It took all of my courage to look up into her lavender eyes and ask: “You were my dragonfly?”
The sweetest, softest smile curled her flower petal lips. I was.
“But why?”
So many reasons.
I shook my head. I was trying to understand, but the world was closing in around me.
You are tired. It’s time for you to rest.
The words were soothing, and I was tired. So tired.
A darkness gathered at the periphery. I fought against it, until I no longer could.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Muffled sounds. Words? Whatever they were I wished them away. I only wanted to return to the comfort of oblivion.
“She’s twitching. I think she’s waking up.”
“Shhh!”
The voices were clearer now. Familiar.
“There! Did you see her eyelids? She’s definitely waking up.”
“Move away, Marlie. You’re crowding her.”
It was Mrs. Crossey, but the concern I heard in her voice jolted me further into awareness.
“I’m all right,” I said. Or at least I tried to. What tumbled over my lips sounded more like gurgles and grunts. Did they even hear me?
“Off with you now,” Mrs. Crossey said, I assumed to Marlie. “There’s work to be done in the kitchen. Go see to it.”
“But the white willow bark tea. It will ease the pain.”
“Give it here, then close the door behind you. That’s a good girl.”
I heard another balk from my roommate, but then a door closed.
Two hands enfolded themselves around one of mine, which lay, I now realized, at my side. I tensed, but the hands were muffled in mittens. Even now she was protecting me.
“It’s all right, dear,” she whispered. “You’re safe. The doctor says you’ll be just fine. Don’t strain yourself.”
Her words poured over me like sun-warmed honey, and I soaked them in. I was safe.
But from what? I tried to remember.
Flashes returned to me. The shimmering, otherworldly grove. Those beastly eyes.
My father.
An icy shiver raced up my spine.
“It’s all right, dear.” Her wool-covered hand patted mine. “Everything will be fine.”
I yearned for it to be true. I wanted to forget about the Fayte and the Lady and Krol. I wanted to turn back the clock, before the summons to Mr. MacDougall’s office, before everything fell apart. When it was just me and my dragonfly.
I breathed the word aloud. “Dragonfly.”
Another pat from Mrs. Crossey’s bundled hand. “Oh, yes. That.” Her words floated on a wave of amused wonder. “How you kept that secret, I’ll never know. But my, what a secret.”
My secret friend.
Another flash from the Gray Wood. But my dragonfly was much more than that. The Lady of the Fayte. Krol was my family, but she was, too. My thoughts swirled with this unsettling new notion. “Where…?”
“Where is she?” Mrs. Crossey finished my thought. “I don’t know. Back to the Brightlands, I suspect.”
The Brightlands. So that place had a name. Of course she would return there. It was her home. Where the leaves had shimmered, and tree branches glowed. Where the air smelled of new blooms and crackled with life. Where she’d shed her insect form and become the Lady once more.
It was all coming back. I opened my eyes.
“She saved me.” My voice was stronger now. My memories were, too.
“Yes. She saved us all, but I think you saved her as well. Here, sip this.”
The edge of a teacup pressed against my lower lip followed by a steady drip of something warm and soothing. I breathed in the spicy fragrance of cinnamon and clove. When I’d taken enough, Mrs. Crossey pulled the cup away.
“Now, you need to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”
But I didn’t want to sleep. I had too many questions. How was I here? What had happened to the Queen? What had happened to Mr. Bailey and Mr. MacDougall?
And Mr. Wyck.
My chest tightened at the memory of him standing beyond the boundary with Mrs. Crossey and Marlie, and of him subduing Mr. Bailey. He had been on our side after all. I should have believed him. I should have known.
It was my last thought before slipping back into oblivion.
~ ~ ~
Another day, maybe two, passed in the hazy space between slumber and wakefulness. Meals were delivered on trays and left on the bedside table. Mrs. Crossey or Marlie sat at my bedside and talked as I sipped at broth and nibbled buttered biscuits, which was all I could manage because I had no appetite. Not even Dr. Holland, who stopped in several times a day, seemed to know why.
At no time was there a mention of what ailed me, and my questions about what had happened were outright ignored.
By the third day, I was too restless to remain in bed, so I rose and was happy to discover my limbs were up to the task. As a precaution, I moved slowly and kept hold of the side table.
The room shifted and tilted at first, but it steadied soon enough. I counted it a victory when I released the table, lifted my chin, and squared my shoulders. Up and out of bed for the first time in days. A victory, indeed.
The longer I stood, the stronger I felt.
I made my way to the vanity table and lowered myself onto the tufted velvet cushion in front of it. I hardly recognized the reflection in the mirror. Tendrils had worked themselves out of the long braid that fell down my back and curled into frizzy coils at my cheeks and forehead. My face was so pale it might actually be gray, and there were shadows beneath my eyes and the hollows in my cheek that hadn’t been there before. I looked like someone had wrung me like a wet dish towel, and I felt as limp as one, too.
That had to change.
I pulled my braid forward and untied the ribbon keeping it in place. I loosened the curls with my fingers then went to work with a silver hairbrush that sat beside the mirror. I hoped its owner wouldn’t mind.
A knock at the door stopped me.
It was too early for Mrs. Crossey or Marlie, so it must be
