The Hidden Crystal

Chapter 26

Morning came again, and with it Iris' consciousness. Every muscle in her body was stiff and sore. She didn't reek of body odor or feel dried sweat on her skin, so she guessed the fairies must have cleaned her up and changed her into a new nightgown, but they couldn't do anything about her pain.

Sitting upright hurt.

Everything hurt.

The fairies were zipping around the room, opening the bed curtains, pulling back the drapes, and lighting the wall sconces. One came to her and tugged on the cuff of her sleeve. She climbed out of bed, movements slow and mind numb, and the fairy waited for her, patient and unhurried. Others joined it, accompanying and encouraging her rather than pulling her toward the hot bath they'd prepared.

She couldn't undress. She tried, but her body protested the simplest motions. Several fairies went to her ankles, taking the hem of her nightgown and pulling it up and over her head, and several more helped her into the bathtub. Their little bursts of warmth against her skin felt soothing. So did the hot water.

She sank into the tub and closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla. Her throat was raw from screaming, but she rasped out her gratitude. "Thanks."

A fairy touched her lips, followed in turn by each of the others.

She opened her eyes and managed a small smile. They had lined up along the top of the dressing screen again.

"Guess we're in this together, huh?"

The image of the frightened fairy trapped in the glass bottle flashed through her mind, and her smile faltered. She remembered the sheer panic in its movements, its desperation to escape, to evade that blue spark.

She remembered the sickening moment when it lost the race and dropped dead to the bottom of the jar.

"I'm sorry about your friend." She put her face in her hands, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't..."

Sobs shook her shoulders. She sank further into the water, salty tears streaming down her face and mingling with the vanilla and the steam.

The mage had told her and Char exactly what he would do to her. He'd told them he was a master of deception and trickery. She'd never felt the telltale snapping and crackling that accompanied his magic, and she knew Char hadn't, either. The mage's disguise as Jonah had been perfect, lulling them into a false sense of security.

And then he'd mimicked Char during his nighttime visit. That disguise hadn't been as perfect, but whatever spell he'd cast over her to keep her asleep and receptive to him meant it didn't have to be.

She shuddered at the memory of his touch.

She really had made it easy for him. The next morning, when she had been sick and vulnerable, when he'd pretended to be Jonah again, feigning concern, expressing reluctance to take her with him, she'd begged to go with him. Begged him to take her to his study.

Permission and trust. Handing herself over on a silver platter to be tortured.

When he returned, would she give him permission again?

She couldn't give him her trust.

But he'd said it hurt worse without permission and trust, and while she wasn't sure she believed him, he held all the fairies hostage. If she didn't do as he said, he would snuff them out, one by one.

She trusted him to carry out that threat, if nothing else.

But what if Char returned first?

How was she supposed to act normal in front of him?