Page 3 of Besotted
I scrambled up the last of the incline to find a layer of thick vines shielding the exit, preventing me from viewing what lay beyond. Cautiously, I used the tip of my knife to peel back the curtain of vegetation until I was able to peer through.
More of the same overgrown woodland lay beyond. Naught was unusual or different about the landscape than the rest of Inglewood Forest. Nevertheless, as I crept from the cave, my senses were on high alert.
Could I really even call it a cave? It felt more like a long-forgotten, secret passageway through the ravine. And if it was a secret passageway, did something in this area need to be kept secret?
As I straightened and took in my surroundings, the thrill of adventure lured me as it always did. A small jaunt through this new part of the forest wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it? I needn’t worry about Jorg. He’d pick up on my trail and catch up to me in no time.
I found a slight deer path that seemed to have some use and followed it. Perhaps I’d find castle ruins. Or what if a dragon, like in stories of old, lived in the area? Maybe I’d find an ancient treasure.
More likely there was nothing. Even so, anticipation led me farther from the ravine than I knew I should go. Though I kept a lookout for the dead, barren areas that signaled a basilisk, the forest was as lush and fertile as I imagined the Garden of Eden had been.
Occasional sunlight pierced the covering of oak, birch, and hazel. A slight breeze rattled the branches, and while the leaves hadn’t yet begun to shed the green from summer and don the color of autumn, the cooler nights of late meant the change would begin erelong.
While I found no hint of basilisks, I also found no hint of anything secret. My hunt was futile, and the growling of my stomach reminded me I needed to return to fishing. As I spun on my heels and began to retrace my steps, a faint voice wafted on the wind—or at least what sounded like a voice.
I halted but heard only the brushing of leaves overhead. Intrigued once more, I reversed my path, heading deeper into the forest and keeping my tread light so that when the voice rose on the wind again, I knew I hadn’t imagined things.
I craned my ear. Was someone singing?
Another breeze rippled through the trees, bringing the sound with more clarity. A woman was most definitely singing.
I picked up my pace, my anticipation mounting. Tracking the direction of the voice, I veered off the deer path onto another trail of some kind. Since arriving in Inglewood Forest, Jorg had decided I was his pupil and he needed to pass all his knowledge to me. Of course, I’d already had rigorous training from some of the best knights in Scania as part of my education as a prince.
But I could admit, Jorg’s skills had saved our lives on more than one occasion, and I’d benefitted under his tutelage. Even now, I took in every bent blade, crushed leaf, and broken twig, seeing far more in the forest than I would have a year ago.
The singing grew more distinct until I was almost upon the person. Through the shrubbery ahead, I caught a glimpse of blue before it was gone. I inched forward, making sure to stay hidden behind tree trunks and stumps until I reached the edge, where the forest opened into a small glade filled with long grass and wildflowers.
A woman was dancing.
I peered through thick branches, guessing this was the woman I’d heard singing. But now she was twirling and humming a familiar tune. In a simple blue gown, her skirt rustled and swished with each turn, showing bare feet underneath. Her unbound hair flowed in long blond waves that reached to her waist. As she spun, her hair floated around her, sunlight turning it to gold. A crown of dainty, light-blue flowers graced her head, the same flowers that dotted the clearing.
When she paused and brushed her hair out of her face, I sucked in a breath at her beauty, the arresting violet-blue eyes, elegant nose, rosy cheeks, and full lips.
At my intake, she paused, her hum fading and smile disappearing. She scanned the woods, and I ducked, hoping the foliage concealed me.
A moment later, as she resumed humming, I raised my head and peeked at her again. She’d returned to dancing except slower, her arms out as though she had an imaginary partner.
I could only watch speechless at her grace and poise, stunned all over again by her exquisite beauty, unlike any other woman I’d met—and I’d met many in my life whom I considered beautiful.
Who was she? And why was she here in the middle of the forest by herself?
In addition to the woodcutters, who were allowed a certain quota of trees and windfall, Inglewood Forest was also home to a fair number of charcoal burners. Such men and their families had a more isolated existence, and they oft went months before they ventured to Birchwood and other hamlets that bordered the forest. Jorg and I had met most of the charcoal burners within our woodcutting vicinity, but perhaps we’d yet to encounter those in this hidden area.
The young woman danced a few more steps, then stopped and shook her head. She bit her bottom lip and attempted the move again. The courtly dance was one my mother had taught us, one she’d learned while growing up on the Great Isle. In my mind, I played out the next few steps, and I was tempted to call out to her to use her right foot forward instead of the left.
Of course a poor peasant girl like her wouldn’t know the dance and would need instruction. But why bother telling her when I could show her?
Cautiously, so I didn’t startle her unnecessarily, I stood and parted the brush. The branches crackled and drew her attention. As I stepped through into the clearing, she halted and gasped, her eyes widening. She stood frozen in place, her body taut.
“Looks like you could use a partner in your dance.” I gentled my tone and offered my most winsome smile.
Bunching her skirt, her gaze darted toward the opposite edge of the clearing to a basket and her discarded shoes. From the fear rippling over her beautiful features, she was like a doe about to bolt. And once she did, I might not ever see her again.
“Wait. I know the dance and can teach it to you.”
She held herself rigid, her shoulders straight, her head high. I could almost hear her inner debate about whether to trust me or whether to race away as fast as her feet could carry her.
“I assure you, I’m quite good at it.” I stepped with my right foot forward and flawlessly performed the dance step she’d been trying to learn.
