Poison.
The word rose in my mind immediately.
I hesitated, fingers curling at my sides, staring at the food as if it might leap at me. It would be easy. Too easy. A poisoned meal in a beautiful room, a quiet, elegant end.
Then logic pushed back.
Why bother poisoning me at all?
If he wanted me dead, he could have killed me in the forest. If he wanted to poison me, he could have done it already. He had knocked me unconscious once, efficiently and cleanly, without killing me. Why wait now?
My stomach growled again, louder this time, and I let out a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over my face.
“Get it together,” I muttered to myself, voice barely above a whisper.
Before eating, I forced myself to test the room, if only to reassure myself I hadn’t missed something obvious. I crossed to the nearest door and grasped the handle, turning it slowly. It didn’t budge. Locked. I tried another door set into the far wall, my hope rising briefly before it opened to reveal a bathroom so lavish it stole my breath.
Stone tiles gleamed beneath my feet, pale and veined with gold. The space was dominated by a deep, sunken bath carved directly into the floor, its edges smooth and inviting. Shelves lined the walls, holding folded towels softer than anything I’d ever touched. Jars of soap and oil were arranged carefully beside polished metal fixtures that looked both ancient and impossibly refined.
A third door led nowhere useful, another locked exit, and the tall windows that flooded the room with light refused to open, no matter how hard I pushed. Even if they had, the drop beyond them made my stomach twist. I was high up, far too high to survive a fall, that was for sure. The forest canopy was visible below like a distant, unreachable sea of green.
There was no escape.
I leaned back against the wall and slid down until I was sitting on the cool stone floor, pressing my palms into my eyes as the reality of it all settled in.
I was trapped.
But, eventually, hunger won.
I ate slowly at first, every bite cautious, waiting for dizziness, pain, anything that might signal I had made a terrible mistake. Instead, flavor exploded across my tongue. It was nothing like the food I was used to. Sweetness balanced perfectly against spice, textures flowed from soft to crisp, each mouthful somehow better than the last. My stomach clenched and then eased, warmth spreading through me as my body eagerly accepted the nourishment.
By the time I finished, licking honey and sauce from my fingers without shame, I felt almost human again.
Then, there was nothing to do but wait.
I shouted once, then again, my voice echoing uselessly through the room. I even spent some time pounding on the door until my knuckles ached, my frustration spilling over into tears I refused to let fall. No one answered. What felt like hours passed, marked only by the torrent of thoughts spilling through my mind and the growing stiffness in my muscles.
Eventually, with nothing left but restless energy and stubborn pride, I turned my attention to the room itself.
The wardrobe stood against the far wall, tall and wide, crafted from dark wood with ornate brass hinges and a heavy key hanging from a chain at its center. I opened it slowly, half expecting something to leap out at me, then froze.
Inside hung dresses.
Dozens of them.
Silks and linens, velvets and fine cottons, in shades of green, cream, and gold, some simple and flowing, others richly embroidered with patterns that echoed the carvings on the walls. Shoes lined the bottom, soft leather and delicate stitching, alongside drawers filled with undergarments so fine I flushed just looking at them.
I closed the doors abruptly, heart pounding.
“No,”I said aloud, shaking my head.
Whatever game this was, I wasn’t playing along.
I turned instead to the bathroom, shedding my dirty clothes with a grimace and stepping into the bath that filled in no time thanks to the large waterfall tap. I hissed slightly at the pain in my back as the wound submerged.
Warm water had filled the space with steam and the scent of something floral and sweet. I washed slowly, letting the grime, blood, and sweat of the last few days slide away. The soap lathered richly, smelling like wildflowers and honey, unfamiliar but intoxicating. My back also started to ease, as if whatever was in the water helped heal as well as cleanse. I closed my eyes as I rinsed it away.
When I finally stepped out, skin clean and hair dripping down my back, I caught my reflection in the mirror and flinched.
