Chapter 13 Fuck Me. It Is #2
“To the tourney,” she clarifies. “Arcadia is sustained on the magic born between an Heir of the kingdom and their human Champion when they compete in the tourney.” She pokes a bony finger into my chest. “You’re a Champion, Alice.
This land calls to your heart. And you need to decide whether you’re going to fight for it. ”
Memaw drops her joint onto the dirt, mushing it into the ground with the heel of her work-boot. I stare at her, slack jawed as she rambles on.
“There are always two Heirs. Two Champions. Usually, you come here when you’re young to prepare.
And when you’re in your prime, the tourney occurs to choose who wears the crown,” she explains.
“But you changed things when you left. Your counterpart broke tradition, taking the crown before she was meant to. Now, the land is suffering. Arcadia is angry, and its magic is as volatile as its interim ruler.”
“You must know that sounds insane. I’m not some kind of knight or hero,” I rush. “I can’t save a kingdom.”
Memaw studies me with tender affection. “Can’t you?”
The question is ominous in its simplicity.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. A shiver runs down my spine. I have the awful feeling that there’s so much more that I don’t know—that I want to know. “I have more questions.”
Memaw hums, but we’re interrupted by a terrifying roar. It echoes through the air, and the woods rustle in response, despite the lack of wind. It’s a whooshing hush, like the leaves are terrified of what the monstrous sound means.
I balk at the clear sky.
“They’re fighting again,” she grumbles with a scowl. “Idiots, the both of them.” She pats my knee twice. “I think it’s about time you get going, dearie. Ask that boy for your answers. I’ve got things to prepare for here. Seems we’re having a tourney after all.”
She stands, and waddles towards the cottage faster than I can blink.
“Wait—” I call out.
“Don’t be a stranger!” she calls back, dismissing me with a hand over her shoulder. “Get going before they find you!”
Two blood-curdling roars rip through the air, and I stumble backwards before rushing down the path. There are monsters in the woods, and I’m not about to stick around and become an afternoon snack.
But when I reach the fork in the road, it’s not the same as before. Where three paths once converged, there are now four.
Panic sizzles through me as I search for the hairband I tied around one of the branches, coming up empty.
I know, for a fact, that I tied it next to the path I came from, because I’m not wearing it. And when I’m not wearing it, it’s in my hair. And it’s not in my hair.
I press my hands to my curls, scrunching to confirm as much. More evidence resides on my wrist: the indent still fresh from where it once pressed into my skin.
Murmured curses fall from my lips as I fail to find my marker, again and again, until I’ve made three turns around the intersection.
This is fine. Completely. Totally. Fine.
“Left. I veered left when I went down the old woman’s path,” I whisper to myself. “That means I came from there…” I point at the trail. It’s no different from the others, a dirt path two-persons wide and lined with weeds. “This has got to be it.”
I walk. And walk. And walk, until I start to wonder if I chose wrong again. But it’s like the woods read my mind, and the trees shift, the footpath opening up to a meadow.
Except it’s not my meadow.
I freeze, one foot on the dirt trail and one foot in the grass, because I’m not alone. My instincts tell me to run, but my limbs refuse to comply. I’m rooted to the earth, locked where I stand.
The beast is massive.
Its white scales ripple as it curls in a protective ball in the grass, and the sunlight bounces blue iridescence off the natural armor.
Wings bristle at its back, fanning out to span what must be forty feet before tucking tightly to its serpentine body.
It huffs, and it sounds more annoyed than in pain as it licks at a wound on its wing.
There’s a loud thump—I would flinch if my muscles would let me—as a mace-like tail flicks through the air and pounds on the earth.
Cat-like, the tail seems connected to the beast’s mood.
It thumps again, the monster’s frustration palpable, and the pointed barbs slice into the ground, pluming blades of grass and dirt.
A minute passes where I simply watch the beast. It doesn’t notice me, and I’m sure it’s because I don’t breathe for those sixty seconds.
When oxygen becomes paramount, and my lungs suck in a single greedy breath, that changes.
The beast tenses; its head whips around, and all I catch before I cower behind the safety of raised palms and closed lids are a pair of furious navy-blue eyes. There’s a roar, a rumble of the earth as it rushes me, and a gust of unnatural, blistering hot air.
I think it sniffs me.
My body trembles as its burning breath crawls over my skin. One—two—three counts pass, and the scorching presence disappears.
“What the hell are you doing here?” a deep, rasping voice growls.
My eyes snap open as a large hand wraps around my wrist, right over where my hair tie should be. The mountain of a man drags me into the field, and I stumble after his large strides.
“Ori?” I manage to choke out. I’ve only seen him once before, but I’d recognize his stature and dark tresses anywhere.
“I asked you a question. Answer it,” he barks, head snapping to glare at me over his shoulder.
My shock at how this man can turn into a beast fades, quickly overshadowed by anger. “Excuse me?”
“How did you get to Arcadia? Did you follow me?” he asks.
“I didn’t know what Arcadia was until ten minutes ago!” I dig my heels into the dirt, but Ori continues to drag me through the field. “Will you stop manhandling me?”
“No. You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.”
“I want to leave, but I got lost.” My hysteria grows, and I smack his veined forearm. “But I’m not going to let you drag me to god-knows where so you can fry me up with your dragon breath and eat me!”
Ori growls—but thankfully lets me go instead of continuing his game of tug of war with my arm.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeats.
“You said that already,” I huff as I rub around my wrist.
“Because it bears repeating. And you don’t listen.”
Ori’s seething, it’s clear in the way his fists clench at his sides. Each breath he takes is labored, heavy, and full of rage. But why is he angry? And why is he angry at me?
Something primal bursts in my chest.
“You don’t know me,” I grind out between clenched teeth.
“I know you enough,” Ori sneers. He storms away, hands flying to the heavens as he leaves me in the center of the clearing. “You can stay lost if you’re so set on it. I don’t care.”
“Why are you such a dick?” I yell, running after him.
“You were standoffish at your shop too. Terrible customer service. I should have left a bad review on Yelp.” Ori casts me a glare over his shoulder.
“Are you like this with everyone you meet? Or is it only me that’s won the honor of your ire?
Is it because Harley asked you to alter my dress for free? I said I would pay you.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he says, ignoring mine.
“Which question?” I loose a frustrated cry as I try to catch up to him. It’s hard to keep his brisk pace; his strides are twice the size of mine.
“How. Did. You. Get. Here?”
“The first time or the second time?”
Ori halts at the edge of the clearing, right before a new path leads into the woods. He turns, slowly, nostrils flaring as he stares down his nose at me. “All of them. Explain.”
“Well, the first I fell, I guess? It was after the gala, and Harley had walked me to my door, and I must have tripped over the threshold or something because all of a sudden I was in a patch of fucking poppies—”
“How did you get back to Meadowbrook?” he interrupts.
“I don’t know. Harley was with me, and I woke up in my bed as if nothing ever happened.” I close my eyes and rub my hands over my face. “I feel like I’m going crazy here. Truly. I must be having a mental break.”
“Unfortunately, you’re not,” Ori mutters, that deep voice of his rumbling through his chest. “And the other time?”
“That’s this time.” My hands find purchase on my hips. “I was at the tree in the park—”
Ori grunts, as if to tell me to hurry up.
My tongue violently pokes my cheek. “I closed my eyes and when I opened them I was here again. Same place, with the stupid talking flowers…” Ori’s unwavering, impatient stare warns me off from rambling. “And then I got lost trying to get back and somehow found you. And now we’re here.”
Ori sighs. His gaze darts to the woods behind him, dark and menacing.
“Arcadia’s calling to you,” he says. The same haunting words the old woman murmured.
“Yeah, I’m going to need a little more detail than that, Beast.”
His attention whips to me, and it lashes my nerves. “Beast?”
“Isn’t that what you are? All growly and brooding and asshole-ish?” I ask, crossing my arms. We have a standoff of sorts, glowering at each other. I’m the one to break. “Do you even know how to get me back to Meadowbrook?”
“Of course. The Wandering Woods are dangerous, and their paths change every day, but it likes me, and I’ve memorized the combinations.”
“Amazing,” I say, with all the sarcasm I can cram into three syllables. I wave my hand at the path behind him. “Can I trust you to lead me out of here, then?”
There’s one hesitant second of consideration on his part.
“You can trust that I don’t want you here,” Ori says, pivoting on his heel and storming down the trail.
“That’s clear,” I mutter under my breath.
We travel in tense silence, my focus entirely on not tripping over a stray root or puncturing my sole on a sharp rock. Somehow, in a short five minutes, we’re back in the meadow I recognize.
The red oak, identical to the one in Meadowbrook Park, looms at the center. Is it the tree itself that is a gateway, or is a stranger magic at work?
When the quiet becomes unbearable, and we’re ten feet from the tree, I speak. “Are you going to explain any of this to me or no?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.” Ori takes a deep breath. “Don’t come back here.”
My teeth grind. “Who put that stick up your—”
Ori doesn’t let me finish my sentence. His large hand lands on my lower back, pressing forward with unnatural strength. I trip over one of the tree’s gnarled roots and fall.
Like the night of the gala, I don’t land where I think I will. The world shifts as I blink, and my ass hits the dirt of Meadowbrook Park.