Chapter Eighteen
S he has been in the cave, alone, for much longer than I would care for.
I know she can handle herself. Of that, I have no doubt.
I am just uncomfortable at the fact that I cannot see her.
Having been forced to simply watch her for so long, when I cannot, I feel lost. This is my own battle and a petty struggle when Forsythia takes on so much more by herself. I will be strong for her and support her wherever she needs me to. I will prove myself worthy of our bond.
At that thought, I direct my attention to her other mate. Blake is still asleep, and I cannot say that I blame him. The process of imbuing a portion of the forest into your body is incredibly painful. I am just grateful that it was not nearly that bad when I removed the tiny piece of my own essence to give that chunk of limb new life.
His healing abilities are encouraging the skin to grow at a steady pace. It already reaches the outer portion of his palm. We will have to keep it immobilized for the rest of the day, but it should be good to use completely by tomorrow morning. I will have to remember to tell him to keep it dry until then. I know that he has a lot of abilities involving water due to his father’s nature, so I am sure that will not be a pleasant conversation.
I notice Forsythia’s pack leaning next to Blake and pull it closer. Opening it up, I pull out a water bottle, some dried fruits, a small wedge of bread, and some ripped cloth. After taking a small drink of water, I help myself to some of the dried fruits. I don’t mean to use all of Forsythia’s supplies, but I do need to replenish my energy a bit, and the bread is for Blake once he gains consciousness again. While munching on the fruit leathers, I begin to tie a few knots into the fabric, attaching the bits to one another.
I am just finishing up the makeshift sling when Forsythia makes her way out of the cave entrance. Her arm is slung around a man I have to assume was also a prisoner here.
Feeling much more at ease now that she is within my sight again, I set the things aside and make my way over to them.
The man feels powerful, but not half as much as the woman helping him, or even as powerful as Blake or myself, so I do not worry about him becoming a threat to us. However, the look on Forsythia’s face and the emotions coming from her suggests she is in distress. I move to take her position, but she shakes her head lightly, so I step back.
Instead, I move the pack, food, and other supplies from the tree I was leaning against and gently direct them to that spot, knowing that will be the easiest position for me to restrain the stranger if the need arises. Once Forsythia has him resting, she shifts back and plops down on her rear between him and Blake. She does a good job of making the move look casual, but I know that it is a measured protective movement. She is guarding her mate.
It makes me proud to see that she is no longer denying the bond. We will give her the additional strength she needs. She is so much smarter than she gets credited for. I think that is partly due to the epically ungraceful form the Gods befit her with. The more I get to know her, though, I find that part of her just as endearing as the rest.
My thoughts casually drift back to last night. I wonder if her equilibrium problems actually steam from the wonderful curves of her form. She is not a petite woman and has a large bosom and a nice plump round bot–
“Ahem,” Forsythia clears her throat and looks pointedly at me. She clearly felt my arousal through the bond that time. I smirk at her, and she smiles softly before turning her attention back to the man at the tree.
Forsythia runs a hand over the top of her head and lets out a sigh before she finally speaks up. “So, how long have you been a prisoner here?” she asks the man. Content to observe, I let her handle the question and response portion.
“I’ve been a prisoner for twenty-seven years.” His eyes take on a more haunted look, and he gazes off into nothingness. “You know, if I were human, that would be around one-third of my entire life. And the really sad part? I have no clue why they kept me all this time…” he trails off, and I can clearly see that he is dealing with suffering I know too well.
One that will stay with him for the rest of his life.
“I’m so sorry. We will be moving in just a little bit but will likely be creating a camp for the night in these woods. You are welcome to join us.” She tells him with a small smile. “My name is Forsythia Grimshaw. That’s probably why you mistook me for Elswyth. She was my mother.”
I watch as the man’s eyes widen in a look of awe. “Forsythia are my favorite flowers. She knew that.” He smiles, but it melts into pure sadness. When he speaks again, his dry voice is thick with emotion.
“You said ‘was.’ She has passed into the Ether, then?” He seems torn by his question. Almost as if he hopes she doesn’t answer at all. This man clearly had a connection to Forsythia’s mother, and I am guessing it doesn’t end there.
Forsythia looks down at her hands, avoiding his gaze as she answers. “Yes. The Creatori killed her three years ago.”
The man clutches his chest and doubles over. When she reaches forward to comfort him, he holds up a hand to stop her. “Please. I just–I need…” Although his magick is strong, his heart has clearly just broken.
Working quietly, I pour a small amount of water from the bottle I had into an empty one. I tap Forsythia and pass her the no-longer-empty bottle and half of the bread chunk. When she reaches out for it, I tilt my head in the man’s direction. She catches on quickly, giving me a small, sad smile, and nods.
She gently passes the man the water and bread. He keeps his gaze pointed downward, but you can see the glassiness in his eyes and tear tracks parting their way through the dirt on his face.
She lets him take a few sips and make his way through a good portion of the bread before Forsythia speaks again.
“I have to ask... why did your people not try to find you or report you missing?”
When he doesn’t respond right away, she adds, “Word should have traveled to the other factions after all this time, even with the animosity. I only heard about the possibility of your capture a week ago.”
He looks at her then. The confusion showing clearly in his expression. But the hollow and emotionless sound of his voice as he answers her makes me visibly shutter.
“My people are dead. All of them. That beast and the traitors that work with it–or for it–they subdued me somehow. As I was being transported from the village, I heard their…their screams .”
A lone tear drifts down his cheek, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“Over the years, the ones keeping me here have spoken when they assume me to be unable to hear them, about the annihilation of one sect or another. I have kept track as best as I can, and by my calculations… there are no demons left.”
Forsythia lowers her hand from her mouth, and a lone tear flows down her cheek. Her empathy knowing no bounds. “All of them?” She asks him quietly.
“Yes,” he responds to her. “The hatred had grown so thick after the Creatori arrived that communications with any faction and the demons were completely non-existent....no one even wanted to talk to the demons anymore...I was trying to come up with a solution...a bridge...something...anything. My people were suffering from the lack of trade, and I had hoped to remedy the situation, but before I could come up with a viable solution…”
He trails off in his story, and the haunted look in his eyes shines with an agonizing torture that no doubt rules his nightmares during his sleep, as much as it does during his times of wake.
Forsythia reaches out and touches the man’s leg in comfort. “I’m so sorry for your loss, but you’re not alone anymore. Blake and I are both half-breeds. Both of us are half demon.”
The man smiles at her, but the look is very quickly replaced by pure shock. “That means…the rumors were true then? Morfran was your father?”
She shakes her head aggressively as she answers. “No, those were all lies. I have no clue who started them or why they were spread so heavily, but they are not true. My mother was only ever with one man.” She leans closer, forcing him to look directly at her and here the truth in her words. “She only ever loved one man.”
He blinks at her. Clearly not understanding her implications.
She let out a big breath before finally giving in and saying what she meant. “ You , Orobas! You are my father!”
My eyebrows raise quite a bit at that statement. I knew they shared similarities, but I would not have anticipated that this man was her father.
For the first time since limping out of the cave alongside the daughter he didn’t know, Orobas’s face lights up with what can only be labeled as pure joy. Tears flow wildly down his face, as he buries it in his hands and sobs freely.
I lower my head to hide my face from them both and pull my emotions in tightly to keep them from the bond.
I will not soil their moment with my feelings of jealousy and regret.
Pining for a family that has been long gone for almost two centuries.
Not when a new one has been gifted to me.