Page 73 of Through the Wicked Wood

“Why take the throne, Sorin? Why bother with any of it if that were to be your outcome?” Galen’s brash words shock me, but I have no doubt it’s because he is worried. Because I know he cares even when he works so hard to pretend he doesn’t. He has built a hardened shell, keeping himself safe from even the most scrutinizing of people. He’s had to, to protect himself. Being different in a world that expects conformity is the kind of bravery the poets write about in books, but the kind of rebellion that will land you in the gallows.

“Because if I am on the throne, even for a day, I can dictate who the next heir is,” I say, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. “It’s been the law since Queen Solei and King Bastian. They made it as such–”

“I know the law,” Galen says, an edge to his tone. “The first born child will have the throne, and the next in line will be the second born and so on. If an heir is not able to be produced and there is no other bloodline, the residing king and queen shall choose the next to rule as they see fit. That doesn’t explain why you had to risk yourself.”

“So I can leave the world a better place by ensuring Roman no longer rules,” I snap. Sam flinches but she keeps her eyes trained on the fire.“Do you not think all of this is worth it? To stop him and all he’s done to Enchantresses? To our country?”

Galen leans forward, cocking his head to the side. “I suppose,” he says with a shrug of indifference.

“Though, something…interesting has come up,” I say, ignoring a feeling I can’t quite explain itching at my skin. Pushing my sleeve back, I angle my arm toward the flames, revealing my now bare skin.

“How?” Sam gasps, reaching for my arm, her eyes rake over every inch of it. “Is the bargain broken?”

“I can’t be sure,” I say. “But, I have a suspicion someone else will know.” The four of us turn our heads to the tent to where Elora rests.

Squeezing Sam’s hand before standing, I stretch my cold limbs over the fire before retreating to my tent. “You should all call it a night. The weather changes quickly this high up, and I want everyone warm and rested for tomorrow.”

* * *

The wolves perk their ears as I pull back the canvas of the tent. Kneeling, I peel off my boots and leave them at the entrance before climbing inside. Holding out my hand, an offering to Ruse who sits closest to the door, she quickly declines, pushing her nose in the air and away from my touch. If it wasn’t for the seriousness of the day I may have laughed at the response. Something about it reminds me so much of Elora when we first met.

Turning my attention to Alaric, the two wolves take up the entire tent. “I think I’ve got it from here,” I whisper to the massive gray wolf. Studying me for a moment, he takes his time standing, arching his back in a deep stretch before nudging Ruse out of the tent.

I watch as the door to the tent flaps closed, the voices of my family around the fire begin to quiet, then I turn to face Elora. She’s still wrapped in both of our cloaks as well as the furs we packed. Scooting closer, I brush my thumb along her forehead. Her eyelids twitch slightly at my touch and brows pinch together, the reaction gives me hope. She’s still in there. Still here.

The chill of evening creeps in through the seams of our tent as the soft glow of orange from the fire dissipates into nothing. Pulling out the last of the furs, I lean down to place a kiss to Elora’s forehead before finally allowing myself to lie down. Pulling the fur up to my chin, I let out a final whisper, “Please wake up, love.” Then, as quickly as night arrived, so does sleep.

Chapter 36

Elora

I’m drowning.

The water engulfs me as the light around me dims. I know I should be kicking. I should be fighting. Instead, I sink. For the first time, possibly ever, I feel at peace. The surface disappears and what’s left of the sun turns to swirling black liquid. I let go. I let go of the guilt and the burdens I once bore. I let go of the responsibilities I carry like a weight on my shoulders. I let go of the last breath I've held in my lungs, not entirely sure what I’ve been saving it for. I push my lips forward and expel the final puff of air as it turns to tiny bubbles and close my eyes. Visions of the pooling liquid cloud my mind as my lungs begin to burn. I wait for the fight to kick in, but it never comes. So, I embrace the weightlessness of the water surrounding me. How my limbs are airy and my mind is numbingly blank. I keep my eyes closed as I wait. Wait for that final surrender. Wait for nothing at all.

My eyes snap open, and I gulp down the crisp air, immediately thankful the nightmare was nothing more than that. Whipping my head at the sound of rustling in the tent, I realize it’s dark outside. Another rustling sound draws my attention and my shoulders slacken when I see it’s Sorin. He’s been tossing about in a restless slumber. My eyes adjust to the darkness as I watch him turn once more, this time facing me.

A deep line creases between his dark brows. His hair is messy at the crown, no doubt from the constant tossing and turning. I roll to my side to face him, the movement causing a sharp pang to pierce through my right foot. Wincing, I glance down. How could I forget about the tumbling rocks, a part of my subconscious hoping it was a dream and nothing more. But the pain is very real, which means what I did was also very real. I take a moment to examine the rest of myself. Despite escaping the rocks, I’m somewhat clean. Nails free of dirt. Skin, while prickled with tiny rips and tears, appears to have been wiped clean of everything else. I run my hand behind my neck, before Sorin’s eyes slowly pull open.

“You’re awake?” he gasps, his voice is a whisper but rings through an otherwise still night.

I nod and offer a breathy, “Yes.” The pain in my foot is temporarily relieved as I angle myself to elevate it. The worry in Sorin’s eyes washes away, his features softening as he takes me in. Sliding his hand across the furs, he grips mine.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear your voice,” he says, kissing my hand. He holds it for a moment before placing it back down. “Galen says it’s not broken,” he whispers, gesturing toward my elevated foot. “He did say it’ll take some time to heal, but now that you’re awake he can give you a tonic for the pain.”

As if reminding himself of that option, he sits up from the furs revealing his bare chest and torso. His hands are frantic in the dark as he searches for his shirt, the scene almost comical as he fails endlessly to find anything in the darkness.

“I’m fine to wait until morning,” I say, “it’s just a bit of bruising.” I can’t help the laugh that escapes me as I pull his hand closer, so he’s forced to recline back. “Nothing I can’t handle,” I say. “Did you…clean me up?” I ask as he settles back down, scooting me closer so I’m resting my head on his chest.

“Sam and I did. Your hands and arms were so caked with blood and black, I couldn’t leave you that way.”

My heart beams. To be taken care of. To be cared for. A luxury I won’t take for granted. We lay there together for several moments of silence, my head upon his warm chest listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he draws circles up and down my arm.

“Do you want to talk about what happened in there?” he asks, running his fingers through my hair.

“Not yet,” I whisper, blocking the images of my mother’s face from my mind.

“Okay.” He plants a kiss on the top of my head. “ I truly am sorry. I should have told you about who I am.”

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