The scarcity of food on the towering shelves made Prospero’s stomach clench. Barrels, sacks, and bunches of dried herbs were to one side. Jars of pickled and preserved food were to the other. A small bit of meat was drying, and salted fish hung on looping strings. The river only provided a few varieties, but they were prized.
There was one cold room, kept so via magic, but most of the food was the same temperature as the outside world.
“It’s worth a try to bring more, especially water,” she suggested, staring at Sondre. It was as close to an olive branch as she’d ever given. “We could do great things together, you know.”
“It’s not a real solution,” he argued, but his gaze darted over the food reserves, too.
“Neither is a bandage, but it can help. Can we try to cooperate?” Shedidn’t touch him, but she started to raise a hand as if to do so. Her brief time with Ellie had already made her weaker, softer.
He flinched.
She dropped her hand. “Recon. That’s what it’s called, right? We do recon. Maybe if we go over there more than the few trips a year we typically do, you can convince me I’m wrong—or maybe you’ll see I’m right.”
Sondre scoffed, but he said, “I’ll change clothes. We’ll do a food and water run today.”
Then he walked out, leaving her alone with Walt.
The door had barely dropped closed before Prospero sagged a little, feeling as if her strings had been abruptly cut. She could relax more around the chief witch.
“He seems more amenable.” Walt scratched his head through the blindingly colorful hat he still wore.
“If we go over there, we’ll be hunted, Walt. You know that.” Prospero didn’t understand Sondre’s drive for conflict. She could, obviously, lean in toward violence as necessary, but it wasn’t her first thought.
“Staying here will kill us slowly, though,” the chief witch pointed out. “I’m not sure there is an answer.”
“Slower buys us time. If we expose ourselves to the people there…” Prospero touched her cheek. On the day she arrived here, the occipital bone had been shattered, and her eye was barely attached. By the time her husband had paused and left her for dead on the sitting room floor, she had welcomed the idea of death. Instead, she’d woken up here. “I can’t live over there.”
“Agreed.” Walt stroked his beard. “I don’t miss the bloodshed, lass. Even now, the memory lingers too clearly.”
“Same.” Prospero felt her emotions well. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Perhaps,” Walt demurred.
26Prospero
Prospero added a long coat over her clothes, but she didn’t bother with a costume. Since he was the person who drove and interacted with people, Sondre was dressed in his jeans, a button-down shirt, heavy black boots, and a leather jacket.
“We’ll need to use more magic if it’s just the two of us.” Sondre gestured her forward. He never agreed to her walking behind him.
They each rolled a barrel in front of them.
“We will be bringing a load of supplies today,” she told the barrier guards as she and Sondre stepped through the wall that protected Crenshaw.
The wall wasn’t solid, simply a very convincing illusion with repelling magic woven into it. Non-magical folk would think it was a slick mountain face with briars decorating the slope. Not a place to cross, or climb, or really even think about it. Scylla’s magic was nearly infallible.
As they walked to the giant truck hidden in a cave near the border, Prospero wondered how hard it was to drive. She’d been in vehicles, often in the back of the truck where she slid around the trailer.
“I’ll ride up front today.” She jerked open the passenger door, steppedup onto the metal step, and grabbed a handle alongside the door to hoist herself into the truck’s main carriage.
“You never ride in the cab,” Sondre said as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
Cab,she mentally corrected herself.Cab, not carriage.
“The back is uncomfortable,” she admitted.
He said nothing as they drove toward the warehouse they visited. It wasn’t ideal as they could only select from whatever was there, but the imported foodstuffs were enough to offset the bad growing seasons.
By the time they arrived, Prospero was worrying the barrels they’d brought were not enough.
