumb over the bristles. They were soft but firm and made of real animal hair, something I’d never been able to afford. “Why would you do this? You don’t have to be kind to me.”
Aeldryc flinched as if the word ‘kind’ was an insult. “It’s my responsibility to ensure your comfort.”
“Well-being, maybe. Comfort? Not so much. You could’ve just left me in here to rot until someone figures out how to send me back.”
His shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch, and he sighed. “No. I couldn’t.”
Our eyes met across the small room. Something passed between us, something that made my chest feel tight. Aeldryc looked away first.
“You cannot control your fate, Pip. But you can control what you do with your time while you have it.”
I stared up at him, desperately trying to resist the urge to hug him, to ugly cry into his crisp linen shirt. Something told me he wouldn’t be super into that.
“I should go. It’s late.” He moved toward the door, then paused. “There’s more in the basket. Under the cloth. Scissors and paper, that sort of thing.”
And then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him. I didn’t hear the lock turn.
I turned back to the basket, lifting the cloth to see what else was hidden beneath it. My breath caught in my throat when I found a small pair of scissors, their metal blades glinting against leather-wrapped handles.
I picked up the scissors, testing their weight in my hand. They felt perfect in my hand—not too heavy, not too light. Balanced. The kind of tool I’d dream of owning. I ran my thumb along the edge of one blade, feeling the slight resistance as it caught on my skin. The blade was incredibly sharp.
I set the scissors down carefully and picked up one of the paint pots, removing the lid to smell the rich, earthy scent of the pigment. The blue was even more intense up close—the exact color of the sky just before sunset. I dipped the tip of my finest brush into the paint and made a small mark on the corner of thepaper. The color spread evenly, soaking into the fibers without bleeding.
For the first time since I’d arrived in this strange, impossible world, I smiled.
Maybe Aeldryc was right. Maybe I couldn’t control how or when I got home. But I could control this—the brush in my hand, the color on the paper. It wasn’t much. But it was something. And right now, something felt like everything.
Chapter 6
Aeldryc
Thenextmorning,Iknocked on Pip’s door, waiting as always for him to respond. It was locked from the outside, but it didn’t seem right to just barge in. When he didn’t answer, I knocked again, frowning.
He couldn’t have escaped, could he? I quickly turned the lock and swung the door open, hit with a wall of steam. Pippin emerged in a towel, hair dripping, skin flushed, joy radiating from him.
