Brittle, p.18
Brittle, page 18
Unearthly screams rang in Verve’s ears. She reached for the doorknob, knocking her hatpins loose from the lock. She eased the door closed behind her and slid to the floor as tears formed in her eyes.
Blindly she fumbled around for the hatpins, jabbing her thumb with one and sending the other one sliding under the door. With a curse Verve turned the knob, meaning to reenter the room and retrieve her lost pick, but the door had relocked itself.
She threw herself back down on her knees and tried fitting her fingers beneath the door. It was no good: the space beneath was far too small for them to fit. The now-muted screams cut off at once and did not pick up again. I have to get out of here. No one can see me like this. Verve snatched the one pin and tucked it into her fist as she heard footsteps approaching.
“She must be around here somewhere.”
Verve moved down the hall to get away from the voice, drying her eyes with one hand and loosening her painful grip on the pin with the other. Thinking quickly, she reached into her trouser pocket and was startled to grip something metal and warm. There was no time to think. She switched the object out with the pin just as the she-fae who had been attending her appeared.
Upon seeing Verve, the woman let out a relieved breath. “There you are. I was afraid you’d got lost or worse.”
Verve forced a smile onto her face. “I was just…” You were just what, Verve? Think. She opened her fist and was surprised to find the key Dacre had given her in a small puddle of her own blood.
“Oh, dear. What happened?” The she-fae rushed to Verve and took her hand in her own, tutting and fussing. “Here, let’s clean you up.” She took the key from Verve, regarded it with a grin, and returned it to Verve’s good hand. “Nothing a bit of magic won’t fix. Are you in pain?”
No words would form on Verve’s lips, so she simply shook her head.
“There’s no need to cry, dear. It’s only a shallow wound. This will hurt a little, I’m afraid, but you need to hold still.” Before Verve could react, the she-fae slapped her hand down on the wound, which ceased to weep blood. Then, with a wave of her fingers, the blood vanished, leaving her palm clean, albeit red and a bit raw. “That should be as good as new, just mind you don’t tuck it into your pocket or make a fist too much. Your skin needs air, if the charm is to hold.”
“Thanks,” said Verve, the word nearly sticking in her throat. As one in a dream, Verve allowed herself to be led back the way she had come, past the library, around a corner, and into the main entryway.
The she-fae squeezed Verve’s arm, drawing her attention. “Are you certain you’re all right? Truly, you’re far too pale.”
Verve clenched her jaw. If only everyone would stop making such a fuss over her. “I’m fine.”
“As I said before, I don’t know much about humans. I guess I shall have to take you at your word…for now.” The maddening creature smiled to herself as though she knew something Verve did not.
Chapter Eleven
The remainder of the day passed slowly. Verve wished she still had both pins to work on another door. It was true that she could return to the red room and retrieve a new one and bend it as well, but her every step was now shadowed. When the she-fae – Fauna, Verve was amused to learn she was called – finally left Verve alone, another fae popped up in her place just around the corner. That might have been excused as a coincidence, but Verve doubted it. Every which way she turned, the new she-fae was ten paces behind, dusting or straightening flowers in vases. And when Verve thought she had finally lost the creature, another one showed up.
At last Verve had had enough. She strode back through the maze of halls, flew up the staircase, and shut herself back in the red room. Breathing hard, she returned to the wardrobe and threw the door open. Besides the gowns and blouses and trousers, the wardrobe was empty. No hatbox or pins, just the pair of green lace gloves sitting on the bottom.
There was a knock on her door. “Miss?”
Trembling, Verve eased the wardrobe door shut and stepped away. “What is it?” she asked, pushing down the frustrated scream she felt forming.
The door swung open, admitting Fauna, who bore a tray of tea, fruit, and what appeared to be scones. “I thought you might be hungry.” She set the tray down on the desk and stepped back, hands folded in front of her. “First things first, though.” The she-fae strode to Verve, hand outstretched and an expectant look on her face.
Puzzled, Verve held out her own hand in imitation. “What?”
“Empty your pockets.”
Verve’s blood ran cold. “My pockets?” When the creature gave her a pitying smile, Verve could have struck her. Instead, she reached into her right trouser pocket and produced the key Dacre had given her.
“No, keep that. The other thing.” She snapped her fingers, and the hatpin materialized in her palm. “No wonder you hurt yourself. I should have made certain the room was clear once I took you as my charge.” Fauna tutted. “Olive really didn’t know what she was doing. Or perhaps she did.”
“Olive,” Verve repeated, touching a hand to the base of her skull, which had begun to prickle.
Fauna’s smile faltered. “Well, one more charm can’t hurt you, I’d imagine.” She lifted her little finger to Verve’s forehead.
A buzzing sound filled Verve’s ears, and she smelled hot metal. Choking, Verve backed away, her mind going blank for a moment.
“Here, eat something. You’ve a big evening ahead of you.”
Verve shook her head and blinked with vigor. “What’s that?” She tripped her way to the desk now bearing the food tray.
“It’s stopped raining,” said Fauna. She took Verve by the arm and steered her into the cushioned seat. “If the weather stays fair, you’ll take a turn in the garden. Just what you need, I think. Do you take sugar in your tea?”
“Sometimes,” Verve murmured. Her thoughts were hazy for a moment longer, and she tried to latch on to what had upset her. The hatpins? That must be it. She frowned at the plate in front of her.
The she-fae lifted the sugar bowl and dropped a lump into Verve’s tea. “Out of curiosity, why was the pin bent?” She stirred the tea and then went about buttering a scone, much to Verve’s annoyance.
“It was an accident.”
“Hmm.” Fauna set the scone on Verve’s plate and added a dollop of red jam. “And that’s how you hurt yourself?”
Verve nodded once, tightly, as Fauna ladled fruit onto the plate. “I see this is distressing you,” the creature said, soft and sweet. It made Verve want to vomit. “We’ll discuss your naughty behavior later. But first—”
“Naughty behavior? Really?” Verve clenched her fists. “Get out.”
Fauna shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. You can’t harm yourself and then expect to be left alone, dear.”
“You make it sound like I did it on purpose.”
“Did you?”
That made Verve gape. “No.”
Whether or not the she-fae believed her was unclear. Fauna gave Verve another pitying look before moving toward the privacy screen, behind which she soon could be heard rummaging for something. Moments later, she emerged brandishing a brush and an opaque pink bottle with a faded label on the front. “Once you’re finished eating, we’ll tackle those tangles, shall we?”
Anger coursed through Verve’s veins and threatened to take hold of her. When has rage gotten me anywhere? I need allies, not enemies. She looked around her in desperation, as though someone might come to her rescue. This she-fae clearly would not do.
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?”
“No.”
Fauna let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll leave the tray for when you change your mind.” She beckoned to Verve. “Come here.” The words were laced with authority, and Verve felt a strong desire to do as she said. When Verve resisted, Fauna stopped smiling and approached her with dizzying speed. “You are stubborn, just as I’ve been told. You’re different from the others.” She set the brush down at Verve’s left, next to her plate, and began rubbing something into her hair.
“The others?”
“The other humans, of course.” She set down the pink bottle on Verve’s right and picked up the brush.
Anger fading, Verve sat up a little straighter. “You’ve known many humans?”
The she-fae laughed, a tinkling sound that grated on Verve’s nerves. She raked the brush through Verve’s hair, stopping when she reached a knot. “Not many. Just three, including you, since I’ve come here, none before that.” She hummed below her breath as she worked, and Verve began to wonder if the creature was not quite right in the head.
“What happened to them?”
“Who, dear?”
“The other humans.”
Fauna was silent for a moment as she continued to brush through Verve’s hair. “I shouldn’t really be telling you anything. Especially when I’m forbidden from asking anything in return.” She squeezed Verve’s shoulder, startling her. “But since you asked so nicely….” Fauna continued brushing, her strokes gentle and even. “One didn’t survive.”
“How did she die?”
The she-fae sighed. “Oh, it’s a very boring tale.” Tug, tug went the brush. “She died of old age. The other one is still alive. I don’t know for how long, though. She is very old as well.”
“And what about me?”
The brush paused. “What about you?”
Verve shifted in her seat, trying to turn around to look up at the fae, who held her head still. “Am I to die of old age here as well?”
Again the creature’s laugh filled the room. “Die of old age? I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
“Pardon?”
It was hard sitting still. Verve needed to know what the fae had planned for her. And this particular fae had so far been fairly loose-lipped. “Why won’t I die of old age here?”
Fauna smoothed the brush through the length of Verve’s hair from the middle and then exclaimed, “There, that section is done. We’ll see what I can do about the others.”
Verve tried several times, in different ways, to coax her fate out of Fauna, who would immediately change the subject or not respond at all. By the time the creature had finished brushing Verve’s hair, Verve’s neck was stiff and her palms hurt from her nails digging into her flesh. It even felt as though her wound from the pin might have reopened, but she said nothing of it to the fae.
“Hmm,” said Fauna, approaching the window. “The hour grows late.” She turned to the wardrobe and rummaged inside. “It’s got to be in here somewhere. I just pressed it last evening.”
With Fauna’s back to her, Verve popped a piece of orange fruit into her mouth and chewed hastily. No matter what she had said to Fauna earlier, Verve was hungry.
“Ah, here we are.”
Verve hastily swallowed as the she-fae pulled out a midnight-blue long-sleeved gown and held it up to the window’s light. The dress sparkled in places, as though stars had been sewn into the fabric around the hips and on the arms. It was pretty, but Verve noticed one long slit going down the middle.
Fauna laid the garment out on the bed. “Up you get. There isn’t much daylight to waste.” Without ceremony, she took Verve by the arm and pulled her to her feet.
“Hey!”
“You weren’t moving quickly enough.”
Verve swatted at Fauna, who was attempting to pull Verve’s blouse off. “I can dress myself.”
Fauna sighed and shook her head. “His lordship will be waiting.”
“Let him wait, then.” Verve had had enough. She backed away from the she-fae and reached for the teapot, meaning to use it as a weapon.
“No, that’s naughty.” Fauna snapped her fingers and Verve froze, unable to move or speak. The room smelled of hot iron. “That’s better.” She raised Verve’s arms and tugged the blouse up over her head and discarded it. Once she had Verve out of her trousers and shift as well, the she-fae snapped her fingers once more and Verve was free to move.
At once Verve’s hands flew up to cover her breasts. “I’m not putting that on.” She nodded at the gown as Fauna approached her with it draped over an arm.
“If you would like to take a stroll naked, that can be arranged.”
Verve’s jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”
Fauna simpered as she held the gown out for Verve pull over her head. “I have your co-operation now, don’t I?”
Sensing she had lost the battle, Verve reluctantly allowed herself to be maneuvered into the dress. The arms were a snug affair, limiting her range of motion to a degree. The hemline went almost all the way down to the ground, stopping halfway up her ankles. One part alone concerned Verve, however: the large slit that traveled down from her neck, between her breasts and down to her stomach. “I want an overcoat. Or a shawl. Something to cover…this.” She gestured as best she could over the space that was exposed.
“That’s not traditional,” said Fauna, pushing Verve’s hair back behind her shoulders. “Come. You’ve dawdled enough.” She finished fussing over Verve’s hair, took her by the arm, and forced her down the hall and down the stairs, where a group of male fae in armor was waiting.
Verve recoiled at the sight and tried to slip back up the stairs, which Fauna blocked. They were tall fae – not as tall as Dacre, though – with swords hanging from their sides. If fae can’t be killed by mortal means, what do they need those blades for? Wild beasts? Me?
“It’s all right. They’re here to keep you safe.” Fauna pushed Verve into the company’s center, and the men immediately closed ranks around her.
As if on some unspoken cue, two of the men took her by either arm and followed the remainder of their company through the door in single file. When it came time for Verve and her two escorts to pass through, one pulled Verve behind him while the other followed closely on her heels.
There was no use putting up resistance, it seemed: the men moved swiftly and with purpose, and Verve was swept up in their midst. It was walk in stride or be trampled. Thankfully, they were not walking at too great a pace for her to keep up with, though she was out of breath when they rounded the house and moved toward the woods. When she stumbled over a rock, two of the fae quickly caught and supported her as they were swallowed by the dusky overhang of trees.
All was silent, save the gentle keening of insects and the distant burbling of water. The company stopped once they were a few steps into the woods and parted, allowing the two men holding on to Verve to bring her out into a clearing she hadn’t been able to see over their shoulders.
“Steady, miss,” said the fae clutching her right elbow. Apparently he had sensed her sudden foolish impulse to bolt. “We’ll meet him a little farther in.”
“It’s almost dark,” she said as they practically carried her out of the clearing. “I thought it was supposed to be dangerous after sunset.”
The one on her left laughed, curse him. “No more dangerous than usual, miss.”
“What are we doing out here, then?” Verve tried to gain purchase with her feet, but her toes were barely brushing the ground.
“The woods are beautiful at night,” said a voice to their right.
The men guiding her dropped her and fell into attack positions. “Who goes there?”
“Easy,” said Dacre, emerging from behind a large tree with smooth, pearly bark. He was dressed as formally as Verve, all in midnight blue, though the tunic he wore over his trousers had no jerkin over it as she had become accustomed to seeing. Around his hips was slung a brown belt from which hung a small sheath. “Wormwood.”
The two men relaxed at the word and stepped back, leaving Verve alone. “The others are in position in case—”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” said Dacre tightly, coiled like a snake.
Verve thought of him interrogating the old woman in the dungeon and felt a pang of panic. When Dacre held out his hand for her, she took a step back.
One of the guards gave her a nudge forward, which made Dacre’s eyes flash with anger. The man seemed to notice this for he quickly backed away, leaving Verve alone in the open.
“It’s all right,” said Dacre, smiling. “I don’t bite.” He beckoned her to follow him. “Let’s take a walk.”
Still Verve hesitated. “Why?”
Dacre gave her a knowing look. “You’ve been trapped inside all day. Don’t expect me to believe you aren’t curious to see more of Letorheas.”
“Aren’t you afraid of being attacked? Or me running off?”
His eyebrows rose. “I don’t think you’ll run off because we might be attacked if you do.” Dacre approached her. “It’s still dangerous out here, Verve. But some things are worth taking the risk for.” He took her lightly by the arm and led her toward where she heard water flowing.
The air held a nip of cold in it, and Verve’s breath fogged the air in front of her. Despite that, her palms were sweating. She looked over her shoulder and frowned as the guards disappeared. “Aren’t they coming with us?”
“They’ll remain close in case I need them. There’s nothing to fear. You’re safe.”
Verve bit her lower lip. “As safe as Olive?” she murmured.
He stiffened ever so slightly, and Verve managed to wrench her hand out of his. “You are resilient.” Dacre sighed and raked a hand back through his hair. “The hatpin was a lockpick, was it?”
She shrugged.
“And you heard the interrogation from the east-wing library.” He shook his head. “What did you hear that has you so upset?”
“I heard screaming.” Verve forged ahead as fast as she could, considering the gown she was wearing.
Dacre caught up without any trouble and was soon blocking her path. “Olive was distraught.”
