Page 42 of Blossoms and Bloodlines
They reached the edge of the trees, where Beth’s road gave way to wilderness. In the hush of moss and loam, Gael dropped to one knee. He pressed a hand to the forest floor, fingers splayed wide, and closed his eyes.
The magic of the elves, a pact with the spirits of nature that was older than kings and never broken, ran through him as he reached out.
The forest answered the call, welcomed him like an old friend.
The ground thrummed under his palm with the slow, ancient life of roots. Leaves rustled, though no wind stirred, the trunks creaking softly as if leaning in to listen. And threaded through them, he felt the watchful presence of the spirits stirred by his call, their attention shifting toward him like the turning of leaves in a windless wood.
Show me where you cradle her, he asked.
There was nothing for a breathless moment, then fireflies blinked to life.
A nearby vine unraveled and pointed east, trembling with urgency. The underbrush rustled, parting just slightly, as if the forest had opened a path just for him.
Even without it, he would know.
The spirits had spoken into him.
Gael rose, then bowed to the forest in reverence. “The forest has her. It will keep her safe.”
Beth blinked at him. “You... you talked to the forest?”
“I asked,” he said, taking her hand again. “And it answered.”
The fireflies gathered, dancing in a slow spiral ahead of them, lighting a path through the bramble. Ahead of them, trees beckoned. “She’s not far,” he said. “But we’ll move faster if I carry you.”
Beth, still wide-eyed and shaken, nodded.
Gael scooped her into his arms without another word and took off running, the forest clearing a path before him like it remembered his stride. He moved fast, feet silent on the ground, the world blurring past them in streaks of silver.
He could smell Ann now; her scent was faint but traceable, wrapped in confusion and fear. Her emotional trail hung like a tangled ribbon in the air, and he followed it without hesitation.But then something else hit him. A sour thread beneath the confusion. Familiar. Unwelcome.
Rage flared, sharp and merciless.
Bryn.
He clenched his jaw, muscles tightening with the effort it took not to unleash the raw magic boiling under his skin. Beth was in his arms. Her pulse thudded, worried, scared. She wasn’t panicking, but she was watching him, possibly wondering what got him to the edge. And even with her own emotions swirling, she reached up, brushed her fingers lightly along his neck, grounding him. Maybe she didn’t even realize what she was doing, but it worked.
The path narrowed as they came to a moss-draped clearing, and there, curled up in the crook of an ancient tree, was Ann.
The forest had gathered around her like a guardian. Thick moss had grown beneath her, a cushion of emerald green. Vines draped low to shield her from the bite of the cold. Fireflies still hovered, casting a glow that clung like warmth.
Beth slipped from his arms before he could stop her and dropped to her knees. “Ann?” she called softly, touching her shoulder, then gently turning her.
Ann stirred with a sleepy blink. “Oh hey,” she mumbled. “I’m so sorry I dragged you here. Hi Gael.”
“Hello, Ann,” he said, crouching beside her. He reached for her hand and opened the connection, scanning her carefully. He exhaled when he found no fresh wounds, physical or otherwise. The emotional damage was there, layers of it, but not from tonight. “She wasn’t hurt,” he murmured to Beth, his tone grave. Because the air still whispered of menace. Rage. Frustration. Bryn’s. “He left before doing any real damage.”
Beth, gently brushing Ann’s hair back from her clammy forehead, looked up to him with a frown. “You know who did this?”
He stood slowly, chaining his magic.Not here. Not yet.“Bryn. I can smell him. Sense his magic, his emotions, they’re all over this place.”
Beth’s breath caught, horror flashing across her face. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Gael said, voice tight. “But I will find out.”
He made sure to bury the fury rising inside him, deep and out of sight, before turning back to Ann. “Let’s go home, shall we?”
“That sounds so good,” she murmured, attempting to sit up, but she gave out with a soft cry. She clutched her temple, wincing in pain.
