Page 49 of Cruelest Kiss and Fairest Blood (Tales So Wicked #2)

Lenore

T he loud banging of a metal pan jolts me awake. I sit up, clutching the covers.

“Darn it, Nim. I told you to be quiet.”

The smaller gnome peers up at me bashfully. “Sorry, dropped me pan.”

The group is lined up near the door. Each is dressed and holding tools. They carry sacks on their backs, some tied with pots and pans, others completely empty.

“You’re leaving?” The idea of being alone terrifies me. I don’t even know exactly where I am. If I run from here, I’m certain to get lost. “What if something finds me in this place while you’re gone?”

“Don’t worry, miss. We charmed the door. Nothing gets in while we’re out. It won’t open until we’re back.”

Uneasiness swims in my gut. “Alright.”

The small men file out. I jump when they slam the door behind them. The cottage becomes eerily silent the moment they’re gone.

Pain twinges in my chest and a cough sprays red droplets on the back of my hand. I should have asked for another tincture before they left. The fit ceases and I inhale deeply. The putrid scent of rotting meat hits me again. Where the hell is that coming from?

I take a minute to survey the cottage, giving it a more scrutinizing look than I did when I first woke up. Everything is situated in one main room. A room that’s quite filthy. I guess even amongst magical species, men aren’t known for their tidiness.

Seven tiny beds line the wall to my left. It makes me wonder why they even have the full-sized bed I woke up in. The farthest wall of the little cottage houses the kitchen sink and stove. Dirty dishes sit piled two feet high in the basin. That could explain the smell.

I suppose I can make myself useful while I’m here. I’ve never washed dishes, but I did have a play kitchen when I was a child. Padding to the sink, I search for something to wash with. A dingy-looking rag and a bar of white soap are my best options.

“These are probably used for cleaning dishes,” I assure myself.

Even if I’m wrong, a bar of soap can’t hurt. The plates and utensils are filthy. How long have these been sitting here?

Rolling my sleeves up, I set to the task at hand.

My fingers are still sore, but by some magic, they’re mostly healed.

Maybe it’s from actual magic. How did they manage to mend my bones?

I’m certain they were broken. Another involuntary shudder moves through me as I remember the way my fingers looked jutting out in all directions.

Yes, they were definitely broken. I wonder if the gnomes would be willing to share their magic.

This kind of power is far beyond what our healers are capable of.

Washing dishes is a more challenging task than I anticipated. The fatty food is caked on. Even when I manage to remove the largest chunks, a greasy film remains. Is it always this hard to do the dishes? I’m surprised our kitchen staff back home doesn’t have biceps as large as our guards.

Home. Do I even have a home? What are Catreena’s intentions?

I want to believe my father will make things right, as soon as he’s been released from whatever spell he’s under.

Thinking of the way he slouched and mumbled the last time I saw him on the throne sends doubt seeping in.

He was not himself. A new terrifying thought hits me.

Had he been poisoned before my return? Was I too wrapped up in my shock and anger at his marriage to recognize the signs?

Guilt forms a lump in my throat. I haven’t seen him since. I pray the servants are able to get him out. What about Cassius and Melly—did they escape? Catreena’s evil laughter replays in my mind. There’s something terribly unright with the new queen.

I scrub for what must be hours, doing the best I can to clean each dish. When I’m finished, the cabinets are filled with stacks of fresh plates and bowls. None of the drawers had space for utensils so I filled the cups with them, sorting them so that the forks, spoons, and knives are separated.

Standing back, I admire the work. “Not bad for a princess.”

There are no clocks in the cottage. I can only guess at how much time has passed. I’ve swept the cobwebs, wiped down the floor, dusted every corner of the space, and made all seven tiny beds plus mine by the time the doorknob turns.

“Welcome home,” I greet them as they file inside. I hadn’t realized how stifling the silence was until their tiny voices return.

There’s a giddiness in me. Maybe it’s pride. I’m excited for them to see the work I’ve put into their humble house. It’s the only thing I can offer them right now. “I took the liberty of tidying up a bit while you were away.”

The stench of rotting meat slams into me as the gnomes enter. I gasp. It’s so overpowering I have to squeeze my palm over my nose. The gnomes turn as one to look at me. The last of them files in and closes the door. The scent grows unbearably strong.

Is that smell coming from… them?

As soon as the thought enters my mind, the room flickers. The seven tiny men are suddenly grotesquely green, with boils and sores covering their shriveled bodies.

“Miss?” one asks in a nasally pitch.

The candles flicker once more. The room returns to normal. The men are gnomes again, their faces cheery and soft. I look to each. Something feels off. I know what I saw before.

The leader takes a small step toward me. I’m quick to back away. “Has something upset miss?”

“What are you?”

“What does miss mean?” the man asks with a raised brow.

Seven pairs of round, animated eyes now appear lifeless and beady. “I saw something. You were different.”

A sinister laugh is shared by the group. “She sees through the spell so soon? Has magic in her blood, does she? Kept that a secret, didn’t you? Would have been more careful if we knew.”

Backing away, I take stock of my options. The only window is the one above the kitchen sink. It’s small. I’d never be able to squeeze through even if I could get it open. Which means the only way in or out is through the front door.

I’m much larger than the gnomes, or whatever they are. If I can push past, I’ll be able to outrun them. As small as they are, there’s no way they’ll be able to keep up with my strides. Even if my lungs are still damaged, I’m getting the fuck out of here.

I count down in my head. Three, two, one . Go! My hopes are dashed as I bolt for the door and am immediately blocked. Those little fuckers are fast. I kick at them. One grabs onto my ankle, biting down. Screaming, I swing my leg, throwing the creature back. The rest of them move closer.

“No leaving.” One shakes his head.

“Swiss cheese,” the other says, rubbing his knobby fingers together.

The leader grins, displaying rotting yellow teeth. “Right you are. Swiss cheese it is. Waited long enough, haven’t we?”

Picking up a small wooden chair, I swing it in a circle as the newly revealed creatures close in around me. “Get away!”

I smash into one of them with the chair, sending its tiny body flying. The other six attack as one, latching on to my arms, ankles, and face.

Tiny hands pinch together my nose and mouth. I struggle as my air disappears. “Down without a fuss, if you please.”

There’s a sharp thud against the back of my head and the entire horror scene disappears beneath a veil of sparkling black.