She tilts my chin until I meet her gaze. “I have witnessed many people see countless things they do not understand, and unfortunately for us all, none more than you. I do not pity you for having faith in such things; I pity you for not possessing the same faith in yourself.”

I don’t know how much time has passed. There are no windows, and I’m so tired I can’t trust myself to guess whether it’s still day or night. “I don’t understand,” I whisper, my body slumped in the red chair. “I don’t understand why you won’t answer any of my questions.”

She shifts in her seat to face me. She holds her lips in a tight line as she smiles.

“It is as I have told you before. One day I will answer your questions, but it is not the right–”

“Time,” we say in unison. Her wrinkles deepen with her smile.

I let out a swift groan. She’s given me the same answer to each of my questions: ‘It is not yet time for you to know that’ or ‘You will find that most of these answers will be given in time.’ I push myself deeper into the chair and scowl. “I still don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Exactly,” she smiles. “One day, when you gain more understanding, come and ask me again.”

“Nothing you say makes sense,” I remark crossly. “Nothing that’s happened to me since I stepped foot into these gods forsaken woods makes any sense!”

For the first time, she laughs. “One day, it will. Now, why don’t you go find your friends and have a nice night with the Idunns?”

“My friends?” I scoff. “Those people are my captors, not my friends! Prince Braizen is going to take me to his father! To the man who killed my mother! I’d sooner die here, in this chair, than have a nice night with him.”

The Minea doesn’t say anything to that. She only tilts her chin downwards and rests her warm eyes on my face.

I cross my legs and settle back. I don’t like the weight of her stare, and I don’t like that I have no idea how long I’ve been in her cottage. “I need to see what time of day it is,” I say to break the silence and start to rise.

“I do not think that is at all what you need,” she returns and folds her hands in her lap.

“Oh?” I drop back into the soft cushions. “What is it then that I need?”

“I think you need to find the spirit of forgiveness.”

I release a crude sound and shake my head. “Forgiveness? Seriously? Why would I ever forgive him for what he’s done?”

“I didn’t say the forgiveness was for him,” she says. Her eyes stab me like daggers.