Chapter Twenty-Six Riela
Chapter Twenty-Six
Riela
I waved at the delicate circlet of tiny white flowers. “Why didn’t you do this when we went to the border?”
Garrick’s jaw clenched. “The flowers are difficult to find and mainly grow in Feylan’s territory. I thought I would be able
to obscure our route on my own, but I was wrong, so I started hunting for them yesterday. Today I was successful. I was on
my way back when I felt Grim’s magic spike.”
My anger returned at the reminder that he’d stolen a day from me.
But he’d also spent it hunting for a gift—one that I wouldn’t need if he expected me to stay in the castle. “Why risk yourself
when we’d already been to the border?”
“I know what it is to be trapped,” he admitted roughly. “I wanted to give you the forest since I couldn’t give you your home.
It will still be dangerous, but less so.”
My heart squeezed painfully, and I wished we could redo this entire day. We could wake up together, spend the morning in bed,
then skip the attack entirely.
But time turned back for no one, so I had to keep moving forward.
I pointed at the circlet. “What exactly does it do?”
“It will make your magic look like the forest’s magic. It won’t protect you in any other way, but it will make you harder
to track.”
“Except to you.”
Garrick nodded. “My power is necessary to strengthen and preserve the flowers’ magic. And because the circlet contains a drop
of my magic, I will be able to track it.”
“How long will it last?”
“If I keep feeding it power, it’ll last indefinitely. Without my magic, it’ll fade in a few weeks.”
I wasn’t sure I could survive in the forest for a few weeks, even with the flowers’ help, so that was plenty of time to decide what I was
going to do.
“Very well,” I agreed.
Garrick stepped closer, his movements slow and careful. He lifted the circlet toward my head, but he didn’t reach for me.
“I need to adjust the sizing.”
I dipped my head in wary agreement, and he stepped close enough that I could smell the earth and mint scent of his skin. My
body couldn’t decide between desire and fear, so it vibrated between the two until the faintest touch of magic smoothed away
the fear.
Garrick froze into unnatural stillness.
“What did you do?” I demanded.
“Causing fear is harm, little mage,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. He set the circlet on my head and his magic rose as he
adjusted the fit.
And through it all, I didn’t feel any fear at all. It took me a moment to understand what that meant. “Your vow transferred
my fear to you?”
“With ten times as much force, yes.”
My eyes widened. “Then how are you still so calm?”
“Practice,” he said flatly.
He finished placing the circlet then stepped back. My fear returned once he was a few steps away, and I shook my head. “I
don’t like it. You shouldn’t feel my fear. Change the vow.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “I can’t, and even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to be afraid of me. If I know what causes your fear, I can fix it.”
“Can you?” I dared to ask.
His eyes met mine with searing intensity. “Yes.”
Despite my worries, Garrick let me go—but only after he’d scanned the area for nearby threats.
I looked back just before I slipped into the trees, and I found him watching me with an unreadable expression.
I lifted my hand in farewell, then turned to the forest before he could return the gesture—or not.
For the first few hours, I froze at every sound. Even though my magic assured me I was alone, I expected Garrick to jump out
and snatch me back at any minute.
With nowhere else to go, I headed toward my village. Part of me knew it was futile, but I couldn’t quite stamp out the hope
that the trees near my home would let me go.
I walked until the moon was high in the sky, then I started looking for a place to sleep. It took another hour to find a rocky
overhang big enough to protect my back and give me some cover.
I ducked into the shallow space and lay down with my back to the wall, pack and all. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but if
I had to leave in a hurry, I didn’t want to leave my only supplies behind.
My magical light faded out, leaving me shrouded in darkness. My stomach growled, but I ignored it. I would deal with finding
food and figuring out what I could forage tomorrow.
Rocks poked my hips and shoulders, and the misery I’d been fighting all evening finally caught up to me. I tried to blink
away the first hot rush of tears, but it was a losing proposition, so I buried my face in the soft fabric of my cloak.
The cloak Garrick had given me, before everything went sideways.
The tears multiplied until, exhausted, I drifted into a fretful sleep filled with nightmares.
The faintest hint of dawn was barely painting the horizon when I gave up on sleep. I sat up, tired and achy. I missed the
castle’s soft bed with its cheerful blue blanket. I missed Grim. And I especially missed indoor plumbing.
I even missed the dangerous Etheri mage who had sent me running in the first place.
I rubbed the grit from my eyes, summoned my magical light, and crawled out from under the overhang that had protected me overnight.
It was only after I was out and standing that I remembered to check for danger. A quick magical sweep proved that nothing
was nearby, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. So far the circlet seemed to be working.
I turned to continue and blinked in astonishment at the canteen and bowl of porridge that had been left on a white handkerchief
on the forest’s floor. It had the tiniest bit of magic clinging to it—probably why bugs hadn’t invaded—but it wasn’t Garrick’s
moonlit magic. This magic felt earthier, closer to the forest.
I looked longingly at the bowl, but I knew better than to eat strange food left in a magical forest. I was already entangled
with an Etheri mage—I didn’t want to add another creature to the list.
The fact that they had gotten so close while I slept was a concern I was determined not to think about.
I bowed, just in case my mysterious benefactor was watching. “I appreciate the gesture,” I murmured, “but I’m not hungry.”
My stomach thankfully did not give away the lie. I carefully stepped around the food and continued, nerves taut. I set a grueling
pace for myself and didn’t let up until I’d put most of the morning between me and the strange offering.
Hunger had come and gone, leaving me faintly sick. But it was my throbbing head that finally forced me to stop. Dehydration
would kill me faster than hunger, so I shrugged off my pack and hoped my canteen was still inside.
It was, and it was full of cool, refreshing water. I sipped it carefully. I needed to cross a stream soon or I was going to
be in trouble. The river that ran through the village didn’t come from the forest, so maybe Garrick’s lake was the only water
source nearby. That would be just my luck.
The pack also held a dozen travel biscuits like the one Garrick had given me for our trip to the border. He must’ve slipped them in with magic. I pulled out two, considered it, then put one back. Better to be conservative until I knew what I could forage from the forest itself.
I ate the biscuit, sipped some more water, then stood and swung the pack back into place. I touched the flower circlet, but
it hadn’t budged, even when I’d lain down. I figured magic must be keeping it in place, but I wasn’t going to remove it and
find out.
It was possible King Roseguard was the better choice, despite the poem in my mother’s book. Maybe he’d banished Garrick from Lohka for a
valid reason, but I wasn’t willing to bet my safety on it. Not yet, at least.
Garrick had hurt me, but he’d also thought I was destroying his door to Lohka. If I’d watched someone disappear through the
broken door of my cottage while my garden burned, I probably would’ve assumed that they were up to no good, too.
And he had apologized, vowed not to do it again—a vow backed by magic—and then let me go. He hadn’t wanted to, and he’d warned
me against it, but he hadn’t kept me locked in his castle.
Would King Roseguard do the same? Based on the fact that he’d sent a soldier to retrieve me with coercion magic, I wasn’t
so sure.