< "MERINDA! MERINDA, PLEASE!"


    Estelle’s voice—pure, golden, unyielding—rang through the desolate white. The world, breathless and waiting, hushed itself in her sorrow. She cradled the limp body of her favorite maid.


    Regret clawed at her. Running away to Jeozdam had seemed the only way to escape William’s pleading eyes, his unbearable remorse. The apology she could never accept.


    He was the reason she had acted so shamefully with the Count''s son. She couldn''t forgive him. She couldn''t forgive herself.


    She knelt like a fallen star, cradling the lifeless body of a girl who had been blessed—blessed—to serve at her side.


    Now, stranded in unfamiliar land, she had nothing but her horse—a gift from William—and her maid—a gift from her father. Frantic, she searched for a solution.


    The Stemley mushroom, blue and poisonous, lay in Merinda’s palm, its deadly promise clear. Estelle clenched her jaw.


    Elric Shaw. The tower mage.


    No man refused her.


    She lifted her gaze to the canopy above, where tangled branches wove a throne of fate—hers to command.


    To Jeozdam. She must find him.


    Chapter 40


    Wholeheartedly Yours >


    I could still feel the scratchy paper under my fingertips, the tiny whispers of memorized lines echoing in my mind. I had read Wholeheartedly Yours in too many places to count—school corridors, dimly lit alleyways, the broken chair at the kitchen table, Harper''s parents'' house…


    And now, I stood in the very land Estelle had once fled across. And for maybe the first time since I came to this world, I could somewhat relate to what she felt in this place.


    The barren earth, the thick brown trunks and their branches that weave an emerald lattice so dense that not a single sliver of sky peeked through. The cave where she would soon save Merinda herself—I already knew what lay ahead.


    The ground beneath my boots was damp, tinged with a wet shade of gray. This large patch of land felt like a safe haven from the looming snowstorm.


    This was the place.


    Alice stood ahead, her dress tattered with dirt, the journey still clinging to her. Her expression was taut, brows slightly raised—waiting for something to go wrong.


    “We should forage. As much as we can. Even if it takes all day,” she said, dropping an empty sack. “We don’t know exactly when the storm will hit, so it’s best to prepare.”


    I shrugged. “Or it''s best to find a ditch to lie in."


    We won''t make it in time anyway.


    Alice’s gaze showed interest in my idea, but then flicked to Freya, who nodded at Alice. “We shall reach Sail before the worst of it, but there’s no harm in stocking up.”


    I tucked my lips in, giving Freya a deliberate nod.


    "Well, at least you’re not being a complete idio—"


    “This is not the time for veiled slander, my lady,” Alice cut in, her tone sharp, almost rehearsed.


    I could hear Truman scratch his head behind me, his attention drifting as usual.


    “I wasn’t being underhanded,” I said flatly.


    “No, she was being pretty direct,” Truman chimed in, clearly zoned out.


    "Yeah," I nodded. "Pretty direct."


    Freya’s glare burned into the side of my head, but she kept quiet, making me smile.


    “Let’s go, shall we?” I chirped, turning to look for Truman. But he wasn’t there. “Where is our only capable—”


    “There.” Alice gestured to the side.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    I glanced over to find Truman crouched among the sparse bushes, pulling something from the earth. When he returned, he opened his palm to reveal a wrinkled, pale-green mushroom.


    “That’s a Mindmire,” Freya noted, eyeing it with caution.


    Truman nodded, his usual easy demeanor unshaken. “We should be careful with what we pick. This place reeks of poison. I can hardly tell which smell belongs to what.”


    I raised an eyebrow. “Even you?”


    Truman nodded, sniffling. “Too many smells, all very strong. Can''t focus." He said.


    I plucked the mushroom from his palm, inspecting it. It wasn’t hard to guess what kind of effect it would have. The way the skin shimmered faintly


    Not what I need.


    I handed it back. “Let’s get moving,” I said, adjusting my bag.


    Everyone split off. Alice searched the trees for saps, Truman, sword in hand, studied them, likely figuring out how to chop them into firewood. I headed toward a bush of hardy berries—which I really only knew about thanks to the book.


    Behind me, Freya’s heavy footsteps pressed closer.


    I crouched over the bush when her raspy voice sliced through the quiet.


    “What did I tell ya?”


    I turned slowly, feigning surprise, pointing to myself as if unsure she was talking to me.


    “Don''t pretend. It makes me sick,” she leaned in just enough to make her presence oppressive.


    I frowned, still crouching, half confused. "What did I even do?"


    She glanced at the bush, then back at me. "Acting all on your own... how do I know you won’t slip in something poisonous, huh?”


    My eyebrows lifted.


    “Why ever would I do that?” I said, voice light. “Yes, I was a fortune teller. A noble, too. And maybe—maybe—I said things that hurt your feelings, Dame Freya. But this hostility? It’s misplaced.”  I leaned in a fraction. “Those weren’t my words, you know... They were the spirits’...” I offered a look of genuine pity.


    Her jaw clenched. I could see it in her eyes—my words stirred something she couldn''t acknowledge. How juvenile.


    “You know nothing of sin, do you?” she asked, mirroring the pitying look I gave her. Freya took in a calm breath and continued. “I shan''t repeat myself. Touch those bushes, and I will make you regret it.” Her fingers rested on the hilt of her sword. “And remember, I only keep your stinking secret because…” A flicker of hesitation, gone in an instant. “We were both nobles. Once.”


    I inclined my head. She wasn''t bluffing. Or she was, I don''t know.


    She stormed off, and I watched her retreat, flexing my hand. Once I was sure she wouldn’t turn around, I reached deeper behind the leaves.


    My fingers brushed something soft. I pulled it out—blue and glowing, the mushroom I needed.


    I tucked it into my coat pocket and dusted myself off.


    Nothing to see here.


    ~


    We were still foraging, and I was bored, waiting for Freya’s vigilance to wane. So, I wandered over to Alice.


    She was kneeling, picking berries.


    “Freya won’t let me help,” I said. “What do you think about that?”


    Alice paused a moment, then replied without looking up. “You’re an adult, my lady. A lazy one, at that. I expected you to be asleep under a tree by now.”


    I folded my arms, watching her drop berries into her worn leather bag.


    “She thinks I’ll poison someone. It''s an unfair assumption." I said, my voice cool. "Who is she to decide that I''m inexperienced?"


    “A full-fledged adventurer. Soon to be knighted.” Alice glanced up at me, tone bored. “She''s more useful than you, my lady.”


    I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes. "Your faith in her is touching... almost too touching. Makes me wonder where your loyalties lie."


    Alice stood, dusting her hands off. “I only doubt those who doubt themselves.” She met my gaze, unblinking. “And you.”


    I raised an eyebrow. “Me?”


    Her gaze sharpened, edged with something between anger and some obsessive desire to remain calm. "It makes me want to laugh that you can call her a stranger." She said, with no trace of a smile on her face.


    My eyebrow twitched, but I swallowed the surprise.


    Alice is onto some serious stuff. Makes me both happy and nervous.


    I stepped back, my smile reaching my eyes as I murmured. “I stand unconvinced."


    Alice exhaled sharply against my reaction, but her body seemed to decompress. “Apologies. I forgot we needed your approval to function, my lady,” she rolled her eyes and crouched back down, revealing something behind her.


    Freya''s basket. Unguarded.


    And Freya herself, climbing a tree, focused on tearing off a chunk of sap.


    My fingers curled around the mushroom in my pocket. "Well, I''ll leave you to think about me and our conversation," I said, strolling toward Freya and her basket.


    I swallowed, quiet, steady.


    The wind howled softly as I glimpsed inside her basket—berries, herbs, red-spotted mushrooms, and the blue mushroom breed Estelle''s maid once confused with the Stemley in my pocket.


    I glanced up at Freya, who was focused on tearing away a chunk of sap, her grip tense as she balanced against the branches, when I realized there was another type of mushroom in her basket.


    Mindmire?


    What in the world could she be planning?


    ~