Page 31 of Through the Wicked Wood

My body jolts, his approach catching me completely off guard. “I’m sorry,” I say, frustration lacing my words at another missed moment of solitude. “I didn’t realize you were over here.” He chuckles lightly before nudging my elbow. Turning to him, I don’t hesitate to take the glass of wine he’s offering. The sweet smell of huckleberry overwhelms me before I even take a drink.

“If that greeting wasn’t meant for me, who was it for?” Sorin asks, taking a sip of his wine.

Shaking my head, I take a long pull of the wine in an attempt to delay my response. Wiping my lips with my thumb, I shoot Sorin a glance. “Just thinking out loud,” I say.

He smiles but says nothing before taking another drink. We sit together in silence for a few minutes, sipping our wine and watching the villagers dance and sing around the large fire. If this is the closest I can get to a moment alone, I suppose it isn’t so bad.

“I’m sorry I woke you the other night,” I say, deciding not to tiptoe around the subject any longer. “The nightmares…they’re not as often as they used to be but they’re just as vivid.” I focus my attention on the flames. Dizzying spirals of heat shoot to the sky, and I’m hypnotized by their constant movement. Not to mention, I don’t want to see the pity that is no doubt forming in Sorin’s eyes. Pity and weakness go hand in hand, and weakness is not something I’m comfortable with, even if it’s something I often feel. I set my empty cup on the grass and let the wine stream through my system, working its magick to help unclench the last of the tightness I carry between my shoulders.

“Didn’t I already tell you not to apologize?” Sorin’s voice is playful, so I turn my eyes to him. He downs the rest of this cup, throat working, before giving me that signature smirk.

“Hmm, I vaguely recall that statement.” Though it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still uncomfortable with how vulnerable I felt that night.

“Really, it’s fine, Elora. We all have our demons,” he says with a shrug. His eyes and voice house no pity. Only warmth and understanding. A relief, albeit small, a relief nonetheless. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Huffing a laugh, the wine makes me braver than I feel. “One of the reasons,” I say, avoiding his eyes.

“And the other reasons?”

Turning to face him, his eyes are dark, but there’s a sparkle in them. A curiosity.

“Maybe being here makes me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time,” I whisper, turning my attention back to the flames, leaving out what I truly want to say. That his presence, that he, makes me feel things I never thought I’d feel again. “It’s a bit overwhelming.”

Before I can say another word, Sorin jumps up, the movement so sudden it takes me a moment to register he’s no longer sitting. He grabs my arm, pulling me up to my feet.

“What are you doing?!” I protest, swaying slightly, the earth feels as though it’s going to move beneath me.

“You can’t celebrate the last full moon of summer without a dance,” Sorin says, pulling my hand in the direction of the fire and the dozens of people still dancing around it.

“Oh no, no, no.” I jerk my hand out of his. “I do not dance.” My words are clipped, my heart racing at the thought of dancing. “I haven’t danced since I was a child, and even then it was a sorry excuse for it.” Stepping closer, he ignores me. Grabbing my hand again, his fingers lace with mine as he tugs me forward. It must be the wine getting to my head, because I don’t struggle as he pulls me close to him.

Perhaps it is the wine or the lightning I feel with every touch of Sorin’s hand is more than what I think. Perhaps, I like the way his skin feels on mine. Perhaps, I think of it far too often and for far too long. But then again, perhaps it’s just the wine.

“You’re allowed to be happy, Elora.” Sorin strokes the back of my hand with his thumb, the sensation bringing a flurry of butterflies deep in my stomach. He dips his chin lower so his lips rest just at the bottom of my ear. “Despite what you think you deserve. Despite whatever happened in your past. It took me a long time to accept that. That I could be happy, but I did learn. And it’s time you do as well.”

His lips brush my earlobe, the rasp in his voice only enhances the swirling heat now in my stomach. He pulls back, but only slightly. “Besides, you look way too beautiful to be sitting here all alone. That dress should be a sin.” He smiles. My cheeks heat but I still don’t pull away.

His words may cause me to blush, but they soothe the ache in my chest I’ve lived with for so long. I should pull away. Tell him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, because truthfully, he doesn’t. But I say nothing.

Swallowing the knot in my throat, I look past him to Letty and Eviey swinging in each other’s arms. Tossing their heads up and faces beaming as they sing loudly to the moon. Then my eyes drift to Samaria and Jarek who sit nestled together near the fire. Their bodies intertwine as they sway to the beat of the music.

My conscience and heart have been at war for so long, and here Sorin is, laying it all out in front of me. Saying the things I’ve wished to hear. As if he somehow knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I want it all, of course. To live joyfully, free of the demons who have claimed my mind as their home. The problem is, I don’t know how. How can I live happily when my family is gone? When, if it wasn’t for me, they’d be here. Guilt is the heaviest armor I bear. A shield crafted of steel, meticulously built over the years to keep me from enjoying the things I simply do not deserve. Because I’m here, and they are not.

But maybe this once, I can be that person behind the armor. Maybe just for tonight, I can simply be Elora. With no past. No demons. No burdens.

My gaze drags back to Sorin, his hand still holding mine. His eyes never left my face, I realize.

“You’re not…” I whisper, dragging my eyes to the ground. “You’re not afraid of me?” Embarrassed by my actions in Copenspire, I’ve avoided the question for fear of his answer. He should be afraid. Any sane person would.

Sorin squeezes my hand, and I glance up at him. His eyes are so dark they reflect the bits of orange cast from the flames. “Not for the reasons you may think, love.” I don’t know why but his words make my heart race. My lips curve into a half smile as I force the demons down, down, down. A ritual I’m all too accustomed to.

“Fine,” I say, breathing deeply so the crisp night air stings my lungs. “Just one dance.”

Chapter 17

Elora

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