Chapter 28
Promises
When we return to our camp, Glo and Jasmeen sit by the fire. Their giggling edges closer and closer to delirium—unsurprising as the lesson and day have been utterly exhausting. Glo’s brow arches in smug suspicion when she sees us emerge from the trees.
“You two look…” she starts, and Brynn throws a cautionary glance her way. She ignores him. “Sweaty. Did you bury the hatchet?”
“Actually, he let me kick his ass,” I say, plopping down on the other side of Jasmeen. Brynn stands across the fire from us. His tunic sticks to his muscled chest with sweat. It’s hard not to stare.
“Well, that’s one way to do it, I suppose,” Glo says with a wink. Brynn rolls his eyes.
“I was training Thea on how to spar. And I didn’t let her kick my ass,” he says. “She bested me.”
“Ooh, I would’ve enjoyed seeing Thea kick your ass, Vir,” Glo says. Even Jasmeen nods enthusiastically.
“Maybe next time,” I vow. Brynn grins at the prospect of a next time, but feigns annoyance at their jabs. I turn to Jasmeen, “Did you create any more sparks?”
“No, it really is draining,” she says with a slight pout. “I think it’s better to try again after a rest.”
Glo shakes her head. “Give yourself credit, Jas,” she says sweetly, bumping Jasmeen’s shoulder with her own. “You did excellent for your first time! It can take years to master. Even for a fae.”
“Plus, with all the stress of the day? Seriously, you did great,” Brynn adds. Jasmeen’s spirits rise before my eyes.
It’s decided that we will sleep in shifts. I volunteer to take the first watch, as I’m still buzzing from sparring with Brynn. No one protests except Brynn, of course, but I hold up the dagger.
“If anyone comes near, I’ll grope them, then stab them. Easy,” I whisper. He can’t help but chuckle.
“If you see anything at all, wake me—I will trade with you,” he replies. I playfully poke at his chest with the dagger’s point.
“You look tired, Prince,” I say in mock sweetness. “Get some sleep.”
“Goodnight, Thea,” he groans, but the corner of his mouth twitches as he fights a smile.
My three companions make makeshift pallets near the fire and settle in.
I sit on a large rock ten or so yards away, near where Moon and Shadow graze by the pool’s opposite edge.
From this spot, I should be able to see if anyone or anything approaches from the main trail in the distance.
I take to watching the veilmane again rather than our surroundings, though.
If anything is amiss, their body language will alert me, as it did before.
The pool’s surface is opaque and unmoving in the dark.
Our dying campfire throws random, flickering sparkles over it, making it rival a night sky.
Maybe it was pointless for one of the mortals to volunteer to watch, as I can barely see.
But I take turns shifting my focus between the pool, Moon, and Shadow.
I almost startle off my rock when the pool’s glassiness ripples, before realizing it’s only Moon drinking from the water.
I stand to stretch my legs a bit, unsure of how long I’ve sat here.
I make my way to Shadow’s side and absently brush my fingers through their mane.
Shadow raises their snout to me, snorting with contentment.
The canopy is thick here, but my eyes have grown accustomed to the darkness and I discern the smallest sliver of sky above.
No moonlight tonight, but there are stars.
There is a soft violet luster to them. I spend some time counting how many there are.
Thirteen. I triple check. It’s likely after midnight—
“Thea.”
This time, I do jump from my skin. The whisper sends goosebumps down my arms as the hair at the back of my neck rises. Shadow and Moon do not react whatsoever.
I turn around and again see nothing. It must be the peaceful spirits of the Blackwoods, like Glo mentioned earlier. Or… the other wickedness I now know inhabits the forest.
Perhaps it’s only in my head.
I retreat to where my companions lie. The fire is mere embers now, but thankfully the unmoving air is comfortable enough.
Regardless, the three of them have scooted close for warmth, with Glo in the middle.
Brynn lays on his side, head resting on his outstretched arm, backs touching with Glo.
Her small wings are flush with her skin, cocooning her shoulders like a delicate blanket.
Jasmeen and Glo face each other, their heads mere inches apart and their fingers almost touching.
I wonder if they fell into sleep holding hands or if their bodies subconsciously brought them this close.
They are all fast asleep.
“I know you,” the voice purrs, so low that I again contemplate whether it belongs to my imagination.
My companions do not stir. It is not the time to lose my wits.
I pull my dagger out, for what purpose I am not entirely sure, and stalk back to Shadow and Moon.
They appear as relaxed as ever. I move past them to stand at the edge of the trees, peering into the denseness.
Dare I go in? When I can hardly see? Surely nothing good can come from following a whispered voice into the dark woods.
But my conversation with Glo earlier piqued my interest. What could the hags of the Blackwoods promise me?
“A way out,” the whisper taunts, like it knows my thoughts.
“A way out of what exactly?” I whisper-shout, growing more frustrated with the fae penchant for ambiguity by the second. “Speak plainly or don’t speak at all.”
“I know your heart, Princess Thea, daughter of the mortal King, Tobias Gale. I know you wish to be set free from your cage, pretty bird.”
I freeze. Nothing but a good guess. Games. These are mind tricks, I remind myself. Exhaustion, paired with whatever magic they possess. My guilty conscience may have something to do with it, too.
Daring the whispers to try me, I take a few steps into the thickening blackwoods.
“I can remove the binds of your title of sole heir.” Their tone is terribly sweet, with a grating edge of something far more sinister.
“Oh, can you?” I goad. I glance back to see both Shadow and Moon staring toward me through the trees, those milky, blind eyes a stark glow in contrast to the darkness.
I recall how flimsy the word can is, thanks to Brynn’s failed attempt at our first deal.
Whatever this hag has to offer, it probably requires me to serve it.
Kill my father. Bargain my soul. Trade years of my life.
Something even more drastic that I could never do.
“Yes, Princess Thea, I can free you from your chains.”
“What’s your price?” I hiss back, curiosity outweighing reason.
About twenty yards away, where the trees begin forming that thick, organic fence, my eyes catch on a flicker of movement.
A hint of a black shadow. I can’t be certain unless I move closer.
My feet move cautiously. I am halfway to it when—
“Your good friend Mavick will do. Bring them to us.”
I halt. I don’t just hear the whisper now.
Something rakes through my subconsciousness.
As though a gentle, yet feral, creature scratches at my thoughts with a single talon.
It feels like a tender tugging. A plucking of strings on a lute.
Like it’s inside of me, pulling on random loose threads of memory in search of a vulnerability. A weakness.
It feels… like a violation. Indignation has all reasonable thoughts emptying from my mind.
I focus only on that—my obstinacy. How dare it try to breach my mind.
How dare it try to manipulate me. A single, biting tear rolls down my cheek.
The sound of a twig snapping spins me around at once, dagger at the ready.
“Thea?”
A bewildered Brynn stands before me, his eyelids heavy with recent sleep, his hands carefully lifting in surrender. An unspoken apology for sneaking up on me. The rough, relieved exhale that escapes me is almost laughable.
“Don’t…” I start to say. Don’t what exactly?
My head is fuzzy from being caressed by that intrusive monster.
The dagger points at Brynn a beat too long to be casual.
My arm falls to my side as my shoulders sag.
I take a couple of wobbly steps toward him, closing the gap.
His fiery eyes, glowing from within even in the dark forest, are full of worry. What if—
“You’re really here, right?” I ask, my voice cracking with dread.
“I think so,” he says warily. “Unless this is a dream.”
I take a deep breath and lean into him, resting my cheek against his chest first, surprised to find that he is, in fact, solid.
Slowly, my numb arms curl around his waist. Brynn only hesitates for a second before enveloping me, pulling my body flush with his.
He lowers his chin to rest on the top of my head.
His tunic smells of the smoke from our dying fire.
He’s warm. That soft humming is ever present, ever comforting.
It’s how I know he’s truly here—not an imposter or a trick of the mind.
“This must be a dream,” he mutters against my hair. I snort in response and more tears escape. “Though, when I imagined it, you weren’t crying.”
“‘When you imagined it’?” I ask, my voice unsteady. His chest rises with a sharp intake of breath. “Imagined what, pray tell?”
“Never mind,” he says hastily. “Why are you out here in the woods talking to yourself anyway?”
I stiffen and begin to pull away. His gentle hands stop me at the elbows and I’m forced to meet his gaze. We are way too close, with only our breaths between us. His lips part.