Page 51
Inside the white wardrobe, I found some silver robes—the kind of robes the elves in the dream version of this place wore.
This elf needed himself a fresh change of clothes. They were silky and thin, lovely to touch. But first, I needed to be clean.
I inspected the attached bathroom, finding a large tub, toilet, and sink. Towels and bars of soap, too.
Nice to know plumbing extended to the Carving Glade.
Taking advantage of the downtime, I ran a bath and tossed in a bar of lavender soap as the hot water gushed, and stripped off my disgusting clothes and underwear. I watched the water, vulnerability getting its claws into me. My eyes leaked again. Strangled sobs escaped me, the grief of reality back to launch some attacks.
Pearl would’ve loved to have seen this place, to have been given the chance to meet our parents and our brother. She should be here. She should be present in everything, always by my side.
But she wasn’t. I was alone. Destined for the empty life. I couldn’t even land myself a proper true love without there being a whole shit-ton of chaos to go with it.
Ugh. Whining again. Look at what I’d survived. That should count for something. But being here, having hope in hand, didn’t lessen the sting.
Let me slip away to the nearest forest and lose myself. I’d be okay with that.
Yeah. Right.
Wiping my eyes, I turned off the taps and climbed into the hot, soapy water. I sank into it, bending my legs, leaving only my head above the surface.
My muscles thanked me, the aroma of the lavender soap detangling some of my internal knots.
The power of a bath, man.
It didn’t take me long to nod off, slipping into a dream about Summer Forest. Me wandering through the trees, sunlight breaking through the canopy above. Happy, free, no burden on my shoulders.
And he was there. Silvanus. Shirtless, his bottom half wrapped in black leather trousers, his raven-black hair billowing in the breeze. Reaching for me, laughing, smitten.
I ran to him, taking his hand.
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
He shouldn’t be out in the sunlight.
“What are you—”
His face changed, twisting into Hal’s. Hair flooding gold, beard sprouting golden hairs.
I yanked my hand free, turning to run.
He came up behind me, grabbing me by the hair and exposing my neck.
“Do you miss your friend?” Aidan spoke close to my skin, every cell in me flinching away from him.
I cracked him in the face with the back of my head then spun, drawing my stakeblade, or what I thought was the stakeblade.
In the weapon’s place was a limp, rotting rose. Even in a dream, the vile energy of a poor, decaying flower made me sick and threw me off my game.
“What… What…” I dropped it.
“Remember how you used to fuck each other?” Aidan ran a hand across Hal’s chest. “He misses it, he regrets hurting you.”
He’d betrayed me to save his own skin.
