Chapter 19
Amara
The forest no longer hides the path from him.
Only an hour ago, we walked back to the mansion together beneath the old canopy, following trails no mortal has been permitted to see for centuries.
This time, the trees did not twist themselves into impossible labyrinths.
The mist did not lure him away. Even the shadows seemed content to let him pass.
The forest has accepted him. Whether that is wisdom or madness remains to be seen.
Now we wait.
Mortals have a curious habit of believing battle begins the moment the first weapon is drawn.
It does not.
Battle begins in the waiting.
Colt occupies the silence the only way he knows how.
Every weapon he carried into my home now lies neatly arranged across the dining table.
Pistols. Spare magazines. Knives. One by one, he checks each piece with practiced efficiency before placing it exactly where it belongs.
Several minutes later, he reaches for the same magazine again.
I watch him quietly.
Without lifting his head, he smiles.
“If you’re going to stare at me, my queen, at least admit I’m handsome.”
“You have inspected the same magazine four times.”
“I know.”
“You believe it will change.”
“I believe overlooking one tiny mistake is an excellent way to become a very decorative corpse.”
It is difficult to argue with such reasoning.
He returns the magazine to the table before finally lifting his eyes to mine.
“What?” He asks.
“You smile.”
“I do.”
“You are preparing for a battle you are not certain we shall survive.”
“I know.”
“And yet you continue smiling.”
He shrugs, as though the answer is painfully obvious.
“I’d rather spend whatever time we’ve got smiling at you than worrying about something neither of us can control.”
For a brief moment, I find myself without a response. His smile widens almost imperceptibly.
“There she is.”
“What?”
“That look.”
“What look?”
“The one where you’re trying very hard not to smile.”
“I am doing no such thing.”
“My queen…” He chuckles softly. “…you’re adorable when you lie.”
Before I can dignify that accusation with a response, a sharp tap echoes against the window.
Once.
Then again.
The sound draws my attention away from Colt.
A crow waits upon the stone ledge beyond the glass, its dark eyes fixed upon mine with quiet patience.
The forest has sent a messenger.
I cross the room and unlatch the window. The bird remains exactly where it is, inclining its head before letting out three quiet calls.
I need no further explanation.
“They’re here.”
Behind me, the room falls silent.
Colt looks up from the table immediately.
“The hunters?”
I shake my head.
“No.”
Relief flickers across his face before he catches himself.
“They made it?”
“They?”
“The help I told you about.”
I study him for a moment before nodding.
“It would appear so.”
He exhales quietly, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough for me to notice.
“Good.”
I glance once more toward the forest beyond the glass.
“The forest believes they mean us no harm.”
“And you?” I consider the question. “I believe…” My gaze lingers on the trees beyond the window. “…that at least some of them come with honorable intentions.”
Colt follows my gaze toward the window before returning the remaining weapons to their places upon his body, each movement considerably more efficient now that his attention has found something beyond the magazine he had already inspected too many times.
“Ready, my queen?”
“As ready as one can be when welcoming five armed strangers into her forest.”
His mouth curves as he secures the final knife beneath his jacket.
“You’re going to love them.”
“I find that exceedingly unlikely.”
“That’s what you said about me.”
“I have yet to revise my opinion.”
The sound of his laughter follows us from the room.
The forest opens the path before we reach the foot of the mansion steps, bending branches away from our passage and settling the roots beneath the earth so Colt has no opportunity to trip over them and blame me for the injury.
The mist remains gathered between the trees, though it no longer attempts to mislead him, and we make our way toward the clearing without interruption.
I sense the men before I see them, five unfamiliar presences moving through the forest with enough care that a mortal might have mistaken their approach for silence.
The trees do not. Neither do I.
They emerge from the mist one after another, dressed in black and carrying enough weaponry to confirm that Colt had not exaggerated when he described the assistance he had summoned.
Their faces remain concealed behind masks, though their weapons are displayed openly across their bodies, an arrangement I find far more sensible than the habits of the hunters who have entered these woods throughout the centuries.
Those men often attempted to disguise their intentions while carrying fear plainly upon their faces.
These conceal themselves and make no effort to pretend they have come for anything other than violence.
The man at the front stops several paces away from us, and the others come to rest behind him without needing to be told.
Colt gives him a slight nod.
“Damien.”
“Colt.”
The greeting is brief enough to be almost unnecessary.
Damien’s attention passes over me only long enough to acknowledge my presence before shifting toward the clearing and the trees surrounding it.
He studies the slope beyond the northern edge, the thicker growth to the west, and the canopy rising above us, taking in my forest with the measured concentration of a man determining how best to use what stands before him.
He does not ask for an explanation. Colt has already given him one, and Damien apparently sees no value in hearing the same information twice.
“Archer,” he says.
One of the men turns toward him.
“Find a nest with a clear view of the southern approach.”
Archer gives a single nod before moving toward the trees, where he selects one of the taller pines and begins climbing without wasting time searching for an easier route. The branches accept his weight with some reluctance, though they do not attempt to throw him back to the ground.
“Apex, take the west and keep them from circling behind us.”
The largest of the men disappears between the trunks without replying.
“Ryan, cover the east.”
Ryan follows just as quickly, leaving the clearing in the opposite direction.
Damien turns toward the final man.
“Mihai, stay with Colt.”
Mihai’s eyes shift briefly toward his friend before he inclines his head.
Damien then looks at Colt, though no order immediately follows.
“Do I need to tell you what to do?”
Colt’s answering smile carries the same insolence he seems determined to offer every person he meets, regardless of whether they command a group of assassins or an ancient forest.
“Not unless you’ve forgotten.”
“I haven’t.”
That appears to settle the matter.
Mihai moves toward Colt while Damien walks to the northern edge of the clearing, leaving each man to take his place without another word.
There is no discussion of strategy, no repetition of what has already been decided, and no attempt to ensure they have understood instructions that were perfectly clear the first time.
Across the centuries, I have watched men claim authority through noise, believing that an order becomes more effective each time it is shouted.
Damien seems to suffer from no such confusion.
He speaks once, and the others obey because they have already learned that listening is preferable to discovering what happens when they do not.
Colt alone is given no position. The omission is not an insult, nor does he appear to receive it as one. Damien simply expects him to determine where he will be most useful without requiring guidance, and Colt accepts that expectation as though it has existed between them for years.
It is a considerable amount of faith to place in a man who cannot cross a room without making an inappropriate remark.
Apparently, Colt has neglected to exaggerate his usefulness as well.
Mihai stops beside us and lowers the mask covering the lower half of his face.
His gaze travels from Colt to me before returning to Colt once more.
“So this is why you vanished for three days.”
Colt glances at me with entirely too much satisfaction.
“I’ve disappeared for worse reasons.”
“You once disappeared because you followed a goat into the mountains.”
“It looked suspicious.”
“It was eating grass.”
“Exactly.” Colt folds his arms. “What was it hiding?”
I regard the two of them for a moment.
They stand in the middle of my forest, discussing livestock with complete sincerity while armed hunters advance toward us.
Mortals truly are extraordinary creatures.
“Forgive the interruption, my darlings,” I say at last. “Shall we concern ourselves with murdering the men currently attempting to murder us, or would you prefer a few more moments alone?”
Mihai’s eyes close briefly.
“I like her.”
“So do I,” Colt replies.
Before either of them can continue, the crow above us abandons its branch with a sharp beat of its wings.
The movement is followed by a disturbance farther south, subtle enough that none of the men react immediately, though the forest has already carried it to me.
Boots press into damp earth where no animal walks. Metal brushes against bark. Several talismans move between the trees, their presence dulling the forest wherever they pass.
They have arrived.
I turn toward the southern path.
“The hunters are here.”
Damien does not ask how I know. He raises one hand, and Mihai immediately pulls his mask back into place.
Colt checks his pistol before looking at me.
“How many?”
“More than twenty, though they have separated into smaller groups.”
“Of course they have. Nothing says confidence like bringing an army to kill one woman.”
“They have come with far greater numbers before.”
“And how did that work out for them?”
“They are no longer available to answer.”
His grin appears for the briefest moment before the first gun shot tears through the trees.
The bullet strikes the ground near the northern edge of the clearing, sending damp earth across the roots of a beech tree. Damien has already moved behind its trunk by the time the sound reaches us, while Mihai draws his weapon and takes cover without waiting for an instruction.
A second shot follows from farther east. Ryan answers it almost immediately. The sound of his weapon is sharper, closer, and followed by a distant cry that confirms his aim requires no assistance from the forest.
Above us, Archer fires once. Something heavy falls through the undergrowth beyond the southern path.
Colt closes his hand around mine and draws me behind the nearest tree before another bullet passes through the space we occupied.
“Amara… I’m gonna ask you to keep your distance.”
“And I am going to refuse.”
“I figured.” He exhales through his nose. “Thought I’d ask anyway.”
“It was a wasted effort.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Another shot rings through the trees, and his expression finally loses its usual amusement.
“My queen… that talisman dropped you to your knees.” His eyes search mine. “They’re not stupid enough to bring just one this time.”
I hold his gaze for a moment.
The concern in his eyes is unmistakable.
“Very well,” I say at last. “I shall keep my distance.”
“But?”
“But I shall still fight.”
A small smile returns to his face.
“I would’ve been worried if you said anything else.”
He steps closer and presses a brief kiss against my forehead.
Mihai moves past us toward the southern edge, firing twice before disappearing behind a fallen trunk.
Damien crosses the clearing farther ahead, communicating with the others through short commands spoken into the device at his shoulder, though none of them require him to explain what they can already see.
Colt glances toward me one final time.
“You know what to do?”
“I was defending this forest long before your ancestors learned to hold weapons.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
He starts toward Mihai, then pauses long enough to point toward the trees behind me.
“Try not to wander off.”
“This is my forest.”
“Exactly. You’re terrible at following directions in it.”
Before I can remind him that he is speaking to the woman who controls every path beneath his feet, he disappears between the trees with his weapon raised and his smile still firmly in place.
I watch him only until the forest carries the sound of his first shot back to me.
Then I turn toward the hunters entering my home and allow the roots beneath them to wake.