Page 42 of Through the Wicked Wood

“It means I’m tolerating you,” Sam says, scooting herself onto Jarek’s lap as if her own chair isn’t good enough to sit in. Jarek chuckles as he brushes a few of Sam’s curls away from her face.

“You know it’ll take more than some piss poor ale to win her back, mate,” Jarek says, raising his tankard in Sorin’s direction, “but cheers for trying.”

Sam pinches Jarek’s arm as he shoots her a toothy grin. Right as I open my mouth to ask a question, a tall woman with stunning red hair comes over to our table, carefully balancing a tray of what appears to be hot stew. The woman sets down a bowl in front of Sorin and me first. Holding my breath, I wait for her reaction as she places a bowl of food in front of Sam. Surely, she will notice her eyes, and with that realization, she’ll know she’s an Enchantress.

But the woman says nothing, doesn’t so much as flinch as she sets down the bowl.

“We appreciate the meal,” Sam says to the woman. Nodding, the woman tucks the empty tray against her side.

“It’s our pleasure,” she says, her eyes drifting to each of our faces. “I’m sorry it isn’t much, but it’s the least we can do for you.” She’s pointed at Sorin when she says this, and my eyes bounce between the two of them. My stomach turns. Is there anyone Sorin doesn’t know?

“Has everything been faring well, Jeanette?” Sorin asks before taking a sip of his ale. Jeanette blushes, her cheeks deepening to match the red coloring of her hair.

“We’re getting by,” she says quietly. “The last year has been…meager. But Park’s smart with the crop and the trade, we’ll be okay. If there’s anything else you need, let us know.” She offers a smile at each of us before returning to her post near the bar.

“So,” Sorin says after a few moments of weighted silence, “does a meal gain me any points toward winning back the affection of my dearest older sister?” Sorin’s sarcasm drips off his tongue and I would roll my eyes, but they’re too busy now fixating on the bowl of food that’s been placed before me. Sam’s muffled laugh is indication enough that, yes, the hot food has earned him back some points.

Bringing the spoon up to my lips, I realize it’s more broth than stew. The liquid is thin, and a few potatoes and carrots dance along the bottom. My heart sinks. Wickersham is being hit with the blight and here we are, taking food from their rations.

“How long have you two been…together?” I ask Sam, turning my thoughts away from the people of this town and the struggles they’re to face. Hunger gets the best of me as I dive into my soup.

“Hmmm,” Sam ponders, pinching her brows together. “I’m not sure I remember just how many years. Could it be three? Four?” she asks Jarek who simply shrugs, clearly not remembering either. “Jarek arrived in Copenspire on a ship headed for Valebridge,” Sam continues. “He was to be enlisted in the royal army. Sorin, Galen, and I were there gathering supplies for our next job when we ran into this giant man,” she pauses to squeeze Jarek’s arm. “He was making a run from the docks.”

Jarek laughs, low and rough. “I was not about to enlist in an army to serve that despicable excuse for a king,” Jarek says, shaking his head and polishing off his bowl of stew. “The ships had come to our homeland, Scandavi, and every man old enough to wield a weapon was to be enlisted. Most of us were taken against our will, removed from our families in the middle of the night. I tried to fight them off, but there were far too many. I haven’t had the chance to speak to my mum or sisters since I was pushed upon that ship.

“I know they’ll be all right without me. They’re the strongest women I know. Scariest too.” He laughs, though his eyes cast a sad shadow. “But it doesn’t make it any easier, being away from them. It’s the not knowing that breaks my heart.”

Silence hangs heavily around the table as we all tune into Jarek’s words. His story is not so different from mine and here I’ve been wallowing in my grief, not thinking for a second what the others around have gone through. I think of his sister, Cora, who he spoke so highly about. Sorin’s eyes turn down, looking at his hands while Sam runs her fingers through Jarek’s hair. She watches his face, never once letting her attention falter.

“So,” he continues, “once our ship docked in Copenspire, I took the first chance I got to flee. Was supposed to be gathering supplies to move up the coast and that’s when I bumped into Sorin.”

“Quite literally, bumped,” Sorin says with a laugh, breaking the rising tension. “I was minding my own business leaving a poor excuse for a tobacco shop, when out of nowhere, came this giant oaf of a man barreling into me. He almost knocked me on my arse.”

Jarek’s laughter is deep and infectious as it bellows through the pub. “A moment I’ll never forget,” he says. I finish off my bowl of soup and push it to the side, silently wishing it would somehow refill itself.

“I’m sorry, Jarek. I had no idea about your family. I’m sure you miss them terribly.” My apology is weak in comparison to all he’s been through, but it is all I can offer right now.

“Of course, I miss them. I have to believe I’ll see them again.” His eyes go distant for a moment, lost in a sea of memory. “No matter where I land, though,” he says, bringing his eyes back to mine, “it’ll be home so long as I’m with her.” He squeezes his arms tighter around Sam and she leans into his embrace, resting her head against his shoulder. My heart swells at the sight, how the two of them have found each other despite all odds.

“Here we go,” Sorin mutters under his breath before taking another drink. Sam shoots him a sly smile, her brown skin radiant in the golden light of the lamps.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, brother,” she says with a smirk.

“If anything, I’m nauseated,” Sorin counters, snarling his lip and laughter breaks out between the four of us.

“For what purpose does the king need to enlist men from Scandavi?” I ask, changing the subject back at the risk of sounding naïve. This might not be new information but living on the mountain and then in the woods has shielded me from most news from other parts of the world. “Scandavi, if I recall correctly, is several months away by ship. I can't wrap my head around the purpose of King Roman expending such resources.”

“Not just Scandavi, I’m afraid,” Sorin says. “Men from Dunbrink, Hofin, and Narasavik have all been rumored to be arriving by ships as well.” Sorin wipes the corner of his mouth and sets his spoon in his now empty bowl before continuing. “King Roman’s building his armies, for what we haven’t quite determined. Park, however, has confirmed there aren’t any more royal guards stationed on Kirsgard. So, at least we have that going for us.”

Sam and Jarek nod, as if it’s completely understandable that a barkeep would know such a thing.

“And no word from the Guilds?” I ask. How is it that the four Guilds have remained silent in the wake of such change?

Sorin shakes his head as he spins his tankard aimlessly, the liquid sploshing the sides but not spilling. “From what I’ve heard, the only Guild that has been in contact with Valebridge since Silas died is the Bloodstone Guild. Likely because of the ruby trade they partake in every year. The Jade, Onyx, and Cerulean Guilds have been locked up for the last four years. Silent. Even their annual meeting for the Autumn Moon has halted.” Sorin glances at me briefly and I don’t bother hiding my disbelief.

“I have my suspicions as to what Roman is up to, but we’ll get to the bottom of it once we make our way to Valebridge. All of the extra men, not to mention the countless Enchantresses he’s forcibly taken…the hunters…” I shoot him a quick glance, and his hand finds mine under the booth. “Whatever it is he plans to do with these armies,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze, “we’ll get to the bottom of it. Just as we’ll get to the bottom of this blight.”

“How do the hunters sense magick?” Jarek asks, scooting Sam farther onto his lap. “We don’t have these hunters back home, it makes no sense to me.”

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