Page 16

WINNOW

G ideon’s home is microscopic in comparison to what I’m accustomed to, but I’ll forever have my baseline for comfort set just above the prison cell I spent two years in.

Anything but that.

And that allows me to see Gideon’s home for what it is: cozy, warm, and safe.

Everything has a rustic feel—like every square inch was built by him alone.

The house consists of a living room, featuring an admittedly beautiful fireplace and a set of built-in bookcases begging for my touch, a kitchen, a narrow hallway, a small rear room he doesn’t bother showing me, but that I can see a backdoor in, a bed chamber, and a bathing suite.

When Gideon ushers me into his bathroom, I’m so relieved at the sight of the clawfoot bathtub and the large brass showerhead hanging above that I could weep. It also looks surprisingly clean for a male who, presumably, has no maids.

I steel myself before asking the most important question, bracing myself for the worst as Gideon turns his intense gaze on me.

“Does it have hot water?”

His expression scrunches up as if I’ve either confused or insulted him by asking. “Yes?”

My shoulders slump as relief washes over me. Yet again, I attempt to will some clean clothing in front of me, only to be met with disappointment.

What the fuck did she poison me with?

I can feel my magic there. Right at my fingertips, but it’s like I can only manage a trickle of it at a time. I’d only been able to use a scarce fragment of my healing magic on Trigger earlier to try and calm him down and make him feel comfortable in my presence.

The tremor in my hands returns at having such scarce access to my magic while I’m stuck here.

It makes me feel as if I am well and truly doomed to endure life in this realm because if I can’t even fold through space or will things about as I please, how could I ever dream of finding a way to open a portal here so I can go back home?

Gideon opens a small cabinet beneath the basin of the sink and pulls out a dark blue bath towel. “Use whatever you need; take as long as you like. I’ll put some clothes on the bed and a pitcher of water on the nightstand for you, but I’m gonna need to shower after you.”

My throat works as reality, and all the trauma of the day settles on my chest like a boulder.

When I’d told Harlan where I was from, he’d looked at me like I’d grown a sphincter on my forehead, and his reaction to seeing my wounds rapidly healing was a shock of comical proportions.

Just as Violette mentioned, it’s clear to me that the use of magic here is virtually non-existent.

This man probably thinks I’m insane. His world is magicless, and despite being little more than a peasant—the sexiest fucking peasant I’ve ever laid eyes on—he has welcomed me into his home, instead of burning me at the stake, as his forefathers likely would have considering the realm’s sordid history.

My eyes burn as I force them up to his. “Thank you. I… I realize that my presence here is burdensome, but until I can find my way home, I will be happy to complete any tasks or chores you assign me.”

Gideon’s brows leap as if those were the last words he’d expected to hear from me before he gradually nods. “Just get some rest. We’ll see what to do with you later.”

One of his large hands lands on my shoulder, and he gives it a lingering squeeze.

Even through the thick blanket I’m wearing, I feel a jolt of energy pulse between us.

When he takes his hand back, I become painfully aware of that ever-present, dull ache of loneliness in my chest. Turning, he shuts the door behind him, and my tears finally begin to fall.