“Snatch-what?”
Heavens, what cursed monstrosities lurked here?
“Grinters. They’re called grinters in the old tongue,” he said, and his eyelids dropped. My blood turned to ice.Don’t grin after dark, or the grinters will come!I remembered that nursery rhyme too well.
I let out a sigh of relief when the massive wooden door creaked open. Warm air rushed to meet us, carrying the scent of pinewood smoke, candle wax, and old books. Emrys sagged heavier against me, and I tightened my grip, guiding him over the threshold. He dragged his feet along the terracotta tiles. Vines of bougainvillea curled down from above, spilling petals onto the floor. Beyond them was the odd pale purple sky. The place looked so much bigger from the inside. The Folded Tower, Emrys had called it. I guess it made sense.
Bookshelves lined the old stone walls, their spines worn and glinting with gold leaf, and a fire crackled in a deep hearth. Our feet sank into braided rugs. A kettle hissed on the iron stove as if someone had been expecting us. A soft bed stood in the corner, draped in linen the color of cream, its pillows puffed. Emrys barely made a sound as I eased him into it. For a moment, I stood in the center of it all—listening to the pop of sap in the logs, the occasional rustle of bougainvillea petals falling.
This was a sanctuary.
I rubbed the stiff muscles of my shoulders. We were safe, for now.
I poured some hot water into a clay bowl and took a clean towel from the kitchen. Emrys looked too pale, his chest heaving unevenly, his breath barely perceptible.
“I’m sorry, but I have to do this!” I whispered. My stomach dropped. The deep slashes still oozed blood over his sculpted torso. How was I supposed to treat a magical wound? Would cleaning it help?
I soaked the towel and gently wiped away the blood. A tingle ran through my fingers when I brushed over his bare skin—the gentle bite of magic. My hands glided over the swells of his powerful chest, honed by centuries of swordplay, and his mysterious tattoos seemed to move when I touched them. Inch by inch, I cleaned his stomach, and when I changed the water for a third time, the bleeding had stopped.
Even better—his breathing was normal now.
Emrys was sleeping. I sank into the velvet chair next to the bed and grabbed a book from the tea table. It was the strangest map collection I had ever seen. Celestial spheres spun in the aether, their paths crossing, and constellations I’d never known existed flickered above strange worlds. My eyes darted back to the sleeping man next to me. His powerful body was framed by the pale sheets, petals spread over his pillow—he looked like a painting from another time. What kind of universal riddle was Emrys? Blushing, I forced my gaze away as I sensed another type of curiosity seeping in. How would it feel to have those hands on my skin? Heat curled beneath my belly. I looked away and pinched the bridge of my nose.
This place played tricks, right? I stood up and paced around. My footsteps stirred the silence, and then I realizedthey weren’t the only ones. Someone was mimicking them beyond the door.
Then I heard the most unexpected noise. Laughter. Light-hearted, nearly child-like. I stood still, but the footfall outside continued. Multiplied.
Who walked out there? Dread made my limbs heavy. Emrys had warned me.
Something was not right about this place.
“Daphne?” my mother’s voice called from the other side. My hands flew to my mouth to muffle a scream.
The thing at the door sounded like my mother. My drowned mother.
Go on, take a peek. A tiny voice inside my head encouraged me.
“Daphne?” she called again. I knew this was impossible. This was a trap, but my feet refused to listen to reason and moved on their own. I was at the door.
Before I could realize what was happening, I lifted the latch and stepped outside.
Daphne
A smile too wide
“M
other?” I called into the clearing, taking another step. The sky above was darkening, its color a soft mauve now, and odd stars glittered above the Folded Tower. The air had changed. It was heavier. Stiller. Even the bougainvillea vines seemed to pause, listening.
Distant laughter floated from the trees. “Mother?” I called. My pulse hammered in my throat.
A part of me knew it was impossible. Another part wondered—maybe in a place like this, where nature’s laws unraveled, there was an echo? A chance to say goodbye?
Wait a minute–what was that?
At the edge of the clearing, peeking out from the gnarled roots of the trees, stood a group of tiny figures. Child-sized. Cloaked in patchwork rags. Big, glassy eyes blinked at me, luminous and oddly innocent. One of them waved a stubby, four-fingered hand. I smiled and waved back.
Harmless.
