Chapter Eighteen
Vonetta
Wren’s not here.
It’s the first thought I have upon waking. After our encounter in the trees, we had all lain together in the tent Chiron had constructed. Our heated and sweat-slicked bodies pressed close; my head on Chiron’s chest.
Chiron had whispered sacred words to me until sleep pulled me under.
“You are a vision…a goddess made flesh…I love you, Netta.”
Dropping gentle kisses into my mussed hair, he rubs his hand down my back in soothing motions.
Wren had been quiet after his confession. We all had been. It had felt like a dam bursting on his feelings and his resentments. I have never felt more alive than I did last night. Something had truly woken in us all in this forest.
It is early, the sun not yet risen. But Wren is no longer in the tent. I sit up, letting the thin quilt fall to my lap and exposing my skin to the cool morning air. A large warm hand falls on my back, and I turn to see that Chiron is sleep-addled and puffy-eyed.
The way he took me last night flashes through my mind, and my entire body floods with heat. Desire weighs in my stomach as if we hadn’t yet partaken in one another. Like we will partake again soon.
“He’s gone again. Come back to me.” Chiron whispers, sliding his nimble fingers down my spine.
A chill washes through me from the sensation.
I lay back into his waiting arm. The blanket is low around his hips, exposing all of the deep grooves of his muscles as they lead towards his narrow hips.
I pass a finger from his corded neck to where the quilt rests at the V there.
He closes his eyes and groans quietly, pulling me closer still.
I nuzzle close, breathing him in. The damp forest floor lingers on his skin, earthen and calming.
He presses soft kisses onto my brow, and I lift my face to them.
There is tranquility in his embrace, and I breathe that in too.
I never imagined this for myself–lovers to share quiet wakings with.
Now that I have it, I do not wish to ever part from it.
“Where did he go?” I whisper to Chiron, opening my eyes again to peer into his. The morning sun has begun to rise into the thick trees of Trinity forest, casting a soft glow stream of light into his loamy brown eyes.
The creases at the corners of them pinch for just a moment with concern, or worry, maybe? But they smooth out again when he reaches a hand to my cheek.
“Wren left an hour or so ago. I don’t think he realized I was awake. But I’ve heard some rustling outside the tent. I think he’s near still.”
I take a deep breath in through my nose. I don’t want to believe that we will be repeating the morning after the sea trial, but I cannot entirely shake the dread from my thoughts. I close my eyes and try to push them from me, but they do not leave completely.
“Hey? Hey. Netta. It’s going to be okay. Wren is…” Chiron pauses, laying his head back onto the rolled-up cloth behind him, eyes on the ceiling of our forest abode. “Even Wren cannot deny that this means more now than just duty, surely.”
My eyes snap open at the memory of Wren’s confession. The yearning, the deep pain in it? Wren is torn in half with the struggle of being with us and being apart from us.
“I believe that to be true,” I say to him, placing my hand once more on Chiron’s chest. “But there is more to this than you know. You need to speak with him; he has reasons for why he is the way he is with us.” The beating of his heart soothes the nervousness in me, enough to calm my racing thoughts about Wren.
We lay quietly together until the sun has fully risen from behind the trees.
“Netta, I meant what I said. I love you both. I love you. We’re going to figure it out.
Maybe not before the mountain, which is not ideal.
But there is no room for division under those conditions.
” His surety is bolstering. His temporary truce with Wren appears to be holding.
For that, I am incredibly grateful. Whether Wren is ready to mend things between us is another thing entirely.
When we finally do decide to rise from our quiet morning, I see that my breeches and tunic are folded carefully by my feet, as is Chiron’s tunic from the previous night.
Wren must have brought them back with him.
My memories from our walk back to the tent are foggy, the afterglow of everything that was done and said leaving me in a daze.
We dress quietly. I unwind my braid and twist my hair into a knot at the back of my neck. Chiron ties it off for me with deft fingers before leaning down and gently biting my shoulder in the same spot he had the night prior. The memories are again fresh in both my mind and my body.
He folds back the door to our tent and fastens the fabric door open in front of it.
We find that Wren is just a ways off with the driver, pouring over a map together and gently petting one of the horses that pulls our carriage.
Relief is immediate; he seems at ease even if he is not directly with us right now.
Chiron makes ready to break our fast, and I go back into the tent to fold up our bedding so we can again prepare to depart.
…
The ride out of Trinity and through the hills is bumpy, our carriage rocking and throwing us around on our benches constantly.
No rest is truly found for us there. The closer we get to the base of the Caelestian Peaks, the colder the air grows.
We make a stop to change into our gear and arrive at the spot where the land meets the first jutting rocks before even-fall.
Close up to the mountains like this, I feel small and insignificant by comparison.
The air isn’t quite frigid, but Chiron warns us that it will get colder the farther up the pass we go.
We decide to stop for the night in the cavern at the base of the mountain, building up a fire before night settles in on us.
The fire heats the small space nicely, and our driver takes an hour or so to warm himself and water the horses before he makes the journey back to Nerine.
We are left with only the gear that we can carry, that which we cannot was sent ahead to the capital with Jessah and the other attendants.
The Cavern is small, and the rocks that form it are icy cold to the touch. I pull my hand back from them and pull my gloves from the pocket of my cloak.
Not much conversation has passed between us today, and my worries that Wren is pulling back once more begin to build.
The hollow feeling in my stomach over the last few days in Nerine becomes a nagging thing, eating away at my insides.
He is not hostile, nor is Chiron. But it is quiet, and this silence between us unsettles me deeply.
Chiron places long, dry branches at the mouth of our cavern, blocking out the chilly winds that enter as much as he can. I am grateful for my woolen clothing now, while it is somewhat itchy and tight, they hold in warmth well.
“This space is small, and I’ve got a bed of coals going that should keep us plenty warm.
But we should still sleep close together, in case it goes out in the night,” Chiron says, looking from Wren to me.
Wren sits close to the embers, pen in hand but not writing anything.
His journal is closed on his lap, and he nods his assent to Chiron.
Frustration grows in me steadily. If Wren would just open up about his brother and his life before the Isle of Men…Chiron would understand. I feel strongly about this. But it is not my story to tell.
“Do we have a plan for getting up the peaks? I’ve never really scaled anything like this, and I’m…nervous.” I say, looking between them both. Perhaps if I open up about my own concerns with our coming task, this will bring them both back into the present.
Wren lets his pen fall to his lap, looking to Chiron for direction on this matter. I am quietly pleased with this response from him.
“Thankfully, there is a path up to the place we need to reach. There is a spot between this mountain, where we are currently, and the next. That’s where the beacon is.
But it is treacherous. My father told me once that both of the trials beforehand are mental, emotional feats.
But this one? This one tests our physicality.
This one will test our Trinity in truth.
” His words resonate throughout the space with their gravity.
I think back to our previous two trials.
And yes, they were entirely based on our ability to speak truth with one another.
I fear that even more so than the perils of a mountain, we will struggle with truth now more than ever before.
The bonds we share, while mostly a silent presence, feel heavy on my shoulders now.
The strain of our bond is present in the cave with us.
When Wren speaks, he pulls me from my worries and thoughts with his practicality.
“The climb will be but a few hours, but the cold will be our biggest enemy, I suspect.” He fiddles with the pen in his hand now, not looking at either of us in the subtle glow of the fire.
Irritation grows in me. I look to Chiron, and he is looking at Wren.
The expression on his face is wary, perhaps of starting yet another yelling match with Wren.
I struggle with myself for a moment. I do not wish to argue this night.
We have a long trek up the mountain tomorrow that will test our bodies and our bond.
But this strain cannot go unchecked. We have to talk.
I take a slow and even breath in and prepare myself for what comes next.
“I disagree, I don’t think the cold is our greatest enemy. I think whatever is happening between us…that is what is going to tear us apart.” Chiron and Wren are staring at me now, alarm in Wren’s eyes and sadness in Chiron’s.
I continue anyway.
“Wren, you need to tell him. Tell him why you pulled back from us. Give him the chance to understand your position, please.”