Page 54 of Through the Wicked Wood

“I want to show you something,” I whisper, leaving my thoughts in my head as I tug her in the direction of the falls.

* * *

Keeping Elora’s hand in mine, we skirt our way around the emerald pool, stepping lightly on the large stones that border the water. The raging waters muffle the world around us, the constant whoosh plummeting into the pool below. Standing at the entrance of the waterfall, I tug Elora’s hand, gesturing again to a small opening. She hesitates for a moment, but as I make the final step into the cavern, she follows.

The small cavern is a byproduct of years of erosion from the icy waters. It’s mostly dark aside from the glow of the pool beyond the backside of the waterfall and small flickers of iridescent light bouncing off the embedded crystals that lay within the rock.

“This is beautiful.” Elora’s voice echoes off the cavern walls, not realizing that while inside we are protected from the water’s raging sounds. Startling herself she brings her hands up to her mouth.

“Much quieter in here.” I laugh, spreading my cloak on the cavern floor and patting the ground for Elora to join me.

“I take it you’ve been here before?” She mimics my movements, removing her cloak and setting it down next to mine before joining me on the stone ground. We sit facing the wall of water plummeting down in front of us, the sound of raging rapids replaced by a soft trickle.

“Once,” I admit, pulling her closer to me by the waist. “Sam and I have traveled past the falls before.” The memory of the two of us caught in the Wicked Woods flashes into my mind. Sam’s limp body as I slung her over my shoulder. The blinding pain. Her earlier words.

“It brings me peace,” I say, shaking off the memory of almost losing my sister. “The water,” I clarify. “There’s something reassuring about the constant flow of it.” She exhales quietly before resting her head on my shoulder. If I could freeze time, it would be this moment. In a cavern of starlight, with nothing but the gentle rush of water, Elora tucked next to me.

“Tell me something.” Her voice breaks my trance as she pulls away from my shoulder, leaving a spot so cold I run my hand down my arm. The same words from our ride into Loxley.

“Like what?” I ask. Resting my arms behind me, I lean back and place my weight on my palms.

“Anything,” she says through a sigh. She watches me, placing a hand delicately on my thigh. “Everything.” This time her voice is a whisper, and I watch her intently for a moment. The shape of her nose, the slight bend it has in the middle. The freckles that dance along the bridge of it. The roundness of her cheeks and pink of her lips.

“You are beautiful.” A rush of childlike embarrassment washes over me as the words leave my lips, but it is the most truthful thing I’ve ever said. She is absolutely beautiful. Tipping her head back, her laugh bounces off the cave walls.

“Now you tell me something,” I say, reaching for her hand, pulling her close.

“Anything in particular?” Her voice is still shaky with laughter.

A few beats of silence pass between us before I whisper, “Tell me about that night, love.” I know it’s a risk to ask, but it’s a question that’s laid heavily on me since I woke her from her nightmare. All playfulness leaves her face and I immediately regret my question.

She slips her hand from mine and redirects her attention to the water. “You’ve told me it was memories that keep you up. But not what the memories are,” I press further, wanting to ease some of her burdens by taking them on as my own. Her silence sends a prick of needles rushing down my arms as I wait for her to decide what she’s going to do. What she will say. Pulling herself up to her feet, she begins pacing back and forth, chewing on the inside of her cheek, clenching and unclenching her fists.

“When I tell you what happened the night my family died…” She turns to face me. The color drains from her face with each word. “You’ll no longer see me as beautiful.” My brows pinch together as I listen, but I remain silent. “You’ll look at me, and no longer see Elora. You’ll see this…this selfish monster.” She resumes her pacing, her face shifts from the soft, beautiful one I’ve become so familiar with, to something troubled. Something unsettled. Something dark.

“So, then let me see,” I say. “Let me see this monster you claim to be. Let me see and let me choose you anyway.” Elora’s eyes rake over me as she halts her methodical pacing. “Because I will,” I say, standing and taking a step toward her. “I’ll still choose you.” Like a skittish deer, I know it won’t take much to send her darting through the cave looking for an escape.

“We barely know each other, Sorin,” she says, clicking that armor back into place, little by little, her walls go up and her eyes go distant.

“That may be true for this life, love. But I have no doubts that we’ve known each other in every other life before this. Or that we’ll know each other in every life after.” I stop just before her and place my hands in my pockets. How can she not feel the same? The kiss we shared was proof enough our bodies recognize each other in a way I can’t explain. “Wasn’t it you that said, this feels like fate?” I continue, taking another step forward. “Why hide what we feel? Why lie to ourselves, to each other? Time is not relevant. It could be weeks or a year, my feelings for you are the same.”

I reach for her hand, and she lets me grab it. Interlocking our fingers, I dip my head down, letting my forehead rest on hers. “You can keep denying the way you feel,” I whisper, “but it won’t change the way I do. If more time is what you need to tell me what happened, then I will wait. Whatever you need, let me be the one to give it to you.”

I take a step backward, removing my forehead from hers so I can see her face in its entirety, giving her the space I know she needs. Her features have softened but the unmistakable ink of dread still lies in her eyes.

She steadies herself, taking a deep inhale, clenching her hands to fists at her sides. “The reason I have the nightmares,” she shakes out, “is because I’m the reason my mother and Cade are dead.” Her eyes line with tears, but her face is firm.

“You can’t blame yourself, Elora—”

She shakes her head, cutting me short. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me,” I challenge.

She whispers her painful truth and it pangs through the hollowness of the cavern. The flickering crystal light washes out as I process what she says.

“It’s my fault they’re dead.”

Chapter 28

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