“Well, I don’t want one again.”
She shrugs, as if confused by my reaction, then exits the room.
She shuts the door behind her with a gentleclickand I lay my head on the pillow and try to swallow away the strange flavor of the draught. I hope I haven’t just been poisoned. It would be embarrassing to make it all this way and be taken out by a lady’s maid.
I’ve only been in bed for a moment when I’m startled by a frantic pounding on the door.
I grab a heavy golden candlestick from my bedside table and raise it above my head like a weapon.
What if Lydia was wrong and Bram’s already found me here? I thought he’d taken all his most loyal advisers to England with him, but what if some remain in the Otherworld, and they’re here to exact revenge on his behalf?
The pounding continues. “Who is there?” I call.
“It’s me,” Lydia’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “Open up, I have an idea.”
“How do I know it’s you?” I ask cautiously. Emmett was so convinced I was a selkie, perhaps shape-shifting is commonplace here.
“You hid Mr. Froburg’s brussels sprouts under your bed when you were seven because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but then your room smelled so terribly of rotting brussels sprouts Mama almost fired our maid.”
I crack open the door. “I should have thrown them in the fire.”
Lydia cracks a smile. “With age comes wisdom.”
She’s in a nightdress similar to mine, an intricate lace dressing gown pulled over it. With a dramatic flourish, she gestures to the object at her feet.
“A bucket of water?” I ask. “I can’t stink that badly.”
“No, stupid.” She rolls her eyes. “I just had the most brilliant idea.Selkies.They return to their true form in water.”
It’s vaguely familiar to me; there was a story about a selkie in Mrs. Osbourne’s old faerie book. Once upon a time, I had every page memorized.
“Of course!” I shout, and haul the water from the floor. It splashes all over my hem.
“Which room is his?” I ask excitedly.
“Door at the very end of the hall,” she says. “Good luck!”
But I only half hear her. I’m already racing down the corridor.
I drop the bucket at my feet and pound both fists on his sunrise-orange door.
From inside, I hear him stir, but the doorknob doesn’t turn.
“Please, one second, that’s all I ask,” I beg through the wall.
“Go away,” he answers miserably.
I pound until the doorframe shakes. “There is nothing you can say to make me leave. Crack the door. It’s all I need. If this doesn’tconvince you, I’ll leave you alone forever.” I absolutely won’t leave him alone forever, but I’d say anything to get him to open this door.
For a moment there is only silence, and I fear he means to leave me out here all night, rapping until my knuckles are bloody.
“Please,” I beg so quietly he probably cannot hear me. My arms burn with effort and my fists throb.
Footsteps sound from behind the door.
Reluctantly, it creaks open a sliver.
“I don’t know who sent you, but please let them know I have been tortured thoroughly enough.” Emmett looks and sounds exhausted down to his bones.
