Kael stood by the crumbling stone well, his chest heaving as he hauled up the wooden bucket. The rope was frayed, cutting into his calloused palms, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the confusion swirling in his mind.
He poured the freezing water into the large, rusted cauldron sitting over the cold fire pit in the yard.
"She gave us soap," he muttered, looking at the rough bar sitting on the well's edge. It smelled of lavender, a scent so incongruous with the stench of their reality that it made his nose itch.
Beside him, Caspian wheezed, leaning heavily against the wooden fence. The Shark beastman's skin was grey and flaking, resembling dried parchment. His gills, located on the sides of his neck, fluttered uselessly in the dry air.
"Why?" Caspian rasped, the word tearing out of his damaged throat.
"I don't know," Kael growled. He struck a piece of flint against steel to spark the tinder under the cauldron. "Maybe she wants us clean before she sells us. Clean slaves fetch a higher price."
The logic was sound. It was the only thing that made sense. Elise, that monster in human skin, never did anything without a selfish motive. If she was demanding hygiene, it was because she planned to liquidate her assets.
Kael looked toward the shed. Ignis was dragging himself across the dirt, his elbows bloody. The fallen Dragon refused to look at anyone, his pride shattered along with his horns. Lucian, the Phoenix, was huddled in the corner, picking at his raw skin where the feathers used to be. And Silas...
Kael's heart clenched. Silas was pacing in tight circles at the end of his chain, drooling into his muzzle. His eyes were wide and milky, seeing enemies that weren't there.
"Wash," Kael ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. "If we smell like rot, she might beat Lucian again. Do it."
Reluctantly, the men moved. They stripped off their rags, shivering in the biting morning wind. Kael took the bar of soap. He expected it to burn, like the lye soap the Garnetts used for laundry. Instead, it lathered rich and soft.
He scrubbed the grime from his arms, watching the grey water run down his scarred skin. For a brief moment, just a second, he felt human again.
Inside the annex, Valeria was fighting a battle of her own.
She stood in the middle of what was laughably called a "kitchen." It was a narrow hallway with a stone hearth and a few empty shelves. There were no pots, no pans, and certainly no food. The floor was covered in a layer of dust that suggested no one had cooked here in months.
Her stomach gave a violent growl.
"Right," she muttered, rolling up the sleeves of her tattered dress. "Priority one. Calories."
She couldn't rely on the Garnetts to feed them. If the memories were correct, Ma Garnett usually sent over a bucket of pig slop once a day for the beastmen and a tray of pastries for Elise. But since the money had stopped, the pastries would stop too. And likely the slop.
Valeria walked out the back door into the yard. She ignored the men washing by the well, giving them a shred of privacy, and focused on the ground.
The "garden" was a disaster. It was a tangle of waist-high thorns, dry brambles, and strange, leafy vines that seemed to choke out everything else.
She crouched down, examining a vine with heart-shaped, purple-veined leaves.
To the people of this world, or at least to the ignorant villagers of Oakhaven, this was likely just a weed. But Valeria had spent ten years archiving the Imperial Botanical Encyclopedia in her previous life.
She reached out and touched the leaf. A translucent blue window popped up, overlaid on her vision.
[Flora Identified: Shadow Creeper.]
[Local Status: Noxious Weed.]
[Library Database Match: Dioscorea alata (Purple Yam).]
[Edibility: High. Rich in starch and sugar. Safe when cooked.]
A small smile touched her lips. "Bingo."
The villagers thought it was a weed because the vines grew aggressively and the tubers were buried deep underground, often looking like knobby, dark rocks. They probably assumed it was poisonous.
Valeria looked around for a tool. She found a rusted hoe leaning against the wall, the handle half-rotted. It would have to do.
She raised the hoe and brought it down hard into the dry earth.
Thwack.
The shock traveled up her arms, jarring her shoulders. Elise's body was weak, pampered, and completely unaccustomed to labor. Valeria gritted her teeth. She wasn't an overworked librarian anymore. She was a woman who refused to starve.
Thwack. Thwack.
She dug with a rhythmic intensity, ignoring the sweat that began to prickle on her forehead. After ten minutes of grueling work, the hoe struck something solid.
She dropped to her knees and clawed at the dirt with her bare hands. She pulled, straining her back, until the earth gave way.
She held up a tuber the size of a football. It was dark brown and ugly on the outside, but when she scratched the skin with her fingernail, the flesh beneath was a vibrant, vivid purple.
"Carbohydrates," she whispered reverently.
She didn't stop at one. She dug up five more, piling them onto the back porch. Her hands were caked in mud, her fingernails black with dirt, but she felt a surge of triumph she hadn't felt in years.
She gathered the tubers in her skirt and carried them to the fire pit in the center of the yard.
Kael had just finished rinsing the soap from his hair when he saw her.
Elise - no, she was acting so differently he found it hard to use that name -marched into the yard carrying a bundle of dirty, rock-like lumps. Her silk dress, once worth more than his entire life, was smeared with mud. Her hair was tied back in a messy knot.
She dumped the lumps near the fire he had built for the water.
"Move the cauldron," she ordered, not looking at him. She was busy arranging the remaining wood embers.
Kael hesitated, then signaled Caspian to help him. Together, they heaved the heavy iron pot of hot water off the fire.
Valeria immediately threw the lumps directly onto the hot coals.
"What are you doing?" Kael asked, his suspicion flaring again. "Burning rocks?"
"Cooking," she said briefly. She poked the tubers with a stick, ensuring they were covered by the ash and heat.
"Those are Ghost Fingers," Kael said, stepping forward. His limp was pronounced, his leg stiff from the cold water. "They grow in the graveyards. Villagers say they are cursed. They kill you."
Valeria looked up at him. Her violet eyes were calm, intelligent, and frighteningly clear. "They aren't cursed, Kael. They are misunderstood. Just like you."
The words hit him like a physical blow. He stared at her, his mouth slightly open. Misunderstood? Just like you? What kind of game was she playing?
"If you want to poison us," Kael said, his voice hardening to mask his confusion, "just use a knife. It's faster."
"If I wanted to kill you, I would have let you drink that sludge this morning," she countered. She sat back on her heels, wiping sweat from her brow, leaving a streak of dirt across her pale forehead. "Sit down. It will take twenty minutes."
The command was soft, but the authority in it was absolute.
The five men didn't sit. They stood in a loose semi-circle, watching the fire. Watching her.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
And then, the smell hit them.
It started as a faint wisp of smoke, but soon, a sweet, earthy aroma filled the yard. It smelled like warm sugar, like roasted chestnuts, like food.
Silas stopped his pacing. His nose twitched. The madness in his eyes cleared for a fleeting second, replaced by raw, animal hunger. He whined, a high-pitched sound that tore at Kael's heart.
Caspian took a step forward, licking his dry lips. Even Ignis lifted his head from the dirt, his nostrils flaring.
Valeria used two sticks to roll the largest tuber out of the fire. The skin was charred black. She waited a moment, then broke it open.
Steam poured out, carrying a scent so delicious it made Kael's knees weak. The inside was a soft, steaming mash of bright purple.
She blew on it, cooling a piece, and then popped it into her mouth.
The husbands froze. They watched her chew. They watched her swallow.
"Hot," she murmured, fanning her mouth. She looked at Kael. "Not poison. Just food."
She rolled the other five tubers out of the fire. She didn't hand them over; she simply left them on the flat stones near the men.
"One each," she said, picking up her own again. "Eat slowly. Your stomachs have shrunk. If you eat too fast, you'll throw up."
For a long moment, nobody moved. The ingrained fear of a trap was too strong.
Then, Silas broke.
The Wolf lunged forward, ignoring the heat. He grabbed a steaming tuber, burning his paws, and tore into it. He didn't chew; he swallowed it in massive gulps, whimpering as the sweetness hit his tongue.
"Silas!" Kael warned, but it was too late.
Silas didn't die. He didn't convulse. He licked the purple mash from his claws and looked at the fire, eyes begging for more.
That was the signal.
Caspian moved next, snatching one up. He couldn't eat fast because of his throat, so he took small, painful bites, closing his eyes as if in prayer. Lucian crawled forward and took one, holding it delicately, tears streaming down his face as he ate.
Kael picked up the one nearest to him. It was hot, heavy, and real. He looked at Valeria. She was eating hers quietly, eyes focused on the flames, ignoring them.
He took a bite.
The sweetness exploded in his mouth. It was rich, dense, and filling. It was the best thing he had ever tasted. He realized, with a jolt of horror, that he was crying. He wiped his face angrily, hiding the weakness, and devoured the rest.
Even Ignis, the proud Dragon, dragged himself to the stone. He didn't use his hands. He ate directly from the rock, humiliated but desperate to survive.
For ten minutes, the only sounds in the yard were the crackle of the fire and the sounds of starving men eating.
Valeria finished hers and stood up. She felt the energy from the yam settling in her stomach. It wasn't the Spirit Spring water, but it was solid fuel.
"Keep the skins," she said. "We can boil them later for broth."
Kael looked at her. The hatred in his eyes hadn't vanished, but the icy wall was cracked. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Why?" he asked again. "Why are you doing this?"
Valeria looked at him, brushing the dirt from her skirt. She couldn't tell him the truth that she was a transmigrator trying to save her own skin.
"Because," she said, choosing a half-truth, "I realized that if you die, I have no one to protect me. And I plan to live a very long time."
Kael studied her face. It was a pragmatic answer. A selfish answer. It sounded like something Elise would say, yet the actions didn't match. Elise would never dig in the dirt. Elise would never share food.
Before he could respond, a thunderous crash shook the wooden gate of the yard.
BOOM.
The timber splintered. The flimsy lock gave way.
The gate swung open, banging against the fence.
Five large, rough-looking men stepped into the yard. They wore leather armor and carried cudgels. Behind them waddled a woman who looked like a toad dressed in Sunday finery.
Ma Garnett.
She wore a bonnet that was too tight and a dress that strained at the seams. Her piggy eyes scanned the yard, landing on Valeria.
"Well, well," Ma Garnett sneered, stepping over the broken gate. "Look at you. Up and about. And here I thought you'd had the decency to die in your sleep."
Behind her, a tall, gaunt man with a monocle and a ledger stepped forward. He looked at the beastmen with the clinical eye of a butcher inspecting cattle.
"Is this the lot?" the man asked, his voice oily.
"That's them," Ma Garnett spat. "And the girl. Sell the girl to the Red Lantern House. They like them feisty. Sell the beasts to the renderers. I want them gone by sundown."
Kael dropped into a crouch, a low, rumbling growl building in his throat. He moved instinctively to place himself between the intruders and the other husbands.
But before he could move, Valeria stepped forward.
She didn't cower. She didn't scream. She walked straight toward the men with the cudgels, her chin held high, radiating a cold, regal fury that seemed to drop the temperature in the yard by ten degrees.
"Ma Garnett," Valeria said, her voice smooth and dangerous. "You are trespassing on my property. I suggest you leave before I forget that I was raised to be a lady."
Ma Garnett laughed, a wet, ugly sound. "Your property? You stupid chit. You have nothing. Grab her!"
The lead thug reached for Valeria.
Kael tensed to spring, calculating the distance. He was injured. He would die. But he would take one with him.
But Valeria didn't flinch. As the thug's hand reached for her shoulder, her eyes flashed with a violet light, and her hand moved to her pocket, where she had stashed a single, sharp stone she had found while digging.
System, she thought. Prepare for combat mode.
[Combat Assist: Unavailable. User Physical Stats too low.]
[Suggestion: Bluff.]
Valeria smiled, a terrified, sharp smile that looked entirely like the villainess she was supposed to be.
"Touch me," she whispered, "and I'll make sure you regret having hands."