Chapter Twenty #2
I stiffen at his answer. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that. “And? Was it up to your standards?” I snap.
“No, love. Because if that were me, he would have never made it out alive.”
Words fail me. Deep down, I know he’s right, but I can’t call him out on it, so I choose silence. A moment later, I finally find words to say. “What about Argus?”
“Oh, he’ll find us eventually. Not to worry, lovey,” Wyll answers. He turns his attention to his brother carrying Baelur. “When are we going to stop?”
“Soon,” Rhylen responds. “Let’s get into the forest and gain more ground. The captain would love nothing more than to get at us right now.”
The men nod and push their horses on. I lean against Rhylen. His hand finds my waist as he steadies me in the saddle, but we both say nothing.
I close my eyes; the exhaustion is overwhelming. Whispers start to tickle my skin as we enter the grove. They urge me to go into a different direction, constantly pulling at me. The trail is dark, the moon only a sliver in the sky.
“I think we should go a different route,” I say slightly.
Rhylen grunts in response. The whispers worsen, sounding louder and louder in my ears. I pull the reins out of Rhylen’s grasp and point Fia onto a smaller animal trail.
“What are you doing?” Rhylen asks.
“Trust me, please,” I plead. “We have to go this way.”
“You don’t even know where you are. There’s no way you can even see,” he states. “Why should I trust you?”
“They call to me,” I barely whisper. Rhylen tenses behind me before whistling to his partners to follow.
I release a breath I don’t realize I’m holding.
The whispers guide us deeper into the Grove.
One by one, Rhylen’s men follow behind us in silence.
I close my eyes again, trying to concentrate on the trees.
I search the brush while we move forward. “What are you looking for?” Rhylen breaks the silence.
“A couple things,” I tell him. “The whispers are confusing. They’re never clear. More like feelings than anything, but looking at your friend, we’ll need something stronger than what is typically grown in estate gardens.”
Rhylen nods, but before he can answer, a patch of Yarrow appears. “There,” I tell him. I hurry to dismount, not waiting for Rhylen to pull Fia to a stop. “We’ll need as much Yarrow as we can grab. The comfrey, too.”
An old oak tree with large twisting limbs stands amongst the patch of Yarrow.
My hand brushes against the bark. Everything goes silent.
I see everything and nothing at the same time.
A low melodic chanting begins in my ears.
I can’t make it out. Confusion overwhelms me.
My mind spins into a disorienting tizzy.
“Daughter of trees, whisperer of hearts,” a deep voice calls out to me.
Everything fades out when a dark figure walks out from deeper in the forest. “Take heart and listen well. I’ll only be able to tell you this once.
In love, not war, the line is mended. Open your heart. Let your desires win. Tread carefully.”
Confusion sweeps over me. I look at the dark figure in the tree line. “I don’t know what that means,” I argue.
“Focus on your heart, daughter of trees. The answers are within the whispers.”
I open my mouth to argue, to plead for more answers. Before I can get anywhere, he disappears back into the trees. A hand is gripping my shoulder and gently shaking. I’m down on my knees.
“Isla,” Rhylen presses. He gives me a confused look, like he wants to ask more.
Noises slowly start filtering in. Crickets and the subtle whistling of birds in the night.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to clear the dark figure from my thoughts and ignoring Rhylen’s concerned looks.
I turn my attention back to the Yarrow in front of me.
Irric dismounts his horse, rushing over with a leather pouch, a small lantern, and a small dagger.
I quickly take the pouch and the dagger from him, get on my knees, and start cutting from the plants around us.
Irric takes the time to look over Baelur while Wyll holds up the small light. He gives Rhylen a grim look.
“We must hurry,” Irric explains. “He’s barely hanging on.”
I stuff the plants into the bag and walk back to Rhylen’s horse.
He looks at me, scrutinizing my every look.
I know he wants to say something, but for once he doesn’t.
Grabbing my hips, he hoists me onto Fia.
I look back at him after he mounts again.
“You know I’m perfectly capable of getting on a horse myself, right? ”
I tease, hoping he won’t ask any questions about what just happened. I needed time to process, time to think.
“Ahh, but then I wouldn’t have the excuse to put my hands on your hips, would I?” He teases.
“Is that what it is?” I mumble. He chuckles as he kicks Fia into a canter.
∞∞∞
We arrive at the dark estate, and I can’t help but sigh deeply at seeing the gates separate, letting us in.
The duke and his wife rush us as soon as we’re in the courtyard.
Duke Amos looks haggard and gray, as if the night’s events have aged him a whole century since we left. Maisie and Raia stand with them.
Amos motions to guards to help them carry Baelur into the estate. I jump down from Fia, not waiting for help from Rhylen or his men. Snatching the leather pouch from Irric’s saddle bags, I follow the guards into the estate. “Do you have a garden?” I ask the duke’s wife.
She looks over at me. Worry and fear strife on her face. “Yes, yes,” she nods. Raia grabs her arm, stopping her.
“Is it in the small garden you showed us after dinner?”
Emilie nods her head emphatically. “Yes, it's just there.”
I smile at her gently. “Great. I need to go there for a few things. Please have lots of clean rags and warm water ready. I’ll be right there.” I squeeze her arm. Irric looks at me, confusion filling his face.
“I’ll be right there,” I promise him and take off after Raia towards the familial herb garden.
I have to get away from them for a second, away from the curious eyes of Rhylen.
I need to settle myself and the one place I can do that is a garden.
My nerves run rampant, from Baelur’s state and the prophecy that keeps echoing in my head.
“What do you need? What happened?” Raia starts her barrage of questions. Maisie and her lead me down two halls until we arrive at a large wooden door. Raia pushes it open, motioning me outside. The garden is dimly lit with three small lanterns.
Ignoring her, I look around the small herbal garden. “I need rosemary, nettle, and thyme.”
I squint, hoping my eyes will adjust soon in the dim light. Raia takes off, grabbing one of the small lanterns on the bench. “I’ve got this. You’re wasting time here. Maisie, take her back to Baelur’s room. Do you remember where it is?”
Maisie nods. “If I don’t, I’ll grab help.” She grabs my arm, but I stop her before we can go back inside.
“You’re sure you’ve got this?” Anxiety seizes hold of my chest. I take a deep breath, allowing the scents and fresh air to calm me.
Raia sighs.
“Yes, Isla. I’ve done this with you long enough to know what I’m doing. Now go, go.” She ushers me out of the garden.
Maisie and I rush around the estate, down dark stone, winding hallways, up narrow stairwells until we finally reach what I assumed was Baelur’s room. Two guards stand at the door. They pushed the door open. Irric and two maids are slowly stripping away his clothes and cleaning him.
“He’ll need several stitches,” Irric comments when I walk up to the bed. I grab another strip of cloth, dumping it in a clean basin of water, and ringing it out.
“I’ll help wherever you need me,” I reassure him.
Irric gives me a tight smile. The stress and horror in his eyes are suffocating. We make quick work of cleaning Baelur’s body. He groans in pain but never wakes. The room stays empty, void of Rhylen, Wyll, and Ewan.
They keep the Duke and his wife occupied while we work. We work in silence, going through the motions while we both work on his body. Herbs were ground into a paste, teas were brewed, and strips of cloth were constantly being switched out.
Hours pass while we work diligently, ignoring the exhaustion that seeps into our bones. Irric looks at me, gratefulness on his face. The last stitch is tied, and his wounds are cleaned. I wipe the sweat off my face and sigh.
“Thank you,” he mutters solemnly. “I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you or Raia.”
I give him a tired smile and walk over to a chair. Blood and sweat stain my clothes. I let myself fall into a chair near the fireplace and close my eyes for a second.
“I’m going to sit, just for a bit,” I call out to Irric.
The door opens and closes, but I pay no mind. The warmth and roar of the fire lulls me to sleep. I close my eyes, settling deeper into the chair.
“What are you doing, Isla?” A voice startles me. Oliver looks at me with rage-filled eyes and raises a hand at me. The dark figure from the grove is standing behind him. He shakes his head in disappointment.
“Isla,” Oliver says again.
“I’m sorry,” I whimper, bracing for the slap of his hand. Oliver grabs my wrist, startling me. I jump in the chair, my eyes wide open. Rhylen kneels in front of me, his hand gently holding my wrist.
“Hey,” he whispers softly. I look around the unfamiliar room, reminding myself Oliver wasn’t here, that the dark figure wasn’t here. Rhylen looks at me, concern in his eyes. He stands up, pulling me with him. In one swoop, he’s carrying me out of the room.
“What are you doing?” I ask, wearily.
“Carrying you to bed. What does it look like?”
“I can walk, thief,” I grumble, trying to hide the relief in my voice.
“I’ve got you, love.”