Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
The knock on her door came too early, barely past dawn. Briar groaned into her pillow, body still aching from the previous night’s activities.
"Up," Eliam's voice carried through the door. "We leave in twenty minutes."
"Leave?" She sat up too quickly, wincing as her muscles groaned in protest. "Where are we going?"
The door opened without invitation and he strode in already dressed for travel. Dark leathers instead of court finery and a cloak lined with soft furs. He looked more like a warrior rather than a king.
His eyes tracked over her disheveled state with satisfaction. "Malachar left us a parting gift. The Silverwood River is frozen solid."
"So?"
"So," he said with exaggerated patience, "the Silverwood feeds half the forest's eastern groves. Without its flow, they'll start dying within days." He moved to her wardrobe, rifling through the gossamer nothings with increasing irritation. "Do you have anything practical?"
"You're the one who chooses my clothes."
"An oversight I'm regretting." He pulled out dress after dress, each more revealing than the last. "You can't traverse the forest in silk and wishful thinking."
"I could stay here."
"No." The word was final. “Malachar has proven himself a fool and the only thing more dangerous than a fool is one whose pride has been wounded. You're staying where I can see you." He abandoned her wardrobe with a sound of disgust. "Useless."
He strode to the door, spoke to someone in the corridor, then turned back to her. "Can you ride?"
"Ride what?" She gestured vaguely. "We have cars where I come from. Four wheels, internal combustion engines, air conditioning—you know, civilized transportation."
His mouth twitched, almost a smile. "Horses, Briar. Can you ride a horse?"
"Oh." Heat crept up her neck. "I mean, I went on a pony ride once when I was seven. Does that count?"
"It does not." He looked pained. "We'll have to double up then. Try not to fall off."
Moments later, a servant appeared with an armful of clothing.
"These should fit," Eliam said, taking the bundle. "Get dressed. Quickly."
She stared at what he'd procured. Leather trousers. A thick, fitted tunic. A traveling cloak. Actual boots. All in shades of forest green and brown.
"These are... normal clothes."
"Don't get used to it," he said curtly. "I simply can't have you freezing to death before we arrive. Corpses are tedious to transport."
But there was something odd in his expression as he watched her touch the practical fabrics. Like he wasn't entirely sure why he'd ordered them either.
"You have fifteen minutes," he said, heading for the door. "Don't make me dress you myself."
"Why are you taking me?" she called after him. "Wouldn't it be easier to go alone?"
He paused at the threshold. "Malachar's magic is... unpredictable. If something goes wrong, I need to know where you are. Not wondering what mischief you're getting into while I'm gone."
It was almost believable. If she hadn't caught the way his hand flexed at his side, the slight tension in his shoulders.
"Besides," he added without turning, "you need to understand the consequences when other lords play games in my territory. Consider it... educational."
Then he was gone, leaving her to stare at clothes that actually covered skin. Practical, warm clothes that someone might wear who wasn't just decorative property.
She dressed quickly, marveling at the feel of proper fabric. The leather trousers fit perfectly and the tunic was soft as butter. When she pulled on the boots, she nearly moaned at having proper footwear instead of delicate slippers.
"Better," Eliam said when she emerged. His gaze swept over her, and something flickered in his expression. "You look..."
"Dressed?"
"Different." He turned abruptly. "Come. We're wasting daylight."
The walk through the castle felt strange. Servants stared openly, she'd never been seen in anything but revealing gowns. Even the guards did double-takes.
"They're confused," Eliam noted, sounding amused. "They've never seen you as anything but ornamental."
"And whose fault is that?"
"Mine," he said easily. "But today you need to be functional. The forest paths are treacherous, and ice makes them worse."
They entered the courtyard where two horses waited—though 'horses' seemed insufficient for the creatures before her.
Their coats appeared dappled at first glance, but as they shifted, she realized the patterns moved like living shadows across their hides, dark bleeding into light in ways that hurt her eyes to follow.
Antlers sprouted from their foreheads where horns might grow, branching into wicked points that looked carved from ancient bone.
Their builds were powerful yet elegant, with feathering at their hooves that seemed to drift like smoke.
When one turned to look at her, its eyes held too much intelligence, too much knowing, and she stepped back instinctively.
When one turned to look at her, its eyes held too much intelligence, too much knowing, and she stepped back instinctively.
"They won't hurt you," Eliam said, approaching the larger of the two creatures. "Probably."
"Probably?" She gestured at the second mount. "And I suppose you expected me to just hop on that thing and ride off into the sunset?"
His jaw tightened slightly. "I had hoped you might possess basic horsemanship. Clearly, I overestimated human capabilities."
"Well, excuse me for not learning to ride magical death unicorns in my spare time."
"A shortcoming I will be certain to rectify." He swung onto his mount with fluid grace, then held out a hand. "You'll ride with me."
She hesitated a moment, still wary of the strange creature.
"They respond to my will. Since my will is to keep you intact there is nothing to fear."
His fingers curled around hers and pulled her up in front of him, settling her between his thighs. His arms came around her to take the reins, and all at once she found herself surrounded by his warmth despite the morning chill.
"Relax," he murmured when she sat rigid. "It's a long ride. You'll exhaust yourself sitting like that."
That was easy for him to say. But as they started moving, his body solid behind hers, she found the tension gradually easing from her. The warmth in her chest hummed contentment at the proximity.
"Tell me about the Silverwood," she said, trying to distract herself.
"Ancient waterway. Feeds the eastern groves where the oldest trees grow." His voice rumbled through his chest into her back. "Malachar knew exactly what to target. Without water, those groves will die. Trees that have stood for millennia, gone because of his petty revenge."
"Can you fix it?"
"I can unmake his ice, yes. But it will take concentration. Power. Which is why—"
"You need to know where I am," she finished. "In case I get into mischief."
"Precisely." But his arm tightened slightly around her waist, and she wondered, despite her conviction to no longer read between the lines, if that was really all.
The forest grew denser as they traveled, until she couldn't see sky through the canopy. These trees were different from the ones near the castle. They were older, wilder, watching with ancient patience.
"We're entering the old forest now," Eliam said. "Stay close when we dismount. Things here aren't always friendly, even to me."
"What kind of things?"
"The kind that remembers when the world was young. When fae were the only sentients. Some of them..." He paused. "Some see humans as intrusions. Infections to be purged."
"Comforting."
"I won't let them touch you," he said, and it sounded like a vow. "You're mine. That grants you protection, even here."
The words would have normally annoyed her. Instead, that warmth pulsed with something like gratitude.
She really was losing her mind.
The temperature continued to drop as they traveled deeper and Briar found herself pressing back against Eliam's warmth. If he noticed, he didn't comment. Just adjusted his cloak to wrap around them both.
"What are those?" Briar asked, pointing to clusters of luminescent flowers growing from the bark of ancient oaks. They glowed soft blue-white, like trapped moonlight.
"Corpse blooms," Eliam said matter-of-factly. "They grow where something has died violently. The prettier they are, the more agonizing the death."
Briar's hand dropped. "Oh."
They rode in silence for a moment before she spotted something else—butterflies with wings that looked like stained glass, dancing through shafts of sunlight.
"Those are beautiful," she said, watching them flutter.
"Sorrow-wings. They feed on tears. Follow grieving creatures until they expire from despair, then lay their eggs in the—"
"Never mind." She turned her attention to tiny creatures nestled in the crooks of tree branches.
They looked like rabbits made of moonlight, their fur shimmering with an opalescent sheen that shifted from silver to pearl as they groomed themselves with delicate paws.
One lifted its head, enormous dark eyes meeting hers, and made the softest chirping sound.
"Oh, those are sweet," she breathed, charmed by the way one stretched and yawned, revealing a pink tongue no bigger than a rose petal.
"Lure hares," Eliam said. "They mimic the appearance of whatever their prey finds most endearing. That chirping releases a paralytic toxin. Once you're close enough to touch them, their real teeth emerge—three rows of them. They keep their victims alive for days while they feed."
The creature tilted its head at her, whiskers twitching innocently.
"Is there anything," Briar began, frustration bleeding through, "anything at all in this forest that's beautiful without being horrible? One thing that's just... pretty? Without feeding on death or causing pain or trapping souls?"
Eliam was quiet for a long moment. Then, with the same matter-of-fact tone he'd used for everything else:
"You."