Page 77 of Oath of Rebellion

He was a lumberjack. He was used to working days at a time to fell timber, hauling whole logs by hand, stripping the bark and dragging wagons to the edge of the forest to sell.

Yet all too soon even his arms started to shake. He glanced back, the end of the now tunnel of roses showing him the starting point. The blade began to flicker, and he redoubled his efforts.

He swung in savage fury, cutting a path through with his blade. He grunted with every swing, and the blade began to flicker again. He slid off the back of the horse and went around to lead them, swinging with a ferocity that wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop.

If they got stuck in the helroses, Eirwyn would die, and he couldn't let that happen.

His muscles burned. Sweat dripped into his eyes. And still he kept chopping at the blasted helroses. The cloyingly sweet scent of roses threatened his nose, making him sneeze.

It was like the roses were alive and attuned to his weakness. The scent hit him again, and he sneezed and swung even as the blade flickered. He felt Eirwyn's hand on his back, and she slid her hand down his arm to the blade.

"Let me," she said softly.

He showed her the blade with shaking hands. "Keep the gem pressed down. Don't let until we're through."

She nodded, biting her lip as she took the flame blade and began to hack and chip away at the helroses. The scent gave a haze to the air as he grabbed Ryder's reins and pulled him behind Eirwyn.

He covered his nose with his elbow, trying to keep from breathing in the too sweet smell. It didn't seem to bother her though as she didn't sneeze even once. She swung in an arc, her small frame belying her strength.

He'd thought she was delicate before, but she was no wilting long-lost princess. She was Eirwyn, his drakin warrior who refused to back down in the face of danger. She pressed forward, never giving up, and a small part of him felt guilty.

He'd given up on his foolish quest to break the curse long ago. If their places had been reversed, Eirwyn wouldn't have given up. She would've figured it out long before now. He wanted to be worthy of her, but she was a damn princess.

He'd never be worthy of her.

But maybe he could try. His eyes refocused as he peered in front of them. The roses were thinning out.

She grunted and swung, finally breaking free as the flame flickered and died. They had to squeeze Ryder through the end, but they finally made it.

She leaned on her knees, panting from the effort like she'd run a marathon. He held his axe, prepared to defend them if something else jumped out.

He looked at the overgrown rows of flowers. There were barely discernible paths through them. One led to a gazebo, one led to a bench under a tree. Another led to a group of small wooden buildings that were almost too dangerous to go into. They looked like they would fall down at any moment.

He straightened with a frown.

"What the hells is this?"

She stood and shook her hair behind her, the thin braids looking like a halo as the sunlight landed on her head. He looked back around them, as she said, "I think we're in a garden."

Yet another path, the one they were closest to let to a sprawling castle. He'd never seen one up close before. He'd only seen the one in Demerel when he'd escorted Eirwyn to the front steps.

This mansion rivaled the palace in style but was on a smaller scale than the one in Demerel. Narrower but perhaps taller. He craned his neck. Its peaks swirled into the afternoon sky. He saw clouds circling the spires, and some of them he couldn't even see the tops.

"Dear gods, it goes up to the heavens," Eirwyn said in awe. If she was awed–someone who'd grown up in the palace–he knew it was something to behold.

"Is this the ruins on the map?" she asked.

He pulled out the wayfinder and checked, then looked back up. "Yes, it is. It doesn't look to be too ruined, though."

She sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Right, let's find a safe place for the night." And off she strode toward the mansion.

He smiled and dropped Ryder's reins as he began to munch on the tall grass by the hedge. He followed her through the overgrown path. She had cried that first night when she'd been kidnapped by Scarlet, but since then, she'd grown stronger. Had it really only been a week ago that he'd met her?

He shook his head, hoping she was right about the safe place. He wanted more time with her. More time to talk with her, hear her hopes and dreams and stories. And maybe even her cries of passion.

This haunted mansion might not be so bad after all.

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