Chapter Fourteen #2
Irric nods his head. “Healer Sibley taught you?”
My head whips towards him. “Do you know him?”
“I do. We’ve run into each other a few times over the past few years,” he smiles.
“You’re telling me he’s part of the rebellion?” I groan. Sibley’s reminder that everything isn’t always what it seems echoes in my head. How is it possible? How does he get away with it, stay undercover for so long? How did I not see it?
“We all are in some way, right? Or at least according to the prince.”
“Oliver said—” I start to argue.
A deep voice cuts me off. “Are you capable of understanding that he lies? Or does he have you so brainwashed, you no longer can speak for yourself?”
My mouth hangs open as Rhylen steps into the tent. His dark eyes flash with resentment when he looks at me. “How dare you.”
“How dare I? Oh, how foolish you will feel.” He turns his head towards Irric. “Ready in here? Wyll claims he sees Fate’s daughter reaching out to him.” Irric rolls his eyes, grabs a few supplies that he needs, and a small square bin.
“Ready?” He asks me.
“Sure,” I give him a tight smile before glancing back at Rhylen. I follow them out of the tent to where Wyll was now lying on the ground. Maisie and Raia had a wet cloth draped over his forehead. He flashes Rhylen a sly smile before moaning.
“It’s time, brother. I’ll hold your place in the Great Hall,” Wyll moans.
“By the Fates, you moron. You’re not dying. Sit up, you’re embarrassing yourself.” Irric snaps. Ewan shakes his head at the dramatics of it all while he tends to the horses. The entire situation in front of me would be comical, if I weren’t surrounded by a band of thieves with a grouchy leader.
I cut my eyes towards Rhylen. He holds back a smile at his friend. “Hurry up. We have plans to make.” He turns abruptly, heading back to the tent I slept in last night.
Wyll sits up, a wide grin on his face, “you heard ‘im brother. Get to stitching. More thieving to be done.” He winks at Raia.
∞∞∞
The days pass by in a blur. Rhylen allows Maisie, Raia, and I to forage more freely in the Grove while they attack different bands of caravans traveling to the castle.
It’s strange, watching them work. We’ve come to an understanding.
He leaves me alone to my plants and I don’t bother him with his plans.
I’m laying out the last foraging trip’s spoils when Rhylen walks up to me.
“Want to take a trip?” He asks. There’s a wickedly charming smile on his face that has me curious. I take a second look at him, arching an inquisitive brow. His chocolate brown eyes stare back at me, looking lighter than they have since we first met.
“What are we doing?” I eye him suspiciously. He chuckles, holding his arm out for me to take.
“Have to drop off the latest goods from this past heist.”
“Drop off? Where?”
“Contrary to your beliefs about us, we don’t keep what we steal… mostly.” He smiles at himself, like there’s something funny in his thieving. “Come on. Trust me?”
“Not. A. Chance.” I huff but follow him anyway. The pull and allure of him is too much to resist today. I can’t help the curiosity that overcomes me. What did he do with all the jewels, coin, and food they stole? There’s a million questions I want to ask.
Rhylen’s horse is saddled up, wearing large pack bags on either side of her. I scowl at him as he walks up to his mare. “One horse? Seriously?”
He shrugs. “Safer this way. More inconspicuous traveling on one horse instead of a small troop of horses. Can’t have the guard catching up to us. Unless you would like us to give you back to your dearest captain.”
I hesitate for a second and immediately hate myself for it. Rhylen smiles widely at my pause, like he knew the answer before I did. Maybe, just maybe, I enjoyed living out here far more than I should. Crossing my arms tightly across my chest, I level glare at the thief in front of me.
He holds his hand out, ushering me to get on the saddle. I try to ignore the feel of his hand in mine; the rough, but firm hold as he lifts me onto the gray horse. Ewan stands at Fia’s reins, waiting for Rhylen to put his foot in the saddle.
“Irric requests you stop off at the healer’s for a couple of things,” Ewan explains.
“He wants to replace a couple things since the last incident, just in case. Isla’s medicinal knowledge has helped, so the list isn’t long.
” He smiles at me just as Rhylen steps his foot into the stirrup and swings his leg over. “Have fun.”
One hand lands on my waist, while the other holds the two reins. I can’t concentrate on anything but the burning feel of his hand as he steadies himself in the saddle. My spine stiffens at the feel of his breath on the back of my neck.
“Still stiff, love?” He teases me.
“Your hand, thief. Shouldn’t it be on the reins, instead of my waist?”
“Your lack of confidence in my riding skills is really aw-inspiring.”
“I don’t think of your riding skills, thief. Nor do I want to.” Ewan’s laugh startles me, forgetting he was there. Rhylen doesn’t wait for response, kicking Fia into a trot. We ride along in silence. Fia’s hoofbeats fill the silence in a gentle “clopping” noise.
The trees are thick through this part of the forest. Rhylen slows Fia down to a walk. I close my eyes and slowly relax into Rhylen. He stiffens for a second but doesn’t comment. There’s a newfound peace on our ride. Gentle whispers dance across my exposed arms, beckoning me deeper into the forest.
“We should go that way on our way back,” I point to the direction the whispers of the trees beg to pull me in. Rhylen chuckles against my back. I resist the urge to shiver.
“And why would we do that?”
I shrug. How would I explain to him the trees and plants call to me, that they whisper to me to tend to them.
Healer Sibley’s reminder rings in my head.
Peculiarities, such as hearing trees talk wouldn’t be received too well from some crowds.
I can’t imagine how Rhylen would react. I shake my head on accident.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He drawls.
“You think I’m pretty?” I ask, distracting him from spilling the thoughts in my head. He barks a laugh.
“I think you’re many things, love. Pretty doesn’t even begin to hit the mark.” My cheeks heat at the unexpected compliment. “So,” Rhylen probes. “What were you thinking about?”
“The trees,” I give him a half-truth.
“Trees,” he deadpans.
“Interesting stories about the trees here, don’t you think?”
He pauses, contemplating the thought. I wish I could see his face right now.
Does he think I’m crazy, foolish, stupid?
Oliver always teased when I mentioned the trees of the Grove.
I start to second guess myself for bringing it up.
Paranoia that another person would think I was just a silly, stupid girl, incapable of thinking for myself starts screaming at me in my head.
I shouldn’t care what Rhylen thinks. He’s my enemy after all, but still, I wait.
Holding my breath, waiting for a barrage of insults that make me feel foolish, or an incessant teasing set out to humiliate me.
“They say the souls of the strongest warriors went into the trees at death, a way to forever honor them and give them a new life.” Rhylen finally speaks. I perk up a little.
“What do you know about the souls of the elves?”
“What everyone knows,” he tilts his head, slightly. “Before the elves were forced into hiding—”
“Hiding?” I interrupt him. “They all died.”
“Many were murdered, yes.” Rhylen counters. “But, many lived. They fled Coarann Grove when the Queen’s men moved in the last decade and started hunting them.”
“Hunting them?” I ask again, causing Rhylen to sigh.
“Honestly, love. Where did you get your education from?”
“The Duke,” I try to argue.
Rhylen scoffs. “I should have known. Anything to do with the Cahir family is nothing but lies.”
“That is not true,” I snap.
“Oh? How so?”
I stutter. Words are unable to form on my tongue. I sit in his arms, gaping like a fish, outrage crackles around me. “Since you’re all-knowing, prove it. You claim he’s the wretched murderer, the liar, the thief, prove it.”
“Oh, I plan to.” He kicks Fia into a canter.