Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
FOREST
“Hold out your hands for me,” Camila says, and I do as instructed. She twists the cap off a small glass jar, spoons out a small amount with her finger, and smears it over my palm. “Rub that in.”
I raise my hand to my nose and inhale the fiery, woodsy smell of the lotion. It’s smooth to the touch as I lather it in. It’s greasy at first but quickly dries.
She moves to a shelf next to the only window in the room. There are hundreds of bottles and jars, all presumably filled with some kind of concoction. She grabs a spray bottle and turns back to me. “Do you remember Ash Cove?”
“The name sounds familiar,” I say, my eyes glued to the bottle as she approaches.
“We took you up there the day you were born, to christen the dawn of the next age.” She sprays whatever is in the bottle on the side of my neck—citrusy.
“The view is unmatched, the valleys below drowning in fog. It’s about two hours north of the village.
Three hours for someone of my age and wisdom.
I’ll be heading out soon.” She takes a step back and eyes me up and down.
The saggy skin of her face wrinkles as she smiles.
“I’ll be eagerly waiting for your arrival. ”
“Am I all done?”
She nods, giving me permission to turn around and check myself out in the floor-length mirror behind me.
The shirt is not flattering. I can tell it used to be white but has faded to an off-white colored cream.
It fits like a crew-cut tee, but has a small ‘V’ shape cut into the center.
The jeans are faded, older than I am, and somehow don’t even have a hole in them.
The skeleton key shaped like a wolf’s head hangs from a chain dangling from my neck.
This is exactly what my father wore when he ascended all those years ago.
At least, that’s Camila’s story. There’s so much history about this place that I either don’t remember or never really knew.
Truth be told, I never thought this day would come.
It was always the furthest thing from my mind, but now I’m back here and I can’t figure out why the fuck I can’t just leave?
Sure, there’s the mystery of who is killing off my family, but it’d be so damn easy to run away and start a new life. Again.
Still, there’s one pressing question I can’t shake away. “Why has no father ever passed the torch to his son while he was still alive?”
“The winds of fate are cruel.” She peeks her head around the side of my body, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “One leader will never know what it’s like to watch his offspring ascend. It’s the way of the whispering ones. A leader’s work is not done until his last, dying breath.”
And then another question. “Why hasn’t there ever been a woman leader?”
She feigns a smile and caresses the side of my cheek. “It is not the way of the world.
“You know more about this place than anyone. You know more about the…” It pains me to say the words out loud, “More about the Wilds than anyone else. You guide people through clearing rituals. You create all these potions. Why shouldn’t you have this key?”
“The Wilds would never allow it.”
A knock on the door steals both of our attention. Camila backs up and opens the door. She smiles as she gestures for the visitor to step inside. It’s Tucker, who is the last fucking person I want to see right now.
“I’ll see you soon, Forest,” she says as she closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with my stepbrother in her magical room of bullshit.
Tucker approaches, his dark hair damp with droplets of rain. As always, he’s shirtless. I’m convinced at this point he doesn’t even fucking own a shirt. He must have an incredibly difficult time when the winds of winter settle in.
“What did you do with the gun?” he questions flatly.
“I buried it,” I lie through my teeth. Let’s be real—honesty gets me nowhere out here in Bizarro World.
“You have it, don’t you?”
I glance at him in the mirror. “Damn straight I do.”
He exhales softly and takes a seat on a wooden chair beside me. The green paint is chipped. “Guns are a symbol of the rot of the outside world. They have no place here.”
“This place is rotted, Tuck.” I grab my fake diamond earrings and stab them through my lobes. “If you ever point a gun in my face again, I’ll kill you.”
He snorts, unaffected by my threat, and he’s probably right to laugh.
The only way I could kill him is if I snuck up on him in his sleep.
Unfortunately, he’s the lightest sleeper in the world.
Reminds me of a guy I once let spend the night.
He woke up if I so much as dared to breathe in the middle of the night.
Had something to do with the PTSD he brought back home from Afghanistan.
“It’s not too late to run,” he says.
“I think we’re well past that point by now. Besides, I already told you I tried.”
“Before the passing of the torch is complete, there is a moment of silence.” His knees crack as he stands and approaches, his shadow lingering over my shoulder.
When I look up, I catch him standing behind me in the mirror.
“During that short window of time, Camila will ask if anyone wishes to challenge you for the seat.”
I tongue the inside of my cheek, torn between amusement and irritation at the latest development. “Let me guess—”
“If I challenged you, one of us would be ashes in the wind come sunrise,” he cuts me off with no glimpse of a smile on his face.
Instead, there’s a haunted look in his eyes.
“There’s no us if one of us is dead. So, no, I won’t be challenging anything.
” He wraps his arms around my chest and drapes his head over my shoulder.
“I worked so hard for this, and all you have to do is show up and it’s handed to you.
Sometimes, the Wilds aren’t fair, but we push on against the wind anyway. ”
“You’re calling me a nepo baby?”
“I don’t know what that is,” he sighs, the slightest of grins breaking through the storm. “If I can’t be their leader, then let me be your right-hand man. I can protect you, keep you safe. I can correct you when you’re wrong, guide you.”
If there’s anything in the world I trust him with, it’s keeping me safe, which is a ridiculous sentiment since there was a one in six chance he could have murdered me earlier. I’m still standing, though. Tucker would say the Wilds are watching after me.
Will I be the first to lead this place who doesn’t believe? I might as well embrace the power they’re about to hand to me. For all intents and purposes, I’ll be a god to them.
“Good luck out there today,” he whispers, his lips brushing over the side of my cheek.
The storm clouds overtake the late afternoon sky, enveloping the forest in a darkness more fitting for dusk. Thunder rumbles in the distance, soft and guarded. Tucker and I are the last in the convoy as the entire village marches to Ash Cove.
Kids. Parents. Elders.
Not a single person left behind.
Ahead, the soft glow of the sun shimmers through the trees, breaking through the clouds. The envoy filters onto the cliff, gathering on opposite sides to form a narrow aisle.
Here comes the bride.
That’s what it feels like, except instead of walking to a groom, I’m walking towards something I cannot take back. There’s no breaking the sacred vowels. Instead of music, there’s a haunting silence as all eyes are on me. Tucker guides me to the front and then sinks into the crowd to the left.
Camila stands behind a rotted wooden podium close to the edge of the cliff.
Her dress blows in the wind, tattered pieces of cloth dancing behind her.
There’s a massive book sitting on the podium, the pages thick, yellow, and uneven.
Beside the book is a wooden crown fit for wilderness royalty, and it’s almost exactly to scale as the tattoo on the crown of my forehead.
By the time I make my way to stand beside her, the sky has turned grey and a crack of thunder tears through the heavens. It begins as a droplet of rain on my arm, and then another upon my head. A slow dance until the sky will eventually rip open.
Bash and Darius walk down the aisle, lighting a path of torches on each side. Once the last ones are lit, they take their places at the far back.
I stare at the sea of faces in the crowd. A few of them are familiar. Many are strangers. Zeva’s husband holds her close to him, and they stand about three faces away from Tucker.
Camila clears her throat and flips open the book, the pages rustling. I glance down to see they’re all handwritten notes scribbled with the skill of a toddler learning to write. “Welcome to the choosing ceremony. I want to thank you all for attending the passing of the torch on this beautiful day.”
Okay, lady. We have very different definitions of beautiful.
“For most, today is a once in a lifetime experience,” she continues.
“How blessed we are to not only witness the dawning of the next age, but to actively participate in it. At times, the wilderness can seem cruel. Sometimes, it seems to take more than it gives. This last week, it took the precious life of young Karma Wilde, and it took Filo Wilde. These are not losses in the normal sense, as we know through their passing, they will provide. The part of them left behind fertilizes the soil. They are in every breath we take, every bite of food. Forever, they’ll linger here. ”
I look back to Zeva, who chokes back tears.
I look to Tucker, standing nearby with pursed lips.
I look to Bash and Darius, neither of whom looks back.
Another crack of thunder echoes through the sky, moving closer. The sprinkling rain intensifies, shifting into droplets shaped like nails. A howl of wind escapes the trees, whipping through the narrow passage leading to the edge of the cliff.
Something is wrong.
Camila guides a hand to my back. “Forest Wilde stands before you all today. He stands before the Wilds, asking you, asking it, to accept his offering.” She flips through the pages, passing over diagrams and drawings, and settles on a page with some kind of numbered list. “The Wilds ask that we first reach deep into our hearts and ask ourselves, do we accept what has been given to us? Does anyone wish to challenge Forest Wilde’s place on the throne? ”
What the fuck is the point of the Chosen One if any Dick, Jane, or Tucker can just challenge it?
My gaze falls on Tucker, his feet shifting back and forth beneath him.
He scrubs at his fresh-shaved chin, contemplating.
I grit my teeth and wait for the inevitable, but it doesn’t come. He doesn’t offer a challenge.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Camila runs her finger down the page, coming to a stop at a particularly lengthy paragraph. She skims over it and lifts her head. “As no challenger steps forward, we may proceed. Today, Forest Wilde will earn his spot on the throne like all the ones who came before him.”
I cock my head sideways so fast I think I suffer a minor case of whiplash. “What?”
She pays no attention to me. “Every man here was given a bag before we left the village. I need you all to take those bags out now.”
I watch as all the men in the crowd retrieve small, black leather bags. Boys under the age of sixteen seem to be excluded.
“Whoever possesses the white rock please join Forest and I.”
Zeva’s husband unties the bag, and when he pulls out a black rock, he breathes a heavy sigh.
Zeva folds into his arms, crying. Bash pulls a black rock.
Tucker too, and the fact that he’s seemingly relieved sends a chill down my spine.
My gaze shifts to Darius, face pale, as he unclenches his fist, holding the white rock.
“Come,” Camila says flatly. “My sweet child.”
Darius chokes on a gulp, eyes peeling to Bash, who offers him nothing in return. He searches the crowd and takes a measured step backward. He searches the crowd. Nobody can look at him. Not really. Nobody except me as he marches up the narrow aisle, each step heavier than the last.
His lips quiver as he turns to stand on the opposite side of Camila, his mother.
“By sunrise, the Wilds will choose one of you.” Camila clears her throat, dedicated to the fucking part. “The rules are simple. Whoever survives the night wears the crown.”