Page 18 of Finding Her (Lore of the Fields #1)

“You can hop into the coach. I’ll throw our bags in the trunk,” Graysen instructed as we walked out to his carriage. Violet and Venus were already hitched up, one of them releasing an antsy screech-neigh and stomping in place impatiently.

“You’ll be fine,” Mykie encouraged as I froze in place and stared at the carriage.

“I promise that your chance of getting eaten is minimal.” She whispered the last part into my hair, clearly trying to keep it out of Graysen’s earshot.

I assumed this was her attempt at quieting my nerves.

Surprisingly, it worked. I snickered out a subtle—but genuine—laugh.

My heart rate accelerated the moment I sat on the cushioned bench.

The last time I was in this spot, I was terrified.

I could practically see Graysen ducking into the room in his mud-soaked attire, looking like he had crawled through hell just as much as I had.

My eyes fixated on the doorway and replayed the scene in my head.

While I struggled with my recent traumatic memories, I could hear Graysen talk to the Silvates, giving them direction as if they were taxi drivers.

He was factual about where we were going and thanked them for their assistance.

I had been so disoriented during our last “ trip ” that I hadn’t taken notice of the lack of driver.

I concluded that the Silvates must be equipped with their own internal GPS, because…

of course they were. Ten points for “ coma ” theory.

Bleeding into the grimy memory of Graysen from mere days ago, his clean stature ducked into the carriage. “Expect about a nine hour journey,” he said as he took a seat on the bench across from me. “It takes time to get to beautiful places. But we’ll be there by night.”

“What time is it?” I peeked out the window to find the two large stars were still in view, but was unsure what that implied for the remaining daylight.

“It’s sixteen hundred,” he answered after a glance at his dark silver watch.

“How long are your days?” Sixteen hundred wasn’t so unusual in Earth time: 4:00 pm. That said, I knew from their clocks that such a translation was likely not appropriate.

“Forty hours. It becomes dark around thirty and then brightens up again at six.” As he spoke, the carriage jumped into motion, causing his wide shoulders to sway.

“Do you get different seasons?”

“In the West, where we are currently, we get winter and summer. In the East, where we’re going, they get fall and spring.

The seasons change every fifty days, five weeks.

When we’re in summer, they’re in spring, and when we’re in winter, they’re in fall.

A year is three star cycles. Three hundred days. ”

“How did they decide all of this? Is there something special about every three seasons?”

“Unsure.” He fumbled with the window to his side. “Only scientists get the luxury of knowing why things are the way they are. All I can do is confirm that every one hundred days it gets cold in the West and the East sheds its leaves.”

Adding a tally next to my “ coma ” theory, I moved on without further pursuing an answer. “You’ve mentioned your scientists twice now. Are they important here? Also, don’t they cover natural science in school? Like explaining planet rotations to you or something?”

He seemed irked by one of those questions. Which one? “Some might say that they’re important,” he remarked flatly. “And very few people go to school.”

“Some? You don’t think they’re important?” I reflected on Earth’s scientists. Images of test tubes, computers, and lab coats floated through my thoughts, and I decided my impression of their role in society leaned positive.

His lips sucked into his teeth as if to bite back the words trying to escape.

So, it was the scientists he was sensitive about.

“When it comes to scientists, politicians, and doctors, I think we’d be better off without them.

They’re all corrupt.” He looked away from my gaze, using the newly opened window as a convenient distraction.

“ Sensitive ” might not do it justice—this was a blatant sore spot betrayed by the snapping of his fingers at his palm. I wasn’t sure if this distaste was a shared consensus amongst Trebianna natives, but I would be careful not to bring the topic up in small talk when mingling with the community.

“You don’t actually think that every scientist, politician, and doctor is corrupt?” I challenged against my better judgment.

It seemed dramatic to resolutely demonize three massive industries designed to better society.

Sure, I was aware of the existence of corruption as much as the next person, but what was the alternative?

Anarchy? Beyond that, he was suggesting a system that would potentially send civilization into the Dark Ages.

His edgy, black-and-white perspective was ill-informed at best.

“In theory, they would be the best intentioned people. Doctors make the population healthy. Politicians keep peace and order. Scientists explain why the sky is purple. But things aren’t that simple.

And if you ever meet one of them, run as fast as you can, my dear.

They will be the ones to consume you if given the chance.

” As he finished his sentence, we hit a large bump in the road, causing the golden fastenings and decor of the carriage to clang around, effectively cutting through the tension.

He gazed out the window behind me and resumed his guarded neutrality.

I had come to understand it as a defense mechanism, those stone eyes wiping away all tells and vulnerability.

The whites were less red than the night we had met, but never appeared rested.

I recognized that I was a constant force pushing on his comfort zone, but my situation mandated self-advocacy.

“Do you think they could help me get home?” I asked after a short silence.

“Who? Scientists?”

I nodded.

His head tilted. “No,” he stated bluntly. His voice dropped an octave, his next words reverberating in the small space. “None of them will help you get home.”

“I’m sorry I keep pushing,” I muttered with annoyance against the hand supporting my chin. “Knowledge is power and all.” He didn’t have to be an asshole about it .

Listening to the ever-growing ruckus in my skull, I watched a tassel hanging from the cushion beside him swing back and forth while we glided to our destination.

Graysen stretched out into a recline, one leg folded at the knee, the other planted firmly on the ground.

His hands were cupped over his waist, his torso unnaturally curved to fit the cramped nook of the bench.

The man was too big for his own carriage.

His head rested back on a pillow, and his eyes were fixated on the ceiling, blinking steadily.

I could practically hear the chaos of his internal monologue—it might rival my own.

He had hinted at a tortured past during our hangover chat, but judging by the way he shut down at the slightest unexplained provocation, he’d rather those details were lost to time. Or at least, not shared with me.

“I wonder who’s waiting for me back on Earth.” I wasn’t sure if he wanted his rumination interrupted, but I found myself yearning to build a bridge between our messy worlds. If he wasn’t ready to open up, I’d make the first move.

His head turned to me. I took it as an invitation to continue.

“I wonder what my parents are like. I wonder if I have siblings. I wonder who my best friend is and how we met. Do I have a boyfriend, husband, child, multiple children? Are they trying to get to me at this very moment? I feel like I’m betraying people I don’t know exist every second I’m not pushing to find them again. ”

“I’m sure your loved ones are very concerned.

” I could hear his chest vibrate as the carriage rattled.

He didn’t provide opinions on my musings, of which I was grateful.

His brief interjections were merely prompts for me to continue.

It was the only invitation I needed. With no memories of having a voice, I was eager to speak.

“I might be stuck in a fucking coma,” I reflected for the millionth time, instinctively pinching my arm to test that theory as I so often did. Yep, still hurts.

“If that’s the case, I’m sure that you’ll be awake soon.” I appreciated his attempts at humoring my theories, even if he didn’t believe them. I knew I sounded crazy, but not once had he implied as much or patronized me.

I turned my head from the window to get the harsh light of the midday stars out of my eyes. “Imagine if I did wake up and I remembered everything here. I could write a book on all of the strange people and creatures and cultures. I’d be a bestselling author.”

“That could be fun.”

“If I’m stuck here long enough, maybe I’ll write a book about Earth.

I could detail what all the different animals were like.

Explain humanity as the dominant species.

I bet it’ll sound weird to read about a light blue sky with a sun during the day and a moon at night.

You know, technology ran the country I come from, it was a basic requirement to be a member of society.

I remember so much… just not who Faeryn is and how she fits into it all.

” I hadn’t meant to get all introspective at the end of that, but my identity crisis was never far from the surface.

“Every person asks themselves who they are and how they fit into the grand scheme of things. You aren’t alone in that regard.

” He didn’t seem to care much for my descriptions of Earth.

He was probably fighting the impression that I was utterly mad.

Not to mention that, clearly, I’d put him in a bad mood with the science talk.