Chapter 18
If there were an award for consistently inviting trouble despite having absolutely no intention of doing so, I would win it without question.
Not second place, not an honorable mention, but a very clear and undisputed victory.
Why do I say this?
Because at this exact moment, I am backed against a very old and very unhelpful tree, painfully aware of my poor life choices.
Standing in front of me is what I can only describe as a massive, aggressively offended, and alarmingly hungry creature that resembles a tiger, if a tiger had gone through several magical upgrades.
It has glowing red eyes, oversized teeth, and an aura that strongly suggests I am about to become dinner.
And how, you may ask, did I end up here?
-
It started with something deceptively harmless: collecting firewood at the edge of the forest.
Simple, manageable, and most importantly, safe.
Which, looking back, was an obvious red flag.
Apparently, we were supposed to collect only completely dried wood.
This required attention, effort, and the highly specialized ability to identify what exactly qualified as "completely dried," none of which happened to be my strongest skills.
Under normal circumstances, I would have solved this problem efficiently with small, discreet uses of magic.
Unfortunately, Rhaevan was present.
Which meant that option was no longer available to me.
Meanwhile, he was doing perfectly fine.
Sorting wood. Lifting bundles. Filling the cart with irritating ease, like he had been born specifically for this task.
And then I heard him chuckle.
"Something funny?" I snapped, straightening immediately.
"Nothing," he said calmly, which, in my experience, usually means everything is funny and I am the reason.
"Cassiane," he said after a moment.
"What?" I asked, not bothering to hide my irritation.
He sighed softly, as though weighing the question for a long moment before finally asking, "Why do you avoid me?"
"I am not avoiding you," I said quickly. "I am working, and I do not talk while I work. I am poor at multitasking."
"Okay," he said. "Believable."
Then, still watching me in that annoyingly observant way, he asked, "Why don't you want to go back to the palace?"
I stopped.
The stick in my hand suddenly became very important.
"It is not like I belong there," I said after a moment, keeping my tone steady.
"No one is waiting for me. I am happy here."
He watched me with quiet focus, as though carefully weighing how far he could push before I shut him out completely.
"Then how were you connected to the palace?" he asked. "What were you doing there?"
I exhaled slowly.
"The king took me in," I said, repeating the simplest version of the truth. "I'm a charity case. Nothing more."
When he said nothing in response, I looked up and found him watching me with something softer in his eyes, something I did not particularly appreciate.
"Didn't bother me," I added quickly.
"I was tired of being there. At least here I am... useful."
He gave a small nod and returned to his work.
Meanwhile, I continued mine-with significantly less success.
Every piece of wood I picked up turned out to be wrong.
It was too damp, too fresh, and completely useless.
If I could just use my magic for a moment, this would be done in minutes, but instead I was stuck failing at something that should have been basic.
"Ugh. I wish these woods came with an automated drying system," I muttered to myself as I sorted through my embarrassingly small pile of firewood.
With growing irritation, I tossed aside yet another damp log.
That was when I heard a low, dangerous growl.
I froze.
Then I slowly stood up, every muscle suddenly alert, and instinctively shifted a little closer to Rhaevan.
Rhaevan reacted instantly, his body going rigid as his attention snapped toward the sound.
His posture changed at once, all calm domestic helpfulness disappearing in a second.
He lifted one arm slightly in front of me, as if pushing me back without touching me.
"Stay back," he said.
Then the growl exploded into a roar.
I panicked.
Correction-I panicked spectacularly.
I screamed, every coherent thought abandoned me, and in that moment of pure survival-driven stupidity, instead of running out of the forest like any sensible person would, I ran deeper into it.
Because apparently, when faced with mortal danger, my survival instincts preferred chaos.
And now I was lost, running in circles, and once again paying the price for my extraordinary decision-making skills.
Great. Just great, Cassiane.
Now what?
As I frantically tried to come up with a plan, one deeply unhelpful thought slipped into my mind.
Can this get any worse?
A low growl answered me.
I slowly turned around, only to find the creature right behind me, looking enormous, terrifying, and alarmingly hungry.
Very clearly not open to negotiation.
"Alright," I said carefully, raising my hands slightly.
"Let's be reasonable. I am not particularly filling, I have minimal nutritional value, and I am generally not worth the effort-"
It growled louder.
"Okay," I said. "That did not work."
I took a step back and immediately hit the tree behind me.
Of course.
Because apparently even the forest had chosen a side.
I swallowed hard and kept my eyes on the creature.
"Oh, come on," I muttered.
The creature lowered itself, muscles coiling as it prepared to pounce.
I did not bother thinking after that.
Instinct took over.
Magic surged through me, wild and immediate, with none of the control or restraint I usually fought to maintain.
Something sharp and forceful burst from my hands, snapping a thick branch from above and hurling it straight at the creature.
The branch struck with a heavy crack.
Unfortunately, it did not injure the beast.
It only made it angrier.
The creature roared, its red eyes burning even brighter as it prepared to launch itself at me.
I raised my hands again, panic clawing up my throat as I tried to form a barrier.
The energy flickered violently between my palms, unstable and incomplete, and I knew almost immediately that it would not hold.
The creature moved closer, and I had nowhere left to retreat.
I shut my eyes and muttered, "If my soul is getting relocated again, I want a genre where I'm cursed with obscene wealth and an endless supply of pastries."