Chapter 27 Alfrie
Chapter twenty-seven
Alfrie
The night is eerily quiet as I tread lightly over the tree line providing the border between the Woodlands and the Court of Masseda. A staleness taints the air, and my palms start to sweat around the copper handle of the lantern.
I thrust it out in front of me.
Why am I out here again? It was a ridiculous idea last night and a ridiculous idea tonight.
It’s been ten years since I was rescued from my destroyed village and never once have I wondered if someone else survived the ambush.
Until yesterday. When I heard their whispers calling out to me, begging me to return. Begging me to find them.
It’s like some sort of magic urges me to explore the Woodlands. It’s a pull—a feeling that’s completely out of my control, and I’m compelled to obey this urgency to wander into the night and find something that my entire being knows doesn’t exist. It can’t exist.
Yet here I am for a second time. But tonight, I made it farther than the borders and creep around the dark woods, aimlessly searching for…I don’t even know.
I walk for several minutes until the forest is dense with thorny bushes and low-hanging trees, and I’m pushing my way through the bramble with the lantern.
Several tiny prickles that cover the branches grip onto my sleeves as I pass and I wince at the sting.
I lift my nose into the air to get a whiff of any evidence of a possible fire burning in the distance.
Or a predator stalking me as I move through the brush.
But there’s nothing. No scent of burning wood. No voices being carried on the wind. Just the overwhelming silence and an endless sea of brown shrubs and evergreen trees.
I pause and spin in a slow circle, scanning my surroundings. Perhaps I’ve gone too far. I sensed something, or someone, closer to the palace before Leer found me yesterday. I know I did. I trust my gut and move in the opposite direction.
Then I hear them.
The voices. Hushed murmurs swirl around me on the breeze that blows away the dank heaviness of the air.
The impulse to continue on lifts my feet and I’m running back in the direction I had just come from.
Thorns tear my shirt and roots jut from the dirt beneath my shoes but I don’t stop.
I blindly follow the strange magic drawing me further into the darkness of the Woodlands.
The voices grow louder. They come from all directions. To my right. To my left. From deep within my bones. I hold the lantern ahead of me and my feet move swiftly through the dirt toward the sound. Toward the feeling. Toward—
An empty space.
I come to a halt in a clearing in the heart of the Woodlands. The whispering is gone. The magic that pulled me here now lifted.
What the hell? I whirl in a circle, my eyes darting around the clearing.
There’s nothing here. There's no village. No huts. Just a vast piece of land. I drag my feet to its center and collapse on the grass, the lantern falling to its side. I sit in the dirt and stare into the nothingness, resting my arms on my knees. The edges of the trees surrounding the clearing blur as moisture collects in my eyes. I don’t even realize tears are falling until they stain my cheeks.
I’m such a fool.
Of course there’s nothing here. Nothing left of my past, or of me. Only emptiness.
I furiously wipe my face, and a tiny pink object catches my attention.
It’s lying in a puddle of mud near the trees on the opposite side of the clearing.
I push myself up, grabbing the lantern, and wander over to it.
I scoop up the object in my hand and wipe the hardened mud from it. It’s a rag doll in a little pink dress.
My breath hitches.
It looks just like—no. That’s impossible.
My thumb traces over the doll’s stitched face and I’m thrust into a memory.
My little thatched hut. My baby sister proudly holding up her rag doll to show me, her green eyes shining and her musical laughter ringing through the tent.
My arms wrapping her in a hug as she crawls onto my lap on the dirt floor.
My hands tremble around the artifact. It looks exactly like hers. But I know it’s not. But it does belong to someone.
My heart races as I walk a couple paces to another object half-buried in the mud. A broken spoon made from clay. I trail along the tree line. Deep holes sink in the dirt from wooden poles used to stabilize a makeshift hut. And small circles of charred ground where a firepit would be.
I stare down at the burnt earth, hugging the doll and the spoon to my chest. A stray tear rolls down my cheek and I taste its saltiness on my lips, grinning like a madman at the empty space.
It was here. A village.
Maybe not mine, but a village stood in this clearing. But where is it now?
A low growl and snapping twigs sound from behind me.
I perk my ears and sniff the stale air. Trolls.
I’m perfectly still and listen for them to pass by me.
Trolls are notorious for their poor eyesight and usually chase after moving prey.
They also hunt in pairs, and I’m no match for two creatures on my own.
I tuck the doll and spoon into my pockets and swallow the lump of fear in my throat.
There’s another snarling noise. I nearly gag as the odor of rotting flesh intensifies as the trolls move in closer.
I slowly glance over my shoulder. Two massive creatures emerge from the brush.
Oily brown skin hangs loosely from their bones and their overly large nostrils flare as they catch my scent.
The bigger one has only one opaque eye, but the other troll’s glowing yellow eyes hold me in their sights.
It sees me.
Screw it. I chuck the lantern at the shorter monster and take off running through the woods.
The trolls roar angrily and their heavy bare feet thunder over the dirt as they chase after me.
My lungs burn and my legs throb. I duck and weave through the tree branches and layers of bushes in my path, hopefully heading toward Masseda.
The trolls are faster. Closing in on me.
My stomach churns with nausea from their repulsive smell.
I’m not going to make it.
Of all of the ways to die. After surviving Unseelie soldiers and a complete annihilation of my soul, this is how I go out?
I force my legs to move faster. I veer right and throw myself behind a thorny bush off the path.
A large barb catches me under my eye, tearing into my skin and my entire body tenses against the pain.
I crouch low and clamp my hand over my mouth so they can’t hear my heavy breathing.
I choke on vomit as they run past me, the odor of sulfur and decay finally getting to me.
I wait until their footsteps fade and lurch to the side, retching onto the ground. Good thing I skipped dinner.
I fall back onto my heels and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I inhale deeply to catch my breath and thank the gods I wasn’t a meal for a troll tonight.
Footsteps approach from my left. I’m immediately on my feet again, this time pulling a dagger from its sheath at my side. I’m poised and ready to attack, silently waiting for the creatures to draw near.
But their treading is lighter. Slower. They must have tracked my scent and are preparing to strike.
I bend my knees slightly, ready to jump from my hiding place.
As soon as I hear them on the path ahead, I leap from the brush and tackle the monster hard to the ground, my blade hovering just over its throat.
Hazel eyes, wide with fear, bore into mine. It takes me a moment to register that the creature I’ve pinned beneath my blade is not a creature at all. I’m panting hard, frozen in place, my mind working to figure out what’s happening. “Zara?”
The Princess of Masseda stares up at me, completely still except for her breaths that are coming at an alarming speed against my chest. The curvature of her breasts heaves beneath her corset and her full lips are parted as a small gasp escapes them.
Gods she’s beautiful.
I inhale sharply, fire and tension coursing through my veins.
Her lantern lies on its side, the firelight reflecting over her smooth skin, the shadows dancing over her cheeks.
She stares into my eyes, the fear replaced with a sensuality I’m sure I’m imagining.
I swallow against the dryness crawling up my throat as I search her face, my gaze tracing the curve of her mouth.
“What are you doing out here? It’s dangerous,” I manage to pant out, our lips so close that we share breath.
Her tongue slides out over her bottom lip and her heartbeat pounds against my chest. She tilts her chin up just barely, her words like a wisp against my mouth. “Yes, I can see that.” Her eyes dart from mine to the dagger I’m holding against her throat.
It takes me a second to regain my senses and breathe again. “Oh. Umm.” I immediately retract the blade from her neck and stand up, offering my hand to her. “I’m sorry. I thought you were—I was being chased.”
She tentatively takes my hand and dusts herself off once she’s on her feet. Her long fingers brush against her neck where my dagger was poised, and she glances from my face to the blade but says nothing.
I sheath the weapon. “Now. What are you doing here? The Woodlands aren’t safe.” I scan the forest. The trolls can’t be far. I need to get her out of here.
“I followed you.” Her breathing is ragged, and she places her arms across her chest, lifting an eyebrow. “I saw you and Leer sneaking around the grounds this morning. Where is he?” She spins in a half-circle, searching for the prince. “What are you two up to?”
“He’s not here.” I drop my arms to my sides, hoping my relaxed posture will make her more comfortable. “He doesn’t know my whereabouts.”