Chapter 27
I stared at the tree branches swaying overhead.
I could still feel Silas’s lips on mine.
We had walked back to his room hand in hand, and I almost fell too many times from the dizziness of the whole experience. It’s not that I hadn’t kissed anyone before, but never with such intent. Never with such tension.
Silas had said goodnight and fallen asleep. But my mind raced at the thought of him, so I lay very much awake. And though it meant no nightmares, a girl can only stare at dark branches of trees for so long.
I wonder if Asa is still at Mender’s Heath.
The thought of Arcadia at dark had scared me my first few nights. But I recognized the safety here, the structure, the sense of community.
I edged out of the bed trying not to wake Silas. He had exhausted himself with the nightshade incident.
I slipped out the door into Guardian’s Glade. It, too, slumbered in silence, not hosting any courts or meetings or feasts. Its lanterns had been doused hours before, and only the light of the moon and stars illuminated the path before me.
I gazed upwards, noting that the Princess constellation had moved quite a bit in the sky. I thought about Markus’s words, shivering at the thought of being tied to a rock.
Did he mean it figuratively? Or am I literally going to be tied to a rock?
I frowned at the thought, wondering if I’d missed a strange wolf ritual in my brief time researching. I had barely read through the first quarter of the Compendium with its hundreds of dusty pages.
I opened one of the double doors at the front of Guardian’s Glade, closing it behind me. The temperature had dropped a bit, and I could smell the rain headed our way. The crickets chirped along with the back-and-forth call of the owls, a midnight symphony only for me.
The pathways ahead glimmered with soft yellow light. I caught a whiff of something sweet in the air. Crouching to get a better view, I noticed small bell-shaped petals underneath the deep green alternating leaves.
Solomon’s Seal.
For wisdom, peace, and healing.
Straightening, I realized that plants lined the entire path. But here, in the magic that Arcadia protected, they glowed in the dark.
“I will never not be amazed by this,” I whispered to the forest.
I picked my way through the trees, coming to the quiet room of Mender’s Heath. Two bodies lay sleeping on beds, both in wolf form. I slipped through the door, not wanting to wake them.
My eyes traveled over the room’s contents. A shelf filled with things stood straight across from the door, flanked by two beds. A basin of water, a pile of flickering embers, a simple desk, a mortar and pestle, and a thick book decorated the room. But I didn’t see the head healer.
Maybe he went home for the night. Maybe there’s a night shift.
“Ruaha, Eden.”
I bit back a startled shout as I turned to face Asa. He stood in the doorway, lantern in hand.
“Ja doleo. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
I shook my head, trying to settle my brain for long enough to find words.
“Are you having trouble sleeping again?” He swept past me, evergreen robes brushing my ankles.
“Again?” I repeated.
“Your husband mentioned you had trouble sleeping. Something about nightmares.”
The word husband had me frozen in place. “We aren’t married yet.”
“Are you thinking of leaving?”
“Well, no.”
“Then he will be your husband eventually, no?” Asa turned away from me, rifling through his herbs that rested in bowls, bottles, sachets, and anything else that could carry a plant. A set of dishes sat nestled in the corner of one shelf across from a kettle.
“I suppose so.”
“You sound disconsolate. Would you like some tea?” He lifted the kettle from its place with a grunt, settling the thing on the coals. He poured the water and turned back to his desk of herbs.
“It’s not that I’m upset. I–” I stopped short, not knowing how to put it into words. “I’ve been dreaming of finding this place for nearly fifteen years. This… this life is something I’ve dreamed of for as long as I can remember.”
In a way, it was true. I couldn’t remember much before that fateful day in the Little River. And this had been my only real dream.
“But you’re still discontent.” It wasn’t a question.
“I don’t understand it. I don’t think I expected… I know I didn’t expect to come here and marry a king. Silas is wonderful, but I–”
The words lodged in my throat.
I can’t do this.
“My dear.” Asa turned, giving me his full attention. “No one is ready for marriage. Even if a person thinks she is ready, she never knows what to expect. She only knows who she is at that moment, and if one has enough resolve and knows that marriage means choosing their partner despite everything life deals… Then she is as ready as she will ever be.”
I set my gaze on the corner of the closest bed. “But what if she isn’t good enough?”
“Autem.” Asa chuckled along with the word. “Are any of us ever good enough? Who are you not good enough for? Our late King Iain—may his spirit find peace among trees—considered you good enough. Our Silas considers you good enough. Are you standing in the way of yourself?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. He’d been so gentle that first afternoon in Arcadia, tending my bruises with salves and putting another poultice on my head where I’d fallen in the forest. He’d talked like he knew how difficult this transition would be for me, knowing that whatever happened wouldn’t be simple. But I couldn’t look at him now.
Because he was right. Me and my reservations held me hostage. Only me and my doubts held me back.
“I am old, je kunin. Old enough that I’ve married, had my own children, and my children have given me grandchildren. I am old enough to know when reluctance is really the mask for self-doubt and fear.”
He turned, pulling the kettle off of the embers. Setting it on the desk, he pulled out a cup and spooned in some tea. He hesitated, then pulled a small jar down from the top shelf and tossed in a pinch. After capping and replacing the jar, he poured a small amount of steaming water over the tea. He gave the cup a quick swirl, and poured the rest of the water, filling the mug to the brim.
Asa lifted the kettle again, returning it to its home. “My dear, your hesitation is not uncalled for, nor is it uncommon. But you have the spirit of a wolf inside of you.” He turned back to me. “You may not feel it like the rest of us, but we can hear your heart beating in time to ours. You are one of us, even when you don’t feel it. You are.”
A hot tear slid down my cheek. I swiped it away as Asa passed me the cup.
“I put a bit of valerian root in your tea. That should help you fall asleep.”
I inhaled the steam, the smell of woods after a rain filling my senses. I took an experimental sip.
I swallowed the soothing liquid. “I wish things were simple.”
“Nothing beautiful is ever simple. Life is artfully complex even when things seem plain on the outside.”
He whistled a strange melody, and a bird I’d only seen in photos perched on his finger.
“Is that an Eastern Whip-poor-will?” I tilted my head sideways, observing it.
Asa bowed his head. “Such a small thing, simple buff coloring, and yet…” Asa stroked the bird’s back, and it began to sing its haunting song. “Its call is seen as an omen of death. A simple thing turned massively complex, haunting and beautiful.”
The bird flew away, flourishing its wings as it disappeared into the dark of the night. Asa turned his eyes on me again. His eyes, once warm and kind, now had a strange shade to them. My stomach churned.
Trying to maintain my calm appearance, I downed the rest of my tea, chewing on the leaves I’d sipped. I passed him the cup with a nod. “Thank you for the tea, Asa.”
“Of course, my dear. You know where to find me if you need anything else.”
Taking that as my cue to leave, I hurried off, knowing that the increase of my heart rate betrayed my anxiety.
How am I to hide my emotions in this place?
My heart was practically on my robe sleeve while I rushed back to Silas’s room. I relaxed my shoulders when the door shut behind me. Silas’s steady breathing and soft snoring filled the air. I slipped back under the covers and lay on my side.
Sleep, sleep, sleep.
I tried closing my eyes, though sleep stayed far from me. A bird rustled in the branches over the bed, causing me to jerk my eyes open. The same darkness met me, shadows of branches shifting.
The branches dissolved into a clearing with a stone building in the center. Strange carvings adorned the structure.
Picking up the hem of my navy robes, I moved to stand in the center of the gazebo-like place. I lifted my gaze to the ceiling, words written in a language I didn’t understand. Between the words, images of wolves and men shifted like they were alive.
The air moved around me, and I was aware of another presence. Turning, I caught sight of a tail swishing around the outer wall. The figure of a white wolf slipped into view, his massive paws making a sound as he met me in the center of the building.
“My daughter.” His voice rumbled in my chest, reverberating off of the walls and ceiling around us. “Do not be afraid.”
I knew he could hear my heartbeat. I knew he could read my thoughts in an instant. But his words softened the edges of my fear. He smelled of juniper and mint, something so familiar.
“Eden,” he hummed.
“Lycaon,” I breathed, the word escaping my lips before I even thought it.
He smiled at me. “Dear one, rauha e Arcadia. Be at peace.”
I stepped forward, holding my hand out. With such gentleness, Lycaon pushed his large head against my palm, his fur sliding between my fingers. The similarities to my meeting Iain were not lost on me.
“Welcome home, daughter of Arcadia, spirit of the wild.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I was interacting with a god, the one who shifted virlukos history, dividing it into two pieces. And he comforted me, a human.
“You desire to belong.” His words were soft and strong all at once.
“Yes.”
“It is before you already; in this forest. In this kingdom lies your answer.”
“But how will I know?”
“You will find your way. One way or another, you will find your place, little queen.”
My heart jumped at the mention. “Will I be married to Silas?”
“Only you and Silas can say.”
Lycaon lifted his head, looking out at the clearing. Figures began to emerge from the undergrowth, micca and ugal and kuslar and other creatures I hadn’t seen or imagined.
“It’s almost time for my departure,” he rumbled. “I have plans for you, daughter. For hope and for your future. Call on me, and I will answer you. Maybe not in voice, but I will listen and answer.”
He shook his coat and phased into a man made of sunshine through the rain clouds, refracting every color imaginable. The smell of mint and juniper lingered. He smiled, and the tears ran freely down my cheeks.
“Daughter, vener e rauha.”