Deryna led me to the bathing room, where I was allowed a few moments of privacy to soak in the magically filled tub and wash all the salt and grime from my body. As much as I hated my circumstances, I had to admit the hot water felt amazing, and for a few moments I let my troubles slip away as I let the bath do its magic. Maybe I could even raid the larder before Ta’sradala sent me off to whatever new hellhole she’d devised for me. I’d make damn sure I stuffed my magical sleeve full of as much food as I could carry.
After I finished with my bath, I donned the dress that Deryna had left—a shapeless cotton frock that was at least warm, though not exactly flattering. I considered magically changing it into something more stylish, but my energy was still low, and I needed to conserve it for something more useful.
With a growling stomach urging me on, I snuck back down the stairs to loot the kitchen. Thankfully it was not near the sitting room, and I was able to slip in without alerting Ta’sradala or the others. I had no doubt that the bitch would try to starve me if she knew I was going after food, simply because it would increase my chances of failing.
How in Recca could this awful woman be related to Iannis? She was one of the most vindictive, heartless people I’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. And her daughter didn’t exactly give me the warm and fuzzies either. Iannis, while stern at times, still had a heart. He had compassion, and more often than not tried to do the right thing. He didn’t toy with people’s lives simply because he had nothing better to do.
As I approached the kitchen, I heard the sound of a knife chopping against a cutting board and scented two people inside. Pushing open the door, I saw a wizened old cook with a large apron over her gown. She was slicing bread, while the little boy I’d spied earlier in the garden was sitting on a stool, gnawing at a slice of that bread and a hunk of cheese. The kitchen was old-fashioned in a charming sort of way, with garlands of dried herbs and garlic hanging from the ceiling, faded wooden cabinets, and even a wood-burning range stove. The pantry door was propped open, and my mouth watered at the smell of dried meats and cheeses.
“Can I have something to eat, please?” I asked as I closed the door behind me.
The cook lowered her knife and regarded me with suspicion. The boy was staring at me, wide-eyed and fearful. His throat moved as he swallowed, and I scented his anxiety. I wondered once again who he was—unlike the old ladies, he wore simple clothing, and yet he didn’t seem to be a servant either. He had sad, lonely eyes and was far too skinny for his age and height.
“I’ll have to ask the mistress first,” the cook said. “Let me check with her.”
I stifled a groan as she left the room—couldn’t she have given me a bit of bread, at least? Were her hands really tied that tightly? I wondered which of the women was the “mistress” here. Was it Deryna, or Ennartha, Iannis’s mother? Surely it wasn’t his grandmother—she’d made it clear that she didn’t actually live in the human world. She probably had a grand mansion or castle in the Tua realm and considered this country house little more than a hut.
With nothing to do but listen to my stomach growl, I approached the boy. “Don’t worry,” I said as he shrank back. “I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Sunaya. What’s yours?”
“Drawe,” he mumbled, looking up at me through lowered lashes. His eyes were blue, like Deryna’s, but he had a mop of dark red hair, like Iannis, and there was something in the shape of his nose and chin that reminded me of him too.
“Who are your parents?” I asked, a little suspicious now. Could it be that Iannis had a son that he’d never told me about? But no, he wouldn’t keep something like that from me. We were about to be married. I didn’t expect him to tell me everything about his life, not when he’d lived for nearly eight hundred years, but surely he would have divulged something that important. Besides, he wasn’t the kind of man to leave a child behind, out of sight and out of mind. He took his responsibilities seriously.
Right?
The boy merely shook his head and went back to his hunk of cheese. I tried to coax some information out of him, but either he was too afraid to speak to me or he’d been ordered not to. Sighing, I gave up and went to raid the larder. The cook had been gone for several minutes, and if I didn’t eat something soon, my stomach was going to devour itself.
Drawe watched with wide eyes as I made short work of a large ham, several sausages, and an entire cherry cake. I offered him a piece of the cake, which he took after a brief hesitation, though he still wouldn’t speak to me. That was fine. I would find out the truth about him eventually, from Iannis himself, or perhaps from Deryna if I could get a moment alone with her. In the meantime, I replenished my canteen, then tucked some dried meat, bread, and cheese into my magical sleeve without even a shred of guilt. Since they’d abducted me, I reasoned, the least these women could do was feed me.
I was just screwing the cap back onto my canteen when the door banged open and Ta’sradala stormed in. “Who gave you permission to eat?” she thundered, her face red with anger. Before I could answer, she immobilized me with a slice of her hand, then used her magic to yank me into the living room. The little boy cried out behind me, but there was nothing he could do, and I hoped he stayed in the kitchen. The last thing I needed was for him to face this old biddy’s wrath.
Ta’sradala stared down at me for one long, terrifying moment, and for a minute, I thought she intended to leave me standing like a statue in the middle of the room all night. The other two women were absent—nobody was here to naysay her if she decided to choke me again, or worse. Helpless rage filled me as I glared up at her—I hated feeling so powerless, especially in the face of a bully like this. Wasn’t there anything I could do? I strained against her magic, but it was far beyond my strength.
Was this how normal humans felt when confronted with a powerful, angry mage?
Finally, the Tua made another gesture and released me. I nearly stumbled over the hem of my dress as my body began moving again, and I caught myself against the edge of a table to keep from face-planting. As I righted myself, I tucked away the canteen I was still holding and turned to face my persecutor.
“I have had enough of your bullshit,” I growled up at her, my entire body trembling with anger. “You might be powerful, but you have absolutely no manners or sense of honor. You terrorize everyone with your power like some overgrown spoiled brat. It’s no wonder Iannis never talks about you—he must be ashamed that he has to call you a relative.”
Ta’sradala’s eyes blazed. “A miserable mortal like you has no right to insult your betters,” she hissed. “You’re nothing but a mongrel, and now a thief!”
“Thief!” I spat. “A thief because I helped myself to some food? Technically I’m a guest here, which means that your family owes me some form of nourishment. You must actually be afraid of me,” I taunted her, “if you’re resorting to starving me. Maybe you’re worried I might actually win this twisted game of yours.”