Page 22 of Burn

I counted a dozen hectic heartbeats before a rush of air sailed through my clothes, akin to a great exhale. Lifting my head, I watched the branches recede and the roots withdraw, sinking back into the soil. The oak’s leaves fluttered, as though pleased by my display.

One lesson I’d learned while gathering from The Wandering Fields at the castle was never to take more than I needed from the land. Nature required its own bounty, as did the next harvester who ventured here to feed themself.

A branch unspooled and skated over my fingers, ascended my arm and shoulder, and finally entwined into my hair. By now, my braided bun had loosened. This enabled the bough to weave a strand of tiny golden leaves through the red locks, thus forming a single, thin braid.

Something eased in my chest. Something like gratitude.

I sketched the leaf braid and glanced at the tree, which loomed calmly and regally. I would never kneel for my coronation, but I sensed the experience would feel somewhat like this. Wondrous and profound.

I combed out the remains of my bun, allowing the tresses to fall freely, the single braid dangling among them. I stood and nodded to the oak, my lips rising into a grin. “Thank you.”

***

I returned to our sanctuary in a daze. The forest opened and spread itself wide like an amphitheater, oaks and tupelos standing tall, some with hollow chambers carved into the bases, the circumferences able to house armies.

In the heights, winding stairs and gabled cabins with shutters clustered together. Bridges connected the trees, and decks encircled the columns. Up close, one would see peeling paint, rickety planks in grave need of repair, and scaffolding netted in cobwebs. Still, the rustic ambience provided a much-welcome distraction. From the scent of woodsmoke in a nearby firepit, to a candle flickering from one of the treehouse windows, to the vegetable garden I’d planted on the ground level beside the water well, this realm alleviated my homesickness.

Well. It helped half of the time, at least.

Despite the dark legends about this place, I admired the old majesty and ruggedness that coalesced here. The arena of timbers and treehouses resembled a castle of the wild, wrought strictly of nature. Even the exposed joints and hardware had all been forged of wood.

A true forest stronghold.

Hitching the basket over my shoulder, I climbed one of the staircases strewn around a tupelo trunk. My pulse was racing by the time I reached the lowest level, thirty feet above the ground.

“Oh goodie,” a feminine voice announced sarcastically. “You didn’t die.”

I gave a start, having barely stepped onto the platform when Cadence pranced toward me out of nowhere. The lady’s swanlike form was outfitted in a dusty cotton gown, and she’d piled those verdant locks messily atop her head. Propping both hands on her hips, she glowered at me. “Eliot was worried sick.”

No, he was not. I had returned earlier than promised, from a place I’d been to numerous times. “It isn’t sunset yet,” I reminded her. “I am hardly late.”

“Tell that to him.” The lady knocked her head toward one of the larger decks where Eliot practiced with his garrote, my friend’s bare torso rippling as he brandished the weapon, his lute tattoo visible even from here.

After a second, Cadence whistled. “Damn,” she detoured, admiring the bulk of muscles and tanned skin. “I’d fuck that.” But before I could level her with a censorious look, the lady batted her lashes my way. “If he’d let me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Eliot does not favor women.”

“So what?” Cadence asked, evidently being serious and reminding me that some Spring citizens did not shy away from experimentation. “You might as well be siblings, right? You know the bloke. Is there any chance he’d do it for kicks?”

“Feel free to predict my answer.”

Cadence sighed. “My loss.”

The lady’s origins sat plainly on her face. Despite his physical attributes, Eliot wasn’t her type. Though at this juncture, that did not matter. After three months of chastity, Cadence longed for intimate contact.

I empathized with this feeling. Except only one man could ever stoke the heat between my thighs. I wished I could say Autumn modesty had supplied me with a greater measure of resilience against that hunger. However, I would be lying to myself.

Day and night, I thirsted for someone who wasn’t here. He had spoiled me, destroyed me for anyone else. Now that the jester had shown me such a degree of pleasure, it simmered in my veins constantly. Every moment segued back to those green eyes and that devious smirk. Even in the busiest moments, I could not stop thinking about that man. Nor did I wish to stop.

“Anyway,” Cadence dismissed. “I had to insist the bloke grab a weapon, to preoccupy himself from brooding over your whereabouts.”

At the onset, Eliot had grown obsessively protective, never letting me venture from the treehouses alone. But over time, as I’d proven myself capable amid my own Season, he had relaxed. I may have also forced him to calm down, having made a habit of leaving at dawn, before he woke up.

Today was an exception. I’d left later than usual.

As for Cadence, I contemplated how quickly she had materialized upon my arrival. Especially when the vast network of trees and cabins stretched into the distance. She could have been a million places other than this platform, which overlooked the unmarked path leading to and from our private makeshift kingdom.

I stared at her. “And you simply happened to be in this area when I got back?”

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