Chapter 7
Rowan
The forest stretched endlessly before us, a never-ending maze of towering trees and thick undergrowth.
With no path in sight, I trudged through the foliage, following Caelan’s lead.
He moved with an unerring grace, never once glancing down at his steps.
I admired the confidence of his stride as we walked in companionable silence.
I followed along behind him, wrapped in the heavy warmth of his cloak.
It was making me sleepy, and at times I swore I was walking with my eyes closed.
I was so tired. Every now and then, we would pause, and Caelan would tilt his head, listening intently to sounds I could not hear.
He reminded me of a horse, or a deer. The way they flicked their ears back and forth, back and forth. Listening for danger. Ever alert.
All I could hear was a concerto of night sounds.
A chorus of rustling leaves, a choir of creaks and groans.
The snap of a twig joined the ensemble when bracken mice – harmless, he’d said – scurried through the underbrush.
The ever-present scent of pine thickened the air.
And I realised, when I subtly sniffed it again, that it was the same scent that saturated Caelan’s cloak.
I pulled it up to my nose while he was looking at the trees. Woody, with a hint of fresh rain.
We walked on. And on. And on. When I stepped on the edge of the cloak and stumbled, he wrapped his hand around my arm to steady me and didn’t let go. I had been holding up the heavy material so as not to trip, but had unconsciously let go of the thick folds, my mind telling me it was time to sleep.
“We’re nearly there, lass. Not much further now.”
The trees had started to thin out, and moonlight was shining through the high branches.
Stars were winking. When a clearing appeared up ahead, a small burst of energy drove me forward.
Emerging from the woods felt like taking a lungful of fresh air.
I had not realised how suffocating it had been in the dark of the forest.
The half-faced moon hung its head high above, its silvery light illuminating the field.
Craggy hills rolled up in the distance, strikingly similar to the ones that surrounded my rental house.
But it was the rustic cottage, built off to the side, that caught my eye.
Stone and wood. Its weathered exterior blended seamlessly with the rugged terrain at its back.
“The cabin is where we can stay for the night,” Caelan said, directing me with a hand at my back.
I imagined him scanning the clearing, looking for danger.
My eyes were focused only on that shelter.
The air, once thick with the smell of damp earth and alive with the sound of the woods, seemed to quieten as we made our way across the field.
That strange sense of calm I had been feeling intensified, washing over me again and again, and I felt a sense of rightness settle into my soul.
Smoke rose from the chimney, and the comforting smell of the wood burning reached my nose. “Is there someone here?” I asked, concerned we were about to intrude.
Caelan shook his head, still looking at the woods. I looked back too, but could not see anything.
The wooden door of the cabin creaked when he opened it, the noise surprisingly loud in the midnight air.
It made me jump, but a strong hand at my back prompted me to enter.
I was pleasantly surprised to find the place was not in ruin, like I had expected.
Instead, it had a cosy interior, a warm fire crackling in the hearth.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Caelan said, offering me a seat by the fire. He moved about as if familiar with the space.
“This appears to be maintained by someone,” I said, glancing around. It was only a single room, so there wasn’t much to take in. But it looked homely and comfortable and well stocked. Firewood lined the wall near the door. Neatly cut. Newly cut.
“Aye, it is,” he replied, placing more wood on the fire and stoking the flames.
I loosened the clasp of the borrowed cloak and took a few steps across the room to the seat, folding the heavy garment over the back.
I groaned as I sank into the worn armchair, the softness of the cushions a luxury for my tired body.
My phone dug into me, so I removed it from my pocket, quickly checking.
No Signal. Sighing, I turned it off to conserve the battery and placed it on the seat beside me.
“What is this place?” I asked tiredly.
Caelan was crouched in front of the now roaring fire, his face illuminated by the flickering flames. “It’s an old hunter’s cot. The estate hereabouts keeps it stocked for situations like these. It’s open to anyone who needs it, providing you leave it as you found it, albeit minus a few logs.”
I yawned. “How nice.”
He nodded at the small bed. “You should lie down, lass. You’re dead on your feet.”
The warmth of the little room was making me sleepy. The brief glance at my phone had shown it was past midnight, and I had not slept well the night before, tossing and turning for hours. Haunted by dreams.
“I think I will rest for a bit,” I said, getting up and heading for the bed. “Whose estate are we on?” I asked, closing my eyes. I thought I heard him whisper something, but I was already asleep.
I was warm. Really, really warm. I tried to fling the blanket off, but there was no blanket. Instead, my hand came into contact with a large, heavy arm. My body, I realised, was tucked in against a strong, masculine one, my back pressed against his front.
Caelan.
I thought I had been dreaming.
His arm was wrapped around me, securing me in place.
A heavy thigh threaded through my legs. It was almost suffocating, but in the best way possible.
I was snug and cosy. Content. His steady breaths tickled the hair on the back of my neck.
His heat seeped into every inch of my skin. Safe. Protected.
I lazily blinked against the bright light peeking through the gaps around the door and tried to squirm out from underneath him, ever so slowly. But the arm tightened around me, and his velvety voice sounded in my ear.
“Good morning, Rowan.”
I squeaked. I really liked the way he said my name in that voice.
Swallowing down that feeling, I put my hand on his arm and gently moved it off me. “I need to – um…”
“Oh. Right.”
He slowly sat up behind me, stretching his body out along my back before he rose and then helped me to my feet.
I loosed a breath that had stuck to the back of my throat and struggled to meet his eyes.
Again. My boots were sitting at the end of the bed, so I slipped them back on, not even aware I had removed them the night before.
Feeling the weight of his eyes on me, I finally glanced up. He was regarding me with an amused expression, that familiar sideways grin in place. If I didn’t know better, I would have believed that my every thought was a source of amusement for him.
“Ready?”
I met his question with a nod, and he opened the door, pausing on the threshold.
Cool air seeped in around him and I shivered, missing his cloak.
With a small gesture, he beckoned me forward, drawing my attention to what had caused him to stop.
A small herd of deer grazed at the edge of the field, the picture of tranquillity.
“They’re beautiful,” I whispered, mesmerised.
“Aye.”
The clearing looked different in the light of the day.
More meadow than field. Soft grass, knee height, swayed gently in the breeze.
The woods bordering one side stood dark and cold, but the hills beyond seemed open and inviting.
A hawk quietly circled the sky, hunting for prey.
Again, it all reminded me of the landscape near my cottage.
Caelan waved me to the nearest trees. “You should be right to do your business in there, but don’t wander in too far,” he cautioned.
I nodded and headed to the bushes, letting my mind wander as I completed my task.
It was so very strange, this situation I found myself in.
Ordinarily, I would be worried and anxious, and would have so many questions.
Who are you? Where did you come from? Where are we?
Where are we going? Why can’t I go home?
But for some reason, none of these seemed to matter.
I felt relaxed and completely at ease with Caelan.
It was like my body and mind knew I was where I was meant to be.
There were no intrusive thoughts telling me I was different.
There was no incessant tug calling me forward.
In fact, reaching deep inside me to where that had been, I could only feel a warm glow.
I lightly stroked it with imaginary fingers, and I swore it pulsed back at me as if it liked the sensation.
“Rowan? You finished?” Caelan’s gravelly voice rasped.
“Coming,” I called back, moving out of the trees.
The soft rustle of leaves had me looking up, and I noticed an owl peering down at me, blinking as if I had disturbed its sleep.
When I exited the woods, Caelan had already retrieved his cloak and slung it around his shoulders with a swift, practiced motion.
A glint of metal caught my eye, and I realised there was a knife tucked into his belt.
He pushed the cloak behind that, leaving it open for easy access.
He secured a bow and arrows to his back before turning to me, waiting.
I was intrigued by his clothes. The leather pants, the strange shirt, were not a style I had seen before.
Not in the flesh, anyway. I had seen them in movies and shows set in a different time.
I was certain his shirt was called a tunic, and the cloak was definitely not from this era.
He caught me looking, so I glanced down at my own clothes, noticing my boots were untied.
I knelt down to lace them, my lips puckering when the pain in my knee no longer bloomed. In fact, all my pains had disappeared. Frowning harder, I started to think maybe I had just been tired. Imagined it was worse than it was. That was it. That had to be it.
When I stepped up to him, he handed me my phone. “You forgot this.”
“Thanks,” I replied, staring at it. Strange. I had not even thought about it. Usually, it was the first thing I looked at when I woke up. I shrugged, tucking it into my back pocket with barely a glance.
Caelan gave me a quizzical look, and I raised an eyebrow. Self-consciously, I touched my hair.
“What?” I asked, pulling a leaf from the strands. I frowned at it, before loosening the elastic on my braid.
“You just remind me of someone is all,” he said.
“It’s my hair, isn’t it? I’ve seen lots of people around here with red hair. It seems to be common in the Highlands. More so than where I’m from, anyway.” I finished redoing the plait, tucking a few escaped tendrils behind my ears.
“Something like that,” he murmured, looking away.
I shuffled awkwardly. “Where are we off to today?”
His grey eyes settled on me, steady and calm, scanning my face as if searching for something. “You’re not what I expected, lass,” he said, smiling. Before I could respond, he turned and started for the hills.
I huffed out a laugh. It was impossible to be anything but light-hearted in his presence. The feeling had been coursing through me since we met yesterday. “What did you expect?” I asked, still feeling the warmth of his smile upon my skin.
“I don’t know, really. Questions. Confusion. A lot more where am I, why am I here, and take me home.”
Laughing again, I caught up to his long strides, needing two steps to every one of his.
He noticed with a frown and slowed his pace.
“I have been thinking all those things,” I said.
“But for some reason, they just don’t seem to matter.
Maybe I’m having a nervous breakdown, and you’re just a figment of my imagination,” I quipped.
Actually, that made a lot of sense. I tapped my lip before reaching out and pinching him.
“Ow! What was that for?” he said, rubbing his arm.
“Just checking.” I grinned at him. “I’m definitely not dreaming.”
We walked for a while up into the hills.
I did not see a single house or road, which should have been peculiar but wasn’t.
For breakfast we feasted on blackberries we found blooming in a thicket, the late-season fruit still juicy and sweet.
I peppered him with questions as we walked.
What was his full name? Caelan Lachlann Mystwood.
Was he named after the woods we’d been in?
Probably. Where did he live? At Wyndaryn.
I’d never heard of it.
Every now and then I remembered to throw in a question about where we were, where were we going, or when would we get there. After the first two times, he realised what I was up to and just gave me that sideways grin, his eyes alight with humour.
As the day wore on, though, and the landscape around us remained unchanged, I asked him genuinely where we were. Realising I was serious this time, he stopped walking, giving me his full attention.
“We’re on the Wyndaryn Estate,” he answered solemnly.
“And where exactly is that?” I asked, his tone making me uneasy.
“It’s in the Kingdom of Assyntian.”
I frowned at the unfamiliar name. “Assyntian? As in Assynt?”
“Not really.” He hesitated. “The name Assynt may have derived from Assyntian a long time ago. Assyntian is in Caeldonia – the Realm of the Fae.”
I looked at him wide-eyed, wondering if he was teasing me. His eyes did not waver, though, viewing me steadily all the while.
“Caeldonia…” I whispered. “What do you mean, the Realm of the Fae?”
The word changeling clanged through my mind. What my aunt had told me was suddenly at the forefront.
He was still holding my gaze. “My understanding,” he hedged, “is that there are many realms in the universe. Caeldonia is one of them. What you call Scotland is in another.”
I entertained the thought, not picking him for a madman. “O-kay…” My heart pounded. Anxiety beat at my chest. “Say I believe you, and what you are saying is the truth. At the risk of sounding like a cliché, how did I get here?”
Scooping up my hand, he rubbed his thumb back and forth across the top of my knuckles. It was a soothing motion, I realised, like he could feel my rising distress.
“There is only one way to cross into this realm from the Human Realm and vice versa. You need to enter the Mystwoods when the veil is down. If the Myst finds you worthy, the path will be opened to you.”
He said this like the mist was a sentient thing. But all I could feel was that thumb brushing back and forth over the back of my hand, the rhythmic motion grounding me as thoughts raced through my head.
“Rowan?”
“There was mist,” I murmured, remembering what my aunt had told me. “Both times.”
“Yes,” he agreed, like he already knew.