Page 13 of Apples Dipped in Gold
“Liar!” he accused. “You fucked him, didn’t you?”
“I swear I didn’t!” I said. “I swear upon the graves of our parents!”
His grip tightened, and he leaned closer to me, his eyes full of such hate, I could feel the heat of it burning me from the inside out.
“If I so much as sense a baby in your belly, I will sliceyou open and tear it out,” he said, and then he shoved his knee into my stomach, and I felt a burst of pain and nausea all at once.
He released me, and I fell to the ground, curling into myself as he landed another blow to my stomach before Michal grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“Stop, Jackal!” he said. “What if you kill her and the prince returns?”
“If the prince returns, then he can carry away her corpse,” he said.
“Aye, he may, but will he pay?” said Michal. “Besides, it is nearing sundown, and I am starved. Who will cook for us if she is dead?”
I was so consumed trying to breathe through the pain, I didn’t know if Michal’s words had swayed my brother, but in some ways, I didn’t care. If this was to be my end, at least eventually, there would be no pain.
“Get up!” Jackal commanded suddenly, and I peeled open my eyes to find all three brothers standing over me.
I held my stomach tightly, fighting the nausea as I got to my feet.
“Feed us, wash the rug, fix the fence, and do not dream of sleep until you are certain you are done, or I will have you dancing to your death in iron-hot shoes.”
Jackal turned and entered the house. Michal offered me a strange look—not pity but interest. He’d never considered the possibility that I might bring them wealth. Hans spit in my face before he turned to leave, laughing maniacally as he headed into the house.
Once they were inside, I bent at the waist and vomited all over my feet.
Chapter Three
The Fox and the Fae
Samara
I continued to feel nauseous throughout the evening and night. My stomach felt heavy; the ache was constant. I wondered as I worked to feed my brothers, clean the rug, and fix the fence if I would die by morning. Despite the pain, I smiled at the thought that my brothers would forfeit their payment of gold and silver. I wondered if this was what it felt like to have power, however little.
It was dark when I finished the fence, and I was frozen to the bone. I looked up at the sky, knowing I would see nothing but a dark void. The air was heavy with the smell of snow, crisp and crystalline. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with it. The cold felt good despite the sharp twist in my gut, and my breath clouded the air as I exhaled. I looked toward the barn where Rooster and Mouse were likely asleep and considered staying there on my final night at home, but instead, Igathered my lantern and cloak close and walked toward Daft Moor.
The night was still as I took the familiar, winding path to the bog. I had once found such comfort in this short stroll. Now all I felt was dread, but it seemed important to say goodbye, whether I died or left with the prince tomorrow.
As I neared, my heart began to race, and something thick gathered in my throat. I was frustrated by these emotions, still just as fresh and violent as they were seven years ago. I knew the feelings would cease with death, but would they with distance? Time surely had not helped.
The path dipped down into a valley with great boulders on either side, covered in browning moss. It was here I first met the fae who had offered his hand and the knife that had changed my life. I paused on the edge of the moor. I paused on the edge of the moor where, the rich scent of dark earth reached me. It held so many memories, both terrible and thrilling. I could not decide how to feel, though I didn’t know why. This place had been a source of misery, yet I felt a pang of sadness leaving. There were things here I still loved—the house my father built, their bodies in their graves, the animals both wild and tamed, even the fae who had given me the knife, as ridiculous as it was—but now it was time to let those things go. They were anchors to a past that kept me a breath from the surface, drowning beneath the weight of things that were nothing but dreams.
“I had never felt such hope as I did when you came to my aid until today,” I said. “I can finally let you go.”
The lie tasted bitter in my mouth, but if I said itenough, maybe it would be true. I took one final breath of cold, rich air and turned to leave when I caught sight of two glowing eyes. I gasped and stepped back, tripping on a boulder, falling against it.
The creature blinked at me twice and then slipped out from where it hid between two large stones—the same stones from which the fae had offered the knife.
It was a fox, a beautiful fox with orange fur and white and black paws. He shook his head, large ears flip-flopping before he sat, curling his fluffy tail around his feet, and stared at me.
“I did not mean to startle you,” he said.
It was my turn to blink. “Did you—”
“Talk?” he asked. “Yes.”
I pressed my palms to my face. “I must be dead.”
