Chapter 13 #3
Eliam was quiet for a moment and then gave a curt nod. "We leave now. The forest paths will be faster than the main roads."
As they prepared to leave, Briar’s mind kept circling back to what Thaine had said. The whole court saw him leave to find her. They'd seen their lord abandon everything for a human he'd cast out just days before.
And that abandonment had consequences. Real ones. The kind that could cost him everything.
Because of her.
No, not just her, both of them. She had freed Malus, however unwittingly, and even if Eliam had overreacted with the hunt she wasn’t innocent of wrongdoing. It was layer upon layer of choices and consequences, tangled too tightly to separate into simple blame.
They moved into the forest, Frederick secure in his bowl in her arms. Eliam took the lead, with Thaine at the rear and Karse moving between.
The forest paths should have welcomed their lord home with eager obedience. Instead, they opened grudgingly, like doors with rusted hinges.
"Something's wrong," she said quietly.
"The forest is... confused," Eliam admitted, though saying it aloud seemed to pain him. His hand pressed against an ancient oak, and for a moment nothing happened. Then, slowly, the path revealed itself, but narrower than it should be.
Briar frowned. This was what his rescue had cost. Not just political capital or his court's respect, but his very connection to the forest itself. The land that should have recognized him as its lord was now questioning him.
Behind them, Karse snorted. "Your kingdom doesn't recognize you, Forest Lord?"
"Shut up," Thaine said curtly.
Eliam said nothing.
Instead they moved forward, and Briar watched Eliam struggle with every step. The paths forgot them the moment they passed. Twice, he had to force openings that should have appeared naturally, his jaw tight with frustration.
Each struggle felt like a knife in her chest.
She could stay angry at him. Part of her still was—the hunt had been real, the terror had been real, and his regret didn't erase what she'd endured. But watching him fight for control of his own domain, the anger felt... insufficient. Not wrong, just incomplete.
The path ahead grew more difficult, forcing them to slow. Briar's exhaustion dragged at her with each step, but she pushed forward. Behind her, she heard Karse's breathing grow labored—he was still weak despite the healing.
"We rest," Eliam said without warning. "Five minutes."
"My lord, we should—" Thaine started.
"Five minutes."
They'd reached a small clearing where fallen logs provided natural seating. Briar sank onto one gratefully, setting Frederick's bowl beside her. The sprite made a sleepy sound, clearly as exhausted as she felt.
Eliam moved to the clearing's edge, his back to them, keeping watch, but she saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand kept moving to his side where Malachar's wound had been and her magic had healed him.
"I'll scout ahead," Thaine said, disappearing into the shadows.
Karse stretched out on the ground with a groan. "Wake me when it's time to burn things."
Briar closed her eyes, just for a moment. The weight of everything pressed down on her—exhaustion, guilt, lingering hurt, and something else she couldn't quite name. When she opened them again, purple flowers surrounded her feet.
They hadn't been there before. Small clusters of delicate blooms, the exact shade of twilight, growing from bare earth that should have been too cold for anything to thrive.
She looked up.
Eliam still stood with his back to her, apparently watching the forest. But the line of his shoulders had changed—less rigid, as if waiting.
The forest barely obeyed him. The trees argued about whether to let him pass. His own kingdom was fracturing beneath his feet. But he could still make flowers grow for her.
And suddenly, watching him stand there pretending he hadn't just created something beautiful in the middle of their crisis, something clicked into place.
This wasn't about who was right or wrong. This wasn't about deserving forgiveness or earning redemption. This was about two people who'd both made terrible choices, who'd both hurt each other, who were both standing in the wreckage trying to figure out what came next.
She could hold onto her anger. Keep him at arm's length. Make him pay for the hunt, for the cruelty, for every moment of terror she'd endured because of his pride.
Or she could acknowledge that they were in this together.
That his mistakes and her mistakes had tangled into something neither of them could have predicted.
That moving forward meant accepting the complexity of it all—the hurt and the regret, the guilt and the sacrifice, the anger and the. .. whatever this was between them.
Briar stood, her legs unsteady. Karse lifted his head slightly, watching, but said nothing.
She crossed to where Eliam stood and took his hand.
He went still, looked down at their joined fingers.
"I freed Malus," she said. "You threw me to the hunt. We both—" She stopped, searching for the right words. "We both made choices that led here."
He shifted his eyes and sighed. "That doesn't make what I did—"
"No. It doesn't." She squeezed his hand. "It doesn’t mean that I’m not still angry and hurt. But staying angry won't fix any of this."
He didn't respond, but his hand stayed in hers.
"The rest… well… we can figure it out after," she said. "When this is over."
His eyes lifted again and she could tell he was searching her face, looking for something—sincerity, maybe, or a lie he expected to find. Whatever he saw there made something in his expression crack.
He kissed her.
Not like before, not desperate or demanding. This was careful, almost hesitant, as if asking permission with every movement. His hand came up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek, and she felt him trembling slightly.
The warmth, for once, was still, as though it too was waiting to see what she would do next. She kissed him back, answering the question he hadn't asked aloud.
When they broke apart, his forehead rested against hers for just a moment. "I'm sorry."
Briar nodded, but before she could say more, Thaine's voice rose from the shadows. "Path ahead is clear. We should move."
Eliam stepped back, his hand sliding from her face. But his eyes held hers for a breath longer, and she saw something in his expression she'd never seen before—something vulnerable and raw.
When he turned, Briar followed, the purple flowers already beginning to fade behind them.
The urgency returned as they drew closer to the castle, but now it felt different—heavier, more ominous.
The forest continued its reluctant obedience, paths opening just wide enough for them to pass before closing again like wounds trying to heal.
Eliam didn't struggle quite as much now, or perhaps he was simply hiding it better, his expression locked into that cold mask she recognized from court.
They moved faster, harder, the night pressing in around them. No one spoke. The only sounds were their footsteps on packed earth and the whisper of wind through branches that watched them with what felt like suspicion.
The warmth in Briar's chest began to pull in two directions at once—toward Eliam as always, but also recoiling from something ahead. Something wrong. The sensation grew stronger with each step, an uncomfortable stretching that made her press her hand against her sternum.
"Do you feel that?" she asked quietly.
Eliam's jaw tightened. "Yes."
Karse moved closer, flames dancing between his fingers. "I don't like this."
"Neither do I," Thaine said from behind them, his hand on his blade.
When they reached the outer boundaries of the castle grounds, everything felt off.
The guards at the gate stood at perfect attention, exactly where they should be, but their eyes slid past Eliam without proper acknowledgment.
Not disrespect exactly—more like uncertainty, as if they weren't quite sure who he was anymore.
"Strange night, my lord," one offered, and there was something careful in his tone, something that made the hair on Briar's neck stand up.
The courtyard was eerily normal. Servants crossed with purpose, guards walked their routes, but everything felt rehearsed. Choreographed. Like players maintaining their roles while waiting for a cue that hadn't come yet.
"Something's very wrong," Karse muttered.
The warmth in Briar's chest grew more agitated, the pulling sensation becoming almost painful. She stumbled slightly, and Eliam's hand immediately steadied her elbow.
"What is it?" he asked, low enough that only she could hear.
"I don't know. The warmth—it's pulling toward you but also away from something. Something ahead." She looked toward the castle's main entrance. "Something in there."
"Perhaps we should—" Karse started, but stopped when they heard it.
Laughter from the great hall. Casual conversation. The clink of glasses. The sounds of court as if nothing had happened, as if their lord hadn't been gone for days rescuing a human from the Mountain Court, as if everything was perfectly, horrifyingly normal.
Eliam's expression had gone completely still and Briar's heart began to pound. This was a trap. She could feel it closing around them with every step toward those doors.
"Thaine, take Karse and Briar to the—"
"With respect, my lord," Thaine interrupted, "we should stay together."
Eliam looked like he wanted to argue, but another burst of laughter from the hall made his decision for him. Briar felt his hand curl around hers.
"Stay close to me," he said. "All of you."
They approached the great hall as a group, footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The warmth in Briar's chest twisted painfully, and she had to force herself to keep walking toward whatever was making it recoil so violently.
The doors stood open, spilling golden light and the sounds of revelry into the hallway.
The hall fell silent the moment they entered. Not suddenly—more like a wave, conversation dying as heads turned one by one to look at them. Dozens of fae lords and ladies, all watching with expressions of polite interest rather than surprise.
As if they'd been expected and this whole thing had been arranged.
There, sitting on the Forest Throne with the casual ease of someone who belonged there, was Malus.