Free Web NovelChapter 201: Episode 201.
One Week Later:
A week had passed since Morrigan’s visit.
At least, Aire thought it had. Time had become strange inside the cell.
Days blended together until they became one endless stretch of darkness, mud, and silence.
Aire sat where she always sat.
Her back rested against the stone wall while mud coated the floor beneath her, her dress, and her hair.
At some point she had stopped trying to brush it away.
There was no point.
Her silver hair hung in tangled ropes around her shoulders now.
Even lifting her hand felt difficult.
Her throat felt dry enough to crack.
Aire couldn’t remember the last time she had tasted clean water, or even water. She couldn’t remember many things anymore.
Mostly she slept, and mostly she stared ahead. Mostly she wrapped strands of silver hair around her finger and listened to the silence.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled her from another hazy stretch of nothingness.
Aire opened her eyes. She hated the sound of footsteps, and had been relieved not to hear one since Morrigan’s visit.
The corridor swam.
For a moment she thought she imagined the sound, or the person she saw. His golden hair appeared through the darkness.
Lysander appeared, still shirtless.
Aire glared at him weakly.
The effort exhausted her.
Lysander stopped outside the bars, and his golden eyes moved across her. For once, the amusement wasn’t there.
Instead he looked mildly concerned.
That somehow annoyed her more.
"You look awful."
Aire’s lips parted. Nothing came out. Her throat hurt too much.
Lysander unlocked the cell.
The bars swung open without making a sound. He waited outside, and ordered. "Come on."
Aire frowned. Her spine felt like spliting.
He jerked his head toward the corridor. "Its time to clean the garden."
For a second she had forgotten it existed.
Aire slowly pushed herself upright. Pain rushed through her body, as the vines tightened, slowly piercing into her skin.
Her knees nearly buckled.
Lysander watched her silently.
She stepped out of the cell immediately. She needed air. At this moment, any air she’d receive outside this cell would feel like rarest air.
It doesn’t matter if this dark realm polluted the air.
The corridor felt enormous, and cool air brushed against her face. She almost moaned from relief. Even this stale underground air felt better than the cell.
Lysander turned and started walking.
Aire followed behind him, taking one step, rhen another.
The walk felt endless due to the little amount of strength left in her.
The estate gradually emerged around them with dark stone corridors, high ceilings, and silver flames burning inside wall sconces.
Eventually Lysander took a turn.
Aire frowned.
This felt wrong. The garden wasn’t this way. Even through her exhaustion she remembered that much.
Still she said nothing.
She simply followed behind him. Eventually he stopped before a large black door, opened it, and then walked inside.
Aire remained outside.
Lysander disappeared beyond the doorway.
Several seconds passed, and then, his voice drifted out.
"Are you coming?"
Aire stared blankly ahead. "No."
Silence stretched between them, then Lysander appeared again with one eyebrow rose.
"No?"
Aire swallowed painfully. "The garden."
"What about it?"
"I need..." She rasped, then paused. Even speaking felt difficult. "I need... You said,"
She swallowed again. "...to clean the garden."
Lysander stared at her. He let out a low grunt, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Not like I care, but you look too unpleasant to be entertaining."
Aire didn’t move.
"Come wash."
Still she didn’t move.
Lysander folded his arms. "This is my room." He insisted, as if to assure her.
Still, Aire said nothing, and didn’t move.
"My private bath." He told her.
Aire simply stood there.
Mud dripped from her sleeves, and her hair looked like it had been dragged through a swamp.
She looked half-dead and still she refused.
Lysander stared at her then shrugged.
He rolled his eyes at her. "Suit yourself."
The door slammed shut at her face.
Aire flinched, and silence returned to her world again. She remained standing for a long time.
Eventually her legs gave out.
Aire slid down the wall beside the door. She drew her knees weakly toward her chest, and stared ahead with empty numb eyes.
Her own smell drifted toward her. It was an awful stench, she wouldn’t lie. She closed her eyes, and a single tear escaped her eyes.
Aire immediately wiped it away, then sniffed.
The tear left her angrier than sad.
She rested her head against the wall, and sat there. Minutes passed, or maybe longer.
Suddenly, the door opened, and a bucket of freezing water emptied over her head.
Aire gasped.
The shock nearly stopped her heart.
Water drenched her muddy hair, her dress, her face, and everything.
She sputtered violently, then looked up.
Lysander stood in the doorway.
Aire stared. "What is wrong with you?!" Her voice cracked as she yelled at him.
Lysander leaned against the frame. "I’m bored." He replied, as if pointing out to the sun.
Aire couldn’t even process the answer.
She simply stared at him in cold shock. The water was too chilly.
Lysander’s gaze moved over her. "You can sit out here all day." He shrugged. "Or you can wash."
Aire clenched her jaw.
Lysander’s expression lost its amusement. His sharp jaw cenched, and then he warned her. "If I have to drag you inside myself, neither of us will enjoy it."
The warning settled between them with absolute certainty.
Aire sea blue eyes looked away first. Slowly she pushed herself upright, and every muscle ached with every joint protested.
She reluctantly stood.
Lysander stepped aside.
For the first time, Aire crossed the doorway.
The room beyond was larger than some houses.
A black fireplace occupied one wall, and shelves filled with books covered another end of the wall.
Dark furniture sat beneath the tall windows, and everything looked surprisingly lived in. Not extravagant, but comfortable.
The bath occupied a separate chamber beyond an archway, and steam drifted from the water.
Aire stopped.
She hadn’t realized how badly she wanted warmth until that moment.
Lysander tossed folded fabric toward her.
She caught it clumsily. It was a simple gown, nothing fancy, or revealing.
"When you’re done," he said.
Aire looked up. "Why?" She refused to believe anyone in existence would ever be genuinely kind.
Definable not her again. Never again.
Lysander paused. For a second she thought he might not answer. Instead he merely turned away, before parting his lips. "Looking at you is becoming depressing."
And with that, he walked out, leaving Aire standing there alone with the steam, the clean water, and the first genuine comfort she had seen since arriving in the dark fae realm.
