34. Chapter 34
Chapter thirty-four
Leena
I f I were still human, my wrists would be on fire. The two men who’d thrown me into the cart were tying me to a stake in the town square, doing their best to be as rough as possible. The crude wooden object must have been recently built and in a rush because I’d never seen it before, despite my only being gone a few weeks. Only a pace away from the platform where I was now strapped was a celebratory table and a roasting pig rolling over a fire. They were going to celebrate. After whatever they did to me next, they would celebrate with a feast they hadn’t had the privilege of partaking in until my sacrifice.
A fitting end to my cruel life. Just as happiness became more than a dream, my people ripped it away and took everything from me. And they’d dance upon my grave.
I cringed at the familiar scent of charred pork. Even after all these years, the smell of roasting pig still haunted me. The night my parents died, I waited for hours in the cold. It was the dead of winter, and all I had on was a thin nightdress and the cloak my mother had made me—the one that meant so much more than any piece of clothing ever would.
Staring into the woods, I stayed there all night, away from where our old village had once been settled. My fingers were frozen against my bony kneecaps by the time one of the village’s elders appeared with two others, and dragging behind them, on a sled, were two forms covered in a blanket made of patched scraps. I didn’t need anyone to tell me who they were.
I was too numb to move at first, but when I met the brief flickering gaze of the gruff man pulling the sled behind him, I stood up with a snap and vomited.
All I really remembered after that was being forced to my grandmother’s house, where the three men from the forest spoke about what happened and what would come next. All the while, my uncle stuffed himself with charred pork, listening with vague interest like he was hearing about a trip to the market.
He ate that pork for days. Its smell soaked deep into my bones, sealing its place in my memory with the first strike he dealt across my face for being “difficult.” A devastated child fighting through a nightmare. Difficult . It was the first time of many, each with another excuse and some with no excuse or explanation at all. It got easier for him, it seemed. Most of what I remembered from my teenage years was being grabbed and hit by those dry, peeling knuckles and calloused hands.
Sometimes, I’d run away for a moment’s peace, but it was like my heart couldn’t handle the absence of pain because I always found myself returning to the edge of the forest. I’d return to the spot that changed my life completely and turned its course on its head. It wasn’t far from these woods, but it was far enough away to be so very different.
Until recently, the matriarch of Woodsmeadow found a place where we could safely hunt while still getting plenty of game. That “good luck” only lasted a matter of weeks, though. I couldn’t blame Bratan for what he’d done. These people were killing his animals and trees, and he witnessed abuse and sought to end it. These people didn’t see it that way, though. Now, they saw me the same way they saw him: as a monster.
If being fiercely protective of the innocent and striving to be happy made me a monster, then I would gladly be one.
The crowd was wild, a cacophony of cheering, jeering, and spitting. These people sacrificed me to what they assumed was a monster, only to take me back and punish me for surviving. Except I did more than survive. For the first time, I’d truly lived. I loved being with the Keeper of the woods. Maybe they’d discovered that I’d fallen in love with their enemy, and now they wanted to punish me for it.
What vile, mindless people these were. I could only assume the villagers were like this centuries ago—the ones Bratan had to face the day his mother died. Even after everything, I couldn’t help feeling a new level of disgust as I watched them jeer. I thought there were at least some good ones in Woodsmeadow, but if there were, they weren’t good enough to step in and do anything. There was only one person I knew was good, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. My stomach sunk to my knees as I searched the crowd. Had they done something to Grandmother?
Someone threw a rotting vegetable at me. It reeked as a piece of it stuck to my cheek while the rest slid down my body and hit the floor. I wondered if whoever had thrown it thought it was righteous justice for what the Leshy had done by poisoning their crops. But they knew that that was why I’d left—to save them. I didn’t understand how they could do this; what had they been told?
Regardless of the answer, people who could stand by and kill a woman they’d known since she was a child were the actual monsters in these woods. They’d always been despicable, turning a blind eye time and time again to make things easier for themselves—to not “cause a ruckus” or “step on anyone’s toes.” I was starting to understand why Bratan thought humans were self-serving, but I held on to the hope that someone good would rescue me. If Grandmother was okay, I wondered if she’d have a say in my fate.
The jeering continued as one person shouted about getting ready for my live burning, to which many cheered. It was almost too horrific to be true.
I laughed bitterly at the irony. Not long ago, I was afraid to go to the feared monster of the woods when I was with the real monsters all along.
“We know what you’ve done!” a villager heckled. “You betrayed us! ”
“You slept with the enemy!” a woman cried, followed by angry roars of agreement.
“You were supposed to save us! You only saved yourself!”
“Whore!” one man spat, which began an onslaught of misogynistic slurs. Tears stung my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as the insults continued.
You’re wrong , I wanted to yell. You’re the monsters. You’re all wrong.
A stocky man I barely knew leapt onto the platform, a torch in his meaty hand. His face was ruddy and covered in mud, and his yellowed mustache was crusted with something I didn’t want to investigate. His balding patches of matching hair flickered in the light wind starting to blow colder with the setting sun.
The platform’s boards creaked beneath his heavy frame as he loomed closer. He didn’t look at my face before lowering the torch to the base of the stake. Panic shot through me, and I thrashed as the man spoke. “That beast will regret messing with us,” he said, his voice hoarse and warbled. “He’ll never break a deal again.”
The fire hit the wood as I cried, “He never broke anything! He—” The smoke invaded my lungs as I wailed in pain. Embers licked my ankles, biting and gnawing on the flesh until tears gushed from me like blood.
Cheers erupted from the crowd, and I swore I even heard laughter. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying my best to wriggle free. The cheers and shouts continued .
This was how I’d die.
My body went slack. Even as an immortal, there was no use fighting this. Bratan had made it clear that I could be murdered, and fire was a sure way to kill me. I didn’t know how to wield any powers I might or might not have, and it didn’t seem to grant me anything but longevity to pain without a quick death.
I braced myself for the worst when the crowd’s jeers turned to screams. The forest shook, the ground quaking so violently that it rattled my eardrums and shook my toes where they sat pointed against the wooden platform.
My eyes opened to trees snapping and thundering as they hit the ground with pillars of rising dirt. The pain seared up my shins. I’d lost hope, but right there in front of me, emerging through the cloud of dirt, was Bratan.
The villagers cried, most of them running for their houses, but without looking, Bratan raised his hands, stretching them at his sides and summoning every cottage’s door closed, sealing them shut so no one could flee.
His face was fury, and his eyes were wild and black; they found me a beat before he rushed to the platform. Immediately, he extinguished the flames and snapped the ropes with one pull of his finger.
“Bratan,” I squeaked. His name came out rattled. I could barely see through the smoke and dirt, but I felt his hand brush against my cheek, soft and slow. New tears welled in my eyes as the smoke cleared. I leaned into his touch, crying into his palm and letting the warmth of his fingers give me a moment of solace.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t by your side.” A glint of sorrow ringed his eyes in red before he gathered me in his arms. “I will end this. I promise you that.” He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck; one hand held the side of my head in a desperate embrace, the other still tightly wrapped around my waist. “I’ll take care of this.” When he pulled back, that gentle gaze was gone, replaced by the rage he’d possessed upon tearing through the crowd. “You tell me exactly who did this to you.” Not a question. A command. “Tell me everything.”
Without thinking, my eyes fell on my former cottage, then flickered to the two men who’d tied me to the stake. Bratan didn’t miss the motion and followed it, twisting to find its targets in a flash. The brawny men cowered behind two small women I could only assume were their wives.
Bratan rushed to them, scoffing as he examined the scene. “Hiding behind your wives? How pathetic.” One of the men, a tall one with long, orange hair, stood up in quiet protest while the other sunk lower behind the bony woman in front of him. “You make me sick.” He pushed the women away and grabbed each man by the tunic, lengthening his height until the men were crying out in panic, their legs dangling and thrashing as they tried squirming from Bratan’s grip. “Do you think you can torment my wife and get away with it?” His voice split in two, his human form falling away, replaced by the monster .
The crowd wailed, some screaming and running into the woods or behind buildings, others too afraid to move.
“You don’t deserve to breathe her air! Pieces of shit!” Bratan tossed them to the other side of the square; his blackened eyes, now swirling with red, like crusted blood, followed the men’s tumbles until they attempted to get up and flee. They skittered away like field mice, moving at an impressive speed, but Bratan scooped them up in one long hand.
The crowd stilled. Characteristic of the villagers, they kept silent as Bratan tossed the men out of sight. No one said a word—not even Bratan—until, to my surprise, Vasska stumbled forward.
“You took our food, and now you’re killing our people and any chance of survival! Take the slut and leave!”
“Vasska!” I choked on his name. “How could you?” I couldn’t believe I was shocked, but hearing what he’d called me sent a blazing dagger into my gut. It sank deeper and twisted when I saw the woman staggering behind him. “Grandmother,” I gasped.
Her hair was disheveled, and her dress was buttoned up wrong as she made an attempt to approach me. She cracked open her gray, dried lips to say something, but Vasska spoke first. “Even our grandmother wants you dead,” he croaked. “Just look at her. She’s a wreck. She’s been so disgusted with you.”
“That’s not true, Leena!” Grandmother cried. “You know that’s not true! ”
Vasska stepped between us. “You’ve always been garbage, Leena. You’ve always been—” Bratan’s claw struck up Vasska’s back. He let out a wail as he fell back to scattered screams from a few of the female villagers, only one of which was his wife.
“If one more of you utters an ill word about my wife, your head will be on the top of that stake. Do you hear me?!” Grabbing my uncle by the shoulders, he tossed him to the side and scanned the crowd. After a moment of silence, he thundered back to my abuser.
I closed my eyes, waiting for whatever would come to be over. Seconds went by. Still, nothing happened.
Then, a choking noise.
And a thump.
I opened my eyes to see Vasska struggling on the ground. Bratan looked down at him with disgust. “Do you feel powerful taking your anger out on your niece who’s done nothing to you?” He spat on Vasska as my uncle grabbed at his throat, gasping for air. “Pathetic human.” Bratan looked away.
The brute continued gasping for breath.
Karina, tiny as a famished mouse, scurried over to her husband and panicked, but Vasska pushed her away. She held her hands against her chest as he stumbled to his feet, rage darkening his eyes. Vasska grunted like a wild boar. “You’ll pay for that, you—” He started swinging, but the Leshy moved to the side, kicked Vasska in the back of the knees, and then, through some unseen power, tossed him over his shoulder and into the town butcher’s simmering meat .
His body flopped against the spit before crashing into the celebratory table, shattering rows upon rows of fine plates and saucers ready to be used upon my demise.
Vasska’s body was still. Everyone cowered as they waited for him to move. Everyone except Bratan and me. My husband transformed into his usual, human-like form and stepped onto the platform. “Stay away from my queen,” he roared, staring each of them down.
Something heated in my blood.
Clinking sounded behind him as Vasska slowly sat up on the broken table. Wiping blood and soot from off his tunic, he looked at the Leshy. Then to me.
“You were supposed to take care of this problem, Leena,” he barked, “not bring the damned monster back!” I couldn’t believe he was still fighting. The only explanation I could think of was that he knew he was going to die and wanted to leave this world with the final word.
To my surprise, there was a moment of muttered agreement in the crowd, but they quickly quieted again when Bratan sent another claw ripping through Vasska’s back. My uncle gave out a glass-shattering scream before crumpling on the quaking ground. Karina gasped and fell to his side. The ground shook harder. Screams filled the open air as villagers fell; I had to swing my arms out to keep my balance, but my foot tripped on the rock next to it and sent me falling face-first toward the splitting earth .
Before I hit it, Bratan grabbed me by the waist and placed me back on my feet. When I grabbed hold of his shoulders, I was surprised to see that his eyes were once again that striking shade of green, lit like emerald stars beneath the rising moon.
The villagers screamed as the ground continued to split. Dirt rattled against our feet as gravel pelleted into the sky. Thick, moving roots as tall as trees broke through the soil, growing until they touched the sky. “You humans make me sick,” Bratan shouted. “You planned to kill the woman who gave herself up to save you. You label her a traitor because you can’t think for yourselves. But what about you? Of your darkness?”
He walked to one gathered group of men who’d created a barrier in front of their families. Bratan crouched to meet the face of a man with a thick, black mustache that hung beneath a crooked nose. “Are you not selfish?” He pointed at one of the shivering children behind the man. “What if instead of my bride, your son was the one on that stake today? Would you have been so apathetic?”
“Get out, you beast,” the man said, but his body tremored so violently that the words were nearly incoherent.
“As I thought. You cannot answer.” He straightened. “But I know what’s in your heart.” He continued glowering at the man until he turned to another cowering villager—a ruddy woman I knew as one of the village’s bakers, a particularly cruel woman when times were tough. “You’re all disgusting cretins. You care only for yourselves and sweep those you deem inconvenient under the rug. You’re eating yourselves from the inside out.”
“H-how dare you…” the baker started, then floundered at the Leshy’s glare.
“What about the ground you tread? What about the forest you desecrate?”
The man next to her quickly spoke for her. “We do no such thing.” Bratan’s eyes narrowed on the man.
“You came into my forest without permission and defiled my land. You take from my trees, and you throw your broken bottles on my soil. You harm my animals and your own people, and you pollute my streams. And you sacrificed someone you saw weaker than yourself to come to me—a beast, as you all seem to think.” He scanned the crowd once more. “But I can see that you people are far more deadly and careless. Selfish and disgusting. To let your people suffer and ruin my home. To torment my precious wife.”
His muscles relaxed as he approached me, gently touching my face. “You don’t deserve this, my love. You never deserved this.” His voice was silk. He cradled my face in his hands before pressing a kiss to my lips. Then his face fell, and he looked back at the crowd. “Do you truly believe my goal had been to kill you? If that was my intent, I’d have done it long ago and through a means far worse than starvation. And as I’ve done already, I’d save the children and other innocents.”
“You’d do no such thing!” someone snapped. “You’ve kidnapped our children! ”
“I’ve protected the children who you so viciously mistreated! I saved and fed them and brought them to freedom. And I took the wheels off carts to avoid further trespassing through my woods and toward my realm and hid bows to protect my creatures. But I never harmed any children, and though I didn’t allow crops to grow, I didn’t steal the food you already possessed or received through other means.”
No one dared challenge him.
He continued, “I can only assume that the most well-fed and finely dressed in this village was behind much of your famine.”
Stillness rolled through the village, and then slowly, the crowd parted to reveal Ms. Tomlin. “Some evil creatures take advantage of chaos when things go awry,” Bratan continued, “and they can get away with it if they have someone to blame.” His eyes sharpened on the matriarch. “You remind me of a certain devil I know. A woman whom you undoubtedly worked with to bring my precious Leena here.” He jumped off the platform and approached the old woman, whose head was held high, especially as her neck nearly snapped from looking up at him. “What did Melora give you?”
The woman’s chin stayed propped in the air. “She gave us the information we sought and what we needed. She explained your devious ploys and even what you planned to do with your so-called wife.” Her eyes shifted to me. “Believe me, dear, the fate awaiting you now is far more merciful than the one he had in store for you. Everyone here knows what he’s capable of. We bore witness to what he did to Boris’s only son. ”
My blood turned cold. “What?” Cotton filled my ears, and it pained me to look at the man standing before the town matriarch.
The moment I caught his expression, I knew nothing was simple anymore. And the resolve that had kept me calm quickly cracked apart.