Another bite slides down my throat. Another.
Good thing my sisters aren’t here to see me, because soon, I’m scarfing the tart, my cheeks bulging. When the last bite disappears, I lick my fingers and rummage into the food sack for more.
Something tickles at the back of my mind—a warning, maybe. But it’s been so long since I’ve properly eaten that it fades beneath the onslaught of my appetite. I pull a baked pie from the sack and bite in. Cheese and mushrooms fill my mouth, a savory explosion, and I drift to a halt, my eyes rolling back. Goddess, I can’t get enough. I want more. I need more.
I cram the pie halfway down my throat. Something overtakes me, a buzzy kind of urgency, as if someone has loosed a whole hive’s worth of bees inside my ribcage. They zip around, frantic, their manic energy suffusing me.
I demolish the pie, then a wheel of soft, nutty cheese. A hunk of pillowy bread. An oblong pink fruit, its husk peeling away to expose the tender yellow flesh beneath.
I chew and swallow, chew and swallow, my indulgent moans the only sound for miles. Only when I cram another frosted tart into my mouth do I realize I’ve fallen to my knees. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except this glorious meal. I shove handful after handful into my mouth, not caring when I almost choke, because Ishanna helpme, where has food like thisbeenall my life? Why haven’t I ever realized how pleasurable?—
My knuckles scrape against the bag’s interior, my fingers closing around nothing.
“No.” Crumbs spray from my mouth as I jam my hand in deeper. My fingernails catch on nothing but burlap. “No, no,no.”
My movements grow jerky as I turn the bag inside out. Crumbs shower me, finding new homes in the folds of my skirts, but I’ve eaten every scrap of food Rhialla gave me.
Desperation spikes in my bloodstream. I ball the sack between my fingers, holding the last bite on my tongue. I’m not ready to swallow. I’m not ready to lose this feeling yet.
When I finally do, I suck the butter and jam from my fingers, then hunt through my stiff gray skirts for every stray crumb I can find. That done, I stare down at myself. I’m sticky. And stuffed. And somehow still ravenous at the same time.
Because I’m… I…
Oh, goddess. What just happened? What did I justdo?
All at once, shame crashes in, a hot red tide that has me hunching forward. I just lost control, didn’t I? I dove face-first into enjoyment. Intogluttony.
One of the sins Ishanna warns against.
I fling away the empty sack as if it’s burned me. Jumping to my feet, I swipe my sleeve across my mouth. The fabric comes away smeared with frosting and meat juice, and I make a small, inaudible sound of horror.
Goddess, I don’t even recognize myself.
Nor do I have any idea what to think, or who to blame. Amriel, probably, because desperation like this can only be a product of circumstance. It wasn’tmewho lost control just now. It’s just this place. This situation. This unfamiliar, indulgent food.
With trembling hands, I smooth down my skirts, brushing away the evidence of my degeneracy. From now on, I’ll drink nothing but water. I’ll refuse every morsel of fae fare. Nothing but the vial of honeyed syrup for me—anything else, and I risk corruption. Clearly.
The decision smooths some of the jagged sensations marchingacross my heart. I breathe in, then out, on a mission to reorient myself. To figure out what comes next.
My legs eventually steady beneath me. But when I turn, I rear back again, seized by a terror so powerful it chokes me. The ground surges up from behind, slamming against my back, and I shrink, my hands flung up for protection.
A massive, shadowy wall looms before me, just like the one I parted ways with two hours ago. It even has a gateway, an exact replica of the one that brought me here.
I squint at it through my fingers. The depthless black stares back, its surface glinting like a huge, dark eye.
I inch backward, my heart hammering.Isthis the same wall? This one doesn’t move, but it must have followed me when my back was turned. Or maybe I’ve covered no ground, despite walking all this time.
Dark foreboding swells in my gut. I have to get away. I have toadvance, or I’ll never make it through the Wildwood in time.
I twist around and struggle to my feet, prickles shooting down my spine at the thought of putting the wall behind me. But I need to quantify what’s happening, so I take ten steps, then slant a glance over my shoulder.
Dread slicks my insides. The wall lurks a mere pace behind me, despite the fact that I just took ten.
The air changes, turns oppressive, like cobwebs clinging to my skin. What if I walk all day and get nowhere? What if these jeweled trees have tucked me into some sinister pocket realm I can never escape?
My pulse ticks upward. I set out again, my steps sinking into the spongy moss. Maybe I should use the orb to contact Amriel, but despite his assurances, I don’t believe he actually intends to help me. Besides, I might still have food on my face. Even if I don’t, I fear what he might see. The sticky film of regret, maybe, clinging to my skin. The guilt still coating my insides. The unmistakable evidence that I lost control.
Then I’ll never be rid of that chilly smirk. Amriel will think he’s won, that fae vices have somehow snuck beneath my skin when I wasn’t looking.
