Page 25 of His Darkest Desire
“Asshole,” she muttered, wishing her act of rebellion could’ve accomplished more than this fleeting, hollow sense of triumph. She walked into the bathroom, spun around, and thrust a finger at the wisp, who had been right behind her.
The wisp jerked back.
“You stay,” Kinsley said. “This space is private.”
She closed the door before the wisp could respond and leaned against the wood.
The nightgown was still on the floor, having been swept aside by the door. She crouched and picked it up. It was still dripping wet.
“Damn it.” She released the nightgown, and it plopped on the floor stones. “Blanket toga it is.”
Though the water inside the bathtub was the same she had bathed in, with dirt settled on the bottom and leaves and twigs floating on top, it was still steaming and fragrant. She turned on the faucet and cupped her hands beneath it, gathering cold water in her palms. She drank deeply.
It did nothing to appease her hunger.
She hadn’t eaten anything since she’d woken here after the accident. Just the thought of that cheese, fresh fruit, and warm bread made her stomach clench.
Pushing away from the tub, she rifled through the jars and bottles on the shelves and counters. She discovered another depression within the wall where water ceaselessly flowed into a basin. A carved comb, a small wooden toothbrush, and a little clay jar lay upon a recessed shelf beside it. She picked up the jar, removed the lid, and sniffed its contents, which had a light, minty scent.
“Toothpaste?”
Somehow, the thought of a creature like her captor standing here, brushing his teeth, was just…comical.
“I mean, he has teeth, so I guess it makes sense, but…”
Shaking her head, she dipped her finger into the jar, gathered some of the contents, and scrubbed her teeth. As she did so, her eyes kept returning to the toothbrush. A thought began forming. By the time she’d finished washing her mouth out, the idea had taken full shape.
With a grin, she plucked up the toothbrush and made her way to the lavatory. Kinsley leaned over that deep, dark hole, dangling the toothbrush above it. “Would be such a pity…”
She released her hold.
“Whoops.”
She listened, but never heard it strike the bottom.
Just how far down does that hole go?
After using the toilet and securing the blanket around her chest, she returned to the bedroom, where the wisp was waiting for her, its little arms bent like it had its hands on its hips.
Kinsley smiled as she walked to the desk. “I didn’t do anything.”
She sat down and looked over the clutter atop the surface. Picking up a piece of parchment covered with runic symbols, she turned it toward the wisp. “What even is this? A spell? A curse? A letter to his mother?”
The wisp remained silent.
“Right. As if you’d tell me, even if I could understand you.” Kinsley sighed and pursed her lips to the side as she stared at the parchment. “Is it important?”
The wisp flared briefly.
“Must not be if it’s just strewn about like this.” She flung the parchment aside, watching as it fluttered to the floor. The rest of the loose sheets quickly followed until she came across a blank paper.
“Hmm…” She grabbed a feather quill and examined it, from the slightly frayed barbs on one end to the ink-stained tip at the other. She’d never used a quill before.
A brief search turned up a small glass inkwell, which she opened. Kinsley tapped the feather against her chin and looked at the wisp. “What should I draw?”
The wisp floated closer until it was hovering over the desk. It looked from her down to the paper.
“Shall I draw you?” she asked.