“Precisely, but there is time later for explanations. I must apologize for your conveyance, but I could see no other way to retrieve you and avoid being followed here. The Dark Ones must never find this place.”
I didn’t have to ask who the Dark Ones were. “I never realized trolls were friends with sprites,” I said. “But thank you, all the same, for the jailbreak.”
For a moment, Amalie seemed puzzled. Understanding elicited another heartwarming smile. “The being you call a troll is one of our Earth Guardians. They are our eyes and ears in the world.”
Earth Guardian. I liked that.
“May I ask,” Wyatt said, “why you brought us here?”
Her cobalt eyes flared. “As I said, the time for stories is later. We have prepared a place for you both to bathe and rest.”
An orange sprite with lime green hair sprinted to my side. She beckoned me forward with jewel-encrusted fingers. Wyatt squeezed my hand and let me go. I followed her through the parting crowd, toward the high rise of dwellings. I glanced back and saw Wyatt attended by two of the disproportionate ones—heads twice the size of their puny bodies, features distinctly male. I didn’t know what to call them, and it felt inappropriate to ask.
My sprite guided me to the second tier of homes and through one of the tallest doors. I still had to duck to enter. My skin tingled. The room was impossible given the outer façade. A palace would have been less impressive.
I had stepped into paradise.
The floor was gold, the walls brushed silver and polished to a shine. A bed covered with colorful silks stood against one wall. Opposite it, two tapestries curtained off a footed tub. Hot water steamed. I inhaled the delicate aromas of sage and lavender. It was a small room, but decorated with a luxury I had only dreamed about in my waking life. I still wasn’t convinced I was fully awake.
“Is this a dream?” I asked.
The sprite giggled. The blissful sound made me smile in spite of myself. “You are in First Break, dear one. Anything is possible here.”
“What is First Break, exactly?”
“A place where magic is born. Now please, rest and clean up. There are clothes near the tub. Our Queen will summon you when she believes you are ready.”
“Okeydoke.”
She didn’t seem to understand, but took my words as a dismissal. A curtain was pulled across the door, giving me privacy. I wandered toward the center of the room, expecting to wake up at any moment, find myself still trapped in that forsaken prison cell, awaiting my second death.
I avoided the bed and its delicate fabrics. My shoes left dirt smudges on the pristine floor as I approached the bathing area. The scent of flowers was stronger here, and I realized the water was scented, not the room. It was hot, but not scorching.
“Might as well enjoy the illusion.”
I stripped slowly, trying to keep the majority of the drying ooze in one place. I tossed the ruined clothing into a small pile by the tub. It felt great to get it all off and free my stifled skin. I appreciated the rescue, but the conveyance left a lot to be desired.
Two plush towels sat on a stool by the tub. Next to it were several bottles without labels. I ignored them and dipped one leg into the water. A soft sigh escaped. It was the perfect temperature, hot and soothing. I sat on the smooth bottom and slipped down until only my head remained above the surface. Heat cocooned me in its gentle embrace. The scents and oils siphoned the day’s stresses away and replaced them with contentment.
I held my breath and slid down beneath the water, submerging my entire body. I floated for a moment, content to be cut off from the rest of the world. Eager to simply exist. Never had a bath felt so much like heaven. It was a place I wanted to stay forever.
Or at least until I started to prune.
Chapter 21
24:01
She ran around naked, so I had to laugh at the sprite’s definition of clothing. The dress I found draped on a hook was little more than two silver curtain sheers held together at the shoulders by jewel-encrusted brooches. It would have been more at home on a Greek goddess. It looked downright silly on me and did nothing to protect my modesty. Maybe the Fair Ones—seeing how they didn’t possess genitalia of any sort—didn’t care if they ran around in the buff, but I sure as hell did.
I washed out my panties and wrung them as dry as possible. I’d rather run around in damp underwear than do without. It helped, but the gown still billowed all over the place. I located a small vanity next to the bed, and when I rummaged through the drawers, I found dozens more bottles of scented oils and perfumes, and then a handful of colorful ribbons, probably meant for my hair, in all lengths and widths.
A thick, purple velvet sash became my belt, tied tight around my hips. After a little trial and error, a second, thinner purple ribbon crisscrossed my chest and back. It created some support for my breasts, even though the fabric of the dress was still uncomfortably sheer. I briefly considered stuffing some ribbons down the front, but as long as I didn’t get chilly, my nipples wouldn’t be saluting anyone.
I stared at myself in the polished wall, surprised at the vision reflected back at me. The woman in the mirror was no longer a stranger. We smiled at each other, and she wasn’t Chalice anymore. We were Evangeline, and we looked fabulous in our Grecian dress. My hair was drying on its own, creating thick brown waves that framed my face and shoulders. Even without makeup, my cheeks blazed with color. My eyes were bright. A trick of the environment, no doubt, but still mesmerizing.
For the first time in two days, I truly felt alive. And hopeful.
A bell chimed, the tiniest tinkle. “Evangeline?” I turned toward the door and the familiar voice. My orange sprite stood in the doorway. “Amalie requests your company.”
Finally, some answers. The sprite stepped aside and led the way. The stone pathways were smooth beneath my bare feet as we ascended another flight of carved steps to the third level, then up to the fourth. Fair Ones of all species buzzed and flew and scampered. Many just watched. I felt scrutinized, but not unwelcome.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Jaron,” the sprite said.
I blinked. This was Amalie’s bodyguard? The sprite that Wyatt had once described as a man big enough to intimidate a professional wrestler? Avatar ability or not, it was a disparity I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around.
Jaron led us all the way to the top level of the complex. I paused and looked down at the circular pathways below. Activity surrounded me. We were closer to the source of the waterfall, and the pool seemed so tiny, like an onyx eye peeking up from a distance.
“It’s the Anjean River,” Jaron said. “It flows above us.”
“Cool.”
She stopped in front of a circular doorway, its border decorated with an intricate pattern. It could have been a language, but I definitely couldn’t read it. Jaron pulled back the curtain.
I ducked to step through and felt the same encompassing buzz of magic inside. The room’s physical simplicity surprised me. The main piece of furniture on the smooth, tan floor was a long, polished stone table, covered with platters of fruit and vegetables and nuts and grains. Pitchers of liquid stood amongst the feast. Another sphere hung from the ceiling, casting the perfect amount of light.
Amalie lounged in a stone chair decorated with living flowers and vines, placed at the head of the table. Her bright smile made me giddy. She waved me forward.
“Please, help yourself,” she said.
I gaped at the table’s bounty, too timid to touch anything. But the smells were tantalizing, and my stomach grumbled. I inhaled deeply, identifying the heady, sweet scent of wine from one of the pitchers. The bottle of tepid
