Page 85 of White Horse Black Nights

My dreams aren’t quite dreams. They’re flashes of memories mixed with fantasy. A painfully beautiful god beneath a waterfall. Feathers sprouting from my limbs. From somewhere deep, I hear a rattling voice, though it turns more into a nightmare as it echoes in my head.

Out,the voice says.Get out. Now.

* * *

I wake to the sound of giggles.

It’s such an improbable sound to hear in my new prison that I assume I’m still asleep. I blink my eyes open, and then I’mpositiveI’m dreaming, because I’m staring at Immortal Thracia with her bronzed hand resting on a goldenclaw’s shaggy back.

The bedroom ceiling painting.

Everything rushes back to me like an opened dam. Wincing, I push myself to a seated position. Every one of my sore muscles protests. My empty stomach complains.

“Oh! You’re awake!” Brigit, seated on a stool at my bedside, blinks at me in surprise. Her hands are cupped around a small gray mouse. She quickly transfers it to a woven basket on the floor, then rushes to her feet and helps me sit up.

“Here, my lady. Lean back.” She fluffs the pillows before easing me into a reclining position. The pillows are buttery soft, supporting me like clouds.

With a rasping voice, I say, “How long did I sleep?”

She glances at a porcelain clock on the desk. “Almost three days, my lady.”

Three days? I’m not surprised. I feel like I could sleep for a dozen more. My groaning stomach certainly verifies the timeline.

“Why—why do you have a mouse?” I ask her.

“Oh, it’s for you, actually. That huntsman brought it while you were sleeping. He had, um, unrepeatable things to say about the damage it did to his rucksack.”

I peer down at the mouse on the floor, delighted to discover that it’s the same one from the forest that’s been stowing away in Basten’s bag. Was it the strange voice in my head last night? Or was that a dream?

Hello, friend.I say.How good to see you!

Hello!It says cheerily.

A tightness pulls at my chest that Basten brought me the little mouse, even though it gave him so much trouble on our journey. I almost wish I’d been awake when he came so that I could have seen him . . .

Stop it.

Brigit leans forward with twinkling lights in her eyes. “I think your godkiss isincredible, my lady. You should hear what the people are saying about how you defied Lord Rian’s command by arriving covered in all those birds. It was a sight to behold!”

Do the people of Duren not like their high lord? Or are they just happy for any gossip?

“I hope you don’t mind that I washed and dressed you,” she continues, and for the first time, I realize I’m wearing a soft cotton chemise with satin ribbons at the collar. “And the healer attended to the wound on your foot and scratches on your arms. She’s godkissed.”

I free my foot from the silken sheets to examine the puncture wound. It’s entirely healed, not even a scar. “She couldn’t do anything about my sore muscles?”

Brigit’s face falls slightly. “She’s at the army barracks presently, but now that you’re awake, I’ll call for a fresh bath with herbs for your soreness.”

She gives a thick cord near the door a tug, signaling to the servants downstairs. Then she scampers over to the wardrobe, proudly throwing open its doors. “After your bath, you can select any gown you wish. They’ve been made just for you.”

One glance tells me the clothes are just as opulent and costly as everything else in Sorsha Hall. Clarana silk, delicate patterned lace, metallic-threaded damask, brocaded satin. The colors range from sky blue to midnight black and everything in between. Brigit opens smaller drawers, tilting them to show me the glistening jewelry inside.

She’s so proud to show off these riches that I’d be a monster not to smile. “Lovely—it’s all lovely. I’d really like some food, though.”

“Oh! Of course. What would you like?”

My lips part, unsure. What would Ilike? Not even in my father’s manor house was I ever asked that question. My mind scrambles; in my grogginess, all I can think about is the gruel I’ve eaten for twelve years.

At my strange silence, Brigit says, “I’ll just have them bring an assortment.” She returns to the pull cord and tugs it twice this time, then pops over to the door, cracks it, and whispers something to the guards on duty.

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