Chapter Twenty-One
Isla
Rhylen walks to the room where I bathed earlier. He’s quiet the entire walk down the long halls, to the guest wing. When he finally walks through the door, he speaks. “Thank you for saving him.”
I lean my head against his shoulder, avoiding his gaze. The gentle thump of his heart soothes my shaky heart. “I wasn’t going to let him die if I could have helped it. He’s innocent.”
“Some would think otherwise,” Rhylen responds. He lays me gently in the bed. “We need to talk about what happened today.”
I wince at his abruptness and the fresh reminder of the figure. How was I to explain the man in the grove and his warning? It still echoes in my mind. Rhylen looks down at me, narrowing he eyes.
“Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.” He turns away from the bed, but I grab his wrist before he can walk away. The nightmare of Oliver is still too fresh in my mind.
“Please. Stay,” I plead.
Rhylen eyes my hand on his wrist. For a second, I regret ever asking him. “I need to wash up, change, and speak to Amos before I go to bed.”
Embarrassment washes over me at his rejection. Feeling stupid for even asking, I dip my chin down. He tips it up, not letting me avoid him. “But,” he amends. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try and sleep.”
With that, Rhylen is out the door. I slowly get up, moving towards the bathing chamber. I need to rinse the day off and change into something more suitable for sleep.
Baelur’s wounds and Oliver keep playing over and over in my head. Those wounds are deep. They’re painful. They speak of an unfathomable torture. Did Oliver do that?
It’s hard to reconcile the man I thought I loved with the man he actually is. I feel foolish and bitter. Every story he’s ever told me has been a lie. Pretty words wrapped up so neatly in a combination that I craved to hear, while he was off torturing souls and getting off in brothels.
Disgust fills me as I finish rinsing the day off. Thoughts of Oliver pull me from the questions I have surrounding the man in the grove. I can’t concentrate on that right now.
I slowly walk towards my room, looking for the wardrobe. I pull out a large, black men’s tunic and pull it over my head. Exhaustion pulls at my bones, and the bed calls me. Making my way back towards the bed, I sigh deeply, letting the darkness pull me under.
The empty hallway is dark and unfamiliar. I glide my fingers down the stone walls as I walk further down the hall.
“Isla,” a voice calls out.
I look around, trying to find the voice.
“Isla,” it calls again.
Why does it sound so familiar? I walk faster down the hall. Surely, there’s a door here somewhere. Is it the man from earlier?
“Isla,” the voice calls, over and over.
I pick my pace up, running through the hall. I’ve got to get out of here. Why can’t I get out of here? I look over my shoulder, halting in my tracks. Oliver stands behind me. He wears a wicked grin that sends a chill up my spine.
“Isla,” he calls out to me. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
He grips my waist and pulls me into him. White catches my eye as I look at the diaphanous nightgown, I find myself in. I didn’t wear this to bed? Confusion sweeps over me. Oliver drags my chin up with a pointer finger.
“Where have you been, Islabelle?”
“Wha— what do you mean?” I stutter.
A dark look flashes in Oliver’s eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Isla. Why are you helping him?”
I swallow down the fear and grab his hands. “Oli,” I start.
“Don’t,” he spits, slapping my hands away. He whips me around, so he can look at my back. Suddenly, I feel bare. A cool breeze tickles my spine. “Just look at you. Do you think I can love you with these scars? You’re ruined. Why did you let him ruin you?”
“Oli,” I try to plead with him. “This, this was your family. Your family did this to me.”
“You honestly think I believe that?” He looks at me with his lip curled, gripping my arms.
“Please, Oli. You’re hurting me,” I try to step away from him, to pull away from his grasp, but he wrenches me towards him. My nose brushes against his.
“What do you think I’m supposed to do with these scars?” He whispers against my face. “What do you think I’m supposed to do with you looking like that?”
He slams me against the stonewall. “What am I supposed to do with you looking at him like that?” Oliver yells.
Spittle hits my face. Slamming his hands against the wall, he cages me in. Oliver drags his nose against my cheek. I’m frozen in fear as I stand trapped underneath him.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you gallivanting around the kingdom with the likes of him?” He whispers into my ear. I shake my head, violently. Words fail to form.
“I SEE IT,” he shouts. “EVERYONE SEES IT, ISLA.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I panic. “Please!”
He grips my hair, yanking me off the wall. “Please, Oliver!” I shout over and over again. “Please!”
Strong hands grip my shoulders, yanking me up. “Isla, wake up! It’s just a dream,” a deep voice grabs at me. “It’s just a dream.”
The world slowly comes into focus as I usher myself back to consciousness. Rhylen sits on the bed next to me. He’s holding me against his chest. I close my eyes again and breathe deeply, letting the smell of leather and oak moss soothe me.
Eventually, Rhylen tears away from me. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not yet,” I tell him. It was the truth. I can’t figure out how I’m feeling. Guilt over betraying Oliver, but did I? His family almost killed me. He’s lied to me over and over. I tug at my bottom lip, mulling over at what the dream could possibly mean.
The dream rattles me to my core. It plays on repeat. I look up at Rhylen. He looks at me with concern but quickly masks it and moves to get up.
I grab his arm and swallow down the emotions that threaten to spill out.
“Stay, please,” I whisper, begging him once more. I can’t stand the idea of being alone right now.
Rhylen looks at me for a moment. He glances down at my hand on his arm and slowly nods, moving to the head of the bed. He eases in, settling himself in for the night. I look up at the ceiling, letting the silence simmer between us. After a beat of silence, I finally find the courage to speak.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Silence greets me back.
∞∞∞
I roll over, expecting Rhylen to greet me on the other side of the bed, but I’m met with nothing but pillows. Foolishness swims in my stomach. Why did I think he would stay? Especially when I’ve been so adamant that he’s been lying? My nose wrinkles in disgust as I move to get out of bed.
The door barges open, unexpectedly. I swing back into bed and duck under the covers.
“Rise and shine, lovey,” Wyll calls out. “It’s the middle of the day, time to get out of bed.”
“Go away,” I grumble from under the sheets.
“Ach. Now, lovey. What kind of friend would I be if I let you lay in bed all day?” He quips.
“Where’s Raia?” I ask, ignoring his question or the implication of us being friends.
“She’s around,” Wyll marches over to the bed and rips the covers from my grips.
“Hey!”
“Out! Move!” He ushers. “It’s time to train.”
My ears perk up and my head whips towards him. “Train? What do you mean?”
A wide smile appears on Wyll’s face. “Our notorious leader wants you to learn to defend yourself, so that’s what we’ll do.”
I eye him suspiciously. “Why now? What’s the plan?”
Wyll sighs. “Well, clearly, you’re not going anywhere, and after recent events, you need some help. Welcome to the Hood.” He bows elegantly, causing me to roll my eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re sticking with us, lovey. Rhylen’s orders.” I look at him with confusion. Since they killed the jolly traders on that fateful evening, I’ve never really thought about what was next. Technically, Raia and I were fugitives being punished for treason. Where else could we go?
“Hurry up, get dressed. I’ll be outside.” With that, Wyll disappears back out the door, leaving me to get dressed.
I briefly look through the wardrobe to find a set of men’s small trousers and a tunic.
Throwing them on, I look in the tall mirror inspecting my outfit.
I tie the trousers as tight as I can get them, and tuck the tunic in.
Finally satisfied with how I look, I head out the door to see Wyll talking to Raia.
She glares at him, her arms crossed. My best friend looks more and more relaxed the further we spend away from our home.
“You told me you were coming to get me first,” she grumbles. He doesn’t answer, only giving her a sheepish smile.
“There you are,” she smiles at me. “You found clothes, good. I was just coming to find you when someone,” she shoots an annoyed look at Wyll. “Clearly beat me to it.”
He smiles down at her before looking up at me. “Ready?”
I nod, following the two down the hall. I fight the urge to sling questions one after the other at Wyll while we walk. After a lengthy silence, I give in. “How long are we going to be here?”
“Not sure,” Wyll answers. “Plans are to be made. We need to figure out where to go from here.”
“What’s happening?”
“Not sure about that either, lovey. All I know is, we might stick around for the Harvest Moon festival.” The festival marks the end of the Summer and the harvest. Days grow shorter, reminding us winter is around the corner. It’s bittersweet.
“How’s your friend?” I ask, changing the subject. I don’t want to think about the Harvest Moon, or the memories just beneath the surface of papa and I participating in the festival.
“Good, or at least, better. He was awake for a little bit this morning. Irric changed his bandages not too long ago, putting that salve you made on his wounds.” His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Speaking of, how did you even know how to do that? Or find those plants? That was wild.”
My heart stutters, “oh, it’s nothing. I learned everything from the healer in our village. Is everything okay?” Could something have happened? I run through the ingredients I’ve used. Everything should be fine.