Captive of Wolves (Bound to the Fae #1) - Eva Chase Page 0,24

posture.

“Don’t trouble yourself about that,” he says. “All you need to know is that we won’t treat you the way they did. Would you like to begin your explorations now?”

Part of me would, but a larger part wilts with exhaustion at the thought of tackling more of the winding hallways. I need to figure out where the main door is and what else this place holds, but right now, I’m ready to crash. The exertion of moving around even this much must be getting to me after all that time in the cage.

“I think—I think I’d just like to rest for a little while,” I say.

“Of course. Let me see you to your bedroom.”

The room I woke up in is around the corner from the privy where the hall splits, two doors down to the left—important details to remember. Sylas lets me walk in unaccompanied.

I stop on the threshold, taking in the brighter sun flooding through the window and the warmth it brings, the sweet smells of wildflowers and hay drifting in on the breeze, and the spread that’s been laid out for me on the table next to the bed: a wooden comb, a hand mirror framed in silver, and a goblet that, I determine as I meander closer, is full of water. A large pitcher sits on the floor next to the table in case I want to refill that or, I guess, the ebony bowl for a quick wash.

This is mine. I mean, it’s not, and it’s technically a prison cell besides, but I can’t smother the tickle of possessiveness, giddy as my enjoyment of the soap smell on my skin, that runs through my chest. I lean my crutch against the wall and flop onto the bed, my lips curling into a smile as I surrender to the coziness of the covers.

It’s dark, so horribly dark. Hands grasp at me. A knee jabs my back. A snicker reverberates through my ears. The cold bite of a knife slices into my skin—

And I wake up, gasping and shuddering, sitting bolt upright in my new bed.

It isn’t dark at all. The sunlight no longer slants through the window, but an indirect glow fills the room. Nothing’s restraining me; nothing’s cutting me. Still, it takes several breaths before my pulse stops rattling in my chest at its panicked pace. Sweat has glued my blouse to my back.

I barely remember the dream, only that I was back there, back in the cage, and the bars seemed to be closing in on me as if to crush me completely…

I’m not there anymore. Maybe I’m not totally sure of this new place or what I’m going to face here, but at least I’m not there.

Outside my window, a pinkish tint is streaking through the clouds. It must be evening. My stomach gurgles, reminding me that after my first real breakfast in ages, I’ve gone and slept through lunch. Have I missed dinner too?

I grope for the crutch Sylas made for me—more for his convenience or mine, it’s hard to say—and swing myself onto my feet. The muscles in my legs only wobble a little on my way to the door. As I grasp the knob, a quiver of panic shoots through me. Will it even open?

But it does, turning easily in my grasp. I tug the door open, and the smell of roasting meat carries from the staircase to greet me. Oh, yes, I’d like some of that.

It takes me twice as long as a normal person to lurch down the stairs, but I do it all on my own, so I’ll count that as a win. Someone—August, I assume—is humming a buoyant melody in the kitchen, utensils clinking against the cookware. The dining room is empty. I’m even a little early for the meal.

No time like the present to get in some of that exploring, then. Ignoring the tension that twists around my gut with each limping step I take, I head farther down the hall. Sylas said I could feel free to wander. I’m not breaking any of his rules.

I’m just figuring out where I would go about breaking them when I’m ready to.

With the dimming of the natural light that appears to seep down through slits at the edges of the ceiling, orbs mounted along the walls have lit up with a flame-like flicker. The amber glow leads the way to a branching of the hall in two directions, just like upstairs. To my right, I find a grand