Chapter 58
fifty-eight
Alain
Night crept through the forest like a predator, swallowing what little light remained between the twisted branches overhead. My mare’s ears flicked nervously as shadows lengthened around us, and even Isabeau’s unicorn seemed to lose some of its ethereal glow in the gathering darkness.
We needed shelter, and soon. The forest transformed at night. I’d learned that much during my desperate ride to find Isabeau. What walked these woods after sunset wasn’t meant for human eyes, and I had no desire for a second introduction.
“We should stop,” I said, pulling gently on the reins. “Riding blind through this forest is asking for death.”
Isabeau nodded, sliding gracefully from her unicorn’s back. “I know. I can feel them stirring.”
The casual way she referenced the forest’s horrors sent a chill down my spine. Not for the first time, I wondered exactly what she’d experienced during her time alone in these woods. What nightmares she’d survived that made her speak of monsters with such calm acceptance.
I dismounted, wincing at the stiffness in my legs.
Even with her healing magic, the river, the gryphon’s attack, and being spun from my horse had taken their toll.
I watched as Isabeau moved purposefully among the trees, placing her palms against their trunks one by one, head tilted as if listening to voices I couldn’t hear.
“What are you doing?” I asked, keeping my voice low. Something about the deepening darkness demanded whispers.
“Looking for the right one,” she replied, moving to another tree. “One with enough old magic left. Most are... sick now.” Her fingers traced patterns over the rough bark, her expression a mixture of concentration and sorrow. “The corruption spreads through their roots like poison.”
I followed her, leading both horses, fascinated by the way she communicated with the forest. This wasn’t the frightened, desperate woman I’d found in the castle dungeon.
This was someone else entirely. A creature of magic discovering her power, accepting it.
Every day revealed more of what she could truly be, and every revelation left me more in awe of her.
She paused before a massive oak, its trunk wider than three men standing shoulder to shoulder.
Unlike many of the trees we’d passed, its leaves hadn’t succumbed to the unnatural blackening that plagued the forest. We were leaving the heart of the curse, so some held on longer here.
When her hands pressed against its bark, her whole body seemed to relax.
“This one,” she breathed, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. “This one still has its heart. The darkness hasn’t reached its core.”
I stood back, unsure of what to expect. Isabeau closed her eyes, her lips moving in words too quiet for me to catch.
The claiming mark on her shoulder glowed faintly through the fabric of her dress, pulsing like a second heartbeat.
The sight transfixed me. This visible evidence of her connection to beings I’d never seen but whose existence I could no longer deny.
A low groaning sound made me step back. The tree’s trunk was... shifting. Moving like flesh rather than wood, opening from the center to reveal a hollow space inside. But no, not hollow. As the opening widened, I realized the space within was much larger than the tree’s exterior should allow.
“Bring them,” Isabeau said, gesturing to our mounts.
I hesitated only a moment before guiding the horses toward the impossible doorway. My mare balked, but the unicorn stepped forward without fear, ducking its head to pass through the opening. My mount followed reluctantly, drawn by the other animal’s confidence.
Once inside, I could only stare. The interior space was as large as a decent-sized chamber in the palace, with a floor of soft moss and walls of living wood that seemed to pulse with a faint amber light.
After ensuring our horses were secure, Isabeau turned back toward the opening and made a twisting motion with her hands. The doorway sealed itself seamlessly, leaving no trace that it had ever existed.
“We’re safe now,” she said, her voice echoing slightly in the enclosed space. “Nothing can find us here. Not the wolves, not the hunters.”
The darkness closed around us, absolute without moonlight or stars.
I heard Isabeau rummaging in her pack, then a soft whisper.
Suddenly, a warm golden light bloomed in the center of the space.
She held the amber gem from her pocket, now glowing with an inner fire that cast everything in honey-colored light.
God, she was beautiful.
The thought hit me with a force that sent my heart hammering into a deeper ache. Hair falling loose around her shoulders, skin bathed in amber light, eyes reflecting the gem’s glow. She looked like something from ancient legend. A forest goddess descended to walk among mortals.
I’d noticed her beauty before, of course. I wasn’t blind. But this was different. This wasn’t just appreciation of a pretty face or desirable form. This was recognition of something essential about her, something that transcended mere appearance.
And I was going to lose her.
The realization crushed the breath from my lungs.
Once this quest was done, she would leave. Travel to Eldagh, beyond my father’s reach. Beyond mine. It was the right choice, the only choice that offered her freedom. I knew this. Accepted it, even. But that didn’t stop the ache that spread through my chest at the thought.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, setting the glowing gem carefully on a natural shelf in the wooden wall. “You look... sad.”
I hadn’t realized my emotions were so transparent. A lifetime of court training should have left me better at masking my feelings. But something about her stripped away pretense.
“I was just thinking,” I said slowly, “that giving you up will be the most honorable thing I ever do.” The words surprised me with their honesty. “But part of me wishes I could be selfish. Follow my own heart for once.”
Her expression softened. “And where would thou’s heart lead?”
“With thee.” The admission felt like jumping from a cliff, exhilarating and terrifying at once. Our use of formal pronouns adding a respecting layer of depth to the emotion behind our words. “Anywhere,” I breathed, “But I’m needed elsewhere. My duty—”
“I understand duty,” she interrupted gently. “Better than you might think.”
Of course she did. Her entire life had been shaped by sacrifice and loss—her mother’s, her father’s, then her own. She understood the weight of obligation better than most nobles I knew.
“Then we’ll have to make these memories enough,” she said, a sad smile touching her lips.
Outside our sanctuary, wolves began to howl. Not ordinary wolves, but the shadow-creatures that had invaded the castle. Their cries sounded like human souls in torment, rising and falling on the night wind.
Isabeau shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s getting colder.”
“We can’t risk a fire in here,” I said, glancing at the wooden walls. “But there are other ways to stay warm.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Is that how thou woos all women into thy bed, Prince Alain? With practical concerns about body heat?”
I couldn’t help laughing, surprised and delighted by her teasing. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman. Royal honor.”
“I know you will be,” she said, her voice growing serious.
“You’ve never forced yourself on me. Never tried to take what wasn’t freely given.
” She stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her body.
“When I’m in your arms, everything feels right.
Like I’ve found somewhere I belong, even if just for a moment. ”
The wolves howled again, their voices closer now.
But inside our magical shelter, with Isabeau looking at me like I was something precious rather than just a spare prince, I couldn’t bring myself to fear them.
So I did what I offered. I gave her my body as a blanket, and I held on to cherish the memory.
Sleep claimed me somewhere between one breath and the next, dragging me down into darkness that felt too thick, too sentient to be natural slumber.
My last conscious thought was of Isabeau curled against my chest, her warmth seeping into my bones.
Then the darkness shifted, thinned, and reshaped itself into a misty gray expanse that stretched endlessly in all directions.
I wasn’t alone. Isabeau stood before me, but her attention wasn’t on me at all.
She faced a shimmering wall of light that bisected the grayness, and on the other side, gods help me, waited the beasts.
I tried to call out, to warn her, but my voice made no sound in this place.
My body felt insubstantial, weightless, as if I existed here only as thought and observation.
Was this a dream? Or something else? The forest’s magic had wormed its way into my blood, into my mind, showing me things I shouldn’t be able to see.
And gods, what things they were.
Three creatures stood on the other side of the translucent barrier.
Monsters from childhood nightmares, giant beasts that would send hardened soldiers scrambling for weapons and prayers.
The largest resembled a bear, but wrong.
Too large, its honey-colored fur rippling with muscle beneath, its face a disturbing blend of lion and bull features, sprinkled with a human intelligence.
Beside it prowled another just a size smaller, silver-brown fur matted with what looked like blood, its movements too deliberate, too calculated for a mere animal.