Page 74 of Through the Wicked Wood

“I know,” I say. And I do. He kept his identity from me just as much as I kept my past from him. While Sorin being the heir to the throne complicates whatever it is we are, it isn’t fair that I remain angry at him for doing the same thing I did.

“No more secrets,” he whispers, tilting my head up to meet him. “From either of us.” His mouth turns upward as he bends down to kiss my lips. I press into him, savoring their full softness before nestling back onto his chest.

“Why now?” I ask. The question is vague, but I know he understands what I mean. His hands halt their dance along the sleeve of my tunic. A momentary silence sits between us.

“It wasn’t always about the throne,” he whispers, running his fingers through my hair again. The beating in his chest has amplified. “In fact, I didn’t realize I was the heir until I was fifteen, when William died.”

I tighten my grip around his torso as he continues, “I knew my mother had been wronged in Valebridge and that’s why we left. But I was so young, living there is barely a memory. I close my eyes and try to remember the walls, the route we took when we left, but there’s nothing but faint lines and blurry images.

“She was sick when we arrived in Loxley. Letty and Eviey tried their best to heal her. They know herbology better than the next, but Loxley is so far removed from most everything, we didn’t have the resources to—” he swallows deeply, and I don’t need to look to know he holds back tears. “I swore it then, even as a child. I would make whoever caused her to flee from Valebridge pay for what they’d done. The ailments they caused.”

“I’m sorry you lost her,” I whisper, my own chest cracking slightly for the pain I know he feels. He says nothing, his breathing heavier than before. “Isn’t it exhausting?”

“What?” he asks, running his fingers down my arm.

Sighing, I press deeper into his chest. “Pretending to be okay.”

Several moments of silence hang around us, and then Sorin’s hands tuck under my chin.

“Yes,” he admits, his eyes heavy as they meet mine. “But with you I don’t feel like I have to pretend. And I hope you know with me, you don’t have to pretend to be okay either.” He plants a kiss to my lips, softly, and my stomach twists and swirls in response.

“Tell me more,” I say, settling back onto his chest. “I want to know it all.”

Taking a deep breath, Sorin continues, “As I grew older, the rumors grew with me. Whispers among the streets of Loxley of the true heir. I thought nothing of it until William pulled me into his room his final night. It was so hard to see him that way. He was always so strong, so brave. And here he was, frail and weak, and I hate that it’s my last memory of him. That night he pulled me in and told me everything. My mother, Celia, was an Enchantress for King Silas, she was a Memoria.” Sorin continues to play with my hair as he speaks, twirling and twisting the strands around his fingers. Memoria’s are rare but so powerful. They have the ability to see one's memories simply by touch. I’ve never met one in my lifetime, it’s no surprise Sorin’s mother was an important Enchantress to the King.

“William told me that Silas and my mother had more of a relationship than they let on. A romantic relationship, which you and I both know at the time was against the law throughout the Kingdom.” I let out a soft sigh because I know what he says to be true. There are strict rules against Enchantresses marrying or having intimate relations outside of their arrangement. “Her arrangement was never set, apparently Silas couldn’t stand to see her with another man.”

I remember learning of the arrangements. Made by the king and queen, simply put together to help Enchantresses bear a child. To keep magick in Valebridge, at the fingertips of the royals. It’s how my mother came to meet my father, though he was long gone before I was born.

“And thus forth, from their forbidden romance, came me,” Sorin continues. “My mother kept her pregnancy a secret the best she could, and somehow with the help of the other Enchantresses managed to live several years with me by her side in Valebridge. No one had a clue about her affairs with Silas, until Silas himself was forced to marry.”

“Queen Rhoda,” I whisper, my memories of the late queen are faint. Having passed a few years after the birth of Roman.

“I don’t remember much after that,” Sorin admits but his heartbeat is erratic. “Though in the Wicked Wood, a memory came to me that may explain…a few things.”

“What do you mean?”

He takes a large breath, his chest rising then falling slowly as he lets it out. “The Wicked Wood revealed to me the day my mother and I fled Valebridge,” he whispers. “I was nearing my fifth year, she had been frantic all morning after hearing about Rhoda being with child. We went to visit—” He stops, his breaths quicken as if he’s nervous to say, “your mother.”

Bolting upright, I spin so I’m facing him. “What?”

Sorin’s hand runs down my back, the movement slow and reassuring. Like he knows how destructive the mere mention of her can be.

“In the memory I saw today, we visited your mother before fleeing Valebridge. And now that it’s been brought forth, I do in fact remember meeting her many times.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He’s tired, but I have to know more. “She was lovely, kind.”

I close my eyes as tears threaten to fall. Sorin pulls me back down so I’m laying on his chest again. Taking a few slow breaths, I focus on the warmth of his skin.

“Your mother and mine were friends,” he whispers. “The memory was so clear, so familiar I’m surprised it never occurred to me before. But the mind is particular about what it decides to conceal, and mine must have decided long ago to block out the parts of my past that pain me the most. Like leaving Valebridge and watching my mother fall ill.” I run my hand down his chest and press my eyes shut. “Maybe that’s why you seem so familiar to me,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

“I don’t know why, but it makes me happy that you knew her,” I admit through the lump in my throat.

“From what I remember, she was wonderful. Though a bit intense,” he laughs, and I do too because she really was. “But there’s something else.” His hands stop on my back, so I prop myself up so I can meet his eyes.

“What is it?” I ask cautiously. His dark eyes scan my face as if he’s searching for something. “What?” I ask again, a ping of something I can’t place growing inside of me.

“In my memory today, your mother was still pregnant with you,” he says, running his hand down my back. “She said that we were destined by the Fates to cross paths.”

Chapter 37

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