Chapter Ten #2
Giles picks up a stick from the ground and draws a circle around him.
Oren motions to me to stand back with the rest of them.
I watch with fascination as he marks four lines on the circle, each pointing in a different cardinal direction.
As he makes the markings he murmurs, “North, south, east, and west, anchor me into this world.” He digs the stick into the ground at his feet.
“Fill my body with magic; allow me to wield all the power of the rock and leaves of the trees.”
Lifting the stick, he points it at the tree in the center of the stone walls. The tip of the stick barely touches the bark. “Let us be safe within your boughs; let your bark be our shield and your branches our walls.”
His normally hazel eyes glow a faint emerald at their edges, and the tree comes to life with a symphony of groaning and creaking wood.
I stumble backward. Oren catches me with a hand, helping me stay upright.
I watch as the bark peels away from the tree and arches overhead.
New branches sprout and weave together to form walls that merge with the stone remnants around us.
Leaves unfurl to turn a canopy into a roof.
When the light fades, there is a hut waiting for us.
“How…” I breathe. I can’t form a coherent sentence.
I should be terrified. I should want to run at the sight of that.
And yet…it was stunning. Magic is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever laid eyes on.
The feeling of power seeping into the air.
The rush as it swirled around us and the tree came to life. The way it moved…
“It’s called ritumancy,” Oren answers my unfinished question.
“Every type of creature in Midscape has their own form of magic, different from the others. The fae have ritumancy—meaning we use rituals to harness and use our powers. We cannot perform magic feats greater than a simple glamour or use our physical gifts without first performing a series of steps to charge and store it.”
Giles holds up his hands as if on cue. He tenses his fingers, and claws shoot out of them. The same ones I saw last night when he was dancing around the fire. As he relaxes his hands, the claws vanish. A “physical gift,” I assume.
I think back to what Lord Fenwood—Davien, I remind myself firmly, Lord Fenwood never existed—told me that night. No wonder he knows so much about fae magic. Here I thought he was a hunter when he was actually one of them himself.
The group settles in for the night. Hol makes the fire while Shaye and Davien go off hunting for dinner. They come back with hare that’s promptly carved up and roasted.
Hol holds out a piece and says, “Humans say they can’t taste food here, so it might not taste like anything or do anything for you, but it can’t hurt to try and eat it.”
My stomach growls, apparently loud enough for them to hear, because Giles lets out a snort.
I don’t really want to eat their fae food, but I must keep up my strength.
At the very least, even if it tastes like ash and fails to nourish me, my stomach will feel full.
And that’ll be enough to quell its singing.
“Thanks,” I mumble and take the thigh he’s holding.
As I haven’t eaten anything all day, it smells like heaven.
Mouth watering, I take a bite, bracing for the taste of campfire.
But instead…it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever had.
Have I even eaten food before this? I take another large bite, wiping liquid fat off my chin with the back of my hand.
“At least you’re making an effort to eat it,” Oren says with a smile.
“It can’t hurt,” I say, echoing Hol. I don’t want them to know that I can taste the food.
Maybe other humans were lying to the fae.
We can lie, after all, and they can’t. Maybe making the fae believe that the food and water failed to nourish them was a tactic humans used to escape and get back home.
Perhaps it’s the food that will allow me to cross the Fade.
Dinner finished, the group settles in for the night. Hol takes first watch, Giles second, and Oren third. My best shot at running is when he’s on duty. If I’m going to escape, it will be then.
The forest floor is more comfortable than I expected.
The thick carpet of moss cradles my body, and I fall into a surprisingly deep slumber.
I wake when Oren stirs next to me. I positioned myself close enough to him that he wouldn’t be able to move without me feeling it.
Pretending to still be asleep, I sigh softly and roll onto my side.
Covering half my face with my hands, I crack one eye open and peek out between my fingers.
Oren and Giles are whispering. The conversation is brief, and Giles takes his spot among the group on the ground. I wait until his heavy breathing has become soft snores.
Moving slowly, I roll onto my stomach and put my hands underneath my shoulders.
I push myself up on my palms and knees and scan the group, using the smoldering remains of the campfire for light.
My eyes snag on Davien. Even in the low light, his amber skin is practically luminescent.
The orange embers contour his muscles, the sharp cut of his jaw, and the line of his brow, softened by sleep.
If I look only at his face, he’s not too unlike the man I imagined, even down to the slight stubble.
But then I see the iridescent crimson wings stretched behind him.
No, the Lord Fenwood that I thought I knew was an illusion.
All along, this fae was manipulating me.
When I left my family’s home, I swore I would never be used again.
That promise to myself hasn’t ended just because I’ve crossed into their world.
I slowly stand and tiptoe out through the archway made of branches and bark. Oren leans against the opening to the ruins. His dutiful eyes come to a halt on me.
“You should be asleep,” he whispers.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say sheepishly, ignoring the metal taste in my mouth. “I figured I shouldn’t do that where everyone else is resting their heads.”
“You can do it over there.” He points to the other side of the tree, right next to the shelter. “I will look away.”
“I can’t—that’s too…” I sigh in frustration. “I can’t do it that close to people.”
“They’re all asleep.”
“I get stage fright.” I shift my weight from foot to foot as though the need is urgent. “I’ll go just behind that tree. It’s far enough away.” I point to a large oak tree near another ruin.
Oren purses his lips. “Fine, but hurry up.”
“I’ll do my best.” I press my hands into my lower abdomen. “That food isn’t sitting right with me.”
He gives me a pitying look, almost enough to make me feel bad for lying and running away from them. But he was the one who lied to me in the first place, at least by omission. If he cared about me, he would’ve told me what he was or stopped them from taking me here.
I cross over to the tree and step behind it. After a second I glance back. My eyes meet Oren’s. I mouth the words, Don’t look.
He rolls his eyes and turns away. This is my chance. I dart from the tree and go behind the crumbling wall of another long-ago-destroyed house and listen to see if he is giving chase. The forest is silent. I don’t think he saw me move.
I take a breath, brace myself, and make my escape.