Chapter 8
AVELINE
Idon’t realize I’m crying until the top of my dress is wet.
I don’t realize I’m hopelessly lost until the bottom of my dress, my slippers, are cold and heavy, soaked through with moisture from the forest floor.
“Of course I’m lost,” I say miserably, staring up at the dark canopy of leaves blocking all chance of starlight. “I can’t do anything right.”
This was stupid. So stupid.
My mother always made sure to point that out, always made sure I was fully aware of every single one of my failings. Too tall to be as beautiful as she was, as desired; too bookish to be of interest to other girls as a child. Too scatter-brained to be a good conversational partner.
The tears roll down my cheeks faster than ever, my chest heaving.
My feet sink deeper into the loam of the forest with every step. Thorned brambles claw at the fabric, like something’s trying to keep me from moving further into the woods.
I am tired of being kept out.
Suddenly, the sadness turns to rage, sheer stubbornness rearing its ugly head.
If I want to go into the woods, then I’m going to go into the woods, damn it.
The hem of the dress is already wrecked. I blow a lock of hair out of my face and make a snap judgment.
“This won’t do,” I mutter, using the letter opener to saw at the fabric.
It’s fine enough that it’s really a chore, though, and I never thought I’d curse the weave of a truly fine silk, but I also never thought I’d be trapped in a castle with a pig-headed fiancé who calls me his as if I’m property and not a person.
A frustrated sound tears out of me, and I shove the letter opener back in my pocket and rip at the ruined silk with my hands. Finally, it gives way, and I’m rewarded with a satisfying rip. Then another, and another.
Shimmying out of the underskirts, I let them drop to the forest floor, and I manage to knot the remainder of the dress around my legs.
“There,” I say, rubbing the dirt off my palms onto my hips. “I knew I should have worn the damned pants.”
I take a long, shaky, extremely self-righteous breath, and I stand up, pleased with my handiwork. The silk is strong enough that it will keep my legs from being torn to shreds by the brambles, but now I can actually walk.
Evening gowns, it turns out, were not made for evening jaunts fleeing from one’s fiancé into a dark forest.
The minute the words dark forest enter my mind, I regret the thought.
A chill runs down my spine, and the bravado I felt disappears.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
Someone… or something… is watching me.
My throat gets tight, and I slowly pull the sad little letter opener out of my pocket. It’s incredibly dark.
With the branches and leaves blocking the night sky, any moonlight’s been swallowed up by shadow.
Slowly, I take another step, still looking up, hopeful for any trace of light that might help guide me forward.
I’m not going back.
I swallow hard, past the tight lump in my throat, and no matter how hard I grip the letter opener, my hand won’t stop shaking.
Running deep into a forest might have been a mistake.
Something stirs ahead of me, a branch cracking. It hits me then—this forest should be alive with noise, with small animals and evening insects and life.
It hasn’t been.
I hold my breath, like that will keep whatever it is from seeing me. Another branch snaps, this time closer.
“Is someone there?” I call out, unsurprised that my voice is shaking.
Two eyes blink into existence, glowing in the gloom, high as my hip. I nearly screech, but when I go to suck in a breath, I choke on my own spit.
Sputtering, I cough. What a time to forget how to breathe properly.
My heart hammers in my chest. I lift the stupid letter opener up. “I’m armed,” I call out. If my voice shakes, that’s none of my business.
“There’s no need for that,” a voice says, and I jump at how close it is.
A lantern bobs in front of me, and I shield my eyes at the sudden onslaught of light.
The glowing eyes are closer now too, and I peer at them through my fingers, blinking rapidly.
They’re not human. The yellow around the pupil catches what little light filters from the lantern held aloft, the pupils themselves a diamond-shaped slit that pulses bizarrely.
I don’t move the letter opener.
I’d rather have it where I need it than be caught without it.
Even if whatever this is doesn’t have any envelopes that needs opening.
“Come, come, you’re soaked to the bone, aren’t you, child? That won’t do, will it?” The lantern swings close to my face, and I step back. “Follow me now, follow me home. I’ll have your bones warm in no time.”
My entire being recoils, and I take another step back, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
The lantern dips as the creature creeps closer, and I’m staring at the glowing diamond pupiled eyes so intensely that it takes me a second to realize that there are more eyes.
Many, many more eyes.
And it wasn’t a lantern at all.
I gape, horrified, stumbling over a branch.
The creature blinks, a cascade of eyelids and movement making my stomach twist. A bramble snags the makeshift knot at my ankle, and I lose my balance.
Everything slows, horror churning through me as the monster’s eyes all open at once, the orb-like eye hanging from its palm glowing a sickly yellow. Too-long legs skim over the forest floor, the knobby bare feet… face the wrong way.
“What’s wrong, little witch? Ssssso—” it drags out the s, hissing as it crouches lower, bending over where I’m tangled in the brambles and muck “—much light, I can feel so much light in you. And we need it, don’t we?”
I turn my face away from the fetid stench of the monster’s breath, scrambling back as fast as I can, holding the brass letter opener aloft.
“Her light is not for the Seelies to take,” Malakai’s voice booms out, shadows wrapping around the monster’s many, many eyes. The pale yellow light begins to fade, and I sob out a terrified breath as he hauls me against him, warm and undeniably furious.
“Her light will be ours, Shadow King,” the monster hisses, and the eye hanging from its palm flashes, bilious light making me bury my face into Malakai’s neck.
“Not while I breathe,” Malakai growls back at him, and when I look up the creature is even closer, a sword of shadow against its neck.
Too close.
Squeaking I throw the letter opener in a blind panic.
The creature howls as it hits the suspended eye, and I gag slightly at the wet noise it makes.
I’ll have to find a replacement for that. I don’t think I’ll want to open anything after seeing it open… that.
“Tell your king we are prepared to defend this place,” Malakai says.
“You can tell him yourself, when we’re done with you,” the monster responds, and all around us, yellow lights begin to glow. “Your witch, though, she won’t be able to talk.”
I gasp, outraged, regretting throwing my stupid excuse for a knife already.
“How dare you—” I start. White light, pure as fresh snow, rips out of me, drenching the deep forest in color. Where the monster’s yellow sapped it, my light is the light of day, the light of dawn.
Malakai grips me tighter to him, and I stare at my outstretched hand in wonder as he begins to run, faster than any human I’ve ever seen.
Much faster than I’d ever be able to.
I grip the leather battle armor as tight as I can, determined not to fall off.
“At least this has a purpose now,” I tell him weakly, the light finally fading from where it’s trickled out of my skin.
“What?” he asks.
“Your armor. It’s a perfect little saddle.” I jiggle it for effect.
Malakai simply looks exasperated.