Chapter Fourteen
THE SPY
He sneered at the tear rolling down my cheek, his voice mocking my misery.
The stone walls surrounded me, closing in.
Somehow there was still space enough for him to pace, a leashed predator.
A multitude of weapons cast threatening glares.
Each whip, spike, and point hanging menacingly along the wall.
He slowed his pacing to graze his fingers across each one, intentionally accentuating each sharpened point.
They swayed on their hooks at his touch.
He peered down at me, gripping my knees to my chest, trying to disappear. Sweat dampened my clothes. My feet turned numb as they settled on to the frozen, unforgiving stone floor. The waiting. That was perhaps the worst part. The psychological manipulations almost worse than the beatings. Almost.
I closed my eyes, trying to imagine my mom.
Willing my eyes to suck up all moisture so no more evidence of my fear expressed itself.
I imagined her comfort, her soft touch, her firm hugs.
She always smelled of lavender tea, a mug of the steaming brew her constant companion.
I jolted back to the present, unclenching my fists, eyes popping open, at the snapping sound of his chosen instrument.
The small whip with splintered metal chunks embedded in the leathers that extended like vicious tentacles.
One hit and he would drag it down my back, creating four jagged slices at a time.
I would likely pass out. I would need to find a healer when this was over.
When he got his anger out of his system, I knew I would be left behind to figure it all out.
If only I could disappear. My fear blanketed my thoughts.
My rage fueled my resolve. There was no way out of this. One day, I would kill this man.
Bars slammed around me.
Caged.
Trapped.
Hate bloomed.
His violent gaze found mine, and I screamed.
My thrashing body pulled me from the nightmare.
The soreness in my throat told me I probably alerted anyone in a five mile radius of my location.
My blanket lay bunched at the end of my makeshift bed.
Gradually, my breathing calmed as I reoriented myself to the current place and time, my body unwilling or unable to cease its trembling.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my arms in self-comfort.
I pulled a cherry candy out of my satchel, mechanically tasting its fruity sweetness.
I searched for my cloak, restless with the desire to move. I wouldn’t be falling back asleep anytime soon. I reached for the woolen garment, a deep burgundy with no embellishments, securing it around my shoulders. I shoved on my leather boots and raised the hood over my braided hair.
The man in my nightmare, the ghost of my father, continued to claw at me. The vivid helplessness and inability to flee left the unnerving residue of paralysis. Anger, old and deep, festered. My military training drilled a calculated control over my rage.
Anger was a tightrope.
My hands clenched and unclenched. My body shook as I inhaled ragged breaths. Anger wasn’t all violence. It could provide momentum where I’d otherwise be stagnant. But it also bared lethal fangs in an effort to protect tender parts.
I preferred my weak spots to remain divested from the light of day. Old pain tended to bubble up, making its inconvenient presence known, in the black of the night, the time when the demons roam, when my guard dropped.
I focused on a collection of leaves, admiring their many colors piled one upon the other in a mosaic blanket. In another life, I might have imagined they had the power to heal. A fool’s thought.
I sat down, leaning my back against a tree, and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the rising sun spilled downward in dazzling streams of oranges and pinks. I shifted and the crinkling of paper sounded. Delah’s note. I pulled it from my pocket.
Rue,
Destroy this once you read it.
I know you have a plan. And when you make up your mind, no one can change it.
You’re the most stubborn person I know. If you succeed in becoming a dreki, I will help you.
If you change your mind, I’ll support you in that way too.
No one has gotten out of becoming a dreki without punishment though. But no one is as clever as you are.
If you have any doubt about the trade, please look into it. I have heard how Berine can be used against us…”
“Your rest is uneasy.”
I startled, jumping to my feet, an ice dagger materializing within a blink. The note fluttered to the ground, momentarily forgotten. I wildly searched for the source of the voice, but no person appeared. My eyes narrowed, combing through early morning shadows of ancient trees.
The trunk of a tree shimmered, then moved toward me. I stilled as I took in the sight. A woman with skin like flaking bark slowly glided toward me. Her hair swayed in a wild tangle of silky leaves and supple branches. Her amused eyes gleamed a rich golden brown.
“My name is Bex. I watched over you last night when you emerged in distress.” She eyed me thoughtfully as my surprise turned to outright curiosity.
“I’m Rue. I… thank you. I hope I didn’t wake you.” I winced. Do trees sleep? Was I in her living room?
She chuckled, her trunk shifting into a curvaceous female form.
“You’re a forest nymph aren’t you? Were you the one who helped me yesterday with the hamadryad?”
She nodded. “I did. And yes, I am a dryad. My sisters and I guard this grove.” Her leaves rustled with a casual gesture to our surroundings. Her mesmerizing gaze, rich like damp soil, landed back on me. “What haunts you, Rue?”
I shifted on my feet. Her question and direct eye contact peeled back my layers like her shaves of bark.
I studied her. She had gone out of her way to protect me, and nothing about her screamed “threat” at the moment.
I chose to answer her question, if for no other reason than to stay in her good graces.
Maybe she would help get me out of the forest. A soft chuckle escaped me, brushing off her concern. “Things best forgotten.”
“Hmm.” Bex glided around me. “And where are you headed?”
“Lyrae. I got turned around after an earthquake. Can you point me in the right direction?”
Bex smiled. “I can help you through these woods. They are not all filled with kind nymphs. You would do well to remember that. Let me know when you are ready to depart.” I picked up Delah’s note and started forward.
Bex moved along the forest floor with unnatural grace.
I assumed a tree would possess jerkier movements. Dryads were full of surprises.
I had no idea how large this forest was, and would have found myself continually turned around since the forest’s canopy blotted out the overhead sky.
We traveled in a comfortable silence. Flowers as wide and deep as soup pots swayed on their top-heavy stalks.
The smell of jasmine and honeysuckle mingled with decaying leaves.
Vines outstretched before my eyes, grabbing on to tree limbs as though sentient, following us. Perhaps they were.
Bex hummed a tune that attracted small birds with jewel-toned feathers. Their iridescent chests soared through the air like shooting stars made of delicate rainbows. Throughout our journey, Bex would lean over and pick some berries or mushrooms, adding them to a hole in her trunk.
After several hours, we stopped to eat. Bex unveiled her collection of foodie treasures. I gaped at the spread.
Bex laughed, causing her leaves to flutter.
“Of course I have no need for food, these are all for you. I hardly ever see females in this part of the forest. It’s always heavy-footed men with rank smells.
” I hid my smirk behind my hand, imagining the Berine suppliers from the Rivellan Wood and how they fit her description.
Grateful for the fleshy mushrooms and juicy berries, I ate them alongside a small bit of cheese. I lay back, reaching into my pocket for a hard candy out of habit.
“Bex, what do you know about the earthquakes?”
“They are new to us, as they likely are to you. I do know that the cause of them is in response to the veil…” She trailed off, offering nothing more.
I puzzled at that. The darkness of Maripol hadn’t seemed to have reached Yarit, but it made sense that the veil would be heavier here if the rebels staked their claim in this land. I finished my candy, standing.
“You’ll make it to Lyrae by late afternoon. It isn’t far off.” Bex gestured to the east.
I packed up my things and mounted my horse. Excitement bubbled within me. “Lead the way.”
We trotted on through the green-tinged light of the forest. Wildflowers increased in number the closer we got to the forest’s edge. Bright-blue cornflowers and yellow goldenrods carpeted the wood. Bees and butterflies danced among them.
I pulled out the note from Delah, now crumpled. I carefully smoothed it out, and picked up where I had left off:
I have heard about how Berine can be used against us. It’s well known that we need it to bind to the magic in our bodies, preventing us from losing our affinities, but it can also be used in the draining of magic. At this point, I am not convinced anyone should be ingesting Berine.
From my experiments with Glint, I firmly believe Glint is a form of refined Berine.
It is used purposely to drain magic, which eventually kills the person.
I’ve been studying raw Berine and refined Glint to find an antidote for it.
Be careful Rue. Keep investigating. The king may not be the person we’ve believed him to be. You’re all the family I have.
Delah
I stared at the page. Berine kept Halumans strong.
Berine saved our people. I reread the letter again.
And again. Delah should know what she was talking about.
But she was also young, and enough people sharing the same rumors could sway her.
I refused to believe her concerns. I couldn’t.
It was treason. I fisted the note, shoving it back into my pocket.
She almost sounded like the damn rebel general.
The space between my ribs grew tight. My plan to abduct, or assassinate, the Crimson Wolf suddenly felt fragile.
Hairline fractures threatened my confidence.
I had to focus on my plan: Track Korin. Locate the rebels’ base.
Destroy the Crimson Wolf. I would authenticate my loyalty. And ascend to a dreki.
But what if I was wrong? Delah has never been brash with her words. Insinuating the king had ill-intentions left me internally tilted.
I picked up my pace, resolved to find the Crimson Wolf. My only salvation.
The trees thinned the closer we came to Lyrae. Bex paused and gestured for me to stroll forward. “This is where I leave you. Follow this game trail and it will take you to the western side of Lyrae.” A soft smile relaxed her features. “I hope you find what you’re searching for.”
I dipped my head in gratitude. Bex assumed her more tree-like stature as her roots sent plumes of soil in the air. Within minutes she had been subsumed by the forest, and I was left with the chirping birds.
Ahead, the trees opened to a small field, and beyond that was the beautiful city of Lyrae.
Waterways zigzagged in living ribbons of cerulean silk below a breathtaking city.
Buildings connected by gleaming bridges paid no mind to the landscape below.
They seemed to float above the water-carved land and the gurgling canals.
They created an organized city despite the earth’s attempts to command a different placement.
The buildings themselves were works of art.
Some stood tall with spires and turrets, others revealed elaborate balconies.
Almost all of them were several stories high, with intricate filigree detailing the sides and corners.
Statues of vicious-looking naiads kept watch on the roofs and eaves of several structures.
Glass covered many of the buildings, gleaming and glittering with the passing of the clouds across the sun. Vines with magenta flowers meandered their way up stone walls, their petals, like bored confetti, hazily rained down to the streets below.
Many of the buildings appeared to be living quarters.
The lower levels of several of them boasted signs for stores and businesses.
Skiffs and small boats drifted through the waterways.
Some carried goods, others carried people.
The tinkle of laughter coasted softly on the breeze.
Large fountains established roundabouts for efficient movement of boats and gondolas.
Their geysers shot several stories into the air, with vaporous spray merging with the humidity.
I urged my horse on, descending into the field that separated the forest from the city itself.
I scanned the outskirts, locating a stable.
We trotted toward it so that I could house my mare while I sleuthed around the city.
I found an empty stall and quickly changed out of my leathers and into a nondescript, dark-purple dress.
I finger-brushed my hair, setting it half-up to keep clear of my face.
I wasn’t Ruin, the elite spy. I was Rue Vespera, sweet, unassuming traveler.
My search for the Crimson Wolf officially began.