Chapter 58

Then I saw the light.

A cottage. Small, tucked between trees, smoke rising from its chimney. Light glowed in the windows—warm, yellow, safe.

I approached slowly, my heart hammering. What if whoever lived here turned me in? What if they took me back to the castle, back to my mother?

But I was so tired. So hungry. So cold.

The door was unlocked.

I pushed it open and stepped inside.

The cottage was ... strange. Everything was low to the ground—the table, the chairs, the shelves. Seven of everything. Seven plates on the table. Seven cups. Seven small chairs arranged around the hearth.

My stomach growled so loudly it echoed in the quiet space.

There was bread on the table. Cheese. A pitcher of what smelled like beer. I knew I shouldn’t. Knew it was stealing. But I was so hungry, and my hands were already reaching, tearing off a piece of bread, shoving it into my mouth.

It was the best thing I’d ever tasted.

I ate half the loaf. Drank from the pitcher. Found apples in a bowl and ate one of those too. My stomach, empty for so long, cramped and protested, but I didn’t care.

Then I saw the beds.

Seven of them, lined up against the wall. Small beds, like the chairs, like everything else in this cottage. But they had blankets. Pillows. They looked so soft.

I climbed into the one in the corner—the smallest one, tucked against the wall. I pulled the blanket up to my chin. It smelled like woodsmoke and pine and safety.

I was asleep before I could think about what came next.

I woke to voices.

“—someone’s been eating our food.”