Mother loved Father. Fiercely. He’d seemed to have loved her, too, but that obviously hadn’t been enough to satisfy his restless spirit and prevent him from coming home to us. Now Mother was left with nothing but a broken heart.
Without Father we had no livelihood, but despite the long, harsh years that followed, we managed to get by. Mother wove, I gathered berries to make jam, and we took in laundry. Many villagers helped, but nothing could fill the void Father’s absence had created. The worst part about his abandonment was that to this day we still had no idea why he’d left.
Perhaps I’d done something wrong.
Mother’s smile—for she always managed to have one for me—softened into a concerned frown puckering her brow. “Are you alright, dear?”
I shook my head to clear it from the painful swirl of memories and forced my own smile. “I’m fine.” It was my most frequent lie. I turned around and carried the basket of fruit to the table. “Shall I mash these to make jam?”
“Eileen?”
I heard Mother approach but didn’t turn around. I couldn’t risk her seeing the tears that had come uninvited to my eyes, tears I’d told myself years ago never to shed. Crying would create cracks in my protective walls and allow me to reexperience the emotions I no longer wanted to feel. It was less painful this way.
“Perhaps we can bake the berries into a pie,” I continued, still not turning around. “We can bake two and trade one for some supplies—”
Mother rested a light hand on my back. I flinched at her touch. “I miss him, too.”
I bit the inside of my lip until I tasted blood, hoping the pain would stave off the tears now flowing down my cheeks. “I don’t miss him.” My voice cracked, betraying my second-most-frequently-told lie.
“Something must have happened to him. He’d never just leave us.”
“But he did leave us.”
Mother was silent a moment, a silence filled with her own pain. I inwardly cursed myself for being the cause of it, but sometimes I couldn’t help it; even after all this time, my emotions were still too raw and too close to the surface for me to always successfully suppress them before they leaked out.
“He loved us,” Mother finally murmured.
I snorted. Love. I hated that word. If Father leaving was what love was, then I wanted no part of it. No matter how beautiful Rosie’s stories about romance were, they were all make-believe. Thus, I’d never give another man the opportunity to hurt me the way Father had.
The day I’d first discovered Mother crying over Father, I’d chosen to lock my heart away forever. Love wasn’t worth the pain it inflicted, especially not when the fickle emotion was too fleeting to ever last.
Chapter 2
The Forest practically pushed me down an unfolding path thick with foliage the moment I stepped inside. I looked curiously at the trees but didn’t question them. The winding trail made many jagged twists and turns, each change deliberate and purposeful; it was unlike the Forest to be so selective in its guidance.
I’d never questioned the Forest before, but I paused now in order to peer inquisitively at a rosemary pine. “Where are you taking me?”
The branches rustled but otherwise made no reply.
I nibbled my lip as I peered down this path as far as I could see. It was thick and overgrown, as if it were part of the Forest itself rather than a trail weaving through it. With the shadowy light and its twists and turns, it was impossible to see where it led, but I trusted the Forest; it had never led me astray.
I continued down the path, picking my way through the vegetation. The trees grew in closely intertwined clumps and the minty air felt different, heavy with mystery and discoveries just waiting to be made. I was probably the first to walk this course in years.
After several minutes, the path widened into a large clearing, which the trees surrounded like a halo. I tipped my head back to stare up at the artistic pattern the canopy of branches formed above me. Lovely, to be sure, but almost disappointing after such a strenuous journey. I studied the clearing more closely, searching for something to justify the Forest’s insistence on leading me here.
The hemlock trees grew in an unusual pattern: the way the branches twisted made them resemble a person. Inspiration tickled my senses as the beginnings of a story formed in my mind, one I needed to capture with my pencils.
The story Rosie and I had been reading was the legend of a princess who, abandoned in the woods, grew up within the trees and became a ruler amongst all who lived in the Forest. Upon her death, her spirit became part of the Forest, giving it both life and a mind of its own.
Today’s project would be an imaginative portrait of this Forest princess. After silently admiring my most recent treasured sketches, I opened to a fresh page in my sketchbook and studied the hemlocks’ branches. My hand caressed the page as I reproduced this legend with fluid strokes…
A twig snapped, piercing my sketching revery. I gasped and twisted around. The shadowy trees were completely still, their dark, budding limbs stretching endlessly towards the sky. Heart pounding, I slowly scanned the entire clearing. Empty.
No one was here. I released my pent-up breath and returned to my sketch, but my white-knuckled hand remained frozen, hovering over the page. Something—or someone—had to have made that noise.
I held my breath and listened intently. The Forest’s previous symphony of twittering birds had ceased, leaving nothing but thick, tense silence. It was unlike the Forest to be so quiet.
The back of my neck prickled and I felt as if a heated gaze bore into me to scrutinize my every move. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see a mysterious intruder watching from the trees. No one was there.
Some of the darker tales of the Forest the villagers often exchanged in warning whispers invaded my mind: There are tales of many who lost their way amidst the trees after the Forest’s paths led them astray, for they say the blood of its victims is what gives it life.
I’d never believed those stories; my Forest was anything but sinister. I’d explored it for years and had never encountered another living soul, let alone a dangerous one. Thus the pathways wouldn’t have led me to this clearing if the Forest sensed any danger…would it? Whatever I thought I’d heard was merely my mind playing mischievous tricks. No one was here except for me and the trees…trees which were being uncannily quiet, as if they’d fallen into a deep slumber.
My assurances did little to calm me. I fought for breath—each sharp and painful in my fear—and hunched back over my sketchbook to focus on drawing the tree’s budding leaves in a way that made them resemble the princess’s tresses, desperate for a distraction. But my hand remained frozen over the page.
The Forest had been unusually particular today about which pathways it led me down. Was there a purpose to its guidance?
Another twig snapped. I straightened rapidly, my heart hammering as I listened intently, trembling.
“Is someone else here, Forest?” I whispered. The trees remained completely still. My fear escalated as the sensation I was being watched intensified.
I shivered. Imagination or not, I couldn’t stay here a moment longer. I snapped my sketchbook shut and scampered towards the edge of the clearing. The moment I moved, footsteps—their sound nearly lost to the deafening pounding of my heart—sounded behind me.
I froze and listened; they paused when I did. I crept a few steps more, and so did the intruder. No mistake about it: I wasn’t alone. I clutched my sketchbook like a protective shield as I wound my body behind a trunk and huddled there, trying to control my frantic pants of breath.
Silence.
I listened to every sound of the Forest as I waited, trying to detect a human heartbeat within the trees. All seemed quiet, but I sensed something; the Forest felt different, on edge, as if it could sense an intruder, too.
I remained hidden for several minutes before I slowly released my pent-up breath. Huddling here wasn’t leading me any closer to the Forest’s border, which
was where I now desperately wanted to be. I slowly stepped away from the tree and gasped sharply, my sketchbook slipping from my hand.
A man stood in front of me, blocking my path.
My heart skittered to a stop. So there had been someone following me, a stranger dressed in red velvet trimmed with gold to showcase his noble rank and who wore a hardened, rather sinister expression, as if he meant to hurt me.
He leaned leisurely against an aspen, staring at me with large, ebony eyes, which widened when he saw my face. For a moment, neither of us spoke as we warily surveyed the other. A foreign, pleasant warmth loosened the fear tightening my chest as I studied the stranger’s face, lingering on the chestnut curl dangling across his forehead.
He stirred first, blinking rapidly, before he snapped his gaping mouth shut. His expression hardened again. “What are you doing in my Forest?”
Chills rippled over me as my mind scrambled to find an explanation for this man’s presence. I warily eyed the sword strapped to his waist. The treacherous Forest had betrayed me by luring me into this stranger’s snare. This clearing would undoubtedly be my gravesite, and the story of my demise would become another cautionary tale parents whispered to their children about what happened to those who wandered in places they weren’t supposed to.
Those overdramatic thoughts were exactly what Rosie would think in this situation. I shook my head to clear it. I couldn’t think about that now. Escape. I needed to escape, but the man’s eyes held me captive as if they were chains, binding me to him. He straightened and slowly approached. I backed into a tree and pressed myself against the trunk until its bark embedded into my back.
He loomed over me. “Who are you?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My voice had been swallowed up by the fear pounding through my bloodstream with every frantic beat of my heart.
The man’s jaw tightened. “Answer me. I expect a response when I ask a question.”
His hand hovered over his gold sword encrusted with blood-red rubies. My breath caught. Did he mean to murder me? Fear seized my pounding heart in a tight clamp, but thankfully he made no move to draw his sword.
Instead, he frowned. “Ah, you’re afraid I might use this? You believe me a man capable of hurting an innocent maiden? It appears I’m making a rather poor first impression.” He studied my features, the hardened lines of his own softening with his perusal.
I finally found my voice. “Please don’t hurt me.”
He stroked the hilt of his sword with long, slender fingers. “Who said anything about hurting you? I would, however, appreciate an introduction.”
I tightened my jaw and shook my head. Disappointment filled his eyes, as if I’d denied him something precious. He continued to stare, his gaze lingering on my hair. He reached out a hesitant hand to stroke a loose strand.
My hair slipped from his fingers as I jerked back, glaring. “Don’t touch me.”
He blinked, as if emerging from a stupor. “I meant no harm. If you won’t tell me your name, can you at least grant me a token to remember our meeting? It’s not every day I encounter such a fair maiden in the woods.”
He drew a dagger and carefully placed it against the same strand of hair resting against my neck. My breath hitched. I jolted away and the blade nicked my flesh. I winced at the sharp, biting pain. Blood trickled down my neck, staining my pale skin with dark splotches.
The stranger flinched, as if my pain had been his own, and watched the blood dribble down, seeming unsure what to do. Crimson stained his cheeks as he yanked his gaze away. I gingerly touched my neck and withdrew my fingers, gaping at the blood staining them.
“You cut me.”
He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly as he determinedly looked at his feet. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He bit his lip in remorse.
I stared at him in disbelief. I could still feel the shadow of his cold blade as I stroked the wound on my neck, sticky with blood. How could I have met such a hardened man in my beloved Forest, a place I’d believed harbored safety? The betrayal was sharp.
“I only wanted a lock of your hair.” He withdrew a handkerchief and held it out to me. I made no move to take it. “I’m sorry. I just—I’m sorry.” He made another attempt to hand me his handkerchief. When I still refused it, he dabbed at my cut himself and sighed when I flinched away. “Won’t you allow me to play the part of a gentleman?”
“Do you see a gentleman here?”
Despite the blush still staining his cheeks, his lips quirked into a smile. He tilted his head to study me, as if I were a complicated riddle he was desperate to solve. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I must have your name.”
“I don’t share my identity with sadistic strangers.”
His eyebrows rose. “What did I do to deserve such an insult when we’ve only just met and I’m attempting to tend to your wound?”
“A wound you inflicted,” I snapped. “You don’t appreciate it when your prey bites back? Perhaps you thought you’d caught a sheep when, in reality, I’m a fierce cobra.”
“Undoubtedly, with a venomous tongue like yours.”
Amusement had replaced the fierceness previously filling his eyes. Great, I’d stumbled onto a predator who enjoyed playing with his food. I folded my arms and gave him my most skewering glare; by the way his lips twitched, it didn’t seem very effective. His black gaze searched mine as if looking for an answer to a great secret.
“Won’t you tell me your name?”
“Do you honestly believe you can convince me after I’ve already adamantly refused?”
“Considering I outrank you and I asked nicely, yes, I do.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure that, as a noble, you’re used to everyone groveling at your feet, but I refuse to obey you.”
His jaw tightened. “Is this the game you want to play? Because if so, it’s only fair to warn you that in every game I participate in, there’s only one outcome: I always get my way.”
“Except for now, because I’m not inclined to give it to you, no matter how much you try to persuade me.”
He frowned. “Stubborn, aren’t you? But I refuse to concede until I’ve obtained my objective.” He glanced around the clearing, as if searching for something. “The Forest led me to this area for a particular reason, and I need to know why. If it was to meet you, then I cannot leave without your name. Will you tell me if I say please?”
“No.”
The stranger’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”
“You truly expect my cooperation after the friendly reception you’ve given me?”
He closed the distance between us. “Despite your resistances in giving me what I want, I find your spunk thoroughly enchanting.”
For some inexplicable reason, I found myself lost in his ebony gaze. “Is this how you toy with all your victims?”
“No, this honor befalls only you.” He leaned closer and I turned my head, shuddering as his breath caressed my skin. “Please tell me your name.”
I shook my head, unable to speak through the strange sensations I was feeling. It pushed against my fear—warm, fluttery, and strangely appealing. What was this emotion?
“Please.” Longing filled his voice. “You don’t understand. I have to know.”
“Then brace yourself for disappointment, because I refuse to give you my name after the way you’ve treated me.”
He sighed as he withdrew. “Seems fair.”
I raised my eyebrows and he smirked.
“Despite your belief to the contrary, I won’t force you to do anything…although I do hope to persuade you. I find the longer our interaction goes, the more anxious I am to know your identity.”
I sighed. “Why are you so desperate to learn it?”
He tilted his head to study me once more. “You’re like no one I’ve ever met before. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is that’s…”
“…getting beneath your skin?”
He smiled wryly. �
�Something like that.”
I smirked, satisfied that I’d riled him, my revenge for his sinister presence invading my sanctuary. “Good, then you’ve gotten what you deserve.”
He frowned. “You believe I’m a bad person?”
“I believe you’re choosing to be something sinister for the sole purpose of your amusement.”
His frown deepened and once more he studied me closely. “Why do you think that?”
I didn’t answer. He waited patiently for a moment before his lips twitched.
“Uncooperative. It makes me even more curious as to what brings you to my Forest.”
His Forest? “The Forest belongs to no one, but if my presence bothers you, I’ll happily humor you by leaving.”
He bowed and motioned towards the edge of the clearing. “Be my guest. There’s no need for you to linger if you don’t want to. However, there is one small problem…”
His dark eyes lit up and my stomach knotted. Whatever idea had just occurred to him, it probably wouldn’t be one I liked.
“What’s the problem?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Problem? There’s no problem. It’d be impolite for me to keep you here longer than you desire to remain.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You claim to have the power to keep me here? This Forest doesn’t belong to you; thus, you can’t entrap me in it like some prisoner.”
I spun on my heels and stomped towards the edge of the clearing, but the stranger darted in front of me, blocking me. “Please don’t leave yet.”
My glare sharpened. “Excuse me? Do you need to toy with me further in order to stroke your inflated ego?”
His lips twitched again and amusement danced in his dark eyes. It made him seem almost human, and I didn’t like it. “I really want to know your name.”
“There’s no reason for you to know it, not when we’re never going to see one another again.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
I tightened my jaw and attempted to dart around him, but he was too quick for me. I took another step forward but he didn’t get out of my way; he took a step back, matching my movements with his in order to keep me in his line of sight. My gradually abating fear returned, clawing at my heart.
Pathways (The Kingdom Chronicles Book 1) Page 2