I pushed the new tray of food away. This one contained an array of nuts, banana pie, and a meat-loaded sandwich. I was certain it was delicious, but I’d eat some of it later.

As it was, I’d eaten twice as much as what had become my usual. The sight of the two other trays with their mostly eaten dishes awaiting collection angered more than it made me grateful for Scythe’s odd way of caring for me. While I did love that he’d been fond of my curves, that didn’t mean I had to appease him when it would only make me sick after eating so little for so long.

The anger climbed and spread the longer I stared while sipping a glass of water. His insistence on caring for me while not giving me what I truly needed had to end. If I had indeed wounded him as he’d suggested, then, somehow, I would just need to make things right.

As right as I possibly could.

I stood and set the water down, then I changed into the gown I’d tried to mend. It looked dreadful, courtesy of Scythe’s claws and my poor mending skills, but it would have to do.

Then I warped to that cottage within the forest.

I knew within moments of steadying my feet upon the stone floor that he wasn’t there, yet I still scoured everything I could see.

Nothing had changed.

Not one thing, I realized, alarm spiking through me as I crossed to the stump of a tea table and inspected the books. The same books that had been resting there the last time I’d stood in this very room of this very cottage.

The shelves lining the walls were untouched, dust gathering in a thick film. The kitchen was tidy but mainly due to it looking unused. I traipsed to the bedchamber. Pushing the door wide, I discovered the gigantic bed was made, the linen tucked tightly beneath the oversized mattress.

He was likely working with his legion then.

Unwilling to leave just yet, I wandered outside to the overgrown gardens and past the chopped wood lining the side of the moss-touched stone of the cottage. The axe stood against the stump, weeds sprouting around the blade.

The grass grew longer, thicker, beyond the cottage. It climbed in patches toward the trees and gathered around a pond.

I searched the trees and watched the sunlight dance with the shadows. Birds called to one another. Critters scurried through the brush. My shoulders loosened, each new breath taken easier than the last. I closed my eyes and just breathed—just felt it. A magic I’d never thought would grow so rare.

Peace. A calming, soul-soothing peace.

A shrieked cry shattered it. I startled, my eyes flying open.

“Help, you rotten toad,” shouted a tiny figure in the pond before me.