Page 2 of Finding Her (Lore of the Fields #1)

Jolted awake by a large thump, I shot up from where I had been reclined on satin pillows, finding myself enclosed in a small room with vertical wooden panels and matching floorboards.

My shoulders swayed ever so slightly in rhythm with what sounded like beating hooves.

A luxurious gray blanket draped over my nude body, unsuccessfully hiding a slew of fresh injuries marring my flesh.

I grasped the covering’s edges into a knot against my throat to further cover myself.

It smelled ashy and burnt, like a fresh campfire.

I was seated on a cushioned bench of striking scarlet, laced with golden trim and decorative tassels which swung subtly as the room seemed to move.

Across from me was an identical seating fixture built into the wall, with closed shutters blending into the paneling above the middle cushion.

The closed window would have been easily hidden, had the presence of golden hinges and sheer curtains not drawn attention to its presence.

I reached my hand over my shoulder to find identical chiffon brushing against my skin.

Having now identified my seating nook’s matching window, I rotated my hips and pulled my knees underneath myself to investigate what was outside of the small box I found myself in.

I fumbled with the stubborn hook closure, finding it repeatedly slipping from my fingers with the rattling of the room.

As I finally started to make progress on my grip, another thump ripped the dainty latch from my hands and sent me lunging forward.

Disgruntled, I steadied myself with one palm on my knee and took a second shot at investigating.

Finally unclasping the lock, I pulled the shutters open, not knowing what would greet me on the other side.

The world was brighter now, blindingly so.

The sky had become periwinkle, adorned by a milky white smear of clouds.

A vast field filled with rows of strange crops seemed to race by.

The view reminded me of pumpkin patches—that is, if pumpkins were covered in blue-green kernels.

The farmland stretched as far as my eye could see over gentle hills.

A faint tinge of green combined with the purple cast of the sky, tinting the scenery cool-toned.

I jumped in my seat at the sound of creaking hinges, and my head snapped away from the landscape towards a large figure that had just ducked through the low threshold.

Bright daylight spilled over its outline, shadowing its features until the door closed us in together, revealing a man hunched over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.

He stood, staring at me, hand frozen on the door he’d just pulled closed behind him.

His hair was dark and slick with grease, falling just below his stubbled jaw.

His irises were a soft steel gray, contrasting their red and irritated whites, with dark purple bags under his smoky lower lashes.

His chest was rather broad and pulled his filthy, white button-down shirt taut from shoulder to shoulder.

Mud splattered up his ankles, ruining his nice dress shoes and trousers.

Although not menacing or obviously unstable, I couldn’t help but feel something was very off as he stared blankly down at me.

“Hi, Faeryn,” he said, with a level of neutrality that I found unhelpful in assessing if he was a threat.

“Faeryn?”

“Right.” He sat down on the bench across from me and rested his elbows on his knees. His face was unreadable. I suspected the evenness of his expression and tone was forced, evidenced by the muscle running down his thick neck twitching in what I perceived as agitation.

“Who is Faeryn ?” I asked, pulling the blanket further up my neck.

My stomach dropped with the reminder that this piece of smoky-smelling fabric was the only thing separating my nude body from his vision.

Naked. In a small room with a strange man who was closer to the exit than I was.

It felt as dangerous as being devoured in the woods had.

“You are,” he said simply. There was a pause as though he expected a response. I offered him none. “It’s your name.”

“Do I know you?” The words weren’t meant to come out aggressively, but as they left my mouth, I heard the way I sounded like cornered prey, growling out a pathetic attempt at a threat.

There was a long silence. “No,” he answered flatly. “I’m afraid you do not.” His smooth prose was as gentlemanly as the potential of his stained attire. He stood just enough to hold out his hand to me. “My name is Graysen.”

A handshake? Given our circumstances, that felt unnaturally formal. However, I was at his mercy, and it didn’t seem wise to refute any attempts at civility. My hand grasped his with caution. Warm softness swallowed my significantly smaller grip.

“If you don’t know me, why did you just call me Faeryn?”

Not only did I feel like a scared animal, but he had immediately assigned me a name.

And since when was it okay to pick up a woman from the road and act like it was normal?

Concepts of puppy rescues flashed through my mind and I thanked my lucky stars I was at least not in a cardboard box.

The box I was currently in seemed to be made of real wood.

The entire situation was dehumanizing, at best.

“What do you remember about why you were in the forest?” he carried on as if no question had been asked. Great . He was no longer making eye contact with me.

A twinge of anger sparked inside my chest. “Nothing.”

“And before that?”

“I don’t fucking remember anything. You didn’t answer my question,” I snapped impatiently through my frightened, clenched teeth.

“Well...” He leaned back into the matching pillows. “Perhaps you’ll receive some answers after resting.” His eyes gazed out of the window blankly.

“Am I being kidnapped?” I spat, irritated by the vague responses from the person currently holding all the power in the room. “Who are you? What’s going on?”

“Do you want to get out? I thought this was an improvement over your previous situation.”

My eyes strayed back to the window where the foreign countryside was beginning to speckle with buildings. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home.”

“Why bring me to your home?”

“Do you have anywhere else to go?”

I was silent.

“At the house, you can have a home-cooked meal and a place to sleep that isn’t in the middle of a dark forest, or a carriage. I’ll tend to those poor feet of yours and get you some clothing. Let’s start there.”

“A carriage,” I repeated, my eyes scanning the wooden walls of the small box we were enclosed in.

I felt silly as the words left my mouth, realizing the sound of pattering hooves was an obvious giveaway to our mode of transportation.

“Why don’t you have a car?” As I looked again to the expansive farmlands with no signs of civilization, I knew that I was asking a stupid question.

I couldn’t picture a Honda Civic out here—it would feel misplaced—two eras colliding.

“Only the rich and powerful own cars—doctors, scientists, politicians. They’re just a status symbol. Frankly, they’re inconvenient,” he droned on.

My brows furrowed with confusion, and I found myself scowling.

Okay, so cars do exist. But they aren’t standard?

Maybe I was in a less developed country.

But his accent was similar to my own, and I was certain that vehicles were the norm where I was from.

I was using the last of my waning energy to find answers, and he was wasting those efforts with every nebulous response.

My breaths came quicker as anxiety filled my lungs.

Glancing at the leather watch revealed by his rolled-up sleeves, he muttered, “You truly don’t remember anything right now, do you?” His mouth formed a thin line, and his fingers snapped against his palm three times.

“Nothing.” As much as I tried to keep my last spark of anger ignited for my own safety, I found my voice cracked into a near cry as I tried to focus on my breathing.

I was determined not to show weakness. A strange man found me in the middle of nowhere and put me in his…

carriage . He intended to take me to his home .

Not a hospital. Although, I was beginning to wonder if those were also restricted to the elite after his little car rant, if they existed at all.

He wasn’t offering me any explanation for my situation, and it felt distinctly intentional.

How would I react if I were in his shoes?

I was certain I would do everything I could to fill in the blanks for someone frightened and disoriented—after all, context would be everything.

Context was everything. I couldn’t find any gratitude past the fear of his intentions and the confusion of my situation.

And fuck if he was being helpful at all.

The man took a deep breath and forced that neutral smile back onto his dimpled face. “Well then, I’ll have to teach you everything. But perhaps we’ll hold off on all of that until you’ve had some food.”

His words brought my awareness to how empty my stomach was. One more discomfort to grin and bear for the time being. “Where am I… uh… Graysen?” His name almost escaped me, but I used what little mental energy I had to recall it.

“You’re in my carriage. We just drove through the fields of Aqualae and are now entering a town called Virylan.”

“But where is that? What state, country, continent, time period, world?”

“You’re on the Western Continent of a world named Trebianna, in the year scientists have decided to be one million and four.”