She responds again in the same language, her voice gentle, but I can’t make sense of a single word. I try to interpret her signals as she gestures toward the tea.
I shake my head. “No. What is it? What do you want from me?”
Again, she says something, her tone insistent but not unkind. She places the tray on a nearby table, points to her ears, and then lifts the cup, holding it out to me with both hands.
The steam carries something earthy, almost metallic. My lips are cracked, my throat parched, and her eyes carry a kindness that doesn’t match the coldness of the room.
“Fine,” I mutter, my hand trembling as I take the cup. “But if this is poison…”
She gives me a tight, amused smile that I don’t need translated.
The tea burns on the way down—bitter, thick, with a strange mineral aftertaste. My tongue tingles. I finish the tea, not because of the taste, but because my throat is thick and dry. For a moment, I feel lightheaded, and then my ears pop.
“My name is Staja,” the woman says. As clear as day.
I freeze. “I… I understand you.”
Staja nods. “The tea. Brewed by our court sorceress. It allows your mind to receive our tongue. It will last a day. Perhaps two, if your fae blood doesn’t fight it.”
I lower the cup slowly. “You work for Prince Torbin?”
“He has commanded that I see to your comfort.” She pauses. “He will want to speak with you soon.”
My stomach sinks.
Of course he will. My blood turns to ice, and a chill slides down my spine, colder than the northern air seeping through the window. My mind is spinning—not from the tea, but from the reality of where I am and why. Slowly, I step toward the bed and sit on the edge.
He’s abducted me. Taken me against my will.
My breath catches.
Nadya.
I lurch forward, grabbing Staja’s arm. “My friend. Where is she?”
She doesn’t flinch, but her voice remains calm. “She’s unharmed. In a room much like this one. She’s not been touched. The prince said she won’t be harmed, so long as you cooperate.”
Nadya is here. He has her. Trapped like me.
My knees nearly give out, and I stumble backward until I hit the edge of the bed.
I should fight. I should find her.
The thought strikes me with sudden clarity. My strength hasn’t fully returned, but I still have power—power that I haven’t yet mastered, but power nonetheless. If I concentrated hard enough, I could overtake Staja and escape this room. Then I could search for Nadya, find her somehow, and try to escape.
No. The soldier in me knows the risk is too great.
I don’t know how many guards are stationed beyond that door, how many people Staja could call with a single shout. I have no idea how big this castle is or where to begin looking for Nadya. And I don’t know how involved this woman before me is. Just because she works for him does not mean she’s loyal to him.
Staja watches me carefully, her posture too poised to give anything away. She takes the teacup from me, setting it down with a quiet clink, then folds her hands in front of her. “The prince is expecting you for dinner.”
Dinner? What time is it?
My mind spins, not just from my confusion, but from the lingering ache in my head.
Staja crosses to a tall, iron-handled dresser and opens it with a groan of hinges. From within, she draws out a dress.
If it can even be called that.
