The book was on the bed-nest-pile. “Oh, fuck you.” She glared at it. “You’re theotherreason I’m in this mess!” She debated throwing it into the fire, but she knew it wasn’t going to do any good.
Stupid thing.
Grumbling, she opened her bag. All of the clothing she had recklessly crammed inside was also soaked through. Taking it out, she laid them all on the floor by the fire to dry. The really gnarly things she hung up on the branches of the tree.
Next, she went to the wardrobe. First, she poked it with her foot. Then, she carefully—and very reluctantly—opened the door. She jumped back, just in case something came flying out at her.
Nothing. Just clothes. Like hell she trusted it. Waiting the entire time for something to leap out at her, she managed to find something to wear that wasn’t…horrifically embarrassing. Atleast it was something to sleep in. It was a long, unbleached linen chemise that looked like it was meant to go under something from the Renaissance era. It laced up in the front and went down to just under her knees.
But it wasdry.And it meant she wouldn’t have to sleep naked. And while she was asleep, hopefully her actual clothes would dry. Shutting the wardrobe—in case something woke up and crawled out of it—she headed into the bathroom.
The bathroom was another architectural fever dream. Tiles that seemed to shift colors. A bathtub that looked like it had been carved from a single piece of stone—or maybe a fossilized tree. Steam rose from the water, and it looked glorious.
Yeah. She was freezing. Peeling off her wet clothes, she slipped into the hot water and washed her hair with the soap she found. It feltamazing.Feeling like everything was just one step towards something a little more normal, she climbed out of the tub and pulled the cork from the drain.
Drying off with the towel she found beside the tub, she pulled the linen chemise over her head and rolled up the sleeves. It wasn’t nearly as scratchy as she worried it would be.
The exhaustion hit her all in a wave as she looked at herself in the mirror that was more tree and branches than it was the silvered glass that had once been mounted to the wall.
She looked so damn tired.
And she was.
If Ibin and Nos were telling the truth, Serrik wanted to murderall the fae.She could barely even wrap her head around what that meant. She’d only met…four. One of them was a douchebag, one of them had gotten her into this mess, one of them seemed nice, and the last onehad tried to eat her eyes.
Not exactly a stellar set of percentages.
But that didn’t mean it was a statistical average.
What business did she have, deciding the fate of an entire race?
She was so far over her head it was ridiculous.
Lowering her head, she let out another heavy sigh. There was no escaping sleep. And she needed it.
But she knew she wasn’t going to be able to escapehim,either. Serrik was coming for her the moment she shut her eyes.
Ava climbed into the nest-bed-pile, which seemed to breathe and shift around her. Great. She really hoped it wasn’t alive. Or sentient. Or both.
She pulled the blankets—which definitely included at least three scarves and what might have been a map from some forgotten century that was made out of leather—around her. The room was warm, but a chill ran through her that had nothing to do with temperature. Ducking her head, she pulled one of theactualblankets up closer around her.
Something was coming. Of course it was. Stupidly, she kind of hoped it was Serrik. If only because at least she had met him already. “I swear to god,” she muttered into the darkness. “If something shows up to give me a hard time that’snew,I’m going to lose my mind. You all can get me a deli ticket machine and just take a fucking number.”
The tree overhead seemed to rustle. Not with wind. With something else.
Something listening.
“And now, I’m talking to a tree. This is my life now.”
The branches didn’t answer. Which was, honestly, a relief.
Her mind kept cycling through the day’s events. Fae trying to eat her eyes.
Magical books. Immortality. A web of supernatural politics that made corporate boardroom drama look like a kindergarten squabble.
Ibin’s parting words echoed.Give us a chance to convince you we deserve to live.
As if her opinion could somehow determine the fate of an entire supernatural race.
