“N-Nua?” I called softly, glancing around fearfully in case any unseelie Folk were lurking. Any of the Carlin’s sons.
There was no answer. No green eyes peering at me. No low, familiar rasp of Nua’s voice, which I could hear clearly in my head now. Telling me things about the Folk. Warning me to stay away from the others.
He’d made me check that we had iron on the doors and windows in the house. I’d read a few years later that iron deterred the Folk. Stopped them getting in.
“Nua?” I whispered frantically, peering into the dim depths of the forest. Was he out there? Could he help me?
I didn’t think he was unseelie, like the Folk who had taken me. He looked different, from what I could remember. Golden. Warm. Most of the unseelie Folk that I’d seen were cold and pale. More unsettling, even though they were beautiful.
I remembered the cold, aloof face of the Carlin’s youngest son. Her assassin. He’d been the most beautiful I’d seen—more beautiful than Odran, the kelpie in the forest—and he was the most terrifying.
When no answer came from the forest, I exhaled and turned back to grab the dagger. At least I had a weapon. And the note offered a kernel of comfort. Nua was Folk, but he’d been my friend as a child. He’d felt safe. Knowing he was watching me from the forest made me feel just a little better.
With one last glance back, I went inside and carefully folded the note, slipping it under the bare mattress in the bedroom with the dagger. Caom seemed nice and a bit airheaded, but I didn’t want to find out what he might do if he came back and found me with a weapon—and a secret message from someone.
When I stepped back into the living room, I realised the light was fading quickly despite the fire, the rest of the small space getting shadowy. On the mantel I found a tinderbox, so I used a piece of tinder to light the candles dotted around the cottage, hissing when it burned too quickly and singed my fingers.
The hearth in the kitchen was laid but unlit, so I used the flint and firesteel in the tinderbox to light it. I vaguely remembered reading that steel didn’t affect the Folk the same way iron did. It was processed, not cold, so it didn’t deter them. I put it in the pocket of my new trousers anyway.
I was hungry—starving—but still unwilling to risk eating. I walked back into the living room and stared at the copper tub. I was going to lose my mind if I sat here in silence, so I went and filled the bucket at the water pump, making the trip several times to fill the big copper cauldron over the kitchen fire to heat water.
Once the water was hot, I stared at it, wondering how the fuck I was going to get it into the bath. In the end, I dragged the tub into the kitchen and positioned it as close to the fire as I could. Finding a thick piece of linen in the sideboard drawers, I covered my hand and grabbed the lip of the cauldron, carefully tipping it until the water rushed out and into the tub.
I dragged it away from the fire with a grunt, back into the living room—away from the window. I wasn’t stripping down where Folk eyes could be peering.
Feeling self-conscious even though I was alone, I took off my clothes and carefully folded them, wincing at the grass stains on the back of my new shirt. But before I got into the tub my stomach growled pitifully, squeezing tight with hunger. I hadn’t eaten all day. I already felt weak and shaky, my brain fuzzy and a headache forming behind my eyes.
I usually had a huge appetite, though it had lessened considerably in the last few weeks. I’d get ill if I didn’t eat. And if I was ill, I wouldn’t be able to fight off any Folk who might come sneaking around.
With a dejected sigh, I padded into the kitchen and towards the pantry, glancing warily at the window. It was nearly dark now, but I couldn’t see anyone out there.
In the pantry, I grabbed an apple and some dried meat. And one of the bottles of wine. Fuck it. If I was eating their food, I might as well get drunk to forget everything as well.
The water was just slightly too hot as I gingerly stepped into the tub. When I sat, it barely lapped round my hips. At least the metal was warm from the fire when I leaned back, pulling the stopper out of the bottle and bringing it to my lips.
I sighed as I gulped down some of the red wine. It was overly sweet but smooth, and honestly, I didn’t give a shit what it tasted like. It would get me drunk. That was all I cared about.
I wolfed down the apple and meat quickly, my stomach aching from sitting empty for too long. Throwing the apple core into the fire, I lay back and nursed the bottle, staring up at a cobweb in the dark corner of the ceiling. The tub was cramped, my knees pressing into the sides and the hard lip digging into the back of my head, but I didn’t care.
I drank the entire bottle, already feeling woozy before I’d finished it. I hadn’t eaten nearly enough to soak up the alcohol, but that was the idea. If I couldn’t leave, at least I could pass out in a drunken stupor and forget everything for a few hours.
The water was tepid when I climbed out, unsteady on my feet. I looked around blearily for a towel but ended up standing in front of the fire naked to get dry. It didn’t take long, and soon I was slipping into my old shorts, almost losing my balance a few times. I found it hilarious, and a tipsy laugh snuffled out of me.
I just wanted to crawl into bed and forget everything. My head spun, and I was getting too warm now with the alcohol heating my blood. I banked the fire in the kitchen and blew out all the candles, then padded to the bedroom.
I groaned when I realised I still had to make the bed. It took twice as long as it should have, my numb, clumsy fingers slipping several times. There was no pillow, so I grabbed an overstuffed cushion from the sofa.
Throwing it down on the bed, I stumbled to the window in the bedroom. My vision wavered as I peered out, but I could see tiny pinpricks of light from the Folk village in the distance. I wondered what they did all night. It had looked deceptively normal when Belial had led me past it. Shops and a tavern, Folk going about their business, most of them ignoring me while a few stared.
I felt simultaneously relieved and unbearably lonely in this tiny cottage set all the way back, on the very edge of the unseelie land. Had they known they’d keep me here? Had they put me here like a shameful secret, hidden away? The Carlin’s court loomed on its hill, those massive front steps gleaming like ice in the moonlight. Lights were on in lots of the windows. I wondered if her sons were in there or out lurking in the village. Or outside this cottage.
Shivering, I stepped away and stumbled to the bed. The sheets were cold and stiff, making me shiver even harder as I stared at the low firelight flickering over the floor from the living room. Aside from the fire’s gentle crackle, there was no other sound until an owl hooted loudly from nearby, making me jump.
Everything spun when I tried shutting my eyes, making me want to vomit. I was too drunk. I needed water, but I couldn’t bring myself to get back out of bed.
Eventually I passed out in a drunken stupor, my body too lax to even react when I heard a rustle right outside the window before I fell unconscious.