Chapter 3
ISABEL
At this late hour, the forest should be utterly dark, but most of the vegetation, everything from the trees to the bushes and underbrush, is covered in multicolored glimmers of light.
I cast a cautious look around as Papa ushers me down the narrow path.
My mouth goes dry when several pairs of eyes glow in the darkness, staring straight at me.
I pray whatever creatures are watching us are harmless, though I’m starting to worry our luck might soon run out.
We’ve been on the road for nearly a fortnight now.
Sometimes we make camp in the forest, and other times we stay in small villages.
Papa is certain that we’ll soon encounter a large town called Hollins that boasts several inns, which is why we haven’t set up camp even though night is quickly closing in.
What if he’s wrong about Hollins? Or what if we arrive only to discover it lies in ruins? That’s happened a couple of times since we embarked on our journey… we reached a large clearing in the forest that was supposed to contain a village, only to discover charred ruins.
I fight back a shiver and walk faster, trying to keep up with Papa’s relentless pace.
Then I hear it. For the first time since we fled Braemar, I hear Gideon’s voice in my head.
Where are you, my little moth? Isabel… where are you?
It takes all my willpower to suppress a gasp and keep walking. I don’t want my father to know what I just heard, and, gods, how I fear what it must mean. If I’m suddenly hearing Gideon’s voice after all this time, it most likely means the fae male is nearby.
I replay the words he just spoke in my head, and dread fills me. He’s never spoken my name before. And little moth… well, my hair is the same gold as the sunmoths that live across the entire realm, moths that thrive in all climates.
My dread twists into cold terror. Not only does Gideon know my name, but he somehow knows what I look like.
Can he hear my voice too? It’s a harrowing thought, and I resolve to be mindful of what I say going forward. I won’t admit to Papa that I can hear Gideon. I won’t admit that I fear my fated mate, the fae male I am desperate to outrun, might be closing in.
When the lights of a town emerge in the darkness, I release a weary sigh. Papa nudges me playfully and smiles.
“Ah. There it is. Hollins. I visited this town several times when I was a young soldier. Come, daughter, and we will find lodging for the night.”
I nod silently and hasten toward the town, eager to escape the glimmering forest. Ussha, I recall.
That’s what the glimmer that covers all the vegetation is named.
It’s my understanding that ussha is the lifeforce that powers fae magic, and with its spread into human and orc lands, all manner of fae creatures have migrated with it, along with the fae themselves.
I’ve heard numerous tales of fearsome otherworldly beasts roaming the forests, and I have no wish to encounter one.
Gideon’s voice comes to me again, and I almost trip over my own feet as surprise sweeps through me.
I’m searching for two runaway humans. A young woman and her father. By order of King Theron Frostborne, I must inspect your guest book.
Oh, my gods. By order of King Theron? Perhaps my father and I were spotted fleeing Braemar on the eve of Tribute Day, and perhaps the Winter King has tasked Gideon with hunting us down.
My thoughts race as I try to piece the clues together.
I want to believe Gideon doesn’t know he’s searching for a human female who is likely his mate.
And yet… my little moth sounds like an endearment. Yes, it could also be a taunt, but the deep, warm tone of his voice made it sound… affectionate.
My stomach plunges to the icy ground, and I bury myself deeper in my cloak as Papa guides us toward an inn that’s nestled between a bookstore and a clothing shop.
Papa casts a longing look at the bookstore, pausing to inspect the titles that are on display in the front window.
My mother was a voracious reader, and I recall him surprising her with books on special occasions.
Even now, years after her death, whenever he passes a bookstore or a merchant selling used books on market day, he always pauses to inspect the titles.
I know he’s thinking of my mother, and I reach for his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.
“I’ve never seen a bookstore so large,” he says contemplatively. “Your mother would’ve loved it.” A sad smile passes over his wrinkled face.
Not for the first time in recent days, I experience a pang of shock at how old he’s starting to look.
Though he’s only in his late fifties, it’s as though stress and age have suddenly decided to catch up to him, and I feel guilty that he’s now living a rather rough existence on the road, on the run, because of me.
“Yes,” I eventually say. “Mama would’ve loved this place.”
We stand there for a few minutes, staring into the closed bookstore.
The clatter of horse-drawn carts and the voices of passersby on the street fade into the background, and I’m glad that I can’t hear Gideon’s voice at this moment.
This moment is meant for Mama, a quiet tribute to her memory, one that I can share with Papa.
Though their marriage was arranged, they eventually grew to love one another, and it’s a story I enjoyed hearing about as a child. Because it’s a story filled with hope, one that had a happily ever after… until the fateful night Mama came down with a fever.
Papa turns to me and displays another sad smile. His eyes gleam with unshed tears. “Maybe tomorrow we can peruse the bookstore before we set off again. If we’re going to spend a few weeks on a ship as we cross the Clarrsian Sea, we ought to have some reading material.”
I squeeze his hand again. “That’s a good idea. Maybe they have a copy of Adventures of Rahamonna,” I say, referring to one of my mother’s favorite books, one I suspect Papa regrets not packing in his bag.
His eyes glimmer brighter, then he gives his head a quick jerk, as though trying to come back to reality.
He pulls his hand from mine and gestures at the inn.
A sign hangs in front of the illuminated window that reads ROOMS AVAILABLE.
A peek into the window shows several people seated near a fire, and I glimpse an elderly man standing behind a counter.
To my utter relief, I don’t see a fae male in the establishment.
Thank the gods for that. But Hollins is large enough that it has several inns, and I can’t help but wonder if Gideon is here somewhere.
Perhaps when I heard his voice a few minutes ago, he was speaking to the proprietor of another inn in Hollins.
Oh, gods. Should I tell Papa? Should I warn him that we need to run?
I open my mouth, ready to announce that we must flee back into the forest and make camp tonight, only to pause at the fatigued look he’s wearing.
His shoulders are hunched slightly, and he grimaces every so often, making me fear his back is bothering him again.
Well, drat. I can’t in good conscience make him run back into the forest with me. Not when the promise of a hot meal and a warm bed is staring us in the face.
The bell above the door jangles as we enter the inn. Papa negotiates a good price with the elderly man standing behind the counter, while I hold our belongings and warm myself near the fire.
“See any fae in these parts recently?” my father asks the proprietor, keeping his voice casual and calm.
I brace myself for the answer, holding my breath as the waves of heat from the hearth warm my chilled insides.
“No fae have been spotted in Hollins in years, though I’ve rented rooms to plenty of people from other settlements who’ve become displaced due to the fae armies, folks who are headed south to escape the fae.”
“Headed south. You mean to cross the Clarrsian Sea?” Papa says.
“Yes, that’s what they always say. There are some remote islands that the fae have supposedly never set foot on.
If I were younger and feeling adventurous, I might do the same.
But I figure if the fae attack Hollins, I’ll hunker down until the battle’s over, pay my tribute, and try to carry on with life as best I can,” the proprietor says with a laugh, though I can’t surmise how he can find humor in this situation.
The four fae courts seem intent on conquering all the human and orc villages and cities they encounter, and I fear it won’t be long before the fae are in complete control of the entire realm. A terrifying prospect.
My father finishes making arrangements with the proprietor, though I only half pay attention to the details. After I hear Papa give the proprietor a fake name, I tune out the rest of their conversation and focus on the steady crackle of the fire.
Finally, Papa joins me at the hearth. “Let’s get settled in our rooms. I’ve arranged for separate rooms, hot baths, and a large meal to be delivered to our rooms. This will probably be our last night staying at an inn before we reach one of the port cities, so I figured we ought to enjoy ourselves.
I’m still mulling over which port city we ought to head for, as most are about the same distance from here, but I’ll pray on it tonight. Perhaps the gods will send me a sign.”
“Thank you, Papa,” I say.
For a reason I can’t fathom, I find myself blinking back tears.
I can’t explain why, but I’m starting to get the sense that tonight, this very moment, might be the last time I ever see my father.
But that’s preposterous. Tomorrow we’re set to depart for a port city, and we’ll visit the bookstore before we leave.
I’m quiet and lost in thought as we follow the proprietor upstairs. Our rooms rest at the end of a long, narrow hallway lined with paintings of wrecked ships. My sense of foreboding increases.