Page 12 of Through the Wicked Wood

Chuckling softly, Sorin positions himself to face me and places his hand on his chest. “Your doubt wounds me, love. Haven’t I told you I’m an excellent thief?” Craning his neck to peer down the alley towards the guard, he takes a moment to look back at me. “Didn’t I also tell you that no harm will come to you while in my company?”

Scoffing, I rest my hands on the hilts of my daggers. “You may have mentioned that a time or two,” I grumble, biting down on the inside of my cheek. “Okay, thief,” I say, giving him a quick nod, “time to prove what you’re made of.”

Without hesitation, Sorin takes off in long strides toward the exit. The guard is oblivious as he makes his approach, resting heavily atop his horse. On my toes, I follow behind Sorin, shifting my weight with each step to avoid any noise. The guard’s focus remains on the bustling, busy square of the city. Locals and patrons intermix as they hastily make their way toward a looming, decaying white church at the square's center.

Keeping ourselves in the shadows but close enough to the exit to see our surroundings, I take a quick survey of the area and notice there aren’t any other guards in sight. Just the one. With a town as small as Copenspire, it is no surprise they’ve only allotted one guard to be stationed at the square. Not to mention two others had suddenly gone missing. The memory of yesterday’s gruesome events flash in my mind.

Turning to face Sorin, I open my mouth in question, but he stops me before I can utter a word. His fingers brush against my lips as he silently shakes his head. The warmth of his touch is almost enough to send me recoiling backward and away from him. Using the same hand that was just on my lips, he drops it lower until it lands on the hilt of my right dagger and gives it a tap. Meeting his gaze, I nod my head in understanding. He pulls the blade from its sheath and heads out of the alley.

Tracking his movements, I take a few steps backward, focusing on my breathing. I made it my mission the past three years since fleeing Kirsgard Mountain to remain in the shadows, to remain unseen. And here I am, about to steal a royal guard’s horse in the middle of the day.

Sorin approaches the guard, and I brace myself for the worst, gripping the hilt of my remaining dagger, willing myself to keep it in its place until the opportune moment. I’m unable to make out the few muffled words between them, and before I can move closer to try, the guard willingly jumps off his horse. Extending his hand, he holds it out to Sorin and the two share a laugh. Confusion overtakes me as I watch the exchange unfold.

Told you not to trust him.

The voices buzz in my ear, and I all but swat at the air around me to make them stop. The guard heads straight for the alley as Sorin follows closely in his path. Swallowing deeply, I steady my hand and pull out my other blade. Holding it low to my thigh, I keep myself in place against the stone wall of the building. Was this his plan? Lead the guard straight to me without warning? So much for a great thief. Casting my eyes to the ground, I chew my cheek and wait for the guard to approach.

“’Scuse me miss, you must be the young lass that gentleman there was talkin’ ‘bout.” Gesturing back to Sorin, with a wave of his hand the guard continues. “He says you’re looking for work ‘round here.” The guard reeks of ale which is shocking considering it isn’t even midday. Anger floods over me as I finally understand Sorin’s plan. I must’ve let out some sort of noise because the guard laughs before continuing, “Don’t worry, lass, you’ll get your shillings—” Inclining my face, I unmask my eyes, letting them glow in the darkness of the alley. The navy blue of his uniform singes a hole in my chest as I take him in.

Navy and white and crimson.

A snowy mountain and my mother.

His eyes widen and lip curls as he reaches for me. “Filthy Enchantress,” he snarls, but he isn’t quick enough. Darkness encroaches my vision and before me no longer stands a man, but an enemy. Pushing myself off the wall, I grip the guard by his collar, slamming him into the opposite wall. My dagger moves swiftly, undetectable as I pin it neatly across the man’s throat. Droplets of blood trickle down his skin, landing on the bear crest positioned on the center of his uniform. He gasps under my blade, so I dig it further in.

How long have I dreamt of redemption? My conscience battles with itself. How long have I dreamt of revenge?

Let him go.

Make him pay.

My pulse thunders in my chest, breaths short and angry. So, so angry.

Sorin’s boots scuff against the cobblestone as he dashes toward us, but I don’t care. My focus remains on the person before me.

Traitor.

“Elora.” Sorin’s voice echoes in my ears, but still my vision darkens. Nothing he says can save the man before me. Nothing he says can save me as I’m swept away. No longer in an alleyway, but atop a death filled mountain.

Snow falls in thick flurries, and my mother screams and screams and screams.

The guard attempts to speak, but I don’t give him the chance, digging my blade deeper into his flesh.

“You will pay for what you’ve done,” I hiss, though my voice is not my own. Belonging to the shadowy dark that lives buried down within my soul. The monster I’ve kept locked up all these years feels for that break in armor, slithering out like a snake through a field.

A heavy hand on my shoulder snaps me back to the present.

Sorin’s voice is steady. Calm. “Elora,” he says again, and for a moment, the fog is lifted. For a moment, I’m not on a mountain fighting for my life but in an alleyway in Copenspire. The guard before me did not kill my family.

But he did not stop the others, either. He still serves the man that is responsible for the attack.

Kill him.

Spare him.

Then, the guard moves, tugging to free the sword at his side, and in that small instance, I am transported once more. To the mountain. To the night my life changed forever. All I see is red as I slit the guard’s throat.

Chapter 7

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