Page 60 of Through the Wicked Wood

“But the leaders of the council have been in place as long as the Guilds. They worked directly under Silas, and whether they want to admit it or not, they knew my mother.” His voice turns sour as he folds the parchment and places it back in his pocket. “They are the only ones who will be able to verify me as the rightful heir to the throne. This decree of birth won’t be enough,” he continues, patting his pocket. “No one lays a hand on Roman until then. We need him alive.” He runs his hands through his hair. “ Until we don’t.”

My heart sinks in my chest as I suck in a sharp breath of damp air around me.

Sorin is the heir to the throne of Valebridge.

A million questions rip across my mind as I choke on breath after breath, struggling to balance myself.

“He won’t go easy, Sorin,” Jarek speaks again, turning abruptly just as my foot slips, snapping a branch in half. The flame from his torch casts an orange glow over his pale skin, and for a moment, I think he sees me. His blue eyes like chips of ice, but if he does, he makes no indication. He returns his gaze to Sorin.

“I’d expect nothing less than a fight when it comes to my little brother,” Sorin says, his confidence evident in his tone. “I can handle him. You just need to keep control of yourself.” He gestures toward Jarek who rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath I can’t make out.

“And the Enchantresses?” Galen closes his book before standing and scanning the woods as if sensing being watched. My eyes widen as my heart thunders wildly. “What will you do with them?”

Stumbling backward, the three men begin to walk in my direction. “I’ll do whatever I see fit,” Sorin snaps. “It’s not your concern.” I’ve never heard Sorin speak so bluntly and it sends a shiver of cold sweat dripping down my body. He is related to Roman Rudhek. The King of Valebridge and one responsible for the murder and abuse of Enchantresses. My heart races even faster, my ribs beginning to ache.

I need to flee.

Now.

A perfectly timed snap on the opposite side of the woods has the three men turning their heads. Jarek extinguishes his torch, leaving them in total darkness save for the moon. I glance at the wolves behind me, finding only Alaric. That tug in my chest pulls lightly at first, then, stronger and firmer. Swallowing the knot forming in my throat, I nod as Alaric nudges my elbow.

As if on cue, Ruse appears through the trees. She caused the snap across the clearing, giving me the distraction I needed to run. Clever. That tug in my chest pulls tight again as I meet her emerald eyes. So, I do what my deepest, most primal instincts tell me to do.

Run.

With Alaric to my front and Ruse at my rear, we run against the brutality of the wind and sprinkling of rain. Through the dense pines and over the thick mossy ground. We jump seamlessly over fallen logs and roots spread along the forest floor like a map of veins. To my surprise, even in the growing darkness, I stay my course. As we race through the trees, my mind jolts between Sorin and the Awakening Stones.

He lied to you.

To my mother and to Cade.

Murderer.

I play through all of the moments that have led me here. That led me to this. My pity turns to rage as we run and run and run. I told Sorin everything and still he kept this from me. What is his plan? To take Roman’s place and free the Enchantresses? Unlikely, considering the amount of the people who still believe us evil. My legs are strong as we turn and sprint uphill, the ache in my chest eases with each step.

And soon my thoughts transform again.

I’ve spent the last few years in hiding, trying to forget who I am. Trying to forget my past and my history. I drowned in my grief and let it consume me. But I’ll have it no more. Because to be here, in these woods with the wolves, is to be who I was born to be. And there is no greater power than accepting yourself for who you really are. Even when the reflection is difficult to look at, it’s mine.

I’m not sure how long we run before my legs give out and I collapse. Ruse and Alaric stand over me, panting heavily, their breaths puffs of white smoke in the cold air. Pulling myself into a sitting position, I rest my head against the trunk of the pine tree. Breathing in through my nose, out through my mouth for several minutes, forcing my lungs to slow their pace. The burning with each breath acts as a reminder of how far I’ve come.

Peeling my eyes open, I glance up at the night sky. The moon has begun to wane but the sight of her brings a sense of hope. I keep my eyes locked on the moon, sending out a silent plea to the Mother for a sense of direction. Wiping a rogue tear from my cheek, I curse myself for allowing it to fall in the first place.

Sorin is the rightful heir to the throne of Valebridge, to our country of Teravie.

And I am his key into Valebridge, and from the sounds of it, nothing more.

He’ll lock you up.

He’ll take your magick.

My heart cracks at the thought, the pain so real I grip my chest and inhale sharply. A soft cry escapes my lips as I force the tears not to spill from my eyes.

He purposely withheld his identity from me, even after I told him everything. I trusted him with my darkest secrets. We’re only days away from retrieving the Stones, and yet still, I haven’t been deemed worthy of knowing his plan. All the more convincing I was never to be a part of it in the first place.

My sorrow turns to anger as I dig my fingers into the dirt and moss. The cold damp earth lodges itself under my fingernails as I dig deeper. My knuckles whiten as that spark of anger forms into an internal rage as I grip onto the loose dirt. Only the rage isn’t internal as the moss beneath my fingers changes. Instead of the dampy spongy green, it disintegrates to smoldering embers, hot to the touch. Unclenching my fists, I stare at what’s left at the patch of moss in disbelief.

Alaric interrupts my thoughts, nudging my arm. I shake off the embers I’ve created from the dirt and lift my arm. Alaric takes the opportunity to nuzzle in and rest his head on my lap, the size of it taking up the entire space. My shoulders unclench themselves as I take a few steady breaths. Shaking the dirt and ash from my palms, cooling them down, I stroke his thick, shimmering gray coat and contemplate my options. Ruse sits nearby, her back toward us, watching the woods.

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