Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Ajolt shoots through my hip as I’m tossed to the ground. Vines are still wrapped around my body, keeping me immobile, gagged, and blindfolded. I let out a huff through the thick vine between my teeth while more thuds sound around me as my friends are no doubt deposited on the ground as well.
Abruptly, the vines pull back.
“Have I mentioned how much I fucking hate forests?” Alistair grumbles from somewhere on my left.
Pushing up to my knees, I blink against the sudden light.
My jaw drops open as I stare at the incredible scenery before me.
Trees as thick as houses rise up like giants before us.
From the glowing light that twinkles from holes in the massive trunks, there appears to be dwellings inside.
Though there are no steps leading up to them.
Only vines that ripple down along the bark.
High above, vibrant green leaves rustle in the wind as the trees reach towards the heavens above.
I stare at the late afternoon sky, streaked with pink and gold. I have no idea where we were taken, but apparently, we are no longer underground.
“It was very foolish of you to come back here a second time,” a familiar voice says.
Lowering my gaze back down from the imposing trees and the colorful sky above, I give my head a quick shake and blink at the source of the voice.
A woman made of the woods stands before me.
Her dress is made of vines and leaves, with a few thin branches to add structure to it, and it pools around her like a green waterfall with specks of brown.
It complements her pale green skin and deep brown eyes, making her truly look like an embodiment of the forest. The only other color she wears comes from the red flowers that grow around her head like a crown.
Her long hair, made of fine vines and highlighted with beautiful leaves, ripples around her as if on a phantom wind.
It’s her. The dryad leader, whose name I don’t know, but who I have come to think of as the Dryad Queen.
I quickly scramble to my feet.
“We forgave your trespassing once because it was an accident,” she says, her voice low and smooth but with a sharp edge of threat to it. “But now you have returned of your own free will.”
I open my mouth to say something intelligent that I still haven’t quite figured out, but before any words can make it out, we are all startled out of our stupor by what can only be classified as an excited squeal.
Everyone starts in surprise as Lyra jumps to her feet with another excited squeak.
Her wavy brown hair flutters around her face with the sudden movement, but she just tosses it out of her face while grinning broadly.
Her orange eyes practically sparkle in the golden afternoon sunlight when she meets the Dryad Queen’s gaze.
“Hi!” Lyra blurts out.
The Dryad Queen blinks at her.
“Azaroth’s flame, I’m so excited to meet you!
” Lyra continues, the words spilling out of her mouth so fast that she almost trips over them.
“When they told me they had actually met you last year, I was honestly a little skeptical because, like, no one has met a dryad. Well, no one I know, at least. Anyway, part of me was thinking that maybe they were just messing with me. But now here you are and here is your city and here we are and oh my god it’s so exciting to meet you! ”
To be honest, I didn’t think that this wise and ancient dryad was even capable of looking shocked. Mabona’s tits, was I wrong.
The Dryad Queen stares at Lyra with such a comically stunned expression on her face that I have to swallow down a very untimely burst of laughter.
Her mouth is slightly open, and it looks like she had an entire speech planned that she can no longer remember because this grinning dragon shifter just threw the entire interaction off its logical course.
“Uhm, did you miss the part where she was in the middle of threatening us?” Alistair says, and arches an eyebrow at Lyra.
And that’s when I notice that there is an entire circle of dryads surrounding us with drawn bows and arrows pointed at us. They, however, look equally stunned and keep glancing between Lyra and their queen.
“Oh, right!” Lyra slaps her forehead, as if she just realized that she interrupted a threatening monologue, and then waves her hand at the Dryad Queen. “Sorry. Go ahead and finish.”
Galen lets out something between a sigh and a chuckle while Draven shakes his head and tries his best to suppress a smile.
In front of us, the Dryad Queen works her mouth a couple of times before she manages to recover. Drawing herself up to her full height, she fixes us with a wary stare.
“What is this?” she demands. “Why have you come?”
“We have come to ask you to help us fight,” I reply, holding her suspicious stare.
She narrows her eyes. “Fight? What fight? I am not interested in helping you win your Atonement Trials.”
“The Atonement Trials?” I blink at her. “What? No. Those happened months ago.”
She just continues watching me with creased brows, which is when I realize that the dryads might have a very different perspective on time than we do.
Compared to humans, we have very long lifespans, so they feel time more acutely than we do.
But I’m starting to wonder if the difference between us and the dryads might be even bigger. Are they actually immortal?
Giving my head a quick shake, I clear my throat and try to push the conversation back on track. “Last time we spoke, you told me that you hate the Icehearts.”
A hiss, like that of a furious viper about to strike, rips through the dryads around us. Isera snaps her gaze to them, ice forming in her palms. But none of them fire any arrows at us.
“We do,” the Dryad Queen replies, her voice now cold and sharp.
“As I told you back then, we hate them too,” I continue. “And now, we are fighting back. Both fae and dragon shifters.” I motion between my friends before shifting my attention back to the Dryad Queen. “And we need your help. Will you fight with us?”
Dead silence falls across the grass. Behind us, trees of more normal sizes ripple faintly as another warm wind sweeps through the forest. It makes the twisting vines swing from the branches.
Up ahead, shapes are moving inside the giant trees, as if the dryads who live in there are moving closer to peer out the windows.
The ring of archers around us remains motionless, but a few of them cast questioning glances at their queen. She, on the other hand, is watching me intently, as if she is trying to read my entire life history on my face.
I hold her gaze, barely daring to breathe.
“No.”
The air is sucked out of my lungs as if she had punched me instead of speaking one simple word. Dragging in a sharp breath, I blurt out, “What?”
“No,” she repeats, her voice now devoid of emotion.
A snarl rips from Isera’s throat, and her voice cuts through the air like a whip as she demands, “What do you mean no?”
“We will not fight with you.”
“Why the hell not?”
Fury suddenly crackles like lightning in the Dryad Queen’s eyes, but she doesn’t reply to Isera’s question. The sight of that raw fury makes ice skitter down my spine. But Isera doesn’t back down.
“You’re just going to hide in here?” she snaps. “While everyone else fights?”
The Dryad Queen seems to grow taller, and her voice gets deeper and more commanding as she declares, “We do not go to war. We are the guardians of this world. We cannot die of old age, but we can be killed. And it takes a thousand years for a new dryad to be birthed by this world. So we do not go to war.” Rage flickers in her eyes again as she adds, “Without good cause.”
“And this cause isn’t good enough?” I press, shaking my head in confusion. “I thought you said that you hated the Icehearts.”
Yet again, low snarls of raw hatred rip from some of the bow-wielding dryads around us.
“We do,” the Dryad Queen once more confirms.
But she says nothing else. Gives no other explanation. I flex my hand as frustration bubbles through me, but before I can say anything, Galen speaks up.
“A thousand years? For one dryad?” Drawing a hand through his blond hair, he shakes his head and then sweeps stunned violet eyes over the dryads around us as if counting them.
“So there have only been six dryads born since the war between fae and dragon shifters. Did you fight in that war? Is that why you’re so cautious now? ”
The Dryad Queen doesn’t reply to either of his questions. Instead, that raw fury and world-ending hatred flares in her eyes again as she says, “There have been no dryads born since the war.”
“What?” Lyra says, looking genuinely sad. “Why?”
“That is why we cannot fight,” the Dryad Queen says, once again ignoring the question. “Regardless of how much we hate the Icehearts. We cannot risk the extinction of our people.”
The previous anger and frustration that seemed to bubble inside all of us fades like a regretful sigh on the wind. Even Isera doesn’t argue with that reasoning. She simply crosses her arms and watches the dryads in cold silence. Orion, however, watches her with an expression that I can’t read.
Next to me, Draven cocks his head while a considering look blows across his features. “What did the Icehearts do to you?”
The Dryad Queen shifts her gaze to him but says nothing. For a while, they just continue watching each other in tense silence. Draven, more than anyone, knows the cruelty that the Icehearts are capable of. But the Dryad Queen doesn’t reply.
After a few more seconds of thick silence, she breaks his gaze and announces, “Since nightfall is almost here, we will allow you to stay this one night here in our home. At first light, you will be blindfolded and brought back to where you came from. Understood?”
Alistair, who hates forests, looks like he’s about to once again point out that he has fire magic and therefore doesn’t need daylight in order to find his way out of here, so I quickly nod and reply, “Yes, understood.”
Alistair shoots me a scowl, confirming my theory, but doesn’t argue further.
“Good.” With a flick of her wrist, the Dryad Queen at last orders the archers to stand down. “Then follow me.”
The leaves and vines that make up her hair and dress ripple as she spins around and starts towards the lights that twinkle from an opening in one of the massive trees. After exchanging a quick glance, we follow her.
Another question suddenly hits me, and I jog to catch up with the Dryad Queen. Even if they won’t fight with us, they might be able to help us.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask once I’ve caught up with her.
She glances at me from the corner of her eye but doesn’t respond.
However, since she didn’t say no either, I press on. “We’ve heard that there used to exist a partnership between Seelie fae and dragon shifters. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
Anticipation surges through me. “How does it work?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do any of your people know?”
“No.”
I try not to let the wave of disappointment crush me. “Is there really nothing, nothing at all, that you can tell me about it?”
“No. I know that it exists, but what it does and how it works was a secret between your two races.”
A frustrated sigh slips from my lips. Goddess fucking damn it. I really thought that the dryads would know. But now, it looks like the only ones who do are the Icehearts. But how are we going to get that secret out of them?
My mind churns as the Dryad Queen leads us into the massive tree trunk.
I wonder if Lavendera knows. She seems to be pretty high up in their circle of trust. Could we turn her? Make her change sides? She might work for them, but ultimately, she’s a fae from the Seelie Court. She’s one of us.
Tapping my fingers against my thigh, I make a mental note to bring that up with the others later.
Lavendera is likely sitting on a mountain of information that even Draven doesn’t know. Getting her on our side might just be the secret weapon we need in order to take on the Icehearts.