Page 22 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

“Sit,” Locane instructs, indicating his head towards the plush chairs and couches placed around a large fireplace with a bookshelf to one side. The other wall is covered in paintings and dried, pressed leaves.

Large blankets are draped casually over the backs of chairs and couches. Surfaces are covered with books, figurines, and vases of dried flowers. The trim and bookcases are the same stained wood as the vestibule and staircase. It would be dark and dreary, if it weren’t for the endless windows on the far wall to let in ample natural light without the room baking in the sun.

The sudden noise of the wooden roll door above the bar breaks me out of my inspection. Thishouse is so grand, yet cozy at the same time. Nothing about it seems like it would be the style of this rude and increasingly unstable man.

Locane takes me in briefly, noticing the surprise on my face. “What?” he asks with a bite.

I laugh and say in wonder, “This is just not what I expected. It’s truly lovely.”

“Yes, thank you. It will be a quick meal tonight, I’m afraid,” he tells me, plunking down a cutting board with a loaf of bread and array of spreads in glass jars.

We eat quietly. When we finish, Locane briefly shows me a small half washroom accessible from both main and formal living areas. I notice all the doors inside have stained glass transom windows, kicked out to ventilate the summer air. All similar to the one in the vestibule. All equally as stunning.

He brings me upstairs to show me a full bathing room with a large clawfoot tub. I groan longingly at the sight. Locane smiles and says, “Soon. Let me show you your room first.”

The style and decor of my bedroom is similar to the rest of the house. It has a metal framed bed, a large armoire in the corner, and a small vanity with several brushes and hair pins laying on top.

“You should be able to find everything you need here. I’ll allow you to get settled then wash up. I’ll see you in the morning.” Locane pauses at the threshold, shoulders tensing. I wait for him to say something—but all that comes out is a weak, “Goodnight.”

“Wait!” I nearly yell as he begins to walk away. He looks back at me with an odd expression. Uncertain and almost pained. “Aren’t you going to tell me anything?”

“Tomorrow. It’s been a long journey. We both need rest. Goodnight, Ellya.”

With that, he leaves before I can say another word. I sigh in frustration, mostly at him, but also with myself for expecting anything more.

Glancing around at the room, I count myself very lucky. I open the armoire and find it fully stocked with all manner of women’s shoes, leggings, blouses, undershirts, and underwear. There are plain sundresses and evening gowns.

All appearing to be just the right size for me.

“What?” I whisper to myself, confused.

Did Locane prepare for me? Or did there used to be some other woman here who just happened to be the same size as me? My gut tells me it’s unlikely. I do my best to shake off my growing questions and grab everything I need for my bath.

CHAPTER EIGHT

As expected, the bath is divine.

I soak to my heart’s content until the water starts to cool and my fingers shrivel. I drain the filthy water, dry myself with a fluffy gray towel, and wrap my long and sopping hair. I put on a luxurious matching bathrobe and head to dress in my room.

Being at Locane’s house has far surpassed every expectation I have had so far. It brings me hope that it’s a good omen for what’s to come. Just as the thought hits me, I immediately strike it down and remind myself not to get too comfortable, too trusting. I will not be staying here long term, and only need enough time to formulate a plan and be better prepared.

It’s clear that Locane is being purposely evasive—and that makes me doubt his intentions and motives. I’m convinced that he helped me escape captivity. In fact, a large part of me wonders if he orchestrated the whole thing. But if he had, why did he wait so long to reveal himself to me? Why let me wander aimlessly for two weeks before intervening?

There’s no denying that he prepared for me to come here. None of this is adding up or making any sense. The more I think about it, that ever-present headache begins to build behind my eyes until it makes it hard for me to think at all.

Giving up the mental fight, I change into a night dress. It’s thin, comfortable, and a deep shade of green. Far less revealing than the flimsy white shift I dropped in the wastebasket of the bathing room. I climb into the bed and groan at the soft down mattress and pillows swallowing me.

Sleep takes me instantly.

I’m eight, sitting in a wooden rocking chair in front of a roaring fire. The smell of smoke and fragrant peppermint tea wafts up my nose while Nana brushes out my long hair.

“You know, your name comes from the Mother’s namesake herself. They say that when Ellhora arrived here, she fell as a shooting star from the night sky. As soon as the Mother separated from her home in the sky, the hole she left was empty and desolate, a gaping wound where her beauty once lay. It called out to the cosmos around it and filled with wayward stardust, desperate to be whole again. It pulled particles from everything nearby until it was filled. They say that is how our smaller green moon was created.”

Nana pauses her story and her brushing. The smile in her voice is apparent when she asks, “Would you like me to keep going?”

I nod excitedly.

“They say that when Ellhora arrived, the whole planet was nothing but endless salt seas—that when she fell, she hit the ocean floor. Instantly, her great power started giving life to this world. While ocean life spawned around her, she pushed her power down straight to the core of this world and pulled with all of her might. Molten liquid gave way to her, allowing her to build her land. Liquid solidified as it hit the cool waters until a landmass appeared.