The Lost Knight (Volume III) The Lost World

Chapter 18: Salt, Shame, & Sauce

This has to be the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in. It envelopes me like a warm marshmallow. I'll stay here and sleep forever. Unfortunately, I'm so thirsty, so I have to move. My brain scolds me for not staying put, and my body sends electric jolts of pain radiating up my legs when I grab the glass of water on the nightstand by the bed.

I know the glass will be there because I've done this before. The glass is always there. Always full and always waiting.

I sink my head into the pillows. Why doesn't this feel right? I've asked that question before. I don't want to know. Whatever it is, it can wait. I just want to sleep in the squishy bed, not think and not dream.

***

Something is not right, my brain insists. I open one sleepy eye and rub my face in the pillow. I roll over to avoid the pegasus nose I know will land on the pillow next to me.

Nothing happens. Lenox isn't here—that's what's wrong.

My brain rejects that thought.

I take a deep breath and force myself to sit up—bad idea. Lightning bolts shoot across my eyes and out my forehead. I'm woozy, or maybe wobbly. Am I moving, or is the room moving?

Albína isn't around either. It's weird that neither Lenox nor Albína are here. I swing my feet over the side of the bed, and I drink more water. This is not my room.

White paint with gold accents cover the walls and furniture. There are several extraordinary murals painted on the walls and one on the ceiling. This isn't elfish; this room is lavish but understated.

Where am I? How did I get here? The last thing I remember was being in the Salt Mines.

The plaque! Where is it? I glance around the room, but it's not here.

Jonah! my mind screams.

I saw Dathid and Solara, but only for a moment. What happened to everyone? Where are they?

I jump out of bed. Pain shoots up my leg, but I'm able to stagger to the door. It's locked. I pull as hard as I can, but it won't budge. I race to the window. Maybe someone outside will help me. I'll jump three stories if I have to. I throw back the wispy curtains and undo the latch. The window gives me a fight, but I manage to wedge it open and look outside.

I push my head out, ready to scream for help, but there's nothing but open air. The abrupt change makes me dizzy, so I step back from the window to get my bearings. A wave of nausea threatens, but it passes quickly.

When I'm as clearheaded as I'm going to get, I gaze out the window. Turbulent ocean and cloudy skies. Am I on a boat? The exterior of the building is solid orangey-yellow stone. I'm not swaying, either. I'm in a building, very high up, maybe seventy stories. I push my head out as far as I dare and see waves hitting the side of a sheer cliff directly below my window.

I pull my head in and drink more water. I need a plan. I'm far from home. The ocean near Cromsmead is nothing like this one. This water is thin and scary. The door is locked. Is that to lock me in or something else out? Maybe I'm still dreaming. Or maybe I'm encased in salt and having a delusion before I die?

I never thought a place like this could exist, so I doubt my mind would take me here. It's real, but why am I here? Am I a prisoner? Is everyone else a prisoner?

There's a bandage on my arm. By the way it's wrapped, I can tell my wrist is broken. It hurts, but not as much as my face does.

There's a bandage on my cheek, too. It covers the left side of my face from my forehead to my jawline. And there's another, smaller bandage just above my right eyebrow. I take off my nightgown and turn around to examine my sore back in the mirror. Almost the entire back of me is covered in dark bruises, broken skin, and bandages.

My knees and elbow are wrapped up, too. I pull off every bandage so I can examine my wounds. There's a cut on my knee that's been mended and looks like it's healing nicely. These wounds are not fresh; they've been healing for a while.

For as banged-up as I am, I should be in more pain. Are the drugs they're giving me working better than they ought to? Or are these wounds healing quicker than they should? Or have I been here longer than I thought?

I put my nightgown back on and hobble to the bed. I want to lie down, let my sore body rest and try to clear my head. The bed's softness swallows me into darkness.

I'm thirsty. I roll over and wait for the pegasus nose. Nothing happens. There's no nose because I'm in the new room with the ocean view. Maybe I'm on vacation.

I don't want to open my eyes. Nothing good is waiting for me on the other side of my eyelids. I'm so thirsty. I wipe the crust from my eyelashes and blink them open. There's a round grey-haired woman standing next to the bed.

I sit up and shout, "You're human!"

It's an accusation. I haven't seen a human besides Kyrbast in I don't know how long. How did a human get here?

The woman grins and sets a tray of food down on the nightstand.

"Why am I here? Who are you? Where are my friends?"

The woman doesn't answer. She smiles wider and walks to the door. She's leaving, and she's going to lock me in again. I jump out of bed. It feels like I landed on an upturned sword when pain shoots up from my heel and out my eyes. I ignore it as I race to the door, but the woman is faster. She makes it out just as I reach the door. I grab the knob, but it's too late. The lock clicks when I try to turn it.

"Why am I here!" I shout while pounding my broken arm against the door. "Who are you, and what have you done with my friends?" I scream, frantically trying to break the door down.

I kick and punch it until my body makes me stop. I turn my back to the door and slide to the floor. I examine my bloody knuckles. My wrist hurts, and I think I broke a toe.

I spot the food on the nightstand. I'm hungry. I know from experience that the green ring around some of my bruises means that I've been here, at least three to four weeks. And as far as I can remember, I haven't eaten any solid food since I arrived.

With some effort, I'm able to get to my feet. Moving hurts. I hobble back to the bed and glare at the tray. It smells great. I lift the lids off the platters.

Spaghetti and meatballs with garlic knots and a salad. It's real food, not elfish substitutes. The woman is human, and the food is human. I know there are other humans on Ashra; I just didn't expect to meet one.

The cloudiness of my thinking means they're probably drugging me; Auntie used to medicate the cats with crushed pills in their food. I stir the noodles looking for white powder, which is stupid because it's marinara sauce, so everything's red. I'm afraid to eat...but I'm hungry, and the food smells wonderful.

I take a bite. If they're drugging the food I'll live with it, because spaghetti with meatballs is my favorite. Blurred memories of Queens try to form in my muddled thoughts. Antonio's had the best slices, but Gino's had the best spaghetti. This is so good it could be Gino's. Am I on Earth?

When I'm done, I explore the room. I open every drawer and cabinet, but they're empty. I study my wounds and try to distract myself from my worry. Is everyone alright? When the Salt Demons attacked, I was blinded immediately. I could hear everyone yelling, but I couldn't see them.

Dathid was next to me, but then he vanished, and I was encased in salt. How did I end up here? Are my friends preserved in salt for eternity? The thoughts won't cease. My friends are dead, and it's my fault. Trelix's children will grow up without a father. Dathid's unborn baby will never know their dad, and I don't even know if Solara has a family.

My chest hurts, and the tears won't end. I'm responsible for all of it. I pray my food's been drugged because I can't deal with my grief and my guilt. Please, let them be alive, I repeat and collapse on the floor near my bed.

They should've never trusted me with something so important. I'm the one who disturbed the salt. This is my fault. How could I be so stupid?