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Two mornings ago, I offered to share my breakfast with Rys. He refused. Even so, he thought to save something for me just in case—and right after he made a point to tell me that he was both dangerous and cruel.
Huh.
I should probably tell him no. I’ve learned a couple of things since I’ve been in Faerie and not entering into a debt or a bargain with one of the faerie folk is right at the top of the list, right after keeping my name to myself.
But I also learned that the fae can’t lie. If you can trap them in an absolute statement—like I want nothing in return—then you can be pretty sure that they won’t suddenly change their mind later on.
I glance down at the pear.
Yeah. No way I can refuse it.
I just… I don’t get why he would do that. What’s his motive? It can’t be out of the kindness of his heart. In my experience, the fae are cruel. Capricious. Arrogant, too. They don’t have hearts.
I’m not gonna second guess it. I have the pear.
“I— thank you.”
I don’t know what it is that I said, but his expression shuts down. His face goes hard. His eyes turn dark.
“Don’t thank me.”
“What? Why not?”
“The fruit is a gift, freely given. Don’t offend me with meaningless thanks. There is no debt. You owe me nothing. Now eat your cursed fruit. I can sense your hunger from my cage. It’s bothersome.”
Well.
Okay, then.
4
Day eighteen.
Things have quieted down. To my relief, the lockdown lifted a couple of days ago. It was actually the morning after Rys gave me the pear which meant that I didn’t have to go another day without faerie fruit—or deal with the hunger pangs.
It also meant that I learned my lesson. Since then, I’ve saved whatever I could for a small stash for when the guards inevitably forget to feed me again. After the way he freaked when I said ‘thanks’, I don’t want to have to rely on Rys looking out for me as a back-up plan.
We’ve barely spoken. He’s kept to himself and, following his lead, I tried to busy myself in my cell. There’s not much to do—I’d just about kill for any of my art supplies—and I usually end up staring at the stone siding of the wall, creating pictures in my mind from the dips and divots.
I trace the craggy brick with the tip of my finger so often that I’ve rubbed the skin raw. At first, I harbored this insane hope that maybe there’s a way to break through it. It didn’t take long before I accepted that that was impossible. I can’t stop, though. It’s almost an impulse. And, while I do that, I think about home.
Jim must be losing his mind, not knowing what happened to me. Did he call my mom when I didn’t come home? My parents live in Florida now, but they’d be on the first flight home to help Jim search. I’m sure of it.
Are the cops involved? I’m twenty-six, I have a full-time job, a live-in boyfriend, and no reason to just up and disappear. Is that how they would see it? That I took off, or will they assume something bad happened to me?
One thing’s for sure. They’ll never guess I ended up in Faerie.
Shit.
I had a painting due. A pretty hefty commission. The deadline was the same day as the lockdown.
Funny how something like that seems important. I’m stuck in another world, trapped in a prison, and I can’t stop thinking about the portrait I’ll never get the chance to finish. My client already gave me half the money upfront for it, too.
So, yeah. It’s easy to ignore Rys’s brooding in the other cell when I’m too consumed with my own worries.
Today it’s even easier. Mainly because, when I woke up this morning, Rys was already gone.
Again.
