Chapter 5
Amara
This man is unbelievable.
What manner of fool willingly returns to the place that very nearly claimed his life? I warned him. The forest warned him. Even the creatures beneath these ancient branches understood what he so spectacularly failed to comprehend. Leave!
Yet here he is. Suspended upside down from one of my oldest oaks like a particularly irritating ornament the forest insisted on keeping.
A slow drop of blood slips from the gash above his brow before falling silently into the moss below.
I stare at it. Then at him. Then back at the blood.
“…You struck him rather hard.”
The branches above me sway with unmistakable innocence.
“Oh, do not pretend this was entirely my doing. I merely wished to frighten him.”
The leaves rustle—A lie. We both know I lost my temper. It has been… quite some time since a mortal has managed to provoke me to such an extent. Several centuries, if memory serves.
I exhale slowly.
“You were instructed to leave.”
The unconscious man offers no defense. Naturally. It is considerably easier to ignore my advice when one is unconscious.
I walk toward him, my boots sinking softly into the damp earth as the roots lower him just enough for me to inspect the damage.
His heartbeat reaches me long before I touch him. Steady. Strong. Infuriatingly alive.
I had no desire to explain to the forest why I accidentally killed the first amusing human it had encountered in decades.
I brush a strand of dark hair away from the wound.
The roots obediently rotate him ever so slightly, presenting his face to me as though they, too, have decided he deserves further inspection.
“…Well.” That is… Unexpected.
Yesterday I saw little beyond arrogance, laughter, and an alarming willingness to converse with hallucinations.
Today I see the man.
Dark hair falls across his forehead in unruly waves, interrupted by a single pale streak bright enough to catch the morning light.
Thick brows frame eyes I know to be unlike any I have encountered before, one the rich brown of fresh earth after rain, the other carrying the impossible blue of winter skies moments before the first snowfall.
His jaw is sharp. His mouth entirely too expressive for a man who seems physically incapable of remaining silent.
Even unconscious, there is the faintest suggestion of amusement lingering upon his features, as though he fully expects to awaken and continue irritating me precisely where he left off.
“…How unfortunate.”
The words leave me before I realize I have spoken them aloud.
I have lived long enough to watch kingdoms rise and crumble into dust. I have dined beside kings.
Walked among princes praised as the most beautiful men of their generation.
Time erased every one of their faces. Yet this reckless creature, hanging upside down with blood drying along his temple and leaves caught in his hair, possesses a beauty so striking that for one deeply embarrassing moment, I simply… look.
The realization irritates me immediately.
“Ridiculous.”
I remove my hand as though the warmth of his skin has somehow offended me.
“He is merely a man.”
The forest remains silent. Then a breeze stirs the canopy above me. Not enough to move the branches. Enough to brush against my cheek with familiar gentleness.
I close my eyes.
“You cannot possibly be serious.”
The leaves answer with a soft rustle. Patient. Persistent. The same sound they have made for centuries whenever they disagree with me.
“He ignored every warning.”
The branches sway once.
“He returned of his own free will.”
Another sway.
“He is exhausting.”
The roots around his ankles loosen ever so slightly, lowering him another few inches until his face rests almost level with mine.
A quiet huff escapes me.
“So now you are helping.”
The bark groans beneath the ancient oak, warm and steady against my fingertips.
The forest has always known me better than I know myself. It knows the difference between anger and cruelty. It knows I never intended to kill him.
More importantly… It knows exactly what I am thinking now.
“No.”
The leaves whisper.
“No.”
Another whisper. Longer this time. Insistent.
I narrow my eyes at the branches overhead.
“You are becoming terribly opinionated in your old age.”
The canopy shivers with what can only be described as satisfaction.
A reluctant smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
“I love you too.”
The forest settles immediately. Smug. Insufferably smug.
“Do not become accustomed to winning.”
I raise my hand toward the wound above his eyebrow.
Blood still trickles lazily through the dark strands of his hair, the fracture beneath the skin no more than a hairline crack, unpleasant but easily repaired.
The moment my fingertips brush his forehead, violet light blooms beneath my palm.
It spreads like liquid starlight beneath his skin, flowing through the fracture before knitting bone together with quiet precision.
The torn flesh closes after it, leaving only the blood as proof the wound ever existed.
His body jerks. A sharp hiss escapes through his teeth as his brows draw together.
One eye opens. Then the other. For one suspended heartbeat, those impossible mismatched eyes stare directly into mine.
He blinks slowly, his gaze settling on me before a crooked smile spreads across his face.
“Either you’re the most gorgeous woman who’s ever kidnapped me…”
His eyes drift upward, finally noticing the roots wrapped around his ankles and the fact that the entire world is upside down.
“…or you’ve got the weirdest fetish I’ve ever stumbled into.” His smile somehow widens. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m in.”