Forest of Firelight

by Shari L. Tapscott

  “I’m not sure that’s—”

  “Who will know?” he demands, impatient. “You want to stay there, and you can’t stay by yourself, so we have no other choice.”

  “Why are you angry with me?” I finally ask, voicing the words that have been on the tip of my tongue all day. “Because I asked you that ridiculous question? Pretend I didn’t. Forget we discussed it at all.”

  Rhys doesn’t answer right away. When he does, it’s prefaced with a sigh. “I’m afraid I’ve given you the wrong impression, and I believe it’s best if we keep our relationship a little more formal from now on.”

  His words sting because I thought—had hoped—that we were becoming friends. Or at least friendly.

  “That’s fine,” I say, forcing a laugh. “Though I assure you, I know where we stand.”

  “Do you?” he asks, finally sparing me a glance.

  “Do you?” I so eloquently counter.

  Our eyes lock for several heavy moments, and then he pulls his gaze away, looking forward. We ride in silence.

  I’m so frustrated, I don’t even take in our surroundings. Eventually, we reach our destination.

  Rhys draws his horse to a stop. “We’re here.”

  With a frustrated huff, I look around. The manor isn’t large, only two levels, but it’s welcoming, even in the dark. The moon shines on it, lighting the shingled roof. The lake is a short walk away, and we’re surrounded by trees, giving the area a semblance of privacy.

  Rhys dismounts, and I do the same. There’s a paddock around the back, and we lead the horses in to graze.

  “I’ll tend them once you’re settled,” Rhys says, walking toward the house.

  “The key should be under a rock in the front garden,” I tell him. “That’s where Father said to look.”

  It only takes a few moments to find it. Rhys lets me into the dark house, but I hesitate. Moonlight shines in through the windows, but it’s not quite enough to see by. There’s something about the dark, about Rhys’s own words, that has me spooked.

  “Something feels wrong,” I say, dropping my voice.

  Rhys steps ahead of me. “There should be a lantern or candles here somewhere.”

  I follow him, staying close. He locates the fireplace and kneels in front of it, arranging wood that’s been stacked in a grate near the hearth. Using his tinderbox, knife, and flint, he sparks a fire, just as he did in the orchard. After a few minutes, the flames grow and light the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

  “I’m going to look for candles,” Rhys says as he stands. “Do you want to come with me, or will you stay here?”

  “I’ll stay,” I say hesitantly, hoping he won’t notice how spooked I am. “It’s warmer by the fire.”

  Rhys nods and takes off into the next room, disappearing in the dark. He’s only been gone for half a minute when I hear a scratching sound.

  I freeze, watching the flames flicker, convinced I worked myself up so much, I’m hearing things.

  Abruptly, the noise stops. Maybe I imagined it after all.

  Though none of the windows are open, a cold breeze stirs my hair and cloak.

  The scratching starts again, but this time, it comes from directly behind me. I whip around, terrified of what I’ll find.

  There’s nothing there.

  Once more, the room falls silent.

  Beyond the window, tall trees dance as if a great storm is moving in.

  But…the weather was calm just minutes ago. Nothing more than a lacy haze of clouds stretched across the sky as we rode here.

  I feel the breeze again, this time stronger. Too late, I realize it’s coming from the fireplace.

  Rhys’s baby flames, with no red-hot coals to support them, are no match for the gust of wind that comes through the chimney. Before I can think to protect it, the fire snuffs out, casting the room in darkness.

  The smell of smoke envelops me, and a chill skitters down my spine. My heart pounds, and my palms begin to sweat as I stand frozen in the dark, sensing I’m not alone.

  The unnatural breeze stops…and the scratching begins again.

  33

  Amalia’s right. I can sense the darkness—the chill that sinks into your bones before it skates across your skin. I haven’t felt anything like it since I crossed the Chasm.

  We left that evil in Draegan—or so I thought.

  What’s it doing in Renove?

  I prowl the manor, hurrying to find the tiraith. Hopefully, there’s only one, and I can dispose of it quickly.

  The fire should keep Amalia safe. The wraith-like beings hate light—that’s likely why it found a way into the dark, empty manor. Usually, they haunt the forest, dancing just outside a torch’s glow, sending wind to snuff out the light so they can attack.

  I’m just stepping into another empty room when the princess screams.

  I turn on my heel, racing down the stairs, pulling my copper-laced dagger from its sheath. It only takes me a half a second to realize the sitting room is as dark as the rest of the house. I enter just in time to see Amalia swing a chair at the creature. The gelatinous figure, black like ink, splits and then materializes again. Its cackle is like the wheezing of a dying animal—desperate, terrifying.

  “Rhys!” Amalia yells, her voice breathless with fear.

  Just before I can reach the tiraith, it wraps itself around Amalia, and she falls to the ground.

  I stab it with the dagger, the blade slicing through its insubstantial form. It hisses and draws away from the princess, turning its attention on me.

  It lunges at me, avoiding the blade, but it’s not the first time I’ve dealt with its kind. I sidestep and then plunge the dagger into its middle from behind, holding it in place so the copper can do its job.

  The monster shrieks and screams, and then it spills lifeless to the ground. A few moments later, the inky goo bubbles and froths, melting away like magic—a magic I know all too well.

  “Amalia,” I say, rushing to the princess’s side. She’s still on the ground, but she’s sitting now, with her legs pulled to her chest, shivering like I just fished her from an icy river.

  “I’m…s…so…cold,” she says through chattering teeth.

  “I know.” Quickly, I yank off my cloak and drape it around her. It won’t be enough if I don’t hurry. “I have to start another fire.”

  My hands shake as I fight with my flint. When I was young, we almost lost Edwin to a tiraith. I don’t have long before hypothermia sets in.

  “W…what…did…it…do..to me?” Amalia asks.

  “It feeds off your heat. You’re fortunate it only had you for a moment.”

  When I’m confident the new flames will grow, I hurry back to Amalia. I pull her into my arms and place her directly in front of the fire. She protests weakly when I remove her cloak, but she quiets as soon as I sit behind her, tucking her as close as possible. I pull my cloak around us both, cocooning us together, and then drape her cloak over her like a blanket.

  I could do more—will if I must—but her clothes aren’t wet, and she seems to be shivering a little less already.

  “How are you?” I ask after several minutes.

  “Better.”

  Time passes, seeming both long and short. The fire is warm, the flickering light assuring.

  When Amalia’s trembling ceases, I become very aware of our position. It’s one thing to sit like this when the princess is near death, but now…

  Still, I don’t let her go. She’s soft and small, and I can feel every breath she takes. Each assures me she’s alive and well.

  “Are there more?” she asks, her voice quiet.

  “Not inside.” My arms are wrapped around the princess’s middle, and my cheek is pressed against her neck.

  Her skin is still cold, so surely I can justify holding her like this for a little longer.

  “Can you feel the difference in the air?” I ask.

  She nods. After a long moment, she asks, “What was it?”
/>
  “Tiraith.”

  As if she’s unfamiliar with the word, she shakes her head.

  “A type of wraith—pure magic, wicked. They come from the depths of the Chasm.”

  “You’ve seen them before.”

  “Mmm,” I confirm, moving my chin to her shoulder.

  The princess is quiet for several seconds before she asks, “How did you kill it? I hit it with a chair, and it passed right through.”

  I lean to the side and pull my dagger from its sheath. Over our blanket of cloaks, I show it to her.

  “A blade laced with…copper?” she asks, frowning. “I’ve never seen such a thing.”

  “Copper is the only material that will kill them. They’re mostly spirit, so the metal doesn’t have to be strong. It’s the copper itself that destroys them.”

  “So, they’re what you fight—tiraiths.”

  I nod, knowing she’ll feel the movement.

  Slowly, she turns in my arms. Our eyes meet, too intimate in the firelight. “Is that all?”

  We watch each other for several moments before I finally answer, “No.”

  She shivers once more and turns back to the fire. We both fall into thought, but the silence isn’t awkward or tense.

  What was the creature doing on this side of the Chasm? I’ve never heard of a tiraith in Renove. The magic that spilled forth from the depths of the earth split between our kingdoms. Renove was blessed, and we were cursed—but there was a balance.

  My mind wanders back to the night the princess and I met. Judging from Amalia’s reaction to the orchard spirits, even they are foreign to this kingdom.

  What does this all mean?

  And what’s the point of giving Amalia to Edwin if we can’t seize control of Renove and give our people a safe place to immigrate to? It seems the darkness is overpowering its counterpart.

  Are we all doomed? Will both kingdoms sink into ruin, cut off from the rest of the world, forgotten?

  Is that truly our future?

  34

  When I wake, bright sunlight shines through the window. The fire died out sometime during the night. I barely notice the morning chill because Rhys sleeps at my side, his arm wrapped around my waist, holding me against him. His breath is in my hair, and his other arm pillows my head. The floor is hard with nothing but a rug for a cushion, but I don’t dare move lest I wake him up.

  I’m not sure when I fell asleep. The last thing I remember was the warmth of the fire chasing away the chill. Eventually, I began to drowse in Rhys’s arms, exhausted from the tiraith’s attack. I shudder again just thinking of the creature.

  “You’re awake,” Rhys says, his voice a bit gravelly and still half-asleep.

  My stomach flutters like mad, and my breath catches. Not trusting my voice, I nod.

  “How do you feel?”

  I clear my throat. “Warm.”

  He shifts behind me, sitting up, and I reluctantly rise with him. I’m not brave enough to look at his face. From the corner of my eye, I can tell he’s not looking at me either.

  “I’d like to check on Gage this morning.” I run my hand through my hair and wince at the knots that I didn’t have a chance to brush out last night. It’s a right fine rat’s nest now. “And then I’ll stay with you and your men at the inn.”

  “The tiraith is gone,” Rhys says. “I’ll look over the house, see where it entered, and secure the area.”

  I shake my head, still avoiding him. “I don’t think I’d be able to sleep.”

  Well, I might if I were wrapped in Rhys’s arms again, but that’s not the best idea—nor one he’d likely approve of. It’s one thing for him to lend a bit of body heat when I was frozen half to death. It’s another for me to use him to chase away nightmares.

  “I’ll fetch our packs,” Rhys says. “I was going to go back for them last night, but…”

  I think we both know what happened.

  He steps outside, and I gingerly sit on a settee, reminding myself one of the creatures won’t materialize in the light of day.

  Rhys returns a few minutes later. I follow him up the stairs, to a room that would have been mine if I’d chosen to stay. It’s lovely, just as I’d hoped, with a large, soft bed and half a dozen pillows.

  It would have been much more comfortable than the floor, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to regret the way I spent the night.

  Rhys sets my packs on the end of the bed and then turns to leave. Before he’s out the door, I catch his arm and stare at the ground. “Please…check the wardrobe?”

  Yes, I know it’s ridiculous, and believe me, I feel as foolish as can be—but I still want him to make sure nothing sinister lurks within.

  Wordlessly, Rhys opens the doors. The smell of cedar wafts into the room, but that’s all the wardrobe holds. The space is perfectly empty.

  “Thank you,” I murmur.

  I expect Rhys to leave, but as if he can sense my reluctance to be by myself, he leans against the doorframe, watching me attempt to brush my tangled hair.

  I’m acutely aware of how alone we are in this house, and my mind wanders, painting a different scene. What if this were our home, and there were no tiraiths? What if I were not a princess, and he not a secret knight who defends the kingdom from dark creatures? If there were no Requeamare.

  Wincing as I hit another knot, barely able to work the brush in my left hand, I let myself daydream. I’m so lost in my thoughts; I don’t realize Rhys comes up behind me until his hand covers mine.

  “Here,” he says gruffly, tugging the brush from me.

  I stand, nearly stupefied, as he begins to run the brush through my tangled locks. Neither of us speaks. Rhys patiently works at every knot, each gentle tug pulling right at my heart.

  When he’s finished, he sets the brush atop the empty bureau.

  “Thank you,” I murmur, surreptitiously watching him in the mirror. “It’s hard with my hand.”

  Nodding, he gathers my hair, separating it into three strands, and works them into a simple braid.

  I press my lips together, afraid if I so much as breathe, he’ll leave.

  “Do you have a ribbon?” he asks, refusing to meet my eyes in our reflection.

  I nod.

  He hands me the end of the braided tail so it won’t come unraveled, and he then turns to leave. Before he can go, with questions burning in my chest, I call out, “Rhys…how…?”

  “My mother,” he says, his voice tight. “She’s often sick. My sister, brothers, and I help her as much as we can.”

  There’s more he’s not telling me. I can feel his pain—it’s tangible, nearly choking me. Tears prick my eyes, but I only thank him again, knowing he won’t tell me more even if I ask.

  Rhys nods and then steps out of the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving me to secure my hair and change.

  As Rhys tends to our horses, I wander, keeping my eyes on the woods. A natural hot spring bubbles just past the horse paddock, not far from the lake.

  The original owners of the property lined the spring with flat rocks, building up a small pool in the ground. Water spills over a lip in the stones, creating a creek that feeds into the lake. A low rock wall circles the pool, adding a bit of extra privacy.

  In the brisk morning, steam rises from the spring. Even though I’m fully warm, I remember the chill of the tiraith, and I shiver.

  Finished with his chore, Rhys steps up next to me.

  “Do you think it’s very hot?” I ask.

  Rhys walks the edge and dips his hand in the water. “It’s warm but not scalding.”

  I stare at it wistfully. “Maybe I could wash my hair later?”

  “Are we returning tonight?”

  The thought of staying in the manor again is daunting, but…

  “You said it would be all right,” I remind him.

  “I haven’t sensed any more of the creatures,” Rhys says. “And I’ve never heard of one this far south. It was a fluke, nothing more.”

&n
bsp; “I’d like to come back.” Turning from the spring, I say, “But for now, let’s visit Gage.”

  Kent meets us in the hall as soon as we arrive at the infirmary.

  “How is Gage?” I ask.

  “He’s doing all right this morning.” The doctor looks tired. “I gave him something to relieve the pain and help him sleep.”

  “Was it a bad night?” I ask. “Did you end up staying here?”

  The doctor nods. “We’re worried about a possible infection, but we’re keeping a close eye on him.”

  A ball of lead settles in my stomach. The thought of losing Gage is too much.

  “Don’t worry,” Kent assures me quickly, likely reading the worry on my face. “He’ll be fine. We’d just like to keep him here for a few days longer.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “I believe he’s asleep, but you can check.”

  “I’ll take Ember—I’m sure she’s ready to stretch her legs. I hope she wasn’t a nuisance.”

  “She hasn’t left his side since I took her out last night. Also, her paw looked better this morning, so I’ve taken off her bandage.”

  “Thank you again for caring for her.”

  He meets my eyes. “Of course. If there’s ever anything you need, you just have to say.”

  Kent’s tone, rather than his words, make it sound like a solemn vow.

  Rhys stiffens beside me, but I ignore his reaction.

  As quietly as possible, I enter the long room where Gage is staying. The curtains are drawn, making it dark so he can sleep. Ember picks up her head when she sees me coming, and her tail slaps the floor in a solitary thump.

  “Come on,” I whisper, waving her over.

  She stands, stretching, and then trots to me, her eyes bright and her ears perked. I clip a lead to her collar and walk her into the hall.

  “He is sleeping,” I tell Kent. “We’ll come back later. Will you tell Gage I came to see him if he wakes?”

  “Of course.”

  I sigh as Rhys and I step into the sunshine. It looks like we’ll have to wait a few days before we leave for the forest. I glance at the man at my side, unsure where he and I stand.