Chapter Seven
Vonetta
The Forests of the Isle of Women are a tranquil place. Small and teeming with small animals and birds, the occasional herd of deer travels the icy pass in winter and keeps with us through spring. Nanburrow Forest is something else entirely.
Looking over the narrow shoulders of Wren, I can see on his map that Nanburrow covers the western border of Elemyr.
It feels formidable in its size, and its terrain is unfamiliar to me.
The forest floor varies significantly over short distances.
Whole swaths of land appear washed away by flood.
Our pace is slow as we navigate the landscape.
Chiron guides us easily across fallen trees and under heavy, dangling limbs.
His demeanor is amiable, and he pleasantly recounts his journey to the Isle two days prior.
“Nanburrow is a fine pass, more exciting than the plains, but not a place for a steed or a large group either.” He explains.
Wren keeps his eye on either the map or the sky, nodding his understanding and thanks to Chiron when he assists our crossings.
The walk is arduous after weeks spent in the sanctuary rather than the gardens, and I do my best to keep pace with them.
Seeing them both now together brings perspective; they are both tall men, but not much taller than me, a hand’s width perhaps.
I deeply regret the gown I donned earlier this day, because I have to take extra care not to become caught in brush or burr.
My limbs ache from their use. My muscles strain with each climb, and shudder with each downslope.
When next Chiron holds my passage under a fallen young tree, he says, “My Lady, a path for you.” With the same tone and smile as this morning.
This subtle, cheeky remark is not unlike our meeting in the cave this morning.
I imagine this charmed Prince does well with his smiles and courtly lines that bring warmth to my cheeks.
The forest feels smaller now, but no less foreboding.
The sun is well behind the trees when Wren consults the map and suggests we make camp for the night.
“If we stop here, we’ll make it out of the forest by midday tomorrow.” He tells us, pointing out where he has determined we are in the tiny drawn trees.
Chiron looks into the distant trees ahead and at the placement of the sun and speaks with determination,
“We can keep on. We could make it out by nightfall and retreat to a real bed." Both men turn towards me, seemingly for a response.
I feel uneasy under their questioning eyes. I could perhaps continue on—but I yearn for stillness. This day has taken more than just a physical toll on me. I straighten before I respond,
“This day has been long; I’d appreciate the rest.” They both nod their assent, and I take a measured, relieved breath. I’ve never coexisted with men for this long, and I had wondered how they might respond to my needs. I am cautiously soothed by their easy agreement.
Chiron determines the best spot to place our small camp and gathers wood for kindling a fire. It takes some time to trade supplies amongst ourselves, our bags packed not for the individual but for our shared journey.
Our evening is agreeable, but remains awkward and quiet as darkness falls over the forest. I sit huddled in my cloak.
It smells of Vestera and of home. The raw ache in my chest keeps me silent.
Wren sits close to the fire now, a small book and pencil in hand.
I wonder what he writes, but I do not ask him.
Chiron inspects and polishes a small knife on his tunic.
He uses it to cut some cheese and bread for our meal.
The silence between us rests more easily, and we all relax into it.
I peer into the flames, reflecting on all that has happened these last days.
From the first night until now, mere weeks have passed.
But our lives? Mine feels ever so far away.
I’m brought back from my contemplations by Chiron; he’s asked me something, but I didn’t hear him.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” My voice is a little unsteady, dry from the heat of the campfire. He smiles apologetically.
“I asked if you’ve been before. Here, off the Isle?"
Oh. I clear my throat,
“No. I was born on Elemyr, but I don’t know where. I have lived on the Isle of Women for as long as I can remember.” He nods his understanding.
It’s quiet for a while before he talks again. “Vonetta?”
“Yes?”
Now it’s his turn to clear his throat.
“Are you okay with all of this?" I face him now, the shadows and light flickering over his features. His eyes are crinkled at the edges again, but not with amusement. There is real concern there…for me. I’m steady but quiet when I respond.
“It is a great honor to represent Naedra in the Trinity. It is not what I chose, but I will do my best to be a good queen and…” I pause now, a little abashed at the word wife.
“Companion and partner to you both.” I shift my eyes to Wren.
He’s not writing anymore, but is looking at Chiron and me.
It’s hard not to feel scrutinized under his gaze, but I don’t think it’s purposefully judging.
He is watchful, taking us in and cataloguing what he has found. I look back at Chiron and mirror his question back to him.
“What about you? Are you okay? No women left behind at your calling?” He gives a charming, easy smile, one that I think many must find difficult not to return.
“No, Vonetta, no one waits for me at home. I’ve been preparing for this my entire life, to be the heir, you know?
I do feel…a bit out of my depth right now.
The journey here, the ritual. That was…intense.
Is it like that all the time? On the Isle?
” I shake my head, and a small knowing laugh is in my chest. “Oh, Gods no. But also, yes…” I pause for a moment to form my next thought.
“Our rites happen with the changing of the seasons. They are intense, the revelry after, to be sure. But its expression of the change, a celebration of the passing of time and season. Movement and proximity are joyful for us.” His eyes soften at that, like he understands this well.
I cannot imagine what it is like at events in the city, but I do not ask.
I only think of my home with pride and loss.
Wren is smiling a little too, so I take the chance to ask him.
“Wren, how are you dealing with all of this?” the Rite, the bond, everything…goes unsaid.
His smile fades to something—it tastes like distress, and I feel unease settle between us when he starts. Wren is quiet, but his voice is clear.
“I expected to spend my life in the Atheneum studying under great teachers. I do feel like my choices have been usurped.” His voice is regretful now. “Not because of either of you. We are all here because of duty, I know that. I just need time.”
Chiron and I nod our understanding. Of course, we understand. Wren goes back to writing in his book again. Chiron and I both stare into the fire again. Exhaustion is close for me, and my eyelids feel heavy. Chiron stretches his legs in front of him and says to me,
“Wren and I can take shifts and keep watch for a while; you can take your rest.” I nod graciously and make to settle in.
Packing light for us, the sisters sent us with a large quilt to lie on, and I use my cloak as a cover.
Sleep hovers right at the edge, but I can hear faint whispers.
I open my eyes and see that Chiron has moved to be next to Wren.
Not side by side, but back to back. This seems to make Wren feel more comfortable, and that makes me smile a little.
When I imagined a prince, I didn’t expect the discerning man who is here now.
The forest sounds are different from the Isle. Louder and fuller, and unease at its strangeness feels fully seated on my chest. But I listen to the whispers of the two men a few steps away, breathing deeply and clearing my thoughts as they form. I drift into a restless unconscious.
…
When I wake, it is still night, and the fire is still burning hot.
Chiron is asleep in the middle of the quilt, and I can see that Wren is on his own for this watch.
I rub my eyes and wrap my cloak about me.
This is the first time I’ve actually had the chance to talk to Wren alone, and I’d like the opportunity to do that.
I walk over to him, careful not to wake Chiron as I leave the quilt. Leaves crunch underneath my feet, but they are quiet, another note in the music of the forest.
Wren notices me now as I sit down next to him, folding my legs to the side.
“Thank you for keeping watch. I really needed the sleep.”
Wren nods his welcome to me, and to my surprise, he responds,
“I spend many nights awake; I enjoy the quiet. Usually, it’s in my library, but the forest is good too.” I like that, and I can relate to it.
“What were you writing about earlier? You seemed very invested in it.” There is no judgment in my tone, only curiosity.
“Oh, I was recalling our experience in the Rite—from my limited perspective, of course. Also, the journey so far. I like to keep a record of events, the important ones.” I nod my understanding.
He’s a scholar, it’s what the Isle of Men is known for, of course, but Wren is serious about his work, proud.
“I enjoy my time in our Sanctuary, on the Isle. My studies have been geared toward the history of Naedra and the Isle. Recently, a lot about Elemyr, of course. But also, the sight—precognition.”
Wren looks at me now, seriously but not sternly. Like a fellow student of history, with respect.
“I don’t just want to be someone who learns about the happenings of the Kingdom. As I experience them, I want to chronicle them myself and share them.”
I smile because I appreciate that as well. Wren isn’t only a scholar, he’s a teacher. He genuinely enjoys taking everything in.
I yawn, knowing I should go back to sleep. When I shift to stand, Wren offers me his hand for balance. I accept it, thanking him.
“Goodnight, Wren, thank you again. For staying up and for telling me more about your work.”
“Same to you, Vonetta. Goodnight.”
When I lie back down on the quilt, I do so on my right side, facing away from Chiron. My small conversation with Wren was good. I’m glad we got to do that, I think, as I move into a comfortable position.
Chiron shifts behind me, and his heavy arm falls across my waist again. When I first woke this morning, this felt awkward. But I am weary and sore from this day. Now it feels…safe? I don’t have much space to consider it because I fall asleep with ease.