Then he leaves.
As the door closes behind him, I realize. I’m still standing here. Holdingmy very owntoothbrush. And wondering why in the world I feel like crying.
Chapter 4
~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is fine.
My fae abductor hands a crust of bread to a bulbous green creature, who wiggles joyfully before plopping down underfoot and nibbling it while murmuring a chant offood food food. Stirring roughly two dozen eggs in a skillet, the faerie man nudges the creature aside with the arch of his boot. “Do excuse my pets, Danielle. Goblins don’t know any better. Their mental power is comparable to dogs’, and their vocal cords are capable of mimicking sounds, but beyond that…they make very poor companions. I’ve taught them a few commands to curb their uselessness, but there’s little else they’re good for, truly.”
Immediately proving his point concerning mental limitations, another goblin wanders into the kitchen, sees the first nibbling the bread crust, and unleashes a troubling cry before charging.
“No. Sit.” The harsh words stop the second goblin in its tracks, and my faerie kidnapper sighs as the creature whimpers and plops. Handing him his own crust of bread, my warden mutters, “It’s pitiful, truly. Goblins are capable of evolving into hobs, which grants them a consciousness beyond beastly instinct, but I have yet to learn how to make it happen.”
I’m not sure how I feel about the fact he’s tried toforceit.
Despondent, he continues muttering, “I know evolution has something to do with the accumulation of knowledge, but I’ll let you guess how well my endeavors to create agoblin schoolwent. Their attention spans are nearly as bad as their breath.” Setting the matter aside, he pulls the skillet to a different burner, turns the gas stove off, and smiles. “Would you like anything else to go with your toast and eggs, love? Juice, perhaps?”
“Um…” A means to contact Zahra would be nice. But I shouldn’t be greedy. When he asked me this morning what I wanted for breakfast, I wasn’t expecting him to let me out of the cage and suggest I could come with him to the kitchen if I wanted. Taking small, cautious steps right now while I learnhislimitations will likely keep me safer for longer. I say, “Maybe orange juice?”
“The fruit or the color?” He swings open a contraption that appears fridge shaped without so much electronic fanfare. On the whole, it looks more like a wooden cabinet inside and out, and despite the chill wafting forth from the open door, it is completely silent. Within, only glass containers rest on the shelves. “I have mango and apricot as well asorange.”
Mango sounds amazing, actually. “Mango, please.”
He smiles, again. He does that a lot. If it were lessmanicmore often, maybe I’d be deluded into a false sense of security.
So far, the cage isn’t bad if he lets me out with about as much fuss as he did this morning. Which was, of course, no fuss at all. The bath last night wasamazing. Finally being able to scrub the past few weeks of grime off my body was therapeutic on levels unknown. I’m pretty sure I was in that bathroom for over an hour, lobstering in a fugue state, but he didn’t bother me a single time. The clothes he provides are comfortable and cover more than the clothes I’m used to wearing. He’s feeding me more than my mother’s strict diet regime permissed, even allowing me to have the luxury ofjuice. And since he spent the entire walk down the stairs telling me how he steals his eggs from someone named Willow in thehuman world, I’m wondering if I could have asked for meat and not worried that I was eating some weird thing from Faerie.
All in all, so far, I think I can tolerate this lifestyle.
Maybe true freedom would have been scary anyway, right? Full of too much responsibility and struggling. Full of constantanxiety, poverty, and distress. It would have been a different sort of torture. It alreadywas.
I didn’t exactly have fun sleeping on benches, or scrounging up a few dollars for greasy fast food, or constantly, constantly watching my back in case someone might recognize me as the supermodelDanielle Stormand post something online that would give away my location to my mother.
A lifetime of paranoia out there in the human world wouldn’t have been very free.
Assumingconsensual beggingis important to this faerie man, this isfine. Totally fine. I’ll jut my lip a bit later and ask for less graphic books to read, then I’ll sit pretty in my cage and indulge in the peace for a while.
Adaptation.
I’m good at it.
Reasoning.
I’m great at that.
No one’s taking pictures of me in bikinis and underwear here or making me kiss a dozen strangers a month.
That’s nice.
An upgrade.
A few wayward kisses on my face is better than Rodrick’s sweaty hands getting gropey while his stinking breath infiltrates my nose and hisI can’t wait until you’re minepollutes my ears.
This is fine. Better. Maybe evengood.
Once my faerie abductor is finished cooking, he leads me into a lavish dark wood dining room and pulls the chair at the head of the table out. I bite my tongue to keep from thanking him, since Frelsi’s taught me that we do not thank the fae, lest they take our souls.
