The Forest King’s Daughter

18

Every Dracu has two faces: one beautiful, and one true.

—E XCHARIAS, S YLVAN POET

C ASSIA LEFT THE CASTLE BEFORE MIDNIGHT, MORE than ready to leave Welkincaster. Not, she told herself, that she was fleeing Zeru after what had happened in the ballroom. No, she was eager to get home and show her family what she’d learned about the ring. As she walked the neat path to the clearing, passing green, lush trees on the way, it gave her a sweet sense of accomplishment to have restored the forest to a state of health. Or perhaps a bittersweet one. It was almost certain she would never see the Welkinwood again.

She would have preferred to return home with the amulet. She should have stolen it instead of trying to use it while Zeru was wearing it. She kept remembering the look in his eyes, the way his head had bent toward hers, how he’d seemed so trusting until he’d realized what she was doing. She forced a sharp breath, angry with herself, not only for the failure but because she couldn’t help feeling as if she’d done something wrong.

He had thrown her off balance, almost making her question her purpose with the ring. It was time to leave this place behind, along with her doubts.

When she reached the clearing, Aril was already waiting, the tops of his wings visible behind his shoulders, his hair ruffled by a strong breeze, even in the protected haven.

She smiled at him as she approached. “Windy tonight.”

“Yes,” he said in his rough voice. “Might be too windy to fly.”

She frowned. “No, it’s not. We’re going.”

Although she spoke with confidence, she didn’t know what she’d do if he refused. When Aril nodded in agreement, she let out a relieved breath.

They prepared as they always did, his arms going around her as she hung on with both hands. She shivered as she felt his warmth at her back, drawing comfort from his familiar strength.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his head bent toward hers. “I wish you would change your mind.”

“I’m sure.” Once she was home in Scarhamm, she could put any doubts behind her.

Aril took off as before, the force of his jump launching them to the treetops. But a northerly gust gripped them as soon as they left the shelter of the trees, an updraft lifting them higher while he fought to control their trajectory. As they steadied, Cassia looked around.

The moon rose above the castle, painting its alabaster exterior silver-bright in a velvet, indigo sky. The four gold-tipped spires, so pretty in the sunshine, became sword points, reminding her of the spikes where her father displayed Dracu heads. Mist frothed over the edges of the welkin, sparkling and ghostly. Beyond the boundary, dark skies stretched into forever.

“Don’t get too near the castle,” she cautioned, even as the wind steered them closer. A candle was burning in the library window, and she didn’t want Zeru to see them. Aril’s wings pumped furiously, but instead of leaving the castle behind, they were heading for it.

“Not that way!” Cassia said worriedly.

He didn’t respond, flying to one of the towers and alighting on its spire. There was hardly any room to stand, only a small flat square at the top where the pennant was secured. As Aril turned to face her, Cassia hung on to the pole in desperation.

“What are we doing up here?” she asked, her pulse slamming. Something was not right. Aril wouldn’t even look at her. “You’re supposed to take me home. Down to the lower mainland.”

“Am I?”

The wind gusted, nearly taking her off her feet. “Yes! You agreed.”

“Maybe I lied.”

Her breath caught. Aril had never spoken to her like that. His strong arms, his raspy voice, his forest-laden scent. She knew him. But he wasn’t himself.

She shivered from cold and fear. “Explain this. Why did you bring me up here?”

He furled his wings behind him, staring down at her from so close, and yet he seemed as far away as the stars behind him. “You wished it.”

“I definitely did not.”

“You wished me to remember. Cassia. Look at me.”

Her eyes snapped to his. The light was so much brighter atop the spire, delineating his features. It was the first time she’d had a clear look at him.

And what she saw made her feel as if she were falling through the air with no one to catch her.

It wasn’t possible. She turned her head away while her stomach crawled into her throat.

“You know who I am,” he said, his voice so forceful it shook her to her core.

Her eyes filled with tears as she fought the oncoming storm of recognition. “You told me yourself. You’re Aril.”

“An aril is a part of a seed, Cassia. For some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t remember my own name, but when I looked at you, I remembered the parts of a seed. You taught them to me when we were children. Don’t you remember?”

Her breath came in little gasps as she pressed her face to the cold metal of the flagpole. She did remember. She wished she didn’t.

“I grew up in darkness underground,” he said. “I had no need for wings. But when we came up here, into the clouds, I transformed. Every night, I’ve taken this shape. Every day, I’ve returned to myself. The one had no memory of the other until you put your hands on my face and wished me to remember who I was.” He dipped his head closer to her, his hair lifted off his face by the wind. “How could you not recognize me?”

She shook her head, denying, disbelieving, ashamed at missing all the signs. Rather than accepting his identity, she felt like she was looking at a stranger. “It was dark. You have wings. No horns.” She forced herself to really look at him, noting that his features hadn’t changed as much as she’d thought. His winged form had more muscle, which added to the impression of height. But she said defensively, “You have markings on your face. You’re larger. Your voice is rougher. Softer.” She shook her head. It was more than that. Aril’s demeanor had been so open.

Without seeing him clearly, how could she have known it was Zeru?

“You didn’t want to see,” he said scathingly, the rasp in his voice more pronounced. “Because you wanted to use me.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. “You think I’d just wait around for you to figure out a way to take my ring? Put yourself in my place!”

“I tried to find common ground with you yesterday. What a warm reception my attempts received.”

“Common ground? You realized you can’t get the ring, so you were trying to win me over onto your side. As if I’d ever trust you.”

“Then you are the clever one, Sylvan.” His talon jabbed toward his own chest, a breeze lifting his dark hair. “As Aril, I trusted you. If you knew what I’d have been willing to do for you. How I waited for you with breathless anticipation, how I hung on your every word.” His laugh was so bitter it made her want to put her hands over her ears, but she was gripping the flagpole for dear life. “I should have known you only meant to use me to escape. You taught me the same lesson when we were children, but I didn’t remember enough to avoid the same mistake. I’ll remember now, though. Never trust a Sylvan.”

“I trusted you as Aril! I told you everything, about my home, my family! And what did I ever do to you as a child?” Rattled by his claims about the depths of his feelings, she leaped on the unfairness of his accusations. “What have I ever done to you?”

His eyes burned green fire. “You. Lied. You said you’d meet me every full moon. You were the one who didn’t show up after the night I gave you the ring. I returned for you every full moon for a year.”

Surprise silenced her. A whole year? She felt a pulse of sympathy for that boy who had come to meet her again and again, only to be disappointed, likely at great risk to himself after everything that had happened. But a memory of how broken she’d been rose up to strengthen her. “Did you really think I’d go back into Thirstwood alone? Aside from the fact that my older sisters watched me like birds of prey, it took weeks for my wounds to heal, years to stop having nightmares. I was terrified of my own forest!”

He took a shuddering breath, the sound almost lost amid the wind and the whipping of the flag above their heads. “I was scared, too. But I never forgot you, Cassia. Not like you forgot me. And you used a gift I gave you in friendship to help destroy my people.”

His bitterness tore at her, but she couldn’t let it break her down. She had been right to forget him. How she wished she could believe she’d forget him a second time. A wave of painful loss tore through her like a blade that sliced from her neck to her chest. Aril wasn’t real. He didn’t exist. She had lost the one friend she’d thought she had. Not that she would show her grief to him. “That’s the part that really bothers you, isn’t it? The fact that I tried to forget you.”

He looked deep into her eyes and enunciated with harsh and perfect clarity, “Yes. You were my only friend. And suddenly, after one mistake, you were gone.”

“How could we ever have remained friends after that?”

He swallowed. “I don’t know.”

They stared at each other, her heart aching. For a second, she was that little girl who wandered into the vastness of Thirstwood to search for her tree and found a friend to ease her fears.

Only in this new scenario, her friend despised her.

“I had no choice but to embrace the role I was given,” she said, coming back to the one truth she knew for certain. “You said you understood that.”

His smile held no warmth and little humor. “You were a child when you first wore the ring. I understand why you did what he wanted then.” He looked away from her, showing his profile against the moon. “But now that you know what the ring is, you have choices, Cassia. Your whole life is about trying to please your father. You choose that above all other things.”

He didn’t understand. Her mother was gone, her absence like quicksand that constantly threatened to pull Cassia under. Her father at least paid attention to her, had cared enough to push her to master her power. Making him proud was a need, a desperate wish she had never been able to ignore. But she wouldn’t bare that wound for anyone’s scrutiny. And who was he to judge her after all he’d done? “I don’t regret trying to live up to my potential,” she said, the ache of betrayal making her add, “My only regret right now is not being able to slit your throat.” In that moment, she meant it.

“What’s stopping you?” He nodded to his dagger at her waist.

“I’m so slow, you could eat a meal before catching my wrist, remember?”

“Tell you what. If you can do it, you deserve to keep the ring. If you use my dagger on me, I’ll finally admit you are Deathringer in truth.” His nostrils flared, his anger palpable, his fingers white where they gripped the flagpole. “And I’ll let you go home.”

“A bargain?” Her eyes widened at the offer. It was lavish in its terms. Everything she wanted. Did he realize he’d be bound by it?

“A bargain. My word will have to suffice this time. No blood unless you spill mine with your own hand.”

Her pulse beat wild in her own ears. “And how will you fly me home once I’ve stabbed you?”

“You’re forgetting the amulet,” he said. “If I will it, it’ll work. Selkolla said the doorway can lead into Thirstwood. I only need to imagine a spot I know well.”

She swallowed, frustrated that she wasn’t thinking clearly. He had her turned upside down. “And… you’ll give me the amulet?”

“No. The amulet is mine.”

“What good is it to you?” she asked irritably. “You can’t use it without the ring.”

“Maybe I want a keepsake. And I don’t need to use it with the ring to get home. I have wings, Cassia.”

She snarled up at him, more furious than ever. “Which won’t help you much once I’ve gutted you.”

“Are you worrying about me?” he mocked. Reminding her he didn’t think she could do it. “I’ll make this easier on you.” He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek. “I heal faster in this form. One night when I was learning to fly, I crashed to the ground and broke my leg. By the next night, it had healed.”

“It’s not as sporting if you recover that quickly,” she said, relieved at his claim, shivering from his closeness despite herself. Escape was at hand. She just had to hurt him.

He reached slowly, carefully down her body, his hand moving over her arm and to her waist, eliciting a sharp breath from her. But then she felt the cool metal in her palm and realized what he was doing. Handing her the dagger.

Her eyes squeezed shut as she gripped the hilt, her other hand grasping the flagpole. She had to do this. Had to prove it to him. It would get her home. She opened her eyes and stared at his chest. The dark fabric of his shirt rippled in the wind. The amulet’s chain glinted on his neck. Its magic would work as soon as she upheld her end of the deal.

“Unsure of your target?” he asked silkily. He ripped the edges of his collar apart. “This better?”

His neck was corded muscle leading into strong shoulders and a firm chest. She had a sudden, startling urge to put her lips to his collarbone. Feelings she’d had for Aril and denied herself because he’d been a lost spirit and she’d have to leave him. Feelings she had briefly and shamefully succumbed to in the ballroom for Zeru. She shook her head to clear it. Stupidity. Folly of the worst kind. Unforgivable distraction. Focus on the bargain. On the opportunity. On the fact that he was her greatest enemy.

“What are you waiting for, Sylvan?” he rasped. “A written invitation?”

Her throat felt thick, her eyes starting to run. Cursèd wind. “Stop telling me to do it.”

“Do this now or accept that you’ll lose the ring to me.”

“I won’t. You have no way to take it,” she said confidently.

“Are you sure about that? Sure of your truth?” His hand came to her cheek, turning her face to his.

Her lips parted. She knew he was manipulating her, but her heart drummed faster, and her skin warmed at his touch. “Yes.”

His palm found her nape, resting there possessively as his fingers tangled in her hair. Her eyes closed. When she felt his lips on her forehead, she couldn’t breathe. His lips were dry and warm and soft, sliding from one side of her forehead to the other, then down her cheek. She wanted to press him closer.

“So sure of yourself?” he whispered. His breath was like poplar fluff against her skin, light and tickling. His lips settled under her ear against her pulse, and her knees went weak. She wasn’t sure of anything. She’d lost track of everything except the feel of him. The pennant pole was between them, providing the only source of sanity available. She gripped it as if it would keep her safe from the onslaught of sensations.

“Tell me you hate me,” he said, his breath feathering against her neck. “Tell me, Sylvan. If it’s true.”

“I hate…,” she said. Her throat closed, pain shearing through her at the thought of the lie. She blurted a truth to escape that pain. “Turnips.”

He laughed, a low vibration against her neck where his lips were trailing. In a deft movement, he took her by the shoulders and turned her so the pole was at her back, his arm around her. There was hardly any room to stand, so his hips were against hers, his feet braced on either side. His lips hadn’t left her throat. She was leaning her head back, inviting him closer. The hand with the dagger fell to her side, and the hand with the ring found the back of his head. She was all fire and honey, turned inside out with need. How had this happened? It had to be the magic of this place.

She turned her face up to his, giving in to her yearning. “Kiss me, Dracu.”

His eyes were as dark as the sky as his head bent and his lips met hers. Hard pressure, soft lips. She returned the pressure with abandon, her head spinning with an off-kilter joy. She made a noise in her throat, a kind of quiet keening. How could she not respond when it felt so good? He took her hand from his hair and placed it against his chest. Hard muscle against her soft palm. Her fingers convulsed fretfully, wanting to touch more of him.

Then she felt his touch on her ring finger. A clang of warning sounded in her mind, but it took a moment to get through the fog of pleasure. “What…”

The ring moved all the way to her knuckle before her reflexes kicked in. “No!”

She curled her hand into a fist that she held to her chest. She looked down to make sure the ring was still on her finger. It was. Relief made her sag against the pennant pole. But the ring had moved! She looked up at Zeru, aghast. His eyes were dark, only a thin rim of green showing around his dilated pupils. She felt a scream climb in her throat.

“How?” she could barely whisper the word.

“Gutel explained it that day in the library,” he said, his voice as breathless and uneven as hers. “The ring… can be given if a bond between two people is strong enough. I’ve proven that we have a bond, Cassia. And that a part of you wants to be free of the burden of the ring.”

Her throat closed, horror pouring through her veins like cold poison. “You tricked me.”

“I’m merely using the opportunities given to me. Your denial is like a wall I can’t break through. I think you feel things for me, even if you don’t want to—”

No no no. She couldn’t listen to any more. “What happened in the ballroom…” Had he been manipulating her with all his warm looks and soft words? Had the moments she had been lost to sensation been calculated to weaken her? “It was all a ploy,” she said finally. And waited for him to deny it.

He wore a furious, accusing expression she didn’t understand, but it was wiped clean in a heartbeat. “You’re right about that, at least. None of this was real.”

Something died inside of her. “Then let me end this with some truth.”

For the first time in weeks, she used the knife-training skills she’d so diligently honed. Her movement was quick, her strength unhesitating. There was a horrible moment of resistance when the dagger sank into his flesh. His body jerked, his eyes rounding as they stared uncomprehending into hers. His gasp was whisked away by the wind. She saw white and shook her head to clear it.

“Keep to your bargain, Dracu.” She pulled the dagger from his side and put it back in its sheath, her stomach roiling. His face was as pale as stone. She felt cold. And more alone than she ever had before.

For a second, she thought he might fall. She grabbed his arm, holding him until he wrapped an arm around the pennant pole for support. Now he was bound to send her home. All he had to do was will the amulet to work, and the Solis Gemma would unlock it. In moments, a doorway would open, and she would step through it. She felt, somehow, as if she already had.

“Better fly down from here while you can,” she said, putting her ring to the amulet with a shaking hand. “At dawn, your pretty little wings will fade away.”

A swirl of color and light appeared inches from her face, a doorway opening. The trees of Thirstwood shimmered beyond the veil.

“Cassia…,” Zeru said, his lips pale.

“Deathringer,” she said, though her stomach heaved. “Say it.”

His head bowed, whether from pain or in acknowledgment, she couldn’t tell. “Deathringer. If that’s what you choose.”

“I chose a long time ago.” Without another word, Cassia stepped through the portal.