Nightmares about Joel’s body plagued my dreams, and I soon gave up on having a good night’s sleep. Choosing to focus on my embroidery instead of resting.
As the sun rose, casting the room in an orange glow, my fingers cramped, and my stomach grumbled. I put down my needle. My previously plain linen shift was now a rainbow of colors.
I’d gone all out. Using a turkey stitch for the Gerber daisies and a fishbone stitch for the leaves. I’d mirrored the embroidery on both sides, with two fern leaves sitting along my collarbone. Red and white toadstools along the sleeves, and though I’d wanted to add a squirrel along the bottom hem, I’d refrained, not wanting to start something I couldn’t finish in that session.
I rubbed my tired eyes, sitting back on the bed and resting my head on the pillow.
It felt like I had only closed my eyes for a moment when someone knocked on my door. I sat up quickly and rushedto open it, my excitement dying when it wasn’t Dean, Kaleb, Mitchell, or even Wyatt.
Kacia, the young female wolf from the dungeons. She had brought me food and showed kindness to me. I hadn’t thought much about her since I’d moved to the kennels, but if she was at my door, I was being summoned by the Huntsman.
Her eyes dipped submissively, noting my change of expression. “The Huntsman wants me to bring you to his library.”
My skin prickled, and as much as I wanted to say no, I knew I couldn’t.
The Huntsman would force my hand; worse, he could hurt one of the Locket pack. He had noted my connection to Kaleb, but I didn’t want the Huntsman to focus on the other wolves from our little town.
“Sure,” I injected false cheer into my voice. “Let me just get changed.”
I debated putting on one of the other shapeless linen shifts in my tiny chest of drawers, but instead, I chose the embroidered shirt I had worked on all night. Perhaps it was in silent protest. Even I wasn’t sure.
Kacia zeroed in on my shirt, her lips parted in awe. “That’sbeautiful.”
I brushed my hands down the front of my shirt. “I like to embroider.”
“Can all Weavers do that?” Her eyes widened.
My cheeks heated. “It's a skill that can be taught. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed.”
Kacia didn’t take her eyes off my shirt. “You can do what you like with your clothes. Butthis. This is askill. How long did this take you?”
“I didn’t sleep,” I admitted.
“A night?” Kacia’s eyes rounded. “You could make a lot of coin, you know. If you wanted to.”
I shrugged. “It’s just for fun.”
“This is art.” She stated with vigor. “Would you make me one? I’ll pay for it.”
I considered her words. “I need more embroidery floss. Dean got this for me.”
“At the market?” Kacia brushed her blonde hair behind her ears.
I nodded.
Kacia’s head tilted, listening to something I could not hear. “The Huntsman is waiting.” She said with regret. “We mustn’t be late.”
I would never get used to the moving castle, with each piece oscillating like the cogs of a giant machine. As we strode through the rotting stone, we passed bobbing balls of magic light. They clung to the walls, giving the entire castle a creepy kind of darkness. I could feel the floor shifting and grinding—like an escalator at the mall.
Kacia seemed to know where she was going, ushering me through the castle and into the library at the very top of one of the towers. The view from the window made me feel sick, twisting on its side, defying gravity. One moment showing the sky, and the next rolling over to the green lawn. Around and around.
The library extended to the top of the tower, the books covering every inch of the wall space and up to the rafters. Seemingly going on forever.
At the center of the room, round tables formed a circle, with chairs worn with age, the wood rotting, and the fabric frayed.
The Huntsman waited, his fists planted on his hips like some dollar-store Superman figurine. He did not turn towards us, even as he heard our footsteps grow closer.
The table nearest was piled high with books. Leather bound without titles on the front or spines.