Chapter Five #7
He’s expecting me to run around blindly, crashing and stomping around the forest—kicking up noise and fuss.
I didn’t need to be fast. I needed to be slow and quiet. I needed to be another looming shadow in the darkness, bypassed without a second glance.
Pulling my useless covering tight, I stepped lightly over a black mass that looked like a tree root.
All these mountains, cliffs, and crags, there had to be a cave somewhere nearby.
That’s where I’d tuck myself away to hide for the night, and in the morning, when I returned triumphantly to that monster after the runes faded away, I’d demand he personally drive the carriage taking me home, then kissed my feet after they stepped on my homeland, begging for my forgiveness.
He thought me a spoiled, pampered princess. He thought me a pawn in his thirst for revenge. I was neither.
I was his match.
A twig snapped in the distance, whipping my head around. I squinted through the gloom, but saw no one. Nothing but shifting black under layers of white.
Crunch.
I twisted, and locked eyes with two, red glowing orbs.
“Ahh!” I took off running.
Crashing through brush, colliding with trees, kicking up a flurry of snow, screaming my lungs out. I cared not for Alisdair, or if he caught me. All that mattered was getting far away from that creature.
Light emanated ahead, drawing me back toward the village.
I huffed and wheezed, making for noise, people, and protection with every last bit of strength in my numb legs.
There’d be places to hide in the village.
Crowds to lose myself in. Possibly people to take pity on me and give me clothes and shelter until dawn.
And, most importantly, there’d be no Taken.
I shoved through two trees and staggered to a stop. I wasn’t in town. On the contrary, I didn’t seem to be anywhere near it, but where I was... was beautiful.
My lips parted, awe stealing my breath—drawing me closer.
Water streamed down the riverbed, making them dance.
“Stars.”
I dropped down at the edge of the bank. Small, glowing, impossible flowers brushed against my knees—their long, delicate petals so featherlight, I barely felt them. They almost resembled sun flowers, though their petals were as long as their stems.
“Starflowers,” I whispered, touching one ever so lightly. Pulling away, I gasped, wondering at my glowing fingertips.
Their gentle light emanated from seeds to stem, and carried down into the roots—making the bank shine. Was this the work of magic, or were these beautiful things made this way by the goddess herself?
Sitting back on my heels, I swept the calm, still clearing.
The trees curved around the river and reached for each other overhead, their branches stretching, reaching, tangling into a natural roof that blocked the falling snow.
It was a quiet, pocket world outside of time—outside of war, harm, and the dangers of the night.
I don’t know how, but I knew the Taken wouldn’t come here.
Such a place was too beautiful for the likes of a beast.
I lit on something to my right, rising at the edge of the clearing.
A bridge.
Carefully, I ripped the hem of my cloak and used the cloth to gather up a handful of starflowers. “Goodbye,” I whispered.
Holding out my natural lantern, I crossed the bridge and stepped onto a path.
I was torn. Wouldn’t Alisdair search for me along the routes that he knew—like this very path? Or did I heed sense, and stay on a path that clearly led somewhere, instead of wandering through the dark and night until I tipped over the cliff into that nest of Taken?
My mind was made for me. Lifting my feet, I stayed on the path.
Where is he? Have I truly lost him? The most feared man in Elva— No, in all of Elvan history, and he couldn’t track down one sniveling, insipid, pampered princess who was lost in the woods.
I couldn’t help but smirk.
A shadow jumped out of the trees. “Ahh!” I flung back, landing hard on my tailbone, and harder still when it landed on my chest—shoving me down. We blinked at each other.
Curious, the rabbit sniffed me—its twitching, little nose tickling my cheek. Was it not used to people, or was it not used to normal fae? It certainly inspected me like I was a new and interesting discovery, and wanted to know if I was edible.
“Hello to you too,” I said softly. Gently, I stroked his soft, fuzzy head—almost smiling when I heard his sweet, grinding purr. “Would you like to come with me? I’m in search of a place to hide from a monster.”
Wings sprouted from his back, trapping another surprised cry behind my teeth. He took off, shooting into the air.
I held up my starflowers to follow him and came eye to eye to eye with a herd of white and gray rabbits, all gazing down at me from the trees. My new friend was clearly the brave one—putting himself forward to check if I was a threat.
He dropped down on a branch, chittered to his friends, then took to the skies—leading his colony away.
I gasped at the sight—eyes wider than they’d ever been. “What is this place?”
A soft, scratching sound tickled my ear, wiping my smile away. Was it the Taken? Another impossible creature? Or him?
I paused—scanning the limits of my starflower-light. I grew up in the city. A city surrounded by forest, yes, but a forest Mama forbade me to step foot in alone.
The forests of Elva were tricky, living, magical, mischievous. They liked to obscure paths, confuse travelers, and mimic the voices of desperate, calling loved ones. Many a young fae entered the forest and never returned.
But not this place.
I could feel it. Sense it within the well of magic inside my soul that was forever out of my reach. There was no magic or mischief in this forest. It was dead.
Which meant that noise was not a trick to scare me. Something or someone made it, and I needed to move.
I hurried on—bursting into a near run. The flowers lit my way, illuminating tufts of fur and flashes of feathers as critters fled from the strange, charging giant clomping through the woods. Something appeared ahead of me and I pulled up short, skidding to the edge of the cliff.
Heart in my throat, I peered down. No, not a cliff.
It was another sharply inclined path like that one that carried our carriage down into Lumenfell, but this one led to—
I frowned. “What is that?”
I held the flowers higher, squinting to see. About eighty feet below, something—many somethings?—shifted in the dark. A soft, humming noise lifted up on the backs of the howling wind, and furrowed my brow. It almost sounded like... snoring.
Shuffling sounded behind me, turning me in time to see another tuft of fur flit into the dark.
I smiled. “Come now, little one. There’s no need to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
Screeching, I clapped my hand over my mouth—dropping the flowers. They fell at the feet—two proper, non-rabbit feet—of the man who stepped out of the shadows.
“Although, calling me little one is quite insulting. I was far from the runt of my litter.”
I choked, eyes flinging up and off his bare and bold nudity. There wasn’t a stitch of cloth on his bronze skin, and the flowers were only too eager to prove it. I landed on his face, and started.
“Foalan?”
As soon as the name left my lips, I knew I was wrong. This man had undoubtedly stolen Foalan’s cherry-kissed lips, sculpted jaw, and glass-cutter’s cheekbones, but he left the commander his beard.
This faeriken didn’t have facial hair. His fur was also snow white—much like the rabbit I had mistaken him for.
“Not Foalan.” I stepped back and his eyes tracked me, moving in time like a dance partner. “Who are you? Why are you naked?”
“Who are you?” he mocked, cocking his head. “Why are you naked?”
I flushed, clapping my hands over my body. “Fair enough. I am—” I fought the futile struggle to say my name. “My name is Ana. You must be Foalan’s brother.”
“I don’t know that I must be his anything.” He sniffed the air, coming closer. I couldn’t say why the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “I am Meallan. Why are you in my woods, Ana?”
“I’m running from someone.”
Inexplicably, he smiled. “We’re all running from someone. Be more specific.”
“This someone is the king of Wind and Wild.”
If anything, his grin widened. “Ahh. You must be his fresh, young mate.”
I bristled. “I don’t know that I must be his anything.”
Meallan laughed—loud and free. “Well said.”
Nodding, I inched to the side, skirting the cliff. “Okay, well. I should—”
“If you’re running from him, you are not his mate yet.” Still his eyes didn’t leave me—tracking me through the snow, taking in my drying runes. “Would you like my help?”
“Your help?” Why is he staring like that?
I moved to the left, then the right, then I darted side to side quickly, spun around, and jumped. Meallan’s orbs bounced in their skull following me around, though he said nothing.
“What? You’re not going to ask why I burst into dance?”
“It’s not polite to remark on one’s madness.”
My face heated. “Well, then why would you want to help a madwoman?”
“Just because you’re mad doesn’t mean you aren’t wise. Running from Alisdair Lumenfell is exactly what you should do.” Meallan held out his hand. “Come with me. My people and our home are below you. Lumenfell cannot cross into our territory. You will be safe from him.”
“Your home?” I glanced down into the darkness, the shifting masses, the rumbling snores. “Why is it so dark down there?”
“Come,” he repeated, his hand hanging in the air between us. “We will shelter you.”
“No, thank you,” I said, backing further away. “This is between me and Alisdair. I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt because they stood between us.”
His hand returned to his side. I only relaxed a fraction.
“Nothing is standing between you and him. He knows exactly where you are. He will find you in moments,” Meallan dropped. “It’s a wonder he isn’t upon you now.”
“What? Why would you say that?”