Page 56 of Blood of the Fairest

But the door closes behind them, and the torture begins anew.

"Damn it all," I grit.

Should I just leave? I was just settling into the idea of helping the soul in Reinhilde's body in exchange for her help looking for a way out of this place.

I promised to teach her to read. I was even allowing myself to dream about the next full moon—what it would be like to exist in the same space as her, even for just a few measly hours.

"Stupid. You barely exist at all, you fool," I remind myself.

If I find out Verena lies dead outside this tavern, that playful light forever gone from her eyes…

My mounting horror at that thought dissipates when the door opens again.

The shoemaker walks in, that little beauty spot over the corner of his lips unmistakable.

"Thank Crones," I breathe at last, moving back to the nearest reflective cup to call to her. "Verena. What happened?"

The shoemaker's gaze moves to me for the barest moment. His unfamiliar face is impossible to read before Verena moves to sit at one of the few empty tables.

My relief at seeing her fades when the shoemaker crosses his arms on the table, burying his head like he's trying to hide from the light and the people here.

Quickly, I find the next closest window—a large metal spoon left over on the same table she's sitting at—and peer up at her.

"Are you hurt? Tell me where."

She says nothing for a long moment, but there's a soft sniff.

"Verena," I repeat, really worried now. If she's in pain, how can I possibly help her from inside here? Even if I go find the Huntsman now, he may be too far away to help. "Tell me what⁠—"

"I just need a second to come to terms with the fact that I'm a blood-guzzling fucking monster," the shoemaker's voice says, muffled under his arms. "I…just killed someone. On accident. Again."

I breathe a huge sigh of relief. She's unharmed, and now she's no longer in danger of dropping with the queen's thirst-fueled fever very soon.

"You've finally fed, then. Good."

The shoemaker looks at the spoon I'm in, mouth hanging open in shocked disbelief. That's when I notice the bit of blood smeared on his chin.

Verena keeps her tone low so as not to draw attention, though I doubt anyone would overhear in this busy tavern.

"Good? Good? You're a fucking sociopath. I just told you I accidentally killed someone. Put yourself in this shoemaker's boots for a second and just try to imagine what I feel like right now."

"Sated, I hope." I point at my own chin to indicate hers. "You're wearing a bit of dinner."

She reacts as if I've pointed out a spider crawling on her face, swiping it away on her cloak before the shoemaker groans and buries his face again.

"I'm waiting to meet with Merrick, but I don't know if I can hold it together. I can't stop thinking about the corpse in the stable next door."

"Stable?"

"I had to put the body somewhere. Oh god, those poor horses."

I fight a smile, but it's difficult.

Through the windows of light in the mirror realm, I've witnessed a lot of violence in the physical world. Based on her night terrors, I assume her world isn't much better—yet she's this distraught, all because she killed some good-for-nothing?

Verena is just so…good.

It's endearing, but impractical.