Page 24 of Deliverance

That wild, restless part of me is awake and churning in my gut, my anxiety and grief only making it worse. It feels as though it is going to burst from my skin, which feels tight and itchy. The warm air in the room is only making things worse, and no matterhow much I try, I cannot get the window open. I feel trapped, alone, and desperate.

I need to go outside, only for a short while, and I won’t leave the protection of the wall. If I stay in this room much longer, I fear I shall go mad. Turning from the widow and ignoring the huge bed, I stalk over to the table where some fresh clothes have been left for me. There was no mention of whom they belonged to, but beggars can’t be choosers. Grabbing a soft white shawl, I wrap it around my shoulders and makeshift sling, wincing slightly at the ache. My cloak hangs by the door, so I hurry over and throw it on, only struggling a little with the ties thanks to my arm.

Knowing I need to be quick if I want to get outside before the fae find me, I grab the door handle and hustle from the room. The temptation to run is fierce, yet I know that will only make me appear guilty, like I am hiding something. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I look from left to right, trying to remember which corridor I should take.

Taking a guess, I turn left, following the corridor until it takes me to a door. Pushing through it, I am greeted by the bar. Fuck. Thankfully neither Alaric nor Blaise are here, so I just have to convince everyone else that I am supposed to be here. Across the room, opposite the main entrance and right at the back, I see a door. Ignoring the looks I receive from the men in the bar, I make my way over, praying my acting skills are good enough. I know this is risky behaviour and I am breaking Alaric’s order not to leave the room, but I need to feel the breeze on my face and stretch my limbs. I feel like a bird who has had her wings bound, and stepping outside is like a glimpse of freedom, my wings spreading wide.

Letting the door shut behind me, I walk out into the little garden at the back of the inn. It is not huge and has been a little neglected over the years, yet it’s a haven of nature. For someunknown reason, there is a decorative metal gate built into the surrounding wall, giving me a window out so I can see what is happening on the other side. It seems like a strange choice for an inn that has the same protections as a fortress.

I cross over the grassy area, the long strands tickling my ankles. The two flower beds that have been planted against each wall have been left to grow wild, with weeds and wildflowers alike mingling to create a symphony of colour. Putting distance between myself and the inn while still keeping away from the wall, I find a place to sit. Dropping down into the grass, I cross my legs and press my hands against the earth, needing to feel connected.

I let the tension inside me slowly unwind, gently pushing it from my body with my mind and calling forward the calm I always seem to find in nature. It is a slow process, but I can feel the warmth of the plants as they welcome me. My life may have turned upside down, but one thing hasn’t changed, and that is my connection to the world around me. I have never quite understood it and thought it was normal until my sister called me a witch when she saw me talking to my flowers.

Nature seems different here, more wary almost, and it makes me wonder what happened to cause this. Is it due to the proximity to the forest? My little garden at the cottage was right next to the treeline, and I never felt anything like this. Even so, I continue to open myself to the world around me, my eyes closed as I absorb everything that it is willing to give me.

Something lands on my arm, as light as a fallen leaf, and I do not bother to open my eyes just yet. The sensation continues as I sit in silence, letting my mind wander as it needs to, not thinking too hard on any one subject. A whisper soft touch brushes across my face. Slowly blinking my eyes open, I gasp in surprise, delighted as I spot the cause of the sensation.

There must be at least a dozen butterflies, all of which have landed on me, their wings pulsing slightly as they bask in the lazy stream of setting sunlight.

Why are they here, and why have they chosen to land on me? Animals have always been drawn to me, as I had proven earlier today with my horse, Daisy, and I have had similar interactions like this before, but never this many. I have always been able to brush off my previous animal encounters, but this one is a little harder to explain—just another sign that I am different from other humans. I cannot bring myself to shoo the creatures away, though, and peace spreads through me as I take in their gorgeous wing patterns.

“You are hurt.”

Jerking in surprise, I jump to my feet, the butterflies scattering in a flurry of movement. In a heartbeat, I realise exactly who is speaking to me and know there is no need to panic, although my heart continues to race for another reason.

“Forrest!”

I am moving before I have time to register what I’m doing, hurrying towards the gate. My heart soars at seeing him, especially when I thought I lost my chance to say goodbye. It had come as a surprise to me just how much I missed him in that short span of time, showing how much I had come to rely on his steady presence. Then he left, and I was forced to run, yet somehow, he found me.

That thought makes me pause, and I hover just in front of the gate, lowering the hand that was about to wrap around the painted metal. Now that I’m closer, I can see it is actually made of iron. The pattern has intricate swirls of roses and thorns. Iron is an odd choice of material to use seeing as it rusts. I can see the orange stains around the joins.

Why am I focusing on this when I should be asking how he found me? Even now, I am struggling to keep my mind on track,staring at his shadowy figure in the treeline just beyond the clearing. He leans against one of the trunks surrounding him, his hood hiding most of his face as usual. His posture is casual, but the tension in his voice is anything but.

“Forrest?” His head tilts to one side in question, oblivious to my mental dilemma.

“Oh.” His question throws me, and it takes me a moment to gather myself enough to reply. “It is what I named you in my head. I didn’t know what else to call you.” The explanation sounds lame, and from the slight twitch of his lips, I know he finds it amusing.

“You can call me Nyx.”

The hair on my arms stands on end, a chill passing through me at his words. After so long of trying to get him to reveal his name, he finally gives me one, passing it over so easily. I have no doubt in my mind that this is not his real name, yet it feels like an important moment.

“Nyx,” I repeat softly, the name feeling familiar. Even if I have never seen the full profile of his face, I decide that the name suits him. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I hover by the gate, wishing I could get closer. “How did you find me?”

The constant shifting shadows that surround him seem to pause. “I will always find you, Iris.” His voice is filled with a dark promise, and it makes me certain that not even death himself would be able to keep Nyx away.

Chills break out on my entire body, the good type that makes me feel warm and energised inside. Some might find his comment creepy, but for me, it is a comfort. I was worried that when I was taken from my cottage, I would never see him again, yet here he is.

“You said you were leaving.” I mean this as a question, needing to know how he knew I left when he had already gone.

From what he told me, he knew something was about to happen, and he gave me a cryptic warning about staying out of the forest before leaving. I was alone and helpless, just as he knew I would be. If Alaric had not been there, the Unseelie would have taken me.

Perhaps I am more upset about him going than I first thought.

His head shifts in my direction, and although I cannot see his eyes, I know he is staring right at me. “I found that I was unable to stay away.”

My cheeks heat with a flush, and I quickly drop my gaze, breaking eye contact with him. Reaching up, I push several stray strands of hair back behind my ear, needing something to do with my hands. This is like something straight out of one of my favourite romance books, where the hero of the story does anything to get back to the heroine. Only, I am no heroine, and there has never been anything romantic between us, despite what my dreams might wish. There is most likely another reason for him being here, and I shouldn’t let my mind get carried away.

Suddenly, an icy thought causes my heart to drop to the pit of my stomach. What if Nyx was unable to keep away because he is one of the fae who are trying to capture me? My breath catches in my throat, and I have to force myself not to step back. In my heart, I don’t believe it, since he has never tried to harm me before. Plus, I’ve seen him when the sun has been out. However, so many hidden truths have been revealed that I am not sure what to believe anymore.

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