Wystwood

25. Gather around the fireplace

Their pact was sealed with three simple words. There was no chiming of bells nor great gusts of wind, yet somehow that made the clandestine dealing all the worse.

The world had rushed back into motion when Ada pulled her hand from Raeph's. His empty fingers had clenched together as Solen pounced forwards, insisting that if Ada was to now stay with them for the foreseeable future, she should at least be able to do so in comfort.

Though her sweet charm and sugared words had returned, Ada doubted that Solen's attempts to get her upstairs had been purely altruistic. Her hand had trailed delicately upon Ada's back as they ascended the staircase, though she hadn't missed the pointed look Solen shot at Raeph as they rounded the spiralled steps.

Now, Ada's knees were folded against her chest at the far end of a bathtub. The porcelain was a silky caress across her bare skin, though its pale legs were perched upon earthenware tiles filmed with a grey-streaked grime. The bath seemed out of place in the otherwise dingy room; a remnant, perhaps, of a time long since passed. 

Steam shivered up from the water's still surface, fogging up a window that filtered in milky sunlight. Ada had checked its wooden latch out of habit when Solen had left her to bathe, her toes struggling against the slick porcelain as she found the frame would scarcely open enough to allow her wrist through.

It was only when she had slid back into the bath that she realised there was little use in finding an escape. She had irrevocably tied herself to four fae she had just met, and yet they were to pave her path back home. Trust was not the right word for their new alliance, but a desperate hope clawed within Ada's chest.

She began to rub at her skin, flesh flaring crimson and raw in the near-scalding bath water. The soot and filth that had clung to her body cast an ashen veil across the porcelain, and she only stopped at the sound of a gentle knocking. Solen's voice called to her from beneath the doorframe.

"Are you finished?"

Ada wound a coarsely stitched towel around her body, despite it looking to be more suited for garden work than bathing. She gingerly picked up her clothes, which she had left heaped inside the sink. Only her cloak was carefully hung upon the door handle, its hem pooling on the tiles in a velveteen puddle.

Unlocking the door, she was met immediately by Solen. 

"Much better," she declared, eyeing Ada's dripping hair and scrubbed face, before marching across the landing and motioning for Ada to follow her. They stopped before a room that was wedged behind the staircase to the attic. Its door swung partially open and the vague scent of mildew hung in the air.

"That's my room," Solen said, pointing across the landing at the opposite door, which had been painted in the patchy shade of apricots. "And you can sleep in this one."

She had already swept inside, but Ada paused to cast her eyes around the landing, counting eight other wooden doors. The staircases on either side of the landing did little to decorate the stark space, though the window closest to Ada was still slid open to let in the spring-steeped breeze.

"There's only one set of drawers, and I put in a few of my clothes that I thought might fit you. I didn't have any dresses, but I can clean your one if you like and it won't take too long to dry in the sunshine," Solen went on, heaving open a window.

Sun-scorched air burst into the room as Ada stepped inside. The bare panels thatched across the ceiling came unstuck with cobwebs as a soft wind cast away the dust. The room was modest with its stout chest of drawers next to a single bed frame, and Ada noticed that her mattress from the night before had been flung across the bed slats. A worn sheet was stretched across it, straining around the mattress corners and topped with several folded blankets.

"Thank you," Ada suddenly thought to say. Though Solen simply smiled in reply, holding out her palms for Ada's dress as the sunlight rippled in rivulets through her hair. 

Ada handed it over, attempting to cover her exposed shoulders with her cloak as Solen slipped around her and onto the landing. "I'll leave you to get dressed, then. Come back downstairs when you're ready and we'll..." She paused, brow creasing as she pivoted on her toes. "Well, we'll discuss the help we need you for."

"Wait," called Ada, taking a breath as Solen stilled by the staircase. "It's Ada, by the way. My name's Ada."

The woman cocked her head, the breeze fluttering her hair around her ears. But then a smile spread across her lips. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ada."

With that, Solen turned once again, leaving behind her a hum that drifted in dulcet dips down the staircase. 

There was no lock on the door, nor curtains for the window. Fortunately, the view directly across from the room was only plain brickwork, though Ada still kept her cloak carefully draped around her shoulders as she began to sift through the drawers.

Most of Solen's clothing seemed to be stitched from either starched linen or soft leather. There was not a lot to choose from, but Ada eventually settled on a loose white shirt that hung low across her collar and a pair of slim, brown trousers. Though slightly too long, the shirt had two strips of linen attached to its back that allowed Ada to cinch in the spare fabric around her midriff and secure it with a bow.

The trousers were far tighter than she had expected, and her bow was left to droop as she tucked in the rest of the shirt. She had to roll up the trouser legs past her ankles before finally slipping on a pair of socks and her boots, deftly running her fingers through her hair as she turned to the bed.

Her grandmother's cloak was spread across the mattress like midnight mist across a ghostly lake. Ada hesitated a moment before reaching down, letting the velvet slip through her fingers as she folded it and set the cloak upon her pillow. 

A slip of green caught her eye, and Ada pulled back a blanket to find a ribbon that must have unravelled into her hood. She had started the night of the equinox with several of them laced into her plaits, though she had thought they had all been lost to clutching tree branches or shivering well water.

Ada twisted the ribbon between her fingers, watching its threads strain across her skin. It rippled like the grass that sloped down Cresthill as she tied it around her bedpost, its frayed edges just touching the corner of her pillow; a wistful kiss to sleep.

Then, she opened the door, lifted her chin, and walked out onto the landing. It was still empty, though Solen's hum had been replaced with that of muffled conversation as Ada approached the staircase. Their words were too low and too fast for her to catch, and they faltered out entirely as the step beneath Ada's boot groaned.

Lark offered her a slight smile as she entered the room, though his face still had a pallid sheen when he rubbed a palm across the back of his neck. He sat on a barstool that looked ready to break beneath him, and had one foot resting on a round table in front of the unlit fireplace.

Armestrong was nowhere to be seen, though Solen had resumed her spot on the scarlet settee, no longer sipping tea and honey as she beckoned Ada over. Only Raeph did not look at her as she sat down, his eyes almost as dark as the ashes he stared into from a tattered leather armchair.

Lark ran a hand through his hair, pushing the long strands back behind his tapered ears as he eyed his two companions. The air was taut already, and slightly heated as though flames still flickered in the burnt out hearth.

Finally, Solen cleared her throat. "Well then, let's discuss the terms of our arrangement."