Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Aglittery trail and a chicken on a leash—what could possibly go wrong?
The forest breathes around us, ancient and quiet. Too quiet. Each step squishes into moss, muffled and damp, while mist coils around tree trunks like gossiping spirits. My boots are soaked through to my socks, my nose is cold, and I’m starting to regret going after this rooster.
Maybe Cedrik was right. Maybe I should’ve let Eggory go.
I’m not sure how long we’ve been out here searching, but it’s definitely been longer than an hour or two.
Every now and again, I’ve caught the Hell Flame peeking through the tree canopy, signaling that morning has come.
Though, the dense canopy of the trees still traps us in the dim light, with nothing more than the glowing mushrooms littering the ground for light.
Hennifer, my trusty scout, is deadlocked on the trail.
Her beak snuffles over the ground, scraping against bark, stone, and every cursed root in her path.
Her little tail sticks straight up, feathers puffed with purpose.
If Eggory is anywhere within the Seven Realms, I know this bird’s going to find him.
Suddenly, she stops and resumes her pointed, statuesque form. I can’t tell if she’s staring at something ahead of us or showing me the path, but I freeze too.
“Do not tell me you’ve scented a worm,” I whisper, my words fog in the air, the chill biting harder now.
Hennifer doesn’t respond. Her head cocks. One claw lifts, and she points harder.
I follow her line of sight. The air moves up ahead, but nothing is up there.
It warps and twists as if the shadows are bending to obscure something from sight.
I step closer, squinting in an attempt to see.
Blindly, not wanting to take my eyes off it, I reach into my satchel and feel for the potion bottles in case we need to make a break for it.
However, my shoe catches on a root, and my arms windmill as I fight to regain my balance. In a desperate effort to not die today, I make the executive decision to throw the potion bottle toward whatever is lurking in the forest before it can hear me fall.
Something, or rather, someone snags around my waist, while simultaneously closing a hand over my mouth, and I’m yanked backward as the potion bottle sails through the air.
It’s hard and fast. Glass shatters, and a screech slices through my bones as my potion collides with the creature hiding in the woods. Then I’m shoved against the rough bark of a tree.
I panic. My magic flares, and POOF. A burst of glitter explodes between me and whoever is pressing me into the tree, coating the both of us in shimmering dust.
“Great,” a voice grates in my ear. “I’m never getting all of this out of my clothes.”
I go rigid. I know that voice.
Oh no… Cedrik?
He doesn’t let go. Just pulls me tighter as he guides me back away from the tree and lifts a finger to his lips. I don’t speak. Mostly because I can’t. His hand is still covering my mouth.
“We need to see if it’s gone.” His mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel his breath roll down the length of my throat, warm and hot.
I shiver at the thought of his lips being so close to me, and very, very quickly snap the fuck out of it.
Cedrik eases us backward, away from the thick trunk of a dead ash tree, his body pressed close against mine, protective and tense.
The quiet stretches. Cedrik’s chest moves in time with mine, breath slow, controlled. Heat radiates off him like a furnace, his palm steady against my mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever been held so still. So securely.
Whatever the creature was, it moved on. Vanished into the gloom without ever stepping into view. Slowly, Cedrik lowers his hand from my lips, but his arm stays tight.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he hisses.
I turn, glaring up at him. “Gee, sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be lurking in the forest waiting to manhandle me into silence.”
He glares back, unamused. “You left Grim’s Keep. Alone.”
“Because I had to find Eggory before Steve gets back!”
Cedrik’s jaw works back and forth, and his tongue flicks over one of his fangs. He stands up, all six-foot-four of him looming over me like my own personal thunderstorm.
“You are the most reckless, stubborn—tiny—person I have ever met,” he says. Each word drops like an axe.
I bristle, chin angled high so I don’t have to look up at him as much. “I had it under control.”
His eyes roll. Hard. “You nearly got mauled by a dreadwolf.”
“We don’t know that for sure—”
He cuts me off, voice raising. “The claw marks in the dirt are bigger than your hand, Mersi. It’s a dreadwolf.”
I fold my arms across my chest, embarrassed but still determined not to show it. “Well, if you’d just let me—”
He steps closer, pressing me into the tree, our noses almost touching. “You’re lucky I was here. Otherwise, that thing might’ve swallowed you up in two bites.”
Hennifer boks nervously at my feet, her little body wedged between us like a makeshift referee.
I nudge her with my toe, not so much to move her as to avoid making eye contact with Cedrik.
It’s hard to think about anything except the heat rolling off his body and the way his breath chills the air.
His ears, pointed and decked in a constellation of silver rings, twitch with every word.
I can’t decide if it’s adorable or infuriating.
He glances down at the chicken, then back at me. “You know, some people would say you’re not worth the trouble. That you’re reckless, unreliable, and a danger to yourself and others.” His face goes unreadable for a second. “Be glad I cared enough to go looking for you.”
I snort. “My hero.”
He blinks. “I’m serious, Mersi. No one else did. I asked at least a dozen people if they’d seen you before putting together that you went outside the walls. No one helped me look for you.”
“Careful, I might start to think you like me when you’ve tried so hard to convince me the opposite.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. “You’re the bane of my existence, nothing more.” Even though the way he’s looking at me says otherwise.
I might even go as far as to say that Cedrik considers me a friend.
“Keep telling yourself that.” I wink.
He opens his mouth, then closes it, then growls and rakes a hand through his hair, scattering flecks of glitter. “You are impossible.”
“Thank you,” I say sweetly.
Cedrik scrubs a hand down his face, probably resisting the urge to strangle me. “Let’s just… keep moving. Quietly. And for gods’ sake, no more fucking glitter.”
“Not my fault! My emotion magic is expressive. I have no control over it.”
He groans.
We start forward again. The forest is quieter now. Everything with a heartbeat has cleared in fear of the creature we just hid from.
Hennifer, on the other hand, snuffles along like nothing happened.
After a stretch of silence, Cedrik speaks, his voice lower now. Not angry. Just… careful.
“You know… you don’t have to do this.”
My brow furrows. “Do what?”
“Chase after some prophetic rooster. Risk your life for an apprenticeship that keeps you on chicken duty.”
“I do, though. You just don’t understand.”
“Then make me.” He shakes his head, barely audible over our steps. “You’re not exactly thriving at Grim’s Keep, Mersi. You nearly poisoned yourself by harvesting pix root.”
I wince.
“You didn’t even know to bring the antidote. You weren’t careful. You just… went for it.”
“I was trying to be helpful,” I mutter.
“Helpful shouldn’t almost kill you. Any trained or untrained healer would’ve known better. Just reading the first line in the herb encyclopedia would’ve warned you. You can’t miss it. Still, that’s just one example out of dozens. What happens if I’m not there to stop you next time?”
I don’t answer.
“Maybe…” He trails off. “Maybe this isn’t your calling.”
I feel the words like a physical blow. But it’s not the first time I’ve heard them. Not by far.
Staring at the path ahead, I swallow hard and force the words out. “I know I’m not good at it. Not the way I’m supposed to be.”
He stays quiet.
I hug my arms tighter as we walk. “But I need to try. I need to prove to myself I can. That I’m not just someone who screws everything up.
That I can fix things. My mother was one of the best healers alive.
Until I… until I froze. She got hurt. She asked me for help, and I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t cast. I couldn’t move. I just stood there.
And now she can’t use her hands anymore.
Can’t heal. Can’t—” My throat tightens. “She stopped looking at me the same way after that.”
Cedrik exhales slowly. “So this is about proving something to her.”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I rub my face, frustration burning in my gut. “It’s about proving it to me. And maybe to everyone else who ever thought I wasn’t enough. But it’s harder for me because—”
I stop dead in my tracks.
He looks at me. “Because what?”
“Forget it.”
“Mersi—”
“I said drop it.”
He frowns, but doesn’t push.
I clear my throat and adjust the satchel on my hip as I start walking again. “Let’s just focus on getting Eggory back.”
Cedrik eyes me for a moment longer, then grunts and nods.
Within seconds he’s gone back to his lethal assassin mode.
His muscles bulge in his sleeveless tunic, because gods forbid he dress for the weather.
I can’t help but watch the way his fingers flex on the hilt of the hammer hanging off his hip, like he’s itching for an excuse to use it.
In complete silence, we follow Hennifer deeper into the woods, her beak low to the moss, wings flaring now and then like she’s on a divine mission.
She tugs so hard on the leash that it nearly yanks my arm out of the socket.
I fumble with the leash, regaining control, but Cedrik’s already moving, eyes sharp and wary.
There, ahead on a patch of frost-glazed moss are fresh claw prints. Deep. Sharp. Beside them, a black feather.
Cedrik picks it up, turns it over in his hand. “Eggory was here.” He tucks the feather gently into his pocket. Then his voice becomes quieter. “Stay close. I mean it.”
I swallow and nod. My usual quip dies in my throat.
We move together, side by side now with Hennifer leading. Cedrik is vigilant, while every one of my senses come alive—sight, sound, the smell of frost and wet moss, even the sting of cold on my cheeks.
I let myself imagine, just for a second, that maybe I could be good at this. That maybe I’m not a walking catastrophe, and that Cedrik isn’t just following out of obligation, but because he wants to. Maybe he needs me, too.