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Alexi leavesme on the bed inside a large room that overlooks the Whisper Grove village. Just outside the window are groves of trees, the green leaves vibrant even in the night.
Behind it, the sky is a velvety purple, dotted with bold white stars and a full moon. According to Alexi, it’s one of their better rooms, and they normally save this room for royalty or monarchs whenever they visit.
The bed is plush and comfortable and is doing my thigh a world of good. Alexi even had fresh clothes sent up for me from one of their clothing boutiques next door, but I can’t shower and change into them until the numbing elixir wears off.
“Give it two hours, then it won’t feel so numb,” Alexi had said before leaving the room. Thirty minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and a woman with a gold tray walked inside. She placed the tray on my lap with a smile, and I looked down at the meal.
It was potato soup, slices of sour bread, tea in a cup, with cubes of sugar in a square dish, and more verdeberries in a bowl. I smiled at the verdeberries. This had to be the work of Alexi.
“Enjoy your dinner,” the woman said, then she left.
Now, I’m sitting here with a full belly, examining the room. The walls are ivory with green trimmings. Wooden beams are built into the ceiling, the floor made of smoothed out rocks. It’s similar to the cobblestone on the streets, but darker.
I shift my gaze to the window, watching the stars twinkle as I pop a verdeberry into my mouth.
Where are you?I wonder, hoping Caz can hear me.
I wait to see if I’ll get a response. Nothing comes.
After another hour, my leg doesn’t feel so numb anymore, so I scoot to the edge of the bed, tapping my foot on the floor to see if I can add pressure to it. My leg feels like it’s fallen asleep, but Icanmove it, and Manx was right. The wound is starting to fade. It’s shocking how quickly it’s going away.
Feeling good enough to stand, I get up. When I don’t feel any pain, I wobble to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, green vines crawl up the walls, and a porcelain clawfoot tub sits in the center.
A shower is in the corner, the gold showerhead gleaming beneath the leaves strung around it, and fortunately there is a built-in bench inside for me to sit on. Fluffy tan towels are neatly folded on a shelf, and I grab one, carefully making my way toward the shower. I unwrap the prepackaged bar of soap, and it smells earthy, like cinnamon and moss. It’s not a horrible scent, but also not one I’d choose if I went shopping.
When I’m done showering, I dry off with the towel and spot a robe hanging on a hook. I slide my arms into it, stand in front of the mirror, and sigh.
I’m still here, in a world I don’t belong in, but at least I’m clean and healing. Even the scratches that were on my palm from the fall in the forest have begun to fade.
There are boxes of new toothbrushes on the counter, and I break one open. The toothpaste comes out black with gold chips in it, and I scrunch my nose, but it smells minty, so I use it anyway. After rinsing, I leave the bathroom, and my leg feels about eighty-five percent better.
I wobble to the bed, lie on it while in my robe, and stare up at the ceiling. As I do, the door of my room opens, creaking on the hinges, and in walks Caz.
Thirty-Three
WILLOW
I situp as quickly as my body will allow, watching as he moves across the room, stripping out of his jacket, an unlit bloom pinched between his lips. He sits in a chair in the corner, pulling off one of his gloves, then another. He’s quiet for a while. I’m quiet too—literally twiddling my thumbs as I wait for him to say something.
When he doesn’t, I tell him, “Alexi says if you’re hungry, there’s food they can bring.”
He glances at me before taking out a lighter to light the end of his bloom. A quiet sigh leaves me.
I don’t want to argue or fight with this man anymore. We’re adults and should be able to speak to each other like so. Plus, what Manx said earlier has gotten to my head. He needs someone like me, and I have good qualities. I’m patient and understanding. I don’t know why Caz is so bitter and angry, but I don’t want to feed into that negative side of him any more than necessary.
“Not hungry,” he finally says.
“Are you going to try to sleep?”
He cuts his eyes at me before putting his focus on the door. “I don’t sleep.”
“Everyone sleeps.”
“Well not me.”
No point in arguing with a crazy person. “Are you always like this?” I ask, exasperated.
