Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
TEAL
“We should make her understand.” I twisted in my saddle, scanning the forest for a place to make camp. The trees’ dark trunks pressed too close. The dirt track was so narrow it barely allowed Pierce and I to ride abreast.
Pierce patted his mount’s sweat-darkened neck, but his gaze drifted to Haven. He’d been doing that all day—taking furtive glances when he thought no one was looking, cataloging her posture, her expressions, the way her pain showed on her face. “Understand what?”
It was a fair question. What was there for her to understand? That we’d stood by like cowards while she was tortured? That we’d chosen our duty over doing what was right?
“If we interfered, she’d be dead,” Pierce continued. “You know this. She’d be in a grave, not following behind us with a permanent scowl on her lovely face.” He rubbed a palm across the back of his neck. “Besides, I doubt she’d care for our excuses.”
“She hates us.” And she had every right to. I kept telling myself we’d saved her life by not interfering, but watching her now—the way she held herself, the way she winced in pain if her horse stumbled, the way her time in the pit haunted her eyes—I felt nothing but guilt.
A large blackbird flew too close, and my horse danced beneath me. I tightened my legs and took firmer hold of the reins. “This fucking forest.” We’d delayed our departure until Haven could ride, which meant we had to cut through Ravenswood—the shorter, more dangerous route to Angelfire.
“What bothers you most?” Pierce lifted his left eyebrow. “The wolven or the wraiths?”
Wolven, with their fangs and insatiable hunger, were bloodthirsty killers. Wraiths were worse. “I can handle monsters. It’s the trees. They’re too close together. I feel like I’m in a cage.”
Pierce shot an amused glance my way. “A thousand ways to die in this forest, and you’re worried about the trees?”
He didn’t have earth magic. He didn’t understand.
There was something rotten in Ravenswood—in the soil, in the trees, in the effing birds.
I hated this place. I wondered why the king hadn’t taken action.
Since we’d captured Haven, I’d started wondering a lot of things.
Maybe the problem wasn’t just Ravenswood—maybe it was us. Maybe we were the rot.
“What about over there?” Pierce pointed to a break in the trees, and we rode to the opening, where we found a small clearing with a ring of stones at its center.
Above us, the light faded to a lavender hue. We were running out of time. Something felt off, even worse than the rest of the forest, but we didn’t have another option. This spot would have to do. “Grayson!”
Grayson, who rode ahead of us, turned in his saddle.
“Come look.”
He cantered back to us and nodded when he saw the clearing. “Good work. We’ll camp here tonight.”
None of us wanted to risk being without a fire after nightfall.
Flynn and Haven joined us at the entrance to the clearing.
Haven took in the break in the trees and shivered.
“Problem, Princess?” Flynn smirked at her.
“This place gives me the creeps.” Her face was unreadable, but her hands trembled. When she noticed me looking, she clamped them together.
“Ravenswood affects everyone,” I explained.
She hung the horse’s reins on the saddle horn and shook her head. “There’s something wrong about this place … it’s evil.” She could feel it too.
Flynn laughed at her. “It’s just a clearing, Princess. Safer than being on horseback at night.”
“Why?” She scanned the trees closing in on us.
Flynn lifted his arms above his head and waggled his fingers at her, imitating a not-so-scary predator. “There are monsters in these woods.”
She looked him dead in the eye. “There are monsters everywhere.”
She definitely hated us.
“Monsters that will rip the skin from your bones and bathe in your blood.”
Haven tilted her head. “So they’re guards?”
Flynn’s cheeks flushed, and he ducked his head. “Very funny, Princess.”
“If the monsters are so dangerous, I want a weapon.”
“No.” Grayson’s curt answer was harsher than necessary. Pierce and I exchanged a look—the same look we’d been sharing more often lately. When it came to Haven, Grayson was off his game.
Her narrowed gaze traveled between us, lingering a few extra seconds on Grayson. “I forgot. Protecting myself is forbidden.”
Pierce dismounted, glancing at Haven’s trembling hands. “The camp needs to be secured,” he said abruptly, turning away before anyone could respond. “This time, we will protect you.”
She snorted derisively. The woman didn’t just hate us; she loathed us.