Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,48
a soup canteen from the satchel slung across his body from his shoulder to his waist, and holds it out before him. “I didn’t think you’d wake before I left tonight, so I left you the seeds just in case. But I really think you should drink this before the nuts. It’ll be easier on your system.”
He passes me the canteen and my hand reaches out to automatically accept.
“Are you okay?” he asks. His tone surprises me. It almost seems heartfelt.
Despite my suspicion and utter disdain for the faerie species at the moment, I keep my reply civil. “I’ll live. It wasn’t the first time they’ve broken my wings. I doubt it’ll be the last.”
He winces and rocks back and forth on his heels, his head falling as it shakes. It’s impossible to make eye contact with his loose waves sweeping the air before his eyes, and I can’t help but wonder what his game is. He clears his throat, grabs a roll out of his satchel and passes it between his hands. My stomach obviously gets the message and growls in protest. Lovely. Tease me more please, I think, rolling my eyes. Surprisingly, Jack extends the bread and offers it to me.
“Here. You need this more than I do.”
I mindlessly accept again, watching his facial expressions for a hint of betrayal, but I see nothing. Either he’s very good at deception or he’s actually sincere…which confuses me. Jack went from absolute hatred to completely aloof to shy and compassionate. Something smells and it’s not the corner of the cave where I relieve myself. Not being able to stand it anymore, I ask in an accusatory tone, “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“You seem…really thin and malnourished.” His eyes fixate on my bare torso, so I assume he’s focusing in on my ribs. I see for the first time what they look like in the light and what I see breaks my heart. There’s no muscle left between the skin and bones, and just like I felt when I examined myself, the areas between the ribs dip. Self-conscious, I set the bread and canteen down and wrap my arms around my waist.
“Well, that’s what happens when your only source of food and water gets dumped on you inside a pitch black hole. Or squished on the floor like Finley likes to do.” I didn’t care that I was coming off rude and sarcastic. He’d been an absolute jerk to me for a couple of days and then pretended I didn’t exist for the rest.
“I guess I deserve that.”
My eyes pinch harder, as if doing so will allow me to see magic flowing off him and prove I was hallucinating this conversation or something. “Again. Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?”
He digs the toe of his shoe into the ground, which is probably tearing the soft material apart. “What they did to you…with your wings…that ain’t right. No one deserves that, no matter what you did. You’re not a flight risk. Not with that metal on your back weighing you down.”
“Jack, is it?” He nods. “Your faerie buddies stole me from my Hollow. Shot a dart right into my neck. I woke up in this hole with broken wings and a number inked on my skin.” I pause to show him the sixty-eight on my wrist. “I was abandoned and starved for four days, dumped into a pit and forced into slavery at the brink of death. Then, ‘cause I had the audacity to run and fight for my freedom, I was tossed into this pit under the care of a jerk that likes to throw what little rations I get at me. What part of any of that seems right to you?”
“What did you do?”
I scowl. “What do you mean, what did I do?” As if this is all my fault or something!
“I mean, what did you do to get thrown into this prison?”
Flabbergasted, I spit, “I didn’t do anything! I was taken!”
“Yeah, all right. I get that. But you all broke the law in some way or another, so what did you do to get yourself imprisoned?”
I’m not sure how long I stare at him, trying to wrap my head around what he just said. I have a feeling my expression is conveying my thoughts because he’s quick to ask, “What?”
“Are you…under the impression that the pixies imprisoned here have done something wrong?”