“All right, then,” he replied with a kind of grave courtesy that sent warmth running through her. “You’re welcome.”
She hesitated, thinking. She had things to say to him, and things to ask, but she was still hungry and didn’t want to sour her only enjoyment. Finishing the second egg, she considered what to eat next.
Sweets could make one thirsty, so she should eat the honey pastry while she still had access to plenty of clean drinking water. Locating the pastry, she bit into one corner and almost moaned. It was flaky, buttery, and the top had been sprinkled with pecans. It was utterly delicious.
As she ate it, she said, “Where did you get the food? This is fresh.”
“There’s a night market in the city,” he told her. “Certain stalls are open until midnight.”
That sounded lively, intriguing. In an Other land, a market like that would be filled with exotic sights and sounds and interesting merchandise. She might want to go shopping there, if she didn’t already want to burn Avalon with hellfire.
Carefully, focusing all her attention on the pastry, she finished it and sighed. “That was wonderful.”
A smile entered his voice. “I have a fondness for them too.”
So he liked sweets. Along with the fact that he had magical ability, it was virtually the only thing she knew about him.
She ate a chicken wing, and when she was done, she walked carefully over to the privy to toss the bones inside. Another question occurred to her. “Do they ever dig out the contents of this?” If they did, it must be beyond horrible.
“The privy? No. The hole goes to an underground river. There are grates over the river where it flows to the sea, which is why you can’t shove anything like the flasks or the bag down the hole, or eventually someone will find it.”
Even though he couldn’t see it, she nodded, thinking. The rats probably used the underground river system to get around. She hadn’t heard them since her benefactor had arrived. Perhaps he’d scared them away.
She said, “If I had the Power to shapeshift into something small, say a mouse or a rat, I could go down that hole.”
“You could, if you had the stomach for it. It would have to be something small, or the grates would catch you and you would drown. But you don’t have the Power to shapeshift.”
“No.” Now she knew a third thing about him—he knew a lot about the underground prison. She turned away from the hole and made her way back to the cot.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.” Taking a deep breath, she braced herself to start asking the more uncomfortable questions, but he forestalled her.
“I have something else for you.” The bag on the floor rustled as he rummaged in it, then he took hold of her hand and pressed something into it. Then something else.
She felt the items curiously. One was long, thin, and had bristles at one end, and the other felt like a tube. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “You brought me a toothbrush and toothpaste.”
“I have a jar of lavender mixed with arrowroot that you can rub through your hair and brush out. It works like a dry shampoo. The arrowroot soaks up the oils, while the lavender adds some freshness. And there’s a container of wet wipes.” Even though she didn’t know him, she thought she could hear a smile in his voice. “It’s not the same as a shower or a bath, but at least it’s something.”
The tears came back, and for a moment she couldn’t speak. When she did, her whisper came out thick and choked. “Now I’m beyond words.”
“I know how you feel,” he said gently. “A long time ago, I spent some time in one of these cells.”
Her breath caught. “You did? How long were you down here?”
It was so hard to tell expression from a whisper, but his reply seemed flat and expressionless as he told her, “Over a year.”
A year. She was going crazy after just a few days, and he had spent over a year down here in the dark, without extra food, water, or comfort, and he still sounded sane. She would not survive a year down here, even with his help.
Her lips trembled. “I can’t imagine.”
A small silence fell. Finally, still in that flat, expressionless tone, he said, “One day at a time, Sidonie. That’s all either of us can do.”
He had flasks, from Earth, wet wipes, and tubes of toothpaste and travel toothbrushes. That meant he had access to the crossover passageways. And he had spent over a year imprisoned, and he’d not only survived but he’d been set free again. That meant Isabeau valued him, and to some extent, despite his imprisonment, she trusted him.
Her shoulders tightened, but she was still not yet ready to start asking the tougher questions. Instead, she turned her attention to the treasures he had given her.
She asked, “And you can’t see me, right?”
“I can see better than you can,” he said. “I can see where you are, and your general posture. I can tell if you’re standing or kneeling, but you’re nothing more than a shadowy shape to me.”
She considered that. Did she believe or trust him? There was something creepy at the thought of him eyeing her while she undressed, while she couldn’t see him, but at this point did she really care?
He was probably telling the truth, but even if he was lying, she decided she wanted to be clean more than anything else, so she stripped off her filthy clothes and took the toiletries over to the privy.
Brushing her teeth had never felt so amazing. Rubbing the dry shampoo through her hair and brushing it out was a little odd, but she had to admit her hair felt much better afterward and the lavender scent was wonderful.
She used the wet wipes on her face and every inch of her body, only hesitating enough to ask, “Should I put these wipes down the privy?”
“No, don’t do that,” he said. “They won’t biodegrade quickly enough. I’ll take them with me when I go.”
“Okay, thank you.”
When she had finished and made her way back to the cot, he had one more surprise waiting for her. “I spelled your clothes,” he said as he handed them to her in a folded pile. “They’re as clean as I can get them without soap and water.”
She buried her face in the clothes and inhaled. Before, even to her own nose, she had stank, but now they merely smelled a little dusty. “Another miracle,” she murmured. “I wasn’t looking forward to putting my clothes back on after getting clean.”
This time the smile was back in his whisper. “I thought you might feel that way.”
Beginning to shiver, she dressed quickly while he moved about the cell, presumably to gather up the used wipes that she had left in a small pile near the privy. When he returned to the cot, she was waiting for him, sitting with her back against the wall and her arms wrapped around drawn-up knees.
It was incredible what good food, water, and cleanliness could do to strengthen one’s mind and spirit. She almost regretted what she was going to do next.
As he sat beside her, she asked, “Are you Modred?”
Chapter Seven
The air became charged and volcanic, and as she listened to his breathing change she tensed.
But whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t what came next. Instead of either confirming or exploding in denial, he remained silent for several moments.
Then in a measured tone, he asked, “What if I was?”
She listened intently for any nuance, anything that might give her a hint of how he was reacting, but the only impression she gained from his murmured whisper was one of immense self-control. He was determined to give her no information whatsoever, yet still, despite the paranoid thoughts and questions that had plagued her throughout the day, conviction settled into her bones.
“It doesn’t matter,” she told him. “Because you’re not him.”
“How do you know?” Genuine curiosity tinged his question.
She groped for the right words. “Modred is… charming, until he is not. He has a certain way of speaking. I don’t know quite how to put it. Maybe it’s ironic? It’s an affectation you don’t have. He has a light, almost affectionate attitude that disguises something much darker underneath. You’re not nearly so light, or you haven’t been with me. Modred is the one who carried out Isabeau’s order. He broke my hands.” A shudder ran through her. Her body would recognize Modred’s touch. She knew it would. “You didn’t do that to me. I would bet my life on you and him being two vastly different individuals.”