CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ALYSSUM
The sky’s inky black had succumbed to the promise of dawn. The darkness was just beginning to pale, offering little in the way of light as I fled from Scholar Whick’s dwelling, beyond the thick, rocky fence cradling his glade, and deeper into the wood.
My eyes strained in the retreating dark as I attempted to locate our footprints in the mud.
“Alyssum,” Vayen called from behind.
No.
I did not slow for her when I identified our tracks. Instead, I chased after them, fingertips grazing the bark of those gargantuan trunks to steady myself as I adeptly navigated the gloom. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I would be unable to outrun her. This was her forest, after all.
But that wouldn’t stop me from trying.
I moved even faster as my eyes adjusted, focus singularly locked on the evidence of our moonlit stroll.
“Alyssum,” she called again, closer now.
I expected the word to be laced with panic, though it was conspicuously absent. Vayen knew just as well as I that my evasive attempts were fruitless, and the casual tone of her voice only reinforced that reality.
Depths. My limbs ached, the bitter cold nipped at every bit of exposed skin, and I could lose the trail at any moment. If I were to find myself without our tracks, and without a Vayen, I might never make it back to Grenythwood Village.
What did it matter? I thought as I maneuvered myself over a half-buried log. If she truly believed that I was the key to ending the suffering of her people, there was no realm in which she would allow me to return to the common life I’d been attempting to cultivate.
As though Morwyn herself agreed, my boot caught on an exposed root. I fell to the forest floor with a thud, landing in an inelegant, muddy heap. Vayen’s footsteps doubled in speed as I rolled onto my back with a groan.
“Are you hurt?” she asked as her face popped into view, shadowed eyes barely visible under a knitted brow. Her concern was evident and only served to ignite the anger brewing in my chest.
“Are you asking because you care, or because you’re worried your precious Vessel might have been injured?” Without accepting the hand she offered, I scrambled to my feet, face pinching in disgust as I looked down at my clothes. Some of the rage dampened; I was a mess.
“I’ve ruined it,” I mumbled, still too upset to meet her eyes.
“Ruined what?”
“Your jacket,” I said with an impatient gesture towards the muddy leather.
“It’s seen worse days. And, to answer your question, both.” When my scowl cast confusion and annoyance her way in equal measure, she continued, “Yes, traveling to Mount Sor would be substantially more difficult if you were injured. But I also don’t enjoy undeserved people suffering needlessly.”
Her assumption that I would be joining her only strengthened the downward pull of guilt, the familiar bubbling of shame.
“Don’t I deserve it?” I countered.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because I’m selfish!” I all but screamed the word at her.
“You’ve lost everything, and the wound itself has no time to heal because that monster insists on ripping it open the very moment it begins to stitch itself closed.
And you want me to help you. You want me to be Naeno’s sacrifice for your people, and I won’t do it.
” The bitter laugh that escaped me sounded faraway, as though it belonged to someone else.
“How can it be that I find myself in this same predicament so soon after fleeing it? I risked life and limb to escape, yet here I am, being asked to exchange one cage for another.”
Vayen was silent as I cast my gaze starward, searching for the last shining remnants of twinkling light. I could only make out a couple through the spiderweb of branches overhead.
“Do you know what a Treaty Princess is, Vayen?”
“No.”
“I can’t blame you for that. I barely grasp it myself, and I am one,” I grit out.
“I’ve been promised to Prince Rowland of Hollowmire since birth, and even I can’t tell you why the Treaty exists, or why it’s imperative that both the blood of Sor and Lunamor course through my veins.
All I know is that my marriage to that beast is required to protect my kingdom’s alliance with Hollowmire—an alliance that, as I understand it, has secured our independence for centuries.
But I couldn’t go through with it. Not after… ”
The sentence died in my throat, allowing the thick, misty silence of the wood to envelop us once more.
Only my shuddering breath punctuated the quiet.
When Vayen didn’t press me, I took a moment to steady myself.
The complementary scents of damp bark, decaying plant life, and pre-dawn chill served to settle my nerves against the memory of his hands on my neck.
I pressed my eyes closed, exhaling forcefully before pinning Vayen with a resolute stare.
“Selfish or not, someone in Morwyn has to put me first, and no one else is volunteering for that thankless burden.”
Vayen’s sigh disturbed the eerie silence of the forest as she shifted her weight to lean against a nearby tree. “You’re not selfish, Alyssum. You’re scared.”
“Oh, am I? Since you appear to be the expert, please enlighten me.”
“You’re scared of what you’re going to have to do. And I don’t blame you for that in the least.”
“Apparently my storming off didn’t make it clear, but I’m not traveling to Castle Sor.
” I crossed my arms with what I hoped was a severe expression.
“I promised myself I would never set foot in the Threshold again. Even if you convinced me to break that promise, and even if you could somehow assure me that I wouldn’t be rendered Vacant the moment I crossed back over, I still couldn’t join you because I’m a damned fugitive.
Or did that fact escape your observation? ”
“I won’t let any harm come to you,” Vayen vowed. She stepped forward, and although I could only just make out her features in the growing light, her displeasure was apparent in her narrowed eyes and set jaw.
“While I appreciate the sentiment,” I began with unconcealed sarcasm, “how on Morwyn do you expect to protect me from an immaterial barrier that nearly drowned me, the very real threat of being rendered Vacant, and the armies of two of the most prominent kingdoms in the land?” I took my own step in her direction, shrinking the gap between us considerably.
“And all of that would need to occur before the mythical Moonlight Trials that murder unworthy participants. I can’t wait to hear your brilliant plan for saving me from the very fate you’re asking I submit to. ”
I lifted my chin just barely to meet her gaze. I couldn’t make out the silvery green of her eyes, but I knew that my icy blues were particularly visible in this lighting from the way they reflected in her own.
Something seemed to settle in Vayen’s expression.
The pinch of her brow, the thin line of her lips, the fluttering jawline—they all ceased in a moment of quiet, easing into a more affable arrangement.
With a gentle sigh, Vayen extended her bare arm in the direction that I’d been headed prior to my stumble.
“Perhaps we should continue speaking along the way,” she offered. “We have quite the walk ahead of us.”
I hesitated there, wondering how best to word the demand that popped into my head at her suggestion.
With an elongated neck that betrayed my disheveled state, I finally said, “I will agree to walk together”—as though another choice existed—“if you agree to be the one who does most of the talking. That is how you lured me out here, after all.”
“I concede to your terms,” Vayen said with a deep nod. “What would you like to know first?”
With that, she began ushering me through the wood, her warm hand placed on the small of my back with that strange, ever-present familiarity.
I tried to ignore the way her casual contact flipped my stomach, instead drawing focus to the crevices of my mind where all the questions I had buried deep down inside were vying to be released. But where to start?
My failed attempts at acquiring knowledge from unwitting castle staff had taught me many things, one of which was: lay the first stones intentionally, and the path you seek will build itself.
I knew it was imperative I begin with undemanding questions, to lull the subject into a state of compliance, and then wait for the moment their guard lowered to direct the inquiry to its heart.
Slowly, and with utmost care, for those guarding secrets startle easily.
So I chose a question she’d already implied she would answer.
“Why aren’t you injured?”
“I am injured.”
“Don’t pretend to misunderstand me. Berig is a colossal man and yet you’ve barely bruised from hits that echoed through the clearing. You should be—”
“Dead?”
I chewed on my lower lip as her interjection hovered between us.
That wasn’t the word I’d have chosen, though it rang true all the same.
I risked a sideways glance, attention catching on the droplets of water a low-hanging branch had relinquished to her damp curls.
The sun must have crested the land, for I could make out her expression more clearly now.
Her full lips parted slightly before pressing together again.
I wondered if she deliberated on how to respond, just as I had.
“I forget this isn’t common knowledge in Lunamor,” Vayen said finally. “You recall when Whick mentioned he peered into your artifacts?”
“Of course. His phrasing was odd, but if I’d asked every question that came to mind when he spoke, we’d have never left.”
I barely caught the quirk of her lips at my jest.