Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,71
on one another’s shoulders, there aren’t enough of us strong enough to climb that high.”
“Yeah,” he replies, folding up the map and stowing it away in his satchel again. “Well, I hate to watch you eat and run, but I’ve still got some things to plan out.”
Slightly annoyed, I complain, “You know, this escape is for my benefit. Wouldn’t it be good for me to…I don’t know…take part in some of the actual planning?”
“You just did.”
“Yeah, after the fact, when you already had this part worked out.”
He flashes me an irresistible grin. “And didn’t that work out well?”
I playfully shove his shoulder. He uses the momentum to stand on his feet. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything in particular planned. I’m just making it up as I observe what’s going on around us. Which, forgive me, but you can’t come watch. I promise I’ll run everything by you and ask for your input once it all comes together in my head.” He grabs his satchel and loops it over his shoulder. “Besides,” he adds with a wink, “you’ve got leg squats to do.”
I groan and chuck my bread at him as he ascends. It would’ve hit him square in the chest if he hadn’t caught it. “Nice shot. Now quit playing with your food and eat it!” he shouts, reaching the top and tossing the sourdough back into my lap.
More leg squats…hummph!
I’m about to devour the most wonderful tasting oatmeal I’ve ever had in my life. Or at least I think I am – I’ll never know for sure since I doubt I’ll be able to taste it. Starla made it. I see chunks of strawberries, blueberries, minced almonds and a swirl of honey on top. I practically drool when Jack hands it to me, wisps of steam escaping the jar, a wooden spoon staked firmly in place.
“Oh, wow. Wish we had a cook like her in the Hollow. How you’re not fat I’ll never know.”
He chuckles with amusement. “If anything’ll put meat on your bones, it’s this.”
It’s thick and gooey and in a few minutes, I feel heavy inside. I chase it down with several chugs of water, not caring that he’s entertained by me downing a bucket of water. Maybe he’s waiting to see if I choke or drop it on my head or something.
“So, Mister-I’m-making-it-up-as-I-go-along, have you come up with anything?”
“Well…” Oh, no. This doesn’t sound good already. Why do his eyes always avert to anything but me when he’s about to tell me something I’m not going to like? “Look, getting you out of this prison is nothing. The danger is what lies outside the boundary…”
“Yeah. And?” I beckon.
“Rosalie…no one will look twice if all they see are two faeries together.”
My forehead furrows, forcing my eyes to squint a bit as I try to figure out the puzzle. “O-kaaay… I’m a little short to pass as a faerie, so what in Mother Nature are you thinking that’s going to make me look like one?”
His cheeks fill with air and I’m stuck waiting impatiently for him to blow it out slowly. “Pixie dust.”
There’s no hesitation when I scream, “Are you nuts? You can’t use pixie dust on complicated organisms like us. It never works right and sometimes really screws up the fae.”
“And sometimes it does work,” he quickly rebuts.
“Easy for you to say! You’re not the one it’ll be sprinkled on! Not to mention it’s completely forbidden and punishable with prison time.”
“And that would make your life different, how?” he scoffs.
I groan, but not from his snarky remark. My insides are growling over the heavy meal churning in my stomach. Note to self…eat heavy meals slower.
“What about passing me off as a younger faerie?” I ask, my hand instinctively covering my upset stomach.
“Yeah, Rosalie,” he mocks. “We’ll just put your nasty hair in pigtails and let you skip around.”
“Uh…okay!” I mock back. “Why not? It seems a heck of a lot better than jinxing me with dust.”
“And what happens if we cross paths with a spriggan or a faerie? Your face won’t pass as a child’s. Either way, we’d have to use pixie dust on you to make you pass. I’d rather try to raise you two inches than try to alter your face.”
I throw my head back in frustration and groan loudly, my hands poised on my hips with attitude. I feel a rush of dizziness when I try to roll my eyes. It’s not like he can see, so I surprise myself by even