“How do we know it isn’t poisoned?” Seven asks, solving the conflicting problem I’m facing within myself.
Fuck. I didn’t even think to ask that. I nod quickly, giving Seven the backup he deserves.
“You have the word of the Thorn King that this will not harm her,” the second fae says, before leaning forward and placing the two woven baskets among the middle of the tangled tree limbs. “He sends his regards.”
Then they both step back into the shadows, disappearing among the ash and smoke like they never existed in the first place.
I wait two beats, three, four… fuck it. I take a rushed step forward and pull the intricately woven baskets from their side of the land.
“Do we trust it?” Seven asks, eyeing the food.
The baskets are overflowing with fruits and meats, with prepared meals. There are even breads and items I’ve never seen before. How the king knew to send food, I don’t know. Maybe he just knows humans better than we do. Or maybe there’s something else going on. But there is one thing I know for certain.
“The fae value their word above most else,” I reply. “It should be safe. Especially since it’s for his blood.”
I pick up one of the baskets and hand it to Seve.. Fresh. It’s all fresh and ripe. Not a single fruit is bruised. Not a single meal is burned.
“Let’s get this back so it’s there when she wakes up,” I say, turning to run.
We don’t speak again on the entire run through the burning land. We don’t even speak once we make it back to Christian’sroom. We just set the baskets down with pride blooming within my chest. We settle into the high back chairs across from her. And we wait.
TWENTY-FOUR
Crymson
I don’t knowhow long I sleep, but I’m not dead yet, so I can only assume it hasn’t been the full day. The dream I’d had lingers in my mind, but the harder I try to focus on it, the more it fades, until I’m left wondering what I’d dreamt about at all. The moment I open my eyes to the soft glow of a candle flickering on the bedside table, I realize I’m not alone.
Seven and Rorrick linger near the ends of the bed, their faces twin mirrors of worry. My eyes trail down to the baskets they hold in their hands before I sit up with a wince.
“Is that all. . . for me?” I ask, staring at the food. As if demanding an answer just the same, my stomach gives a very loud, embarrassing rumble. I press my hand to it. “Where did it come from?”
Seven glances at Rorrick, as if he doesn’t know the answer, or doesn’t really want to say it. Rorrick apparently has no such hesitations.
“The fae gave it to us at the border,” he offers. “Apparently, your kinship knew you’d need food.”
Shame flickers in his eyes, an emotion I never thought to see on the large brutal vampire's face. He eases around the bed and sets the basket on top of the comforter beside me. I stare at the pile of apples and oranges and fresh bread, my mouth watering like it's a buffet instead of the most healthy thing I could ever choose to feast on.
“Is it safe?” I ask.
“We believe so,” Seven answers, coming around the other side and setting his own basket on the bed at my other side.
The baskets themselves are woven from a strange, thorny vine, the points sharp enough I wonder how they carried them without being pricked. I don’t understand why the fae would send food, why this is all happening. Nothing makes sense in my life any more.
For once, I’m thankful.
I reach for one of the bread rolls on top of the first basket, holding it up to the light. It’s purple, tiny black seeds within it. It smells sweet, like Hawaiian bread. When I take a small, hesitant bite, I realize it’s just as sweet as it smells, as if there’s some kind of fruit mixed in with it. I hum in pleasure and then do the most unlady-like thing ever.
I start inhaling the food. All of it.
I’m no stranger to hunger. Van would often piss away our money and sometimes the only way I’d be able to eat was stealing some peanuts from the bar I worked at. A few days in a vampire court? Nothing compared to a few weeks surviving on peanuts and what I could find in the trash after the cooks left for the night. Still, I’ve learned not to turn away food when it presents itself, and this food? It tastes better than any I’ve ever had. The fruit is all ripe with juice and flavor. The breads are all equally amazing. The strange dried trail mix stuff is better than anything I’ve ever had. It’s all so intoxicatingly delicious. Strangely so. I’d give my left tit to keep eating like this.
“We’re sorry we didn’t feed you sooner,” Seven says, watching me consume everything I can with a concerned arch of his brow.
“I thought humans only ate once a week,” Rorrick says with a wince.
“You didn’t know,” I say around a mouthful of bread. I take another feral bite and add, “Besides, I’m going to die soon. It hardly matters.”
Rorrick’s shoulders tense as I say that sobering line out loud. Slowly, I stop chewing and look down at my hands where I hold what looks like an orange. My eyes water but I do everything possible to hold them back. I shouldn’t cry now. There’s no reason to. Even if I was so foolish for falling for the three men who brought me here to die.
