21. I Never Meant for This to Happen
21
I NEVER MEANT FOR THIS TO HAPPEN
WREN
T he Hunter is suffering.
I try not to notice his pain as I back away, but that would be like asking me not to notice that the three moons are silver or that the wind is getting steadily colder as the night wears on. Gabriel’s moans fill the air, and he’s convulsing on the ground.
Even though I hate him for chasing me, my heart is shattering at the sight.
This is my fault.
The words swirl through my mind on a continuous circuit as I put space between the two of us. I shouldn’t be standing here. The moment he collapsed, I should’ve turned and run away as fast as possible. After all, I begged him to free me, and he refused. I shouldn’t care that he’s hurting… but I do.
Gods help me, but my stupid, compassionate heart twists at the sound of his agony. Each moan feels like a dagger striking me in the chest. Why? Why does the sound of the Hunter’s pain hurt me so?
Even though I shouldn’t, I turn around. Horror grips me as I observe the Hunter. He’s in agony .
His fingers are clasping at nothing, and tears are running down his cheeks. Tremors have overtaken him. His eyes are wide open, but I don’t think he can see me through the veil of pain.
“Fucking leave, Wren,” I urge myself. “Get out of here.”
My words don’t have the intended effect because I can’t seem to make my feet move.
“Go,” I say.
My voice echoes through the silent night. The moons seem to be laughing at me from their positions in the sky.
Instead of walking away from the Hunter, my feet inch closer to him. This is stupid. I know that. I just… I don’t know if I can leave him right now. Not when he’s clearly hurting. Not when this is my fault.
A curse that would horrify Mother slips from my lips as I return to the Hunter’s side. I’m not even sure who I’m cursing. The gods? My soft heart? My inability to leave well enough alone?
All good options.
I don’t understand why I’m like this. The man is hunting me, for the suns’ sake. I shouldn’t even be considering helping him, but for some reason, I am.
I crouch in front of Gabriel, a knot forming in my stomach as I take him in. This is my fault. He’s hurting because of me. I’m not sure what was in the vial, but he’s obviously in serious pain. Could he die because of this? I don’t know, but the longer I stare at him, the more I’m convinced it might be possible.
My heart aches, and something deep within me protests the thought of this man’s death. I reach for his face, and his eyes seem to track the movement.
Is he still aware? I stiffen, and his eyes stop moving at the same time. Oh, gods. Even though he’s immobilized, I get the sense he still knows what’s happening. Somehow, that makes this even worse.
The cold wind claws me out of my stupor, and I touch the Hunter’s cheek. His flesh is hot, like picking up an ember from a fire.
Squealing, I yank back my hand. My fingertips are red, as though they’ve been burned.
He whimpers, and more tears flow down his cheeks. A spark of life remains in his eyes, hidden behind the haze of pain…
Pain that I caused.
Suns save me, what have I done? This isn’t me. None of it is.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, as if that will magically cure him. “I never meant for this to happen. I just wanted you to leave me alone.”
How was I supposed to know the contents of the vial would do this ? The woman gave me no indication of that happening. Her skin had been a bit warm, now that I think about it, but it was nothing like the inferno consuming Gabriel.
He doesn’t respond, but more tears flow down his cheeks. My stomach twists at the sight, and I have the answer to my question in the tavern.
I might not be good, at least not like Amelia was, but it turns out I’m not built for poisoning. I’m learning something new about myself every day.
Yanking open my satchel, I dig through it frantically in search of the small mushroom the woman gave me. It feels like it takes me an eternity to find it while this man suffers in front of me, but eventually, it’s in my hand. The mushroom is slightly spongy, and I pinch it between my index finger and thumb, holding it up to the moonlight.
Even in the darkness, the red tinge is bright. A warning.
Not for consumption .
This is definitely not a blossom mushroom. I should throw it away, but honestly, the Hunter already appears to be on the verge of death. I don’t think I can make things worse.
Another moan slips from Gabriel’s lips, and a sheen of sweat glistens on his face.
I hold the mushroom between my fingers and meet his glassy gaze. “I’m going to give you this,” I tell him. “I’m not sure what it will do, but I think it will help.”
The rise and fall of the Hunter’s chest is unsteady.
“And if it does, I want you to leave me alone.” My voice is firm. “You owe me. Twice now, I’ll have saved you. Understand?”
A shudder runs through him as I move my hand closer.
“If this doesn’t work, I need you to know that I’m sorry,” I confess. “I really didn’t mean for you to be in so much pain. That was never part of the plan. I just wanted a chance to live.”
He doesn’t respond, and that’s probably for the better. I’ve confessed enough for one night. Even though the road is empty for the moment, and the guards are far away, I don’t want to risk drawing anyone’s attention.
I rip the mushroom up into tiny pieces and reach for the Hunter’s lips. They’re twin flames, and I swallow a scream as I force his mouth open. If it hurts for me to touch him, how badly is he hurting?
Murmuring repeated apologies, because apparently now that I’ve started, I can’t stop, I carefully drop the morsels into his mouth. Keeping my eyes on him, I grab my canteen and untwist the lid. In a movement that is far too familiar, I lift it to Gabriel’s lips and help him drink until all traces of the mushrooms are gone from his mouth.
Sitting back on my heels, I study the Hunter. I don’t know how long it will take before the antidote—if that’s what it is—kicks in.
Twice, we’ve been in this position, with him helpless before me. The difference is that this time, not only do I know who he is, but I caused this.
As I stare at this man who is so clearly in pain, I search my heart for remorse. I should feel bad about this, right? I think so.
The problem—if I can call it that—is that I don’t feel bad. Not really.
I regret that the Hunter is hurting, but I’m a little surprised to find that I don’t regret giving him the contents of the vial.
He was going to drag me back to Grenbloom, and I couldn’t let that happen. If time turned back and I had a chance to do this over again, I would still give him the contents of the vial. I’d just be more careful about how many drops I put in.
The sky darkens, and clouds roll in. I shiver, looking over at Gabriel. His whimpers have quieted, and his eyes are still watching me. The green has dimmed, but that flicker of life is still present.
Reaching out, I place the back of my hand on his cheek. He’s still hot, but he isn’t burning up any longer. I exhale, shaking out my hand.
“I think you’re going to live,” I tell him softly.
He blinks, and his mouth moves, but no sounds come out.
“I really hope you leave me alone.” I stand, drawing my cloak around myself. I don’t know if he can understand me or if he’ll even remember this conversation, but I have to try. “Please.”
My voice cracks, and I hate that I’m showing weakness in front of this man who has caused me so much trouble. “I just want to live in peace. That’s all.”
My plea hangs in the night air between us. The stillness of the night amplifies the desperation of my request. The Hunter hasn’t said anything, but as I look into his eyes, the truth slams into me.
He’ll never stop chasing me.
The realization steals the breath from my lungs, and I stumble back. Freedom, like a normal life, is something I’ll never have.
Not for the first time, I curse this damned Mark on my forehead. I despise all of this. The Giving, the Hunter, the gods, and everything else that has fucked up my life so thoroughly.
I wish I had time to cry and wallow in pity for myself, but I don’t. I have things to do and places to be.
I turn, and this time, I don’t look back as I run from the Hunter. I haven’t slept, and my stomach is quick to remind me that I’ve eaten very little today, but it doesn’t matter.
Once again, I’m fleeing for my life.
The difference is that this time, I know where to find others like me. Gods-blessed who need help. As much as I want to save myself and put as much distance between me and Gabriel, I can’t leave yet.
After all, the Given stick together.
* * *
Sneaking back through the city gates is so easy that for a few minutes, I wonder if I’m walking into a trap. The guards aren’t even paying attention. Huddled together, they’re gossiping about recent sexual conquests. I creep past them with my hood up.
Their inattentiveness doesn’t stop my heart from hammering, nor does it keep me from constantly looking over my shoulder to see if Gabriel followed me into the city. He didn’t, but that doesn’t help reduce the tension in my shoulders.
This time, I don’t stop to take in the city. I move swiftly, energized by the thought that even though I couldn’t save Amelia, I might be able to help the Marked Ones I saw in the square earlier.
I murmur Amelia’s mantra, letting it bolster my confidence as Mora’s buildings pass in a blur. I don’t let myself think too deeply about what I’m about to do, nor do I let doubt take root in my heart.
I might not be a warrior or a scholar or a spy, but I can help these Given. I have to help them because when the suns rise tomorrow, they’re going to die.
“Not if I can help it,” I whisper to myself.
I race through Mora, the streets seeming less complicated now that I’ve been here before. Before long, I reach my destination.
At first glance, the garden looks the same as it did last night. The stone wall is shrouded in shadows, the tall trees loom above me, and the gate is unguarded.
The difference lies within the stone walls.
Stepping into the shadows, I keep my cloak drawn tightly around myself and consider my options. Unlike yesterday, the Moran Gardens aren’t silent or empty. Burning torches form a wide circle not far from the entrance, their red and orange flames licking the night sky.
Six Watchers stand on the perimeter of the torches, their backs to the canvas tent occupying the place of honor in the center of the ring of fire. The structure is large enough for several people, and even though it’s nighttime, I can tell it’s well-made. Three shadows move around inside the tent, and I exhale a sigh of relief.
The gods-blessed are here. I assumed they would be, thanks to the head priestess’s remarks earlier, but there had been no way to make sure of that until now. I wish they weren’t guarded, though. That’s going to make things more difficult.
I suppose the Watchers’ presence makes sense, in a twisted way. After all, it would be a shame for a human sacrifice to meet an untimely death the night before they’re meant to be killed.
I scowl, cursing Esyn and the priestesses once again as sparks fly off the torches. The embers shoot past leaves, illuminating the dark clouds that are still rolling in.
A storm is coming. Trees sway in the wind, their leaves gently rustling. Faint strains of music come from deep in the city, reminding me of the tavern where Gabriel found me. My night took a detour I hadn’t expected, but at least I made it here in time.
I could have left Mora and run away without ever looking back. Honestly, that would’ve been the smart thing to do. But smart or not, I couldn’t leave these gods-blessed to die. Not when I know what happens during a Giving Ceremony. If I left them to their awful fates, I’d be just as complicit in their deaths as the priestesses with their fake Marks or that strange, hooded figure.
Digging my fingers into the stones, I observe the Watchers.
These soldiers don’t seem nearly as on edge as the ones from the festival. Gods, it feels like that was years ago, not earlier in the day. They’re relaxed, and as a roll of thunder comes from above, the two soldiers closest to me grumble. The pair, a man and a woman, move closer together and engage in a conversation too low for me to hear.
I don’t waste time trying to eavesdrop, since they’ve left a gap in the ring of protection around the tent. The situation is far from perfect, but at least the distracted Watchers are providing me with an opportunity.
Reaching up, I tug my hood as far down over my head as it will go. I slip out of the shadows, sneaking past the gate. The garden is filled with trees, and the tent sits in the middle of large plants with leaves the size of my hands.
Even now, with winter coming, they’re a vibrant green. The grass here is long, and if I wasn’t wearing boots, it would be tickling my ankles. The trees are as tall as several men stacked on top of each other, and their thick trunks are dark brown. There are many of them, reminiscent of River Bend Forest.
I try to keep my steps light, but despite my best efforts, leaves crunch beneath my feet.
I’ll add being stealthy to the list of things I was never taught. My brothers and the twins all went hunting with Father, but I wasn’t allowed to join them.
I was eight the last time I begged him to let me come.
Father looks up from the bench by the front door, where he’s lacing his boots. I’m standing in the doorway, and I just asked if I could go with him.
“I know you want to join me, Birdie, but you can’t.”
“Why?” I stomp my foot and cross my arms, pouting. “James gets to go, and he’s only a year older than me.”
My brothers get to do a lot of things that I don’t get to do. It’s not fair.
I say as much to Father, who nods and pats the bench beside him. I sit beside him, my feet dangling over the ground. He slings his arm over my shoulder, drawing me close.
“You know why you can’t come, Birdie,” he says gently.
I scowl. “The Mark?”
Everything always comes down to the blue swirl on my forehead. I wish I had been born without a Mark, like the rest of my family. Life would be so much easier if that were the case.
“You’re gods-blessed, my child,” he says softly, nodding. “The Given don’t need to know how to hunt because the gods will look after you.”
“But, Father ? —”
He kisses my forehead and sighs. “No, Birdie.” His voice is soft but firm, and I know there will be no arguing with him. “I’m sorry, but it would be frowned upon.”
The rest of the conversation is lost to the recesses of my mind, but I’ll never forget standing in the doorway, watching as Father disappeared into the woods with my brothers that day. I stayed there long after they left, Father’s words echoing through my mind.
The Given don’t need to know how to hunt.
Once again, the way I was born has disadvantaged me. How many more times will this happen?
I’m nearly at the tent when my toe lands on a brittle branch. It snaps, the sound pulling me out of the past. My fingers clench around nothing but air, and my chest heaves. I can’t see the Watchers around the tree trunk, but I know they’re there.
“Do you hear that?” asks a voice on my right. “Someone’s here.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I wish I could think of something more eloquent, but I can barely breathe, let alone come up with creative curses. I slowly ease my foot off the offending twig and force my frozen fingers to find the blade sheathed at my hip. Thank the suns, Gabriel didn’t take it from me.
He probably didn’t think I presented much of a threat. Well, I showed him.
Sort of.
Remembering my task at hand, I slowly pull out my knife, clasping the hilt tightly.
Every second feels like an eternity before a gruff laugh comes from my left.
“Esyn’s tits, you’re losing your mind, Andre. We’re in a fucking garden surrounded by animals. Of course, you’re hearing things. It’s probably a raccoon.”
A pause, then, “I don’t know, Silas.”
There’s a sound like a hand slapping a back, then a deep male chuckle. “Relax, man. Let’s grab a drink. I’m sure it was nothing.”
A raindrop falls onto my cheek, but I don’t move to wipe it away. I’m focused entirely on the Watchers’ conversation.
Andre protests, “But the Given?—”
“Aren’t going anywhere,” says Silas. “You know as well as I do, this job is a joke. Watching over the gods-blessed as they commune with nature the night before their Giving Ceremonies is a ridiculous task. Nothing has ever happened in my twenty years as a Watcher, and it won’t tonight. Relax.”
I peer around the tree, holding my breath as the two men turn and walk away from the group. There’s no one watching the tent entrance right now.
I don’t abandon my hiding spot yet. Instead, I grip the bark as Andre and Silas chat with a third Watcher, passing around a silver flask. One of the guards still appears to be doing his job, but he’s located on the far side of the tent.
The entrance remains unguarded. This is my chance. If I’m going to do this, it needs to be now.
Torches sizzle as the rain picks up, and I inhale deeply, steeling my nerves. Hoping I’m not making the worst suns-damned mistake of my entire life, I keep my head down, and my knife clenched in my hand as I dash towards the tent.
I shove open the flap, dart inside, and gasp for breath.