I watch as the liquid gold and black lines soak back beneath my skin, fading away. I sit down on the floor, staring at the moldy bread, and my mind starts to spin with the sprout of an idea.
And that idea, rooted in rot, starts tobloom.
CHAPTER 14
QUEEN MALINA
They’re hungry.
I know it, they know it. The wind may even know it with the way it groans, echoing the sounds of our own empty stomachs.
Enough is enough.
I walk down the crude spiral steps carved around the inside of the hollowed tree, in search of Dommik. A long time ago, huts were built into these Pitching Pines deep in the forest. It was during a time when they were still being actively harvested for their thick, sweet sap.
The pine huts are now filled with fifty-two refugees instead of workers. All of Highbell’s survivors are split up amongst the half dozen hollowed-out trunks. Accommodations are not exactly luxurious, but there’s enough cramped space to lay our heads down at night, thanks to the stairs that coil up the insides of the trunks, and the flooring built across.
My people are cold, even with shelter. Yet they’re used to living in frigid temperatures, so they can withstand the frost. What they can’t withstand is starvation.
We’ve been holed up here for weeks, but our supplies pilfered from the city have run out. Despite our rationing, and despite the men’s efforts to hunt, there is no food left.
I press a hand to my own stomach, feeling as hollowed out as these trees.
When I reach the bottom of the giant trunk, I pass by a trio of people lying down on the bottom floorspace, their bodies huddled together in search of shared warmth. Guilt gnaws up my throat, teeth biting in to choke.
Looking away, I turn to the makeshift door, shoving up the beam that lies across it, and then pull it open just enough to slip out. As soon as I’m outside, I shut it behind me, eyes blinking as I adjust to the daylight.
The rest of the carved-out trees share the same doors cut into their sides, with dilapidated boards shoved overhead like eaves, where icicles drip down. Our steps have created paths in the snow leading from each door, but I head for the path that takes me to the small bonfire where I spot the figure wearing a cloak with the hood pulled low over his head.
Several others are gathered around him, clutching tin cups in their hands with sprigs of pine poking out. Aside from those pine needles, there’s probably nothing more than boiled snow and a cube of sugar in those cups, since that’s all we have left.
Dommik looks up as I approach, though someone else might not be able to notice the small shift in attention. Yet I sense when his eyes latch onto me. I always feel the weight of them as if he were gripping me.
I see him pass over a handful of snowberries to the child sitting with her mother, and the girl hungrily shoves them into her mouth. Neira is her name. Brown hair in knots, face pale,lips peeling. She’s the only child that survived the attack. The same one who clutched at my skirts with an arrow stabbed through her leg. It’s a miracle she survived, and now, she’s starving.
My stomach squeezes.
“We need to speak,” I tell Dommik as soon as I approach.
Without saying anything, he tips his head, and I follow him down the path until we’re several feet away from the group.
“We need to go into the city.”
He pauses at my harried tone. “Last time I checked, it was still crawling with fae.”
“Well, we have to try again. We don’t have any food left, Dommik,” I say, wringing my hands together.
“We’re still trying to hunt…”
“And mostly failing,” I say with a firm shake of my head. “It’s not enough to sustain everyone. We need more supplies.”
“We don’t even know if there’s anything left. The army has been burning the whole fucking city continuously.”
“Well, we can’t just stay here and do nothing. They’re starving to death!” My voice pitches up far higher than I intended. I steal a look over my shoulder, noting the others by the fire now looking our way.
Guilt bites down again, and when I turn back around, I shake my head, voice lowering. “I can’t save them if I can’t even feed them.”
I hear him let out a hard breath, full of the same tension I feel. “Alright. I’ll go tonight. Alone.”
