Chapter Three
I squint my eyes open to find someone crouched before me. My back is against a tree, my basket at my side. And from the stinging sensation on my elbows, I can tell I’ve managed to scrape the skin off both. Great.
“What are you doing?” the person asks nonchalantly, as if it’s normal to stumble across an unconscious girl in the middle of the forest.
I can’t answer quite yet. The dizziness is clinging to me like morning dew, sticky and heavy, and it takes another minute for me to blink away the spots in my vision. To see exactly who spoke. My blood sharpens at the same time my eyes do, and the drowsiness flees in panic.
Oh no. Anyone but him.
Willoh Vane rocks back on his heels and tilts his head, his brown hair tickling the colorful jewels pinned down the sides of his ears.
“You awake, Princess?” he asks.
Don’t speak. Don’t risk it. If he learns about my curse, he could—Gods, I can’t even imagine what chaos he’d wreak.
How long was I out? It must have been some time if he could get here from the citadel…
He reaches out a hand.
I jolt. “Don’t—”
We freeze in place—him with his eyebrows raised, that tanned hand outstretched, and me with my body pressed solidly against the tree at my back. Not that it will do me any good.
To my surprise, the sorcerer laughs and stands, tucking both hands in the pockets of his maroon leather jacket.
“Ah, of course.” Willoh grins down at me. “Wouldn’t want me cursing you.”
His eyes widen in mock fear, but his smirk is stuck tight.
He’s taunting me. Just like he taunts Bash.
Bristling, I clamber to my feet using the trunk of the tree for support, and Willoh leans on one hip, watching my every move.
I can’t give him any chances. I don’t want to get involved—if only selfishly, so I don’t have to think hard about my words next time I talk with the queen.
Or Bastion. Or Cardamine. Oh gods, I need to get out of here.
With wood chips on my fingers, I pick up my basket to leave.
“You haven’t answered my question,” Willoh says, an edge to his voice this time.
He takes a slow step forward, which stops me from making it back to the path.
More than a whole head taller than me, he has to tilt his narrow chin down to look me in the eye.
This close, I can’t help but notice trace scents of warm earth on him—almost sweet, like balsam in summer evenings—and, strangely, chamomile. A healing herb.
“I don’t have to answer,” I reply.
He gives me wide doe eyes, halfway to a pout. “But I want to know.”
“Do you always get what you want?” I ask, glancing around his shoulder. Which route would take me to the flower I seek? Which one would take me to safety—away from him?
There’s that tinkling laugh again. I scowl.
“Worried about me, Princess?”
“I’m not a princess.”
“What are you, then?”
I don’t answer—my usual choice when faced with a question I can’t answer with a lie. In my silence, Willoh runs his eyes over my face. Maybe he’s looking for a weakness, a break in my defenses.
“Do I know you?” he asks.
“Maybe. I know who you are.”
Damn. It slipped out.
“How delightful. I have such a reputation, I’m sure.” He grins again. With a sweeping bow, he steps to the side and holds out his arms to allow me to pass. “My lady.”
I march down the forest path in the same direction I tried before.
Perhaps I can check the circumference, walk around the border of the barrier spell.
There’s no way I’m returning empty-handed, even if Willoh Vane is on my heels.
I look back to see the sorcerer strolling a few paces behind me, hands still in his pockets and an amused smile on his face.
“Stop following me,” I say.
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply walking.”
I pick up the pace, gripping my basket. I should check my map again, but—
“Feeling faint yet?” Willoh asks cheerfully.
I ignore him. The dizziness is creeping in again, whispering at the edges of my vision, persuading me to turn back like a peony shying away from strong sunlight. I shake my head. Come on, think. There’s got to be a way.
“If you keep going, you’re going to pass out again,” Willoh says.
Not as a threat, just as a fact. “Although…” He catches up to my side and leans forward.
I throw him the smallest of glances. “Look at you, in your cute dress, with flowers in your hair. On second thought, by all means, keep going. When you faint, maybe you’ll fall into my arms.”
I stop in my tracks so fast, I almost slip on the twigs under my shoes. Willoh tuts as if disappointed.
“What are you so eager to find around here?” he asks.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Wow, that’s hurtful.”
“Do you delight in stalking women in forests?”
“You’re the one heading in my direction.”
“Then be on your way.”
Willoh grins. “Nice try.”
I consider the surroundings. The trees grow densely here, so unless I want to climb one of them, I suppose…perhaps…I could ask for some help.
I shoot him my harshest warning glare. “I’m looking for a flower.”
His eyebrows raise in disbelief. He doesn’t believe me. Wait—he doesn’t believe me. Gods, that’s refreshing.
“A flower.”
“Yes. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Describe it to me.”
I knit my eyebrows together. “And then what?”
“Then I’ll go get it for you.”
I hesitate, scanning the forest path. It’s not in his nature to give help so freely. At least, that’s not how Bastion describes him, and I don’t want to owe a debt to one of the most powerful sorcerers in the kingdom. One rumored to have once used dark magic.
“Why can’t I get it myself?” I ask.
“Because in case it’s escaped your attention, you can’t make it ten steps that way without losing consciousness.”
“And you can?”
“No, I just come here to pass out for fun.”
Gods—
“You might not know how to pick it correctly,” I counter.
“I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“Or you can tell me how to get around this barrier spell.”
“Or not.” He grins again, completely at ease.
Fine. I dig my hand into my flower basket and thrust the request sheet at him.
“Here.”
He unfolds the paper carefully and takes a moment to read it.
I use the time to study him—his narrow jaw and straight nose, his sun-kissed skin, the way his gold-flecked hazel eyes scan the page seriously, like I’ve given him a complicated textbook to study.
I’ve never seen him this close up before, so it’s fascinating to put details to the name.
It’s like finding a flower in real life that I’ve previously only seen illustrated in books.
I’m aware that a lot of my Willoh Vane–related information comes from some incredibly biased sources: the queen who despises him; the rumors that blame him for the corruption of the forest; and Bash, who would be screaming in my ear to run if he were here.
But he’s not here, and so far, Willoh hasn’t hurt me or even hinted that he’d hurt me—even if his humor is grating.
I’m definitely not envious of how easily his sarcasm comes.
Willoh raises his eyes to mine and taps the page. “Huh.”
“Do you know where it is or not?”
He angles the page. “ ‘Farrow’s Flowers.’ Did you choose that name? Very creative.”
I say nothing.
“Fair enough. Well, this flower grows in a field not too far from here that you might be able to stay conscious for.”
“And?”
Willoh Vane throws me his most dashing smile. “You’ll be requiring my presence a little longer.” With a wink, he strides off the path. “Come along, Farrow.”
I watch the back of his dark red jacket slip between two trees and waver. Am I really going to follow Bash’s archenemy off the path into a dark, extremely difficult to find part of the forest for a flower?
No doubt about it.
Willoh doesn’t murder me. In fact, he keeps to his word and leads me through the trees, holding back branches with magical gusts of wind. He even checks regularly to see if I’m keeping up. A quarter of an hour or so later, I’m no longer able to contain my curiosity.
“How do you know where this flower is?” I ask. “I’d never heard of it before yesterday.”
Willoh glances back and I make sure I’m glaring his way. “I’m incredibly talented,” he says.
“At knowing where rare flowers are?”
“At everything,” he says, and shoots me another smirk. Then he relents, adding, “No, I just took a few botanical classes at the Library of Heris.”
“You studied at the Library?” I ask, surprised.
Card has talked about visiting the Library of Heris for years, but he’s never found the time to go, especially once he got engaged.
It sits in its own triangle of territory right between the borders of Alrick, Dreah, and Lucan.
No monarchy, no title of “kingdom”—a simply neutral ground for anyone who wishes to study.
It houses the most detailed library of knowledge in the whole eight kingdoms of Calla.
In fact, I bet Card would drag Bash there for their honeymoon if he could.
I’ve never wanted to go myself. It’s where Mum says Morgana resides, posing as a respectable researcher, and bumping into the sorcerer who cursed me doesn’t sound like fun.
“I did,” Willoh says. Lighter than the breeze pushing the leaves aside, he continues, “And then I didn’t.”
Before I can consider what he means, we reach a vast wall of tangled thorns.
“It’s up there,” he says, pointing his chin at the thorny barrier.
“Up? What do you mean?”
“Up,” he says, and points a finger toward the sky. “As in not down.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Okay…” I say, unsure what he wants me to do. Does he want me to start climbing? I’m wearing a cotton dress and flat slip-on shoes, not to mention carrying a flower basket. Not exactly climbing gear.
Willoh angles his head to one side, smiling at my hesitation. “How do you feel about heights, Princess?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever been extremely high up.”
He lifts his elbow as if he were offering his arm at a ball, and I blink.