“I am aware. What is your price?” Mouse growled.
The sun reflected off the windows. Shards of light fell onto Thornwood’s face, illuminating his eyes.
“The interior will cost you a finger.”
Mouse swallowed. “What?”
“This project will require many steps. For the interior, I would need your finger.”
“Why?”
“I find it so odd that humans must always ask why. Why is the sun out in the day and the moon out at night?”
Mouse felt her chin jut. “Why do you need my finger for your magic?”
“Fine. If you must know, I will need the bone for the structural elements and the flesh for the ornamentation. It must be yours or the spell will not work.”
She held her hands up to her eyes. “Will I be able to pick which finger?”
“I don’t see why not. It won’t make much of a difference.”
“And will it hurt?”
The Faerie’s expression softened. “No, it will not hurt,” he said. “Mind you, it may ache for a few days or when the weather turns, but you’ll hardly notice most days.”
“How quickly could your work on Thistlemarsh be done? I only have a month.”
“We will finish by then, but if you want it done faster, the price will be higher.”
Mouse clenched her fist. She focused on the brush of her little finger over her palm.
“No,” she said. “As long as it’s done.”
The Faerie shrugged. “As you like it.”
“Won’t people notice the change?”
“If we were doing it overnight, then guests might. We may need an additional spell to disguise the work, but since we are taking things so slowly, it is unlikely they will notice.”
“We don’t have guests here anyway,” Mouse said.
“Do you agree to my price?” Thornwood asked. His voice was steady, and his eyebrow raised.
“Why are you helping me?” Mouse asked. “You must get more out of this than a mortal’s finger.”
“You freed me from my enchantment.”
“We both know that is not the full reason.”
“Isn’t it reason enough? How badly do you want to save Thistlemarsh?”
Mouse let out a shaky breath. It was true; she needed Thornwood. Roger needed Thornwood. She did not trust him, of course, but what other choice did she have?
She held out her hand. “Yes, I agree. You may take my little finger.”
Thornwood’s eyes flashed with animal fierceness, and the air grew heavy, constricting around her lungs and her pinky.
The magic lifted as quickly as it came. Mouse dragged her hand up before her eyes, terrified and sure that she would find a bloody stump. She gasped.