I dropped Darius’ sheets into the bin. The bubbles attacked the fabric immediately, swarming the bloodstains like tiny soldiers. I scrubbed with the brush, and slowly—almost magically—the stains faded away.
I fell into a rhythm. Scrub, rinse, wring, hang. Scrub, rinse, wring, hang. The Brillig Buggles sang their little song each time I added more soap, swirling around the stains until they surrendered.
By the time the bin was empty, sweat dripped down my temples and my arms trembled with exhaustion.
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. I probably needed another wash myself—except these were my only clothes.
The cave door slid open and the Uncrowned filed in, Caterpillar and Chester among them. They moved like soldiers returning from a mission—weary but alert. I straightened, resisting the urge to step closer to Darius. Grump headed straight toward me, his dark eyes sweeping over the cavern.
“What did you do?”
I stood and wiped my wet palms on my tunic. “What does it look like? Laundry. Your bin was overflowing and smelled like something died in it.” I lifted my chin. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”
His gaze flicked from me to my makeshift clothesline, sheets and blankets dripping onto the stone floor.
“No.” His voice was gruff, but something shifted in his expression. “But you didn’t have to do that.”
Was that... approval? From Grump? I wasn't sure whether to be pleased or suspicious. Maybe both.
“You’re right. I didn’t.” I shrugged. “But it needed to be done. And no one else was doing it.”
He stiffened, his jaw tightening. “We’ve had more important tasks than laundry.”
“I get that. I wasn’t judging.” I held his gaze. “But you need clean bedding. Disease can cut a man down just as fast as an arrow.”
Some of the anger in his eyes faded. “You’re right.” A pause, like the words cost him. “Thank you.”
I gave him a small smile. “Was that hard to say?”
He didn’t answer. Just motioned with his hand. “Dreamer and Thorn, come over here.”
Two gruff men jogged over to us. One was wiry with dark circles under his eyes. The other was broad-shouldered with calloused hands stained green—like he’d been working with plants.
Grump tilted his head toward the bins. “Empty these outside and bring them back in.”
They nodded and got to work without question.
I exhaled quietly. I'd been dreading trying to haul those bins outside myself—assuming I could even find the way out.
“I need to change and wash up.” I glanced down at my damp, sweaty tunic. “Is there a smaller bucket I could use to wash my clothes?”
“We’ll find something else for you to wear.” He strolled away without another word.
I stared at his retreating back. Would it kill him to finish a conversation like a normal person?
A grin materialized beside me, followed by golden eyes.
“Clean sheets. Fresh linens. A woman’s touch in a den of wolves.” Chester’s body appeared, holding out some tights and another tunic. “The men don’t know what to make of you, little witch. A stranger who scrubs instead of schemes.”
Something in his words caught beneath my ribs. A stranger. That’s all I was here. All I’d ever be.
“Thank you, Chester.” I took the clothing, the fabric soft against my roughened fingers. “I don’t know what to make of me either.”
The admission slipped out before I could stop it—too honest, too raw. I turned away, busying myself with folding the tunic, and frowned as I counted backward through the haze of days in this place. When was the last full moon? How long since I’d fallen through the mirror?
A laugh escaped me, brittle and strange.
“Laughter?” Chester’s voice curled with curiosity.
