Fly with the Arrow: A Bluebeard Inspired Fantasy (Bluebeard's Secret Book 1) by Sarah K. L. Wilson

Author:Sarah K. L. Wilson [Wilson, Sarah K. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sarah K. L. Wilson
Published: 2021-11-23T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

After a moment, I came to my senses. Who knew when he would return? I should dress before then. I scrambled painfully down from the table and put on the odd clothing that had been left for me. It was a long, agonizing affair. Every movement tugged and pulled at my stitched skin and my tears flowed freely as I carefully shrugged on the ridiculous dress.

Twice, I had to hold onto the desk to catch my breath and clear my head. Would I work with Bluebeard? Did I dare say no? Did I even want to? Here, so far from the mortal world, spying for my king seemed ridiculous. What would I say? That the houses had wings and the fires spoke and if he found a man to pull an arrow from a stone it would fulfill their prophecy?

I laughed hoarsely at myself for even thinking of it.

The dress was far too fancy for everyday wear and I missed my practical woolen shifts and embroidered overdresses. This one would be cold – especially in the back, despite the fur trimming the keyhole. If I hadn’t been in a torn nightdress, I would never have worn it at all. But while I did indeed find a blue silk slip – fortunately, it had a very low back and was trimmed in lace so that if a little peeked into the keyhole of my dress it would not look out of place – there were no other dresses.

I frowned as I put on the slip purchased by another woman. It worried me that it fit me perfectly. But it was impractical to be fussy when it was my only option and utterly superstitious to think that its dead owner would resent me for wearing it. Or for marrying her husband, for that matter. When I was done, I marched over to Grosbeak, and delicately pulled the hat from his eyes.

“Bluebeard may know why you were trying to kill me, but I do not,” I said to him. I needed an ally here. One I could be sure wouldn’t run out on me. “And if you don’t tell me right this instant, I will throw you into the hungry fire.”

There. That should get me some answers for once. I needed to be smart about this. I wasn’t used to fires that belched or bodiless heads, but I could still find ways to be sensible in a nonsensical world.

“Bluebeard? Is that what you call the Arrow?” His snicker was nasty. “Oh, he’ll like that. I guarantee he will.”

“Fire or confession,” I insisted.

“You won’t do it, a big-eyed wisp of a thing like you with tumbling dark waves of hair – oh, you’re a pretty one, and you can hold your tongue, but you’re mortal, and all mortals are but a blossom that lasts a day and then is gone. You’ve no value at all. You’re just a stone in a game of merels. Something to sacrifice. Something to use. The Arrow will use you for your days.

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