The golden sphere bobs to the side, brightening the wooden doorway.
She shakes her head. “I’m not moving.”
Ziggy flashes its light, insisting she follow.
“No.”
She can still hear Journey’s final cry, the terror in that last, short neigh. The sound of the soldier’s head being mutilated by that monstrous foot—seeing someone lose their head, like literally lose it, was not something she’d been prepared for. Worse, she led those things to the camp. She’s to blame for their deaths.
This time, Rachel isn’t able to compartmentalize her emotions.
“I’m responsible,” she says softly. Tears run down her soot-covered cheeks. “Oh, God, what have I done?” Rachel muffles another sob with her hand.
Ziggy comes to a rest on the carpet and rolls closer.
“I killed all those people.”
Two flashes.
She shakes her head. “I just wanted Orion to come home and help us. I didn’t ... I never meant to ...” Rachel squeezes her eyes shut, unable to rid herself of the memory of the Sluagh as it crushed the soldier’s skull. How many other Sluagh had followed her? The kid had said there was a horde. How many was that? Better yet, how many more soldiers will succumb as a result of her?
All the heat in Rachel’s body seeps away.
Rachel lies down on the carpet and curls herself around Ziggy, appreciating his warmth.
She has no idea how long she lies there, weeping for the Halflings she’d condemned to death, worrying about Orion’s safety.
When her tears dry up and her shoulder begins cramping, she sits upright and looks around again.
Rachel pushes the hair out of her face to mask the shudder crawling up her neck.
She scrambles to her feet and walks to where Ziggy hovers near the door. “Hopefully this place has a bathroom.”
One flash.
Rachel gestures for Ziggy to go ahead before following the Fae light through a short hall where several closed doors line the walls. At the end of the hallway, moonlight spills onto the stone floor. She walks into the glass-domed stone room, blue light illuminating the bottom of a rock pool. A marble bust of a lion’s head protrudes from one wall, and the water flowing from its mouth hits the stone grating inserted into the floor. Past the shower, a narrow alcove is carved from the stone and a marble bench lines its interior. A hole in its center, just large enough for—
“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Rachel wrinkles her nose in disgust as she regards the primitive toilet. She searches for the toilet paper, but instead finds an ornate wooden box with a golden inlay. Curious, Rachel opens the box and finds silky fabric cut into square pieces. She takes a step back and throws up her hands in frustration. “Come on, already. There isn’t even a door here.”
Rachel’s sleep is a fitful slumber, full of horrific visions and terrifying consequences.
When she awakens, having slept far later than her usual seven o’clock, it feels like she has run a marathon. Groggy, still exhausted, she gets out of the four-poster bed in one of the bedrooms, and grabs a pair of men’s breeches and a white tunic from the wardrobe, as well as her own belt to keep from drowning in the clothes. Her mind is a hurricane of thoughts as she tries discerning which issue she needs to tackle first—Orion hasn’t returned; there is no food in the kitchen; and she needs to make her way home and sort out the Miser Fae terrorizing the town.
Everything, her entire life, is spiraling out of control.
The Sluagh attack at the encampment had cost her the meager supplies she’d brought along for the trip, including her toothbrush and toothpaste. She deserves being inconvenienced, obviously. Going without oral hygiene is, after all, nothing in comparison to death. But, after rummaging around the pantry the previous evening, she’d found some dried mint and baking soda—or something similar, at least—and made herself toothpowder.
With water aplenty, and her oral hygiene sorted, food is now her main concern.
Rachel makes quick work of freshening up after her nightmare-laden night, and heads out of the cabin to explore her immediate surroundings.
The picturesque outdoors is full of vibrant emerald-greens. Bright pink and yellow wildflowers grow in abundance, withstanding the oppressing cool weather that makes its way through the valley. Birdsong in the trees and the rushing water of a nearby stream keep her company. Beyond the treetops, a white-capped mountain peak fills the view, surrounded by the bluest sky she’s ever laid eyes on.
Rachel follows an overgrown path that leads away from the cabin, searching for anything edible to satiate her hunger. She has no idea how to identify wild edible plants in the Human Realm, let alone forage for food in the Fae Realm. She spies fish in the stream, but doesn’t know how to catch them without a rod. There are no birds’ nests she can raid for eggs.
Ziggy tags along for the futile trip, of course, but even the Fae light has its limits.
By midday, the cold weather has become uncomfortably humid, and Rachel returns to the cabin empty-handed. A quick search of the interior confirms she’s still alone. The pantry remains barren.
“I’m so over this place,” Rachel says. She drags her feet as she makes her way out of the kitchen and into the living room.
She slumps into a sheet-covered armchair, dust billowing around her as her stomach grumbles in protest. She closes her eyes.
Think. Come up with a plan.
Every problem she faced seemed important, each one needed to be solved. Finding something to eat was her biggest priority. Coming in at a close second was getting back to the Harrowsgate. There’s no telling when, or even if Orion will return.
What have you learned about the plants in Orion’s greenhouse?
Most of the
