Page 59 of Through the Wicked Wood

“Deal,” I say. “No more secret plans.” I hold out my hand for a shake and she bats it away. I smile at my friend, who I’ve come to adore so much.

“Deal,” she says, the playful tone returning to her voice. Warmth settles over me as we lie next to each other, the wind whipping wildly against the tent. “So,” she continues, “are you going to divulge what you two were doing in that cavern for so long?” Sam’s mischievous grin spreads across her face. I’m glad to see she’s bounced back so quickly.

“It would appear you already have an idea.” I laugh, tucking my arm under my head as a cushion. She raises her eyebrows before letting out a laugh of her own.

“And what happened last time,” she says, ceasing her laughter. “In the Wicked Wood…it really is best to hear from Sorin. I was unconscious most of the time anyway.”

I chew the inside of my cheek. The walls of the tent behind Sam start to ripple from the wind. A pool of white dancing in the darkness.

“Do you believe the Fates are still at work?” I ask, picking at the ends of my braid.

“Do you?” Sam asks, her voice laced with sleep.

“I can’t honestly say if I do. I remember learning of the Fates in Valebridge. How fickle they were with sharing their visions.”

“I can only remember one story,” Sam says with a smile, “of King Bastian and Queen Solei. Agnes told me their story many times. Their love and passion and drive is what created Teravie. And eventually it was split up to form Valebridge and the Guilds, correct?”

“Yes,” I say. But, so much power woven on such a thin thread causes too much weight and eventually, the thread snaps. So, after the king and queen confronted the Mother about the magick of the natural world being too great a burden, the Mother created Enchantresses to restore the balance. Help lighten the weight the Fates bestowed upon the king and queen. Gifting Enchantresses magick to aid those without, we are meant to bridge the gap between the natural world and the beyond.

When the Enchantresses were aplenty, the Fates became quiet. The balance was restored, and I suppose there wasn’t much need for them. King Bastian and Queen Solei bore no heirs, and thus forth the throne was passed down to the highest and eldest council member, Cornelius Rudhek. King Silas’ great, great grandfather. It's the Rudhek bloodline that has ruled Teravie since.

“I’m not sure if the Fates are still at work,” I admit through a yawn. “But it appears as though they must be. How else is it possible that Sorin and I met? That we both…care for each other when we are so different.”

“Hmmm.” Sam repositions herself again to face the ceiling. “You have feelings for him?” Her question is simple and yet it holds so much force. So much power. I used to love a lot of things but loving another person… The betrayal of my own thoughts cuts me short.

“I don’t know,” I admit. I do know that I care for Sorin. But that doesn’t make it any less complicated. Confusing.

“You have every right to wear your grief as long as you need to,” Sam whispers. “You’ve lost so many. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be happy in their absence.” She rolls to her side to face me. “Whether the Fates are working again, whether they have destined you to be together or not, the moment Sorin brought you to Loxley, he knew what he was doing. He chose that, not them.”

“And what was that, exactly?”

“He brought you to us, Enchantress.” She stretches her hand across to grab mine. “He brought you home.”

The word stings like a thousand bees over my skin.

Home.

Grief and guilt go hand in hand. One can not exist without the other. To move on is to let go. And to let go, feels like forgetting. I’ve been so caught up in my own guilt and grief I haven’t considered anyone else's. Every kind word and gesture from Sorin the past few weeks has been met with a wall of ice and reluctance. How selfish I’ve been to believe I’m the only one who is allowed to experience loss. I grab her hand and kiss the back of it before jumping to my feet.

“I need to find Sorin. I need to tell him…” I bite my bottom lip. I’m not certain I know what I feel, but I do know he is what I want at the end of this. At the end of each day and night, I want it to be him. Sam smiles and nods. I suck in a deep breath, hoping the extra oxygen will give me courage, before I duck out of the tent.

Chapter 31

Elora

The wind has gone from light and airy to a wild unseen force whipping through the forest. Branches snap and pine needles are thrown through the air so densely it resembles snow, if snow were green. I tighten my hood around myself before making my way back to the fire. Or at least, where the fire had been. Nothing but smoldering embers are left in the pit, the thick plumes of smoke swirling in all directions as they pull upwards into the night sky. Turning, I scan the other tents but I see no sign of the others. Alaric and Ruse stretch before sprinting toward me. Reaching up, I scratch Alaric’s nose. Ruse skitters back a few steps as I attempt the same, just out of reach.

“Where did the boys go?” I whisper, hoping by some miracle they can understand me. As if in answer, Ruse and Alaric take off in a bolt past the fire pit and through a small grove of pines. I follow suit after them, adrenaline pumping at their sudden response. My hood is pulled back by the whipping wind, the cold bites against the flesh of my cheeks. It takes me a few minutes to catch up to the wolves, they sit patiently, waiting for me to arrive. Alaric turns his head toward an opening in the center of the grove. Squinting against the wind, three figures come into view.

Galen, Sorin, and Jarek stand together to form a circle, their faces dimly lit by the light of the moon and small torch Jarek holds. Their attention is pulled to a few books and maps Galen has sprawled onto the ground. What are they hiding? Crouching low next to the wolves I watch, trying desperately to hear what they’re saying through the snapping wind around me.

“Once Elora leads us into Valebridge, we won’t have long until we have a decision to make.” It’s difficult to see their faces from where I crouched, but I recognize the flat tone of Galen’s voice.

“I thought we already established a decision.” Jarek’s low voice rumbles through the wind. “I’ll take the King down myself if I have to.” His normally gleeful tone comes out deeper than usual. Leaning forward, I rest my weight on my toes and attempt to angle my ear toward them. Thankful for a small pine tree to brace my hand against to keep me from slipping.

“No,” Sorin says, his voice cutting through the approaching storm. “That will be for me to handle.” I narrow my eyes as Sorin pulls something from his breast pocket. I can’t make out what it is, but he pulls it to his face to study it closely.

“It’s imperative we force Roman before the royal council at their meeting of the first Autumn moon, otherwise this will all have been for nothing,” Sorin says. “The Guild leaders haven’t been present at the last few meetings so it will have to be before them, though our luck would be greater if the Guilds decide to show up,” he pauses, gripping tighter to the parchment.

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