“That depends…”
“Can I come in?” he asks, tone urgent.
“Sure,” I call back.
He’s through the door before I’ve even finished speaking. “What’s going on?”
“Is the water safe for humans? Like is it acidic or something?”
He furrows his brow in confusion, eyes flicking to the tap. He takes in the scene for a heartbeat before his brows smooth out and he smirks. “Have you never seen plumbing before?”
“What?”
“Plumbing,” he repeats again as if that will help the word make more sense. I simply blink at him in reply until he realizes that I don’t in fact know what he’s talking about. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, I can’t say I know the best way to explain it… How do you source water back in your village?”
“Wells or pitcher pumps, and then we heat it in the hearth as needed for baths and such.”
“Okay, so think of it like a pump but instead of having to go to the pump for water, the sink faucet brings the water to you. Does that make sense?” he asks with a tilt to his head.
“I think so?” I reply, but it comes out like a question. The concept itself makes sense. I think? “But that doesn’t explain why your water is evil,” I say, glaring at the stream pouring from the faucet.
He chuckles and I think it’s the first time I’ve heard something close to laugh since meeting him earlier this evening. It’s rough, like he doesn’t do it often, but it still feels like warm honey washing over my body. “That’s because you’ve turned on the hot water. Here,” he says as he fiddles with the knobs, turning the red one towards off and turning on the blue knob. He tests the water with his hand and shakes it off when he’s satisfied. “Try that.”
I’m tentative as I hold my hand out to touch the stream and I’m met with… warm water. “Is this magic too?” I ask with awe as I submerge both hands under the faucet.
“Something like that,” he says with another chuckle. “The shower,” he says, gesturing to a little glass partitioned space behind me with another weird pipe sticking out from high on the wall, “works in the same way as the sink. Cold and hot water. It’s like a standing bath.”
I tilt my head, studying it. “Interesting.”
“And that’s the toilet there,” he gestures behind me to the porcelain feature. “You do know how those work, yes?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I do.”
His eyes sparkle in amusement. “Make sure to press that lever once you’ve finished with it.” With that final piece of advice, he turns and waltzes back to the sitting room, shutting the bedroom door behind him.
“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath, and I swear I hear another of his deep chuckles from the other room, but I must be imagining it.
I make quick work of taking care of my needs, now that I know how everything works and change out of my tunic and leggings and into the borrowed shirt. I can tell it belongs to him because it’s practically a dress on my small frame, with the hem of the shirt hitting me mid-thigh. I fold my clothes and walk back into the room to set them on top of the dresser before taking in my appearance in the mirror on the wall. I leave my boots next to the dresser and tuck the knife under my pillow.
I look shell-shocked. Strands of my dark gold hair hang around my face, having come loose from my braid. My eyes are wide, frozen in a permanent state of shock. One I expect won’t be fading anytime soon. And overall, I look ragged, exhausted. I could probably sleep for days at this point. If it weren’t for the nightmares that is…
I quickly remove the tie from the end of the braid and untangle my hair, placing the leather strap on my pile of clothes. I drag myself away from the mirror and tuck myself into bed, snuggling down into the warmth. I take a deep breath as I relax into the mattress, and I’m once again hit with that pine and citrus smell of his. It makes the world tilt and spin like I've overindulged on ale. Between this and the experience earlier, there must be something about his scent that sets off every sense in my body to the point I feel like I’m going to pass out.
Gods, what is wrong with me?
I take another deep inhale, breathing in the smell of him. Strangely enough, it comforts me. I wouldn’t say I’m entirely safe, being in this strange realm with this even stranger male. But I’m not as uneasy as I was earlier. I’m absolutely still on edge, I’d be crazy not to remain vigilant.
I lay in bed, stiff, but the warmth of the bedding mixed with his scent begins to make my eyelids feel heavy and I begin to drift off to sleep. Somewhere in the back of my head, I almost swear I hear a voice trying to shout at me that I can trust him.
Something hits my head,and I shoot up, eyes flying wide. Hand gripping the hilt of the knife where it sits under the pillow, I search frantically for the threat but instead find an incredibly grumpy looking Fae male and a discarded pillow beside me. I relax my grip on the blade and let my shoulders drop.
“Get up,” he grunts out before stalking from the room, closing the door behind him.
“Asshole,” I grumble with a sigh as I drag myself from the bed.
Being woken by something other than a nightmare is an odd experience and a luxury I haven’t had since before they started. I try to temper the relieved hope that attempts to bubble up about having a nightmare-free night. Granted, it’s hard to have a nightmare when you’re too busy tossing and turning, awake every couple hours because you can’t trust that you’re safe. I don’t care what that inner voice tries to say. I don’t know Bastian, therefore I can’t trust him. He’s definitely dangerous, but how can I trust that he’s not a dangerto me?
I stumble my way into the bathing room to take care of my needs before returning to the bedroom and changing back into my clothes from the night before, slipping the knife out from under the pillow and back into my boot. Poking my head out into the sitting room, I spy a blanket folded neatly at the end of the sofa, the only sign that he slept there at all.
