Brittle by Beth Overmyer

Author:Beth Overmyer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gothic fantasy; flame tree press; fantasy; modern fantasy; epic fantasy
Publisher: Flame Tree Publishing
Published: 2023-06-07T14:07:53+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The remainder of the day passed slowly. Verve wished she still had both pins to work on another door. It was true that she could return to the red room and retrieve a new one and bend it as well, but her every step was now shadowed. When the she-fae – Fauna, Verve was amused to learn she was called – finally left Verve alone, another fae popped up in her place just around the corner. That might have been excused as a coincidence, but Verve doubted it. Every which way she turned, the new she-fae was ten paces behind, dusting or straightening flowers in vases. And when Verve thought she had finally lost the creature, another one showed up.

At last Verve had had enough. She strode back through the maze of halls, flew up the staircase, and shut herself back in the red room. Breathing hard, she returned to the wardrobe and threw the door open. Besides the gowns and blouses and trousers, the wardrobe was empty. No hatbox or pins, just the pair of green lace gloves sitting on the bottom.

There was a knock on her door. “Miss?”

Trembling, Verve eased the wardrobe door shut and stepped away. “What is it?” she asked, pushing down the frustrated scream she felt forming.

The door swung open, admitting Fauna, who bore a tray of tea, fruit, and what appeared to be scones. “I thought you might be hungry.” She set the tray down on the desk and stepped back, hands folded in front of her. “First things first, though.” The she-fae strode to Verve, hand outstretched and an expectant look on her face.

Puzzled, Verve held out her own hand in imitation. “What?”

“Empty your pockets.”

Verve’s blood ran cold. “My pockets?” When the creature gave her a pitying smile, Verve could have struck her. Instead, she reached into her right trouser pocket and produced the key Dacre had given her.

“No, keep that. The other thing.” She snapped her fingers, and the hatpin materialized in her palm. “No wonder you hurt yourself. I should have made certain the room was clear once I took you as my charge.” Fauna tutted. “Olive really didn’t know what she was doing. Or perhaps she did.”

“Olive,” Verve repeated, touching a hand to the base of her skull, which had begun to prickle.

Fauna’s smile faltered. “Well, one more charm can’t hurt you, I’d imagine.” She lifted her little finger to Verve’s forehead.

A buzzing sound filled Verve’s ears, and she smelled hot metal. Choking, Verve backed away, her mind going blank for a moment.

“Here, eat something. You’ve a big evening ahead of you.”

Verve shook her head and blinked with vigor. “What’s that?” She tripped her way to the desk now bearing the food tray.

“It’s stopped raining,” said Fauna. She took Verve by the arm and steered her into the cushioned seat. “If the weather stays fair, you’ll take a turn in the garden. Just what you need, I think. Do you take sugar in your tea?”

“Sometimes,” Verve murmured. Her thoughts were hazy for a moment longer, and she tried to latch on to what had upset her.

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