Page 6

“My name is Elora,” I tell her.

“Elora?” she repeats, trying out my name and making me smile. I dig through the clothes and find a pair of blue denim jeans and a white shirt as well as a bra and a pair of underwear. With the clothes is also a pair of black pants with woolen underlay, a shirt with a butterfly and a hooded sweater. I know by the size, the black pants, butterfly shirt and the hooded sweater are for the little girl. She touches the butterfly and smiles.

“It’s so pretty,” she says, caressing the fabric.

I also find two pairs of socks, something I haven’t held for so long. The only socks I have held was when I pulled some off a dead man I found in the gutter. I washed them, giving them to my grandmother, her feet always so cold from the weather and her old age.

Lilith gets up walking over to the small bathroom. “Do you think it has hot water?” she asks, looking eager to try it.

“Let’s find out,” I tell her, hopping up and coming to the shower. I turn on the taps and chuckle when I feel the water heat up slowly. I turn to Lilith and pull her makeshift dress off. Removing my clothes, I adjust the water temperature and turn the taps on full force. We both step under the showers spray. I flinch when I feel the water run over the lashing mark from the whip. The water is burning it making my skin sting.

Lilith giggles excitedly and it makes me wonder when the last time she felt hot water was, if ever. I find a bar of soap and a small bottle of shampoo and conditioner on the sink basin. I hand her the soap, and she excitedly starts lathering up her body with it. Dirt and grime run down the drain. I put some shampoo in my hands and started scrubbing her hair and messaging her scalp, feeling her relax slightly.

“This is wonderful,” she exclaims as the room fills with the scent of strawberry shampoo and chamomile soap.

Once I finish washing her hair, I rinse it out and let her apply conditioner while I scrub myself clean. Blood from my back turns the water red, the sting sharp, I try to ignore it.

I see Lilith reluctantly hop out and grab a towel, wrapping it around her little body. I quickly wash my hair, scrubbing my scalp as I feel the cleanest I have ever felt in years. I get out when I feel the water temperature drop slightly. I grab my towel and follow Lilith out. She sits on the rug in front of the small fireplace. I quickly get dressed to find the clothes fit perfectly. Despite everything, feeling warm and clean is such a relief. I then help Lilith get dressed. She smiles brightly back at me.

“They are so warm,” she whispers, running her hands over the soft fabric. Now that she is clean, her skin is like porcelain, so delicate and pure.

I comb her long blonde hair with my fingers, pulling a hair tie from my wrist. I then braid her hair so it is out of her face. She touches the braid gently not wanting to ruin it.

“What about you?” she says when she realizes, I gave her my only hair tie. I shrug. “I don’t need it,” I tell her, knowing chances are when this Silas person comes, I will probably be slaughtered. We sit in front of the fire for a while and eventually fall asleep.

I am jolted awake when I hear the door swing open, creaking loudly. Matitus, one of the Dragon King’s, is standing in the doorway. I sit up, groggy, when recognition hits me, and I become anxious.

Dropping my gaze to the floor. My long black hair falling to my sides creating a veil. I see his boots come into my line of vision. He then kneels in front of me and grips my chin, bringing my gaze to meet his own.

“Why aren’t you sleeping on the bed?” he asks curiously.

I glance at Lilith, still asleep. I don’t know when we drifted off, but the fire kept us warm, and the rug is more comfortable than any makeshift bed I’ve had before.

“We fell asleep,” I say.

He tilts his head, studying my face before releasing my chin. Dragus walks in behind him, carrying a tray that smells like chicken soup. He sets it on the desk.

“Get on the bed,” Dragus says.

A chill runs through me, my stomach twisting at his words. He seems to realize his mistake, lifting his hands in mock surrender.

“Not in that way, take the girl with you,” he says, looking down at Lilith laying on the floor. I place my hand on her back, shaking her softly. Her eyes open and she jolts upright leaning against me in fear as she tries to get as far away from them as possible. I stand up to suddenly feel the cut on my back reopen and tear.

I grimace, feeling warm blood running down my spine, I ignore it. Instead, picking up Lilith and placing her so she is sitting on the edge of the bed. I go to sit beside her when I feel hot fingers move across my shoulder, brushing my hair out of the way, his fingers lightly tracing the mark running from my left shoulder down to my right hip. I flinch slightly as it stings. I can feel the singlet sticking to the blood as his fingers run over it.

“Silas won’t like that” I hear Dragus mutter as I sit next to Lilith on the bed. Dragus then brings the tray over, sitting it between us both. Lilith looks at me unsure and I nod my head telling her it’s okay. I hand her a piece of bread and watch as she dips it in the bowl. Her hands shake as she brings the food to her mouth, and I can tell she hasn’t eaten for a while. I look at her sadly tugging a piece of hair behind her ear that escaped the braid.

She must be starving. When she finishes her piece of bread, I hand her mine and turn to the two men standing in the room. Both watch me, their expressions unreadable.

“What is your name?” Matitus asks. Instead of answering I fight the urge and ask a question of my own, trying to avoid giving them my name. I know if they ask again, I won’t be able to stop myself from answering.

“What do you want with me?” They seem taken aback by my question and I have a feeling no one who has stepped in this castle has ever spoken out of line, let alone asked them a question as to their intentions.

“Your name?” Matitus asks his tone telling me to answer or else. I shiver as the urge to answer honestly takes over; I try to fight against it, sweat beading on my neck. Trying to ignore a direct question is painful to a Fae, telling a lie is almost impossible. One of the things I hate about being Fae. Matitus steps closer, his hand cupping my cheek.

“Fae can’t lie or help the urge to answer. Why are you fighting against answering me?”

I shake my head, and his fingers stroke my cheek softly, I grit my teeth trying to fight the urge to answer. “Elora” I stammer out breathlessly.