Chapter 15
Elodie
“I just don’t think you can do that, miss,” Thomas repeats for the third time.
I spent the first half of the morning staring at the soil, as I usually do.
But then I remembered what I’d seen in the books last night, about the butterflies.
My assumption was that the locations where they could be discovered would mirror the natural habitats of Widowsbloom.
So I need to see it. I can’t just keep going into everything blind, but Thomas says he ‘absolutely cannot allow it’, and we have been arguing about it ever since.
“Thomas, you must understand, I need to see if there are important differences I’m missing here in the glasshouse.”
“I understand, I just can’t allow it. I’ve had strict orders you’re not to leave this glasshouse.”
“Just tell me where to go and I will get there myself. Just tell the High Warden I ran away without you looking.” It’s a useless attempt, but it’s worth a try anyway. Unless…
“Tell the High Warden what?” Rowan’s voice echoes between us. Glancing past Thomas, I see a smug-looking Rowan, his full armour gleaming, helmet firmly in place. I find myself struggling to meet his eye after the events of last night, but Thomas notices nothing, turning to salute him.
“Sir, Miss Elodie was asking to see the old ruins in the forest.”
So that’s where I need to go.
He knew the whole time.
I turn to face Rowan now, crossing my arms with a shrug. It feels like I’m being treated like a child. Rowan narrows his eyes at me.
“And why would you want to go there, Miss Elodie?” I give him a look for mocking the way Thomas says my name.
“Research, sir,” I respond, sweet enough to be respectful but sharp enough that he knows I’m not. Rowan’s lip tilts in a subtle smirk as I give him an exaggerated grin.
“I’ll take her, Thomas. We are a man short at the eastern border. See it corrected,” he commands Thomas, his eyes never leaving mine. Thomas salutes him, heading off back towards the castle as Rowan turns to walk toward the forest.
“Let’s go, Hawthorne.”
We’ve been walking for a good thirty minutes now, following the trail that winds away from the gardens into the forest beyond.
Roots push through the earth like knuckles.
Pine cones lie scattered, and moss half swallows stones, making the path uneven.
The further in we go, the taller the trees seem to get.
Their trunks thick and furrowed, with the canopy of green climbing so high in the sky it’s like clustered clouds of pine.
Rowan walks beside me, the metal of his armour catching what little light filters through. He moves as if he belongs here.
“Did you train in these forests?” I ask him, struggling to keep up beside him.
“Sometimes, yes,” he says, his focus fixed ahead of him.
“Why did you become a knight?” I ask. He pauses before smirking at me.
“I look great in armour. It would have been a waste to see me as a farmer, don’t you think?”
“Did you just make a joke?” I say lightly, laughter escaping me.
“Are you saying you don’t agree?”
“No, I agree, but there must have been an actual reason,” I reply, not realising I had just said exactly what he wanted me to. Shaking his head, his cocky grin grows wider.
“I don’t like feeling helpless.” His tone steadies.
“Being a knight, I have power. Control. My mother died bringing me into this world.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it.
Just stares at the path in front of us. “When you learn early that life is cruel, you learn to protect yourself and those around you.” His words are honest and raw.
There’s no self-pity in them.
Just facts.
“I um…” My throat tightens unexpectedly.
“I actually lost both my parents when I was young too.” I whisper.
The words feel foreign, as if I’m borrowing someone else’s story.
It’s not something I talk about. I learned a long time ago it’s easier not to be the girl who lost everything. He stops walking and turns to face me.
“Apologies are meaningless. We both know that. But you’re a fighter, Elodie.
You just haven’t realised it yet.” I’m about to respond when I hear the rustling of leaves to my right.
Before I can even ask what’s going on, Rowan’s hand clamps over my mouth.
His other arm hooks around my waist, pulling me against him as he hits the nearest tree.
“Don’t move,” he breathes against my ear.
My heart slams so violently I’m sure he can hear it.
I feel the coldness of his armour against my skin, his steady and controlled breathing.
His hand remains over my mouth, not painful, just firm.
Then I spot something in the distance. At first glance, it looks like a normal deer.
But its antlers are wrong.
They are too wide and intricate, coated in what looks like moss. Its fur is completely white all over, with silver eyes. It moves slowly, sniffing the air before moving along through the trees. Once it disappears, Rowan’s hand drops from my mouth, his hand loosening at my waist.
“What was that?” I whisper.
“Mirehart. They’re extremely territorial, wildly unpredictable and completely unkillable.”
“Oh,” I whisper, feeling a sudden rush of fear wash over me. “Back home, where I’m from, we have deer. They look similar except, I suppose, they see us as the threat rather than the other way around…” We continue walking, Rowan staying closer to me than before.
“What’s it like, your realm?” he asks me. I’m not even sure what to say. I open my mouth, then close it again. How do you even explain something so normal it never needed explaining?
“It’s…” I hesitate. “Loud.” He turns to look at me, a confused expression on his face. “There is always sound, even at night. Not wind or animals, but human-made sound. Cars, music, doors, voices.”
“Cars?”
“They’re like…” I search for the least ridiculous explanation. “Giant metal boxes on wheels, and we drive them around… like a horse but made of metal?” I shake my head, realising how stupid I sound. He laughs at me and I turn my head at the sound. “What?” I ask.
“I know what a car is, Elodie. We used to travel to other realms, I have seen more than you know.” He says with a smirk. “I just wanted to see you try to explain what one is,” he laughs again.
“That’s…” I start to say, but end up just joining in with his laughter. “You’re mean.” I add. Rowan comes to a stop, pointing toward a break in the trees.
“We’re here. This used to be where you would always find Widowsbloom, whatever the season. It’d be here.” The ground is barren. Nothing living or even dead, just empty soil. I scan my surroundings, hoping to find something that may point to a solution.
I uncork a small glass vial from my satchel and press it into the soil, twisting slightly before sealing it tight.
“I was hoping to find something of meaning here. This was probably a waste of time, sorry.” Looking at Rowan, I shake my head in defeat, clasping the soil sample tightly before placing it into my pocket.
“It wasn’t a waste of time,” he says, looking at me now. “Not to me.” His eyes soften slightly as I pout my lips in a small smile.
“Thank you for letting me get out. Even if this soil tells me nothing, I think I needed the fresh air.” I admit, moving to stand back at his side.
“You are not my prisoner, Elodie. You never were.” My brows knit together, trying to work out what he means by that when my eyes catch on a clearing at the edge of the forest. An archway formed by the trees themselves, I walk towards it, curiosity driving me forward.
A branch catches on my arm, a sharp sting that causes me to suck in a sharp breath.
“Crap.” My hand instantly rubs the site of the pain before I notice blood streaking down my elbow. Before I can even decide what to do, Rowan tears a strip of fabric and wraps it around the cut.
“You are extremely accident prone, it’s concerning,” he mumbles, tying a knot in the linen.
“I know, it’s actually—” I instantly lose my train of thought, my eyes locking onto the ground below. The exact spot where my blood dripped into the soil. Blood that is now glowing blue.
“Rowan… is that normal?”
He pauses for a long moment, his stance shifting slightly as he stares down at my blood coating the soil.
“It’s just residual rune light,” he says, looking back at me. “Happens sometimes. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, okay.” I pull at the fabric now covering the wound before looking up to meet his eyes. His gaze locks onto mine, piercing and full of so many unspoken words. “Thank you for that.”
“Don’t thank me, just be more careful instead.” He says, his eyes never leaving mine. The forest is too quiet. The world blurring around us. I break away from his stare, stepping backward just one step. “Where were you trying to get to before a branch attacked you?”
Pointing towards the archway in the trees, he simply nods at me, following close behind.
Stepping through the arched branches, the forest falls away.
The meadow opens wide and sudden, a sweep of tall grass rippling a golden green.
The afternoon has mellowed into those soft, honeyed hours where everything feels gentler.
In the distance, Greyhollow looms above the treeline. From here it looks different.
“It looks smaller.” I murmur.
“Looks well-defended to me,” he says with a teasing grin.
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head at his response.
I turn to see he’s taken his helmet off.
He settles down into the grass, resting his elbows on his knees as he takes in the view.
I sit beside him, staring out into the vast expanse of raw nature.
It’s stunning. I glance down at his sword, laid out in the grass.
It may be the first time I’ve seen it this far away from him.
“Do you ever wish you didn’t have to carry that around with you everywhere?” I ask, gesturing at the sword. He takes a while to respond before looking at me.
“I wish it weren’t necessary to carry it.”
“But what are you protecting, if all the people are gone?”
“We are oath bound to this duty, even if there is no threat. We still guard our castle. I used to tell myself it was in case the gates opened and an enemy stepped through once more.” He looks at me then. “But then you arrived, covered in dirt and with a face full of fear.”
“Hey, I could have been a threat!” I’m not even fooling myself with my words. He smiles then, facing forward once more.
“Hawthorne, you couldn’t even lift my sword above your head. Let alone be a threat to an entire realm.”
“Do you really want to make that bet? After I read Sword Handling Volumes one and two.” He rubs a hand across his jaw, hiding a smile. “If I can do it, I get one free pass to do something I want to do,” I say with a mischievous tone. His gaze flickers from me to the sword.
He absolutely thinks I have no chance.
“Define ‘something’,” he says mildly.
“I’ll know when I want to claim it.” He pauses before giving me an answer.
“Fine, deal.”
I let out a small triumphant sound before rising to my feet and rubbing my hands together as if trying to conjure up some unknown strength from somewhere.
“This should be entertaining.” He says as he rises to his feet, not to help but to watch.
“That is deeply offensive. I may surprise you.” I bend and grip the hilt.
It’s heavy, extremely heavy. Trying not to show my obvious struggle, I adjust my grip before straightening and lifting it off the ground.
The blade dips forward as I stumble slightly.
Rowan moves towards me on reflex, but I find my balance, gritting my teeth and pushing upward.
“Is it above my head?” I strain out.
“Not even remotely,” he laughs. I huff before adjusting my grip and attempting to lift it higher. The blade tilts again, and I lose my balance, stumbling backwards. Rowan is there in an instant, one hand steadying the flat blade and the other catching my elbow.
“Careful, Hawthorne.” He doesn’t take the blade from me, just steadies it in my arms. His hand remains over mine on the hilt.
“If you angle your wrist,” he says quietly near my ear, “the weight distributes better.” He helps me raise the sword higher, steadying it above my head for one glorious second.
“That counts!” I shout quickly. I feel his lips tilt into a smirk by my ear.
“Rowan, say it! That counts!” I beam.
“It counts.” He catches the sword before it falls as I spin to face him.
My grin widens.
“One free pass,” I remind him.
His eyes darken slightly with amusement.
“Be careful how you use it, Hawthorne.”