To Live Among Wolves (Legends of Arcadia Book 1)

Chapter 4

“Your family will be looking for you, child.”

“My name is Eden,” I corrected him.

“I know you, Eden.” He smiled, his parted lips displaying rows of white teeth.

“Iain.” The name sounded familiar on my tongue despite how little I spoke it.

The wolf-man smiled again. Tilting his head to the side, human hair shifted across his shoulders. “You are afraid?”

The same question I had been asking myself. Why was I afraid this time? What changed in the past fifteen years? This encounter in the forest had been a different wolf. It hadn’t been Iain with his dusty red coat. Maybe it was one of the wolf pups I had met that day. What were their names?

The scent of moss and tree sap woke me from my fuzzy dreams… or were they memories?

The sound of birdsong drifted through branches.

Myehh. Myehh. Chek-chek-chek.

Gray Catbird.

I opened my eyes, shielding them from the bright afternoon light streaming through the live branches that made up a roof-like covering. Everything faded to orange from the mix of leaves and pine straw, casting the world in a golden glow. The forest seemed different, like winter and autumn had backed up several steps, allowing the end of summer to take over once again.

Am I dead?

I pushed myself to my elbows, the action causing my stomach to turn. Pain radiated from my head, sending nauseating waves through my body.

Not dead.

Bringing a hand up to my hairline, I hissed in pain. Something crusted, crumbly, and green fell in my hands. I rolled it between my fingers, eyebrows furrowing.

Even sitting, I felt lightheaded and dizzy. Pressure built up on the right side of my forehead, causing a sharp ache behind my eye. Injured at the least and concussed at the worst.

But decidedly not dead.

So where am I?

I sat on an odd, cot-like thing in a room with thick hedges for walls and living tree branches for the ceiling. A wooden wardrobe stood to the left, covered in a leafy pattern. To my right, a nightstand hosted a wooden mug. I picked it up. After an experimental sniff and sip, I guess it would most likely be water. And I was parched.

I drained the mug in a few gulps and noticed a small table with two chairs sitting further to the right. Fresh wildflowers in a clay vase decorated the table, like columbine and bluebells.

My mind flitted to Wendy living with the Lost Boys, her home and clearing decorated with bluebells and lilies. Magical, and completely impossible.

Spring wildflowers in late autumn? This is like Neverland.

Stumbling, I made my way over to the wardrobe. The soft wood felt warm to the touch, even the intricate carvings. It reminded me of things I’d read in books as a child. A cursory glance revealed that there would be no lamppost or lions.

Pulling open the door, I found silk robes in several colors, faded dresses, a pair of pants, and a matching plain brown shirt.

What is this place?

I closed the door and turned around, surveying the room—if you could even call it that. The structure consisted of plants, and I couldn’t spot a single bit of metal or plastic. I noticed a wooden door tucked inside of the hedges, hidden among the branches.

Still dizzy, I stumbled towards it. I placed my ear against it, trying to hear any kind of sound. Warmth radiated from the wood like the wardrobe, soothing against my sore skin. I’d been bruised in several places, but that wasn’t my main concern. I was alive in a strange forest room, and I needed to find my way out.

I tried the handle. Locked.

My heart pounded as I observed the plants that made up the walls. They were too thick to see through, and thorns were threaded through them, like a rose bush.

This is a prison cell.

I inhaled several measured breaths. Losing my head and breaking down wouldn’t help the situation.

My mind flashed back to the massive wolf that I’d run from, tumbling down the hill.

Is that why I dreamt of Iain?

Did I finally find them again?

The rattling of keys caught my attention when the door handle jiggled. I took three steps back to be a safe distance from whatever stood on the other side of that door. I grabbed the empty mug from the table, the only thing within sight I could use in self defense.

As if I could bludgeon a wolf to death with a wooden cup.

Gliding into my cell, a dark-skinned man swished towards me, draped in a light blue robe in a similar style to the ones hung in the wardrobe.

“Welcome, young one, to Arcadia!” The man smiled, arms outstretched to me. “My name is Bennett. How did you sleep?”

I hesitated, unsure what Arcadia was or what this guy could be capable of. If my suspicions were correct, he probably wasn’t as tame as he seemed.

“Fine,” I said.

He tucked his hands back into a prayer position. “Excellent. I’ve come to retrieve you for your council with the King. You’ll need a robe, of course.”

“I’m sorry, did you say king?” I shook my head, knowing I must’ve hit my head way harder than I thought.

Bennett’s smile faltered. “Are you not the researcher?”

My heart sank when I turned. I lost my backpack full of my studies. My journal full of drawings and observations… gone. All my research, all my sketches, everything I did in my spare time had disappeared.

And someone else had it.

“Ahem.” Bennett drew my attention back. “You must be wanting your things. You may have them back after the council with the King.”

I ran my fingers through my tangled curls with my free hand, trying to quell the anxiety building in my chest.

“Your robe, young one.” Bennett stepped over to the wardrobe and pulled out a beige robe.

I dropped the empty mug onto the bed and took the robe from him, sliding it off the wooden hanger. Wrapping it over my shoulders, I tied it once on the inside by my right hip over my leggings and once again on the outside by my left hip. The bell sleeves hung low and wide, and I instantly felt like someone from all the fantasy movies I loved so much.

“Your, um… shoes?” He stared at my feet.

“What about them?”

He motioned to them. “You’re walking on sacred ground. It is imperative you connect with Arcadia through the soil. We respect Arcadia in that way.”

With a sigh, I unlaced my boots, setting them next to the wardrobe with my socks. The mossy floor cooled my bare skin.

“Thank you. Follow me!” the man commanded, leading me through the door out of my prison cell.

I wasn’t sure what I had expected, since I’d only been awake for a few minutes, but a sunlit path of rocks and pine straw between walls of trees surprised me, like stepping into a dream. A few people stood around, watching us. They were dressed in similar robes, all different kinds of colors. Beige like mine, deep violet, various hues of forest greens, forget-me-not blue, cardinal red, pale ivory, and everything in between. Among them walked a handful of massive wolves like the one I had seen, but none of them looked familiar.

None of them were Iain.

“This way, young one.” Bennett moved his arm in front of him, leading me down a less populated path, less pine straw as well.

Not that I deserved any special treatment, but his calling me by the title young one didn’t make me like him. And his graceful gliding didn’t help either. I, the picture of an absolute fool, stumbled around on sensitive, bare feet.

We arrived at a crossroads of sorts where a few paths diverged. He chose the most narrow but well-maintained path, lined with stone instead of pine needles. My feet ached on the chilled rock.

The trees growing around weren’t a planned forest; rather, they looked ancient and mystical, dressed in moss and lichen. Something like an old-growth forest. It smelled like springtime, reminding me of the fresh flowers in my prison cell.

How impossible.

After a few more twists and turns, we approached the end of the path and a set of wooden double doors, like the wardrobe. A silver-colored robe hung from a hook next to them, but there wasn’t anything else of note nearby. A thick wall of the same thorny plants guarded whatever lay behind them.

Exactly like my prison cell.

Is this entire place a prison of the forest?

At the doors, Bennett stopped, inhaling deeply. He whispered something under his breath only for the wind to know before opening the wide doors.

A rush of summery air blew my hair over my shoulders as light blinded me from the clearing. Blinking a few times, I made out several rows of people—maybe thirty or forty in total, young and old with all shades of skin and robes of many colors—watching me with sharp eyes. At the farthest wall of the forest glade, a throne of moss and wood sat, like it had been carved out of a large, old tree stump. And a young man perched in the chair, twisted vines sitting on his head like a crown, a stark contrast to his silver robes.

He seemed so familiar that it stopped me in my tracks. Something in my memories vied for attention, trying to uncover an image from my dreams after being woken from a deep sleep. The recall felt groggy, like trudging through a mud-covered trail.

The young man—somewhere around my age—squinted at me, his lips quirking up on the left side. The way he sat unmoving in his seat made my skin crawl. He had all the self-confidence and no friendliness.

Some king.

Bennett nudged me forward until I stood before the foot of the wooden throne. The stiff king gazed down at me.

“You will kneel before the King of Arcadia,” my guide commanded.

Glancing up at the king through my lashes, I knelt. I prayed that all the princess movies I had watched growing up helped me seem at least somewhat less ignorant than I was.

What an embarrassment.

The king tilted his head to the side like a curious dog, furrowing his eyebrows. In the process, he stepped down from the throne and circled me. I kept my eyes down and body still, noticing how the floor wasn’t grass like I thought, but stone hiding under a layer of forest. I also watched his bare feet, dirty and calloused. His toes were long and straight, remarkably different from mine.

Who were these forest people? And what was this kingdom, Arcadia?

The king knelt before me with speed, striking green eyes boring into mine. Something almost tangible burned inside of him. It took effort to hold his gaze for long. I turned my head down again, swallowing my fear. I’d never been in a situation where I had no control, and it humbled me.

Terrified me.

“Eden.” His rough tenor voice broke the dead silence of the glade.

Heart pounding, I glanced up at him. His face revealed nothing.

How does he know my name?

My mind raced with questions, but now wasn’t the time to ask.

The king’s eyes roamed over my features, causing the hair on my neck to stand on end. I couldn’t tell if he assessed me or merely observed.

“How have you liked your room?” he asked, his voice startling me once again. I swear it reverberated between my ribs.

I met his gaze. “It’s been acceptable, your highness.”

I’d be the first to admit that I’ve never been one to stand up to speak in front of a crowd. Having any attention had always been unwanted. But having someone’s undivided attention unnerved me. A flash of something wild shifted behind his eyes, and I regretted glancing back up. Almost like it rested under his skin, begging to come out.

“The lock was precautionary. We didn’t need you getting lost in these unfamiliar woods, seeing as you took a tumble yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” I repeated.

He nodded. His dark hair had been swept back and held by his crown, but pieces had slipped out, dangling in front of his eyes. I had the strangest desire to tuck them back into place, and I cursed myself for it.

“You were rescued yesterday afternoon.” He shifted his jaw. “Our head Healer, Asa, began working to staunch the bleeding and try to limit your symptoms from the trauma your head received.”

I lifted a hand to the right side of my head where the green, crumbly substance stuck to my hair.

“You’ll probably be lightheaded for a day or so,” he said, a hint of disdain in his voice, “so I’ll try not to interrogate you too much.”

“Interrogate me?”

Maybe I’d hit my head harder than I thought, but I had trouble keeping up. As the king stood, Bennett pulled me to my feet.

“This human,” the king addressed the crowd now in a commanding voice, “has information that poses a potential threat for the exposure of Arcadia to the outside world.”

“What?” The accusation stunned me.

Am I being sentenced to prison? Or to death?

Murmurs of assent rippled among the crowd.

Bennett stepped back, and a man and a woman grabbed hold of each of my wrists.

“You can’t do this!” I said while they pulled my hands behind my back. I shook my shoulders, trying to yank them free. “There are laws.”

“Your laws mean nothing here.” The king growled, and his eyes grew dark.

“That’s what you think, your majesty,” I said.

He stepped towards me. “Will your people come searching for you? Will they break through our centuries-old defenses? Will they be relentless and overturn every rock, attempting every possible solution, including magic and wildcraft and brute force? Won’t they give up long before that moment, believing your body to be lost to the great Appalachian Mountains, Shaconage? Won’t they add your name to a long list of missing faces from years past that the Great Mountain swallowed?”

His words weighed my stomach like a millstone in the sea. All of my hope of rescue or returning to normal civilization was dashed to the stones all at once. People went missing in these hills and hollers nearly every year. What made me any different?

The king came within an inch or so, close enough for me to catch the scent of some tree or plant on his skin. His eyes roamed my face before settling on my eyes. “Or wouldn’t you rather stay here in this place you’ve searched for all these years? It is, after all, a wild place.”

He must have my journal.

The thought of this man rifling through my studies made my face hot. There weren’t sensitive topics, but I had put my heart and soul into creating this encyclopedia of sorts. It meant so much to me, this search for werewolves. It had become my identity.

And he saw all of it.

When I said nothing, he mumbled, “I thought so.”

He started to turn away, but I didn’t know where I stood. I didn’t know what crime he charged me for, and I worried that my silence would seal my fate.

“Please,” I called out.

“Please what?” he bit back, turning his head to face me.

“I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“You have too much valuable information. It’s important that this place remains a secret, and you know too much. And you wouldn’t be of much use to me.”

“Try me.”

I saw a light flash in the king’s eyes. Then he turned to face me, raising his eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?”

A jolt of fear rippled over my skin, goose flesh covering my limbs. It must’ve been some primal reaction to a threat. He stepped back, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip, eyeing me and sizing me up.

A young woman with honey-blonde hair stepped forward, her robe matching the king’s silvery one. “Are you sure this is wise?”

The king threw her a sharp glance. “Caroline, I think she underestimates us.”

“I don’t believe–” The young woman stopped mid-sentence, gaze turning to the opening doors.

I craned my neck to see past the people holding onto me. A very naked man waltzed in the room, pulling on the silver robe I’d seen hanging by the door, one matching the king and this woman. The newcomer’s loose curls hung past his chin, an image I had seen before, one I’d dreamed of for years, desperate not to forget. For a moment, my mind flashed to that day on the riverbank with Iain, my guardian werewolf.

But the man coming down the aisle now wasn’t Iain. He looked too young.

“Nash,” the king breathed.

Realization dawned on me.

Caroline . . . Nash. These are Iain’s pups.

My gaze flew to the king’s, and my heart skipped a beat. Silas. The cold-hearted king standing before me was the one who had ensured I returned to my family all those years ago.

“Wonderful! A welcoming committee! What did I miss?” Nash finished buttoning his robe and clapped his hands, rubbing them together. The crowd murmured, and Nash noticed me for the first time, still held back by the two guards. “And who might you be?”

He came altogether too close for my liking, breath tickling the hairs on the side of my neck. He looked me up and down, taking a deep, measured breath. Tilting his head sideways, he stared at me through his eyelashes.

Without turning his face away, he asked, “Brother, why is it that you have a human in Arcadia?”

The king—Silas—huffed. “I’m afraid you’ve missed quite a lot in the time you’ve been gone.”

That flash of wild I had seen in Silas had been replaced with white-hot emotion, boiling under the surface. Anger emanated from him, and many of the crowd reflected it as well.

And the thought occurred to me, if Silas wore the crown, what happened to Iain? Surely he would still be king unless something terrible happened.

“Where is Father?” Nash asked, moving away from me. “I’d like to speak with him. And why are you wearing his crown?” Nash craned his neck around the throne as if Iain would be hiding behind it.

Something is wrong. Something strange is going on here.

“Nash.” Caroline stepped forward, laying a hand on his shoulder. She lowered her voice to a murmur that I could barely hear. “Can we talk in private, please?”

Nash glanced between his siblings.

Silas swallowed, never taking his eyes off of Nash, but addressed the crowd. “Council adjourned. We will decide the human’s fate tomorrow.” Turning back towards me, he said, “Bennett, take her to Mender’s Heath. Check her wounds again. Feed her. I’m sure she’s hungry.”

With that, Bennett led me back down the path. The double doors closed behind me, cutting off my view of Silas as he sank back down on his throne, shoulders weighed by something immensely heavy.

Whatever I stumbled upon, I wasn’t welcome, and I had a bad feeling about all of it.