Chapter 26 #2
Vanessa lowered her voice. “For weeks now, things have been… unsettled. Signs, many never thought seeing again, have caused fear and uncertainty.”
“Such as?” Dar asked.
“Footprints where no feet should be,” she said. “Small ones. Light. Gone by morning, though the ground is soft enough to hold them. And lights—faint, like fireflies, but too steady. Too deliberate.”
Elara’s heart began to pound.
“Children hear singing,” Vanessa added, her voice tightening. “Near the tree line. When they tell their parents, they are hushed and sent inside.”
“And what do you believe this to be?” he asked, wanting her to not just imply but admit what most here thought.
Vanessa hesitated. “I believe it is something that knows the forest better than we do. Something that does not wish to be seen—but no longer hides as well as it once did.”
“And what is that?” Dar asked impatiently.
She hurried to answer, though it was a whisper. “Fae folk.”
“Has there been a sighting?” Dar pressed, needing more confirmation.
She glanced briefly toward Elara before turning back to Dar. “Aye, there was a sighting.”
When she didn’t continue, Dar snapped, “Don’t keep me waiting, woman.”
“A week or so ago,” Vanessa said. “Just beyond the old stream path. A woman gathering herbs swore she saw a small figure perched on a stone. Wings like glass. Light around her—not bright, but blue. Calm.” She shook her head. “The woman fled in fear.”
Dar snapped at her again. “And you kept this quiet.”
Vanessa nodded. “Aye, since to speak of such things can bring serious consequences.” Her voice softened as she finished, “Whatever is stirring, waking… it feels like the beginning of something that will not be stopped by silence.”
The words settled heavy in the room, waiting for what Dar would say next.
Elara sat very still, her hands folded in her lap, her thoughts racing ahead of her breath. What Vanessa had said—what she had not said aloud—left no room for doubt. Amelia had been seen. Not as a whisper. Not as a vision meant only for her. But by others.
The forest was no longer hiding her. Or had she purposely made herself known?
Whatever way it was, it meant Elara could no longer hide the truth from Dar. Not here. Not now. Not with fear still clinging to the room like smoke. But soon she would have to tell him about Amelia.
Dar’s attention remained on the table, his expression stern as he absorbed what had been said. He did not look to her, did not question her, did not seek her thoughts. That, somehow, made the weight settle heavier.
“That will be all, Vanessa,” he said, his voice firm. “You’ve done your village no harm by speaking tonight.”
The woman bobbed her head and with a light smile to Elara, she left, the Hunter standing by the door closing it firmly behind her.
Dar pushed back from the table and stood. “The hunt begins.”
His command brought grins to all the Hunters’ faces as they gathered around him.
“Tomorrow, two of you will track down the trail of the stranger. Follow it. I want to know where his curiosity truly led him.”
The two Hunters nodded at once.
“The rest of you,” Dar continued, “will ride with me at first light to Chieftain Pratus’s castle.”
Ayes of excitement for the hunt and eager nods followed.
The door opened slowly and Leith peeked his head around it. “No more villagers left to speak tonight, sir. Would you like me to show you to your cottage?”
“My men?” Dar asked.
“They will bed down here. Bedding will be brought to them.”
Dar nodded and took hold of Elara’s hand after a few last words to his men.
They left, the night closing in around them as the door shut behind them. The village lay quiet now, too quiet, as if Ancrum itself listened and weighed what had been spoken within those walls.
Dar walked at her side, eager to reach the cottage, eager to be alone with his wife, and eager to satisfy the ever-growing need he had for her.
It tugged at him when he took her hand, when she stood close, when her breath whispered across his cheek, or his arms circled her waist. It was there all the time, haunting him, and he did not quite understand it.
It almost felt like the anticipation, the excitement of a hunt, but he had caught her… or had he?
Leith stopped in front of a cottage set apart from the others, a low stone dwelling with a single window aglow, lantern light spilling across the ground.
“Rest easy, sir,” Leith said and left them.
Dar opened the door and ushered Elara in, shutting the night away behind them.
Warmth greeted them at once. A fire burned low in the hearth, the scent of woodsmoke familiar. Dar removed his cloak and set it aside, then turned to her.
Elara lingered near the door after shedding her cloak, her thoughts still tangled in the evening’s revelations.
“Perhaps…” she said slowly, testing the thought aloud, “perhaps the stranger who seeks Driochmor is the one the ethereal healer warned me of. The one who would change the tides of war.”
Dar exhaled, a sound caught somewhere between weariness and frustration. “It could be. Too many paths are crossing for it to be chance.” He stepped closer, lifting a hand to her waist, his touch warm and certain. “But I am tired of ghosts and whispers tonight of what may be and what might come.”
Before she could speak again, he drew her to him and kissed her.
It was not a fierce kiss, nor a demanding one.
It was slow, deliberate, as if he sought comfort rather than conquest. His arm curved securely around her, anchoring her against him.
The world narrowed to the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm, the familiarity she had come to crave.
She kissed him back, letting herself sink into it, into the simple truth of him. For a moment, the forest fell silent inside her. The road, the stranger, the talk of war—all of it faded.
But Amelia did not.
A flicker of blue light stirred behind her eyes. A whisper she could not unhear.
Elara’s breath caught. She eased her hands against his chest, not pushing him away, but asking for space.
He felt it at once and drew back, concern shadowing his expression. “What’s wrong?”
She could not meet his gaze at first. When she did, her eyes held an apology he did not yet understand.
“There is something I must confess,” she said softly.
He tensed. “You worry me when you speak so.”
She took a breath, fortifying herself. “I cannot keep this from you any longer.”
He waited, silent and attentive.
“I know for certain that the fae folk roam free,” she said. “Not hidden nor banished.”
He tensed, the muscles in his arms growing taut. “How do you know this?”
Her voice did not waver. “One has made herself known to me.”