Forest of Firelight

by Shari L. Tapscott

  “Moss mostly grows on the north side of the trees,” he says, his breaths labored. “Head directly west and you’ll meet the road that leads to Rock Creek.”

  “We’ll do that tomorrow,” I tell him. “Where’s your tinderbox?”

  I need to start a fire. The only thing that kept the tiraith away was my fire. We’re vulnerable in the dark, here alone in the middle of the forest.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “Is it in your pack?”

  “So…sorry.”

  “Rhys, please.” I need him to focus. “Your tinderbox, where is it?”

  “Everything is my fault. I should have listened to Edwin and stayed in Draegan.”

  I pause, frowning, terrified I’m already losing him. He told Kent that Gage would become delirious. Is that what this is? And who’s Edwin?

  “I need to find it,” I tell him. “I’ll be right back.”

  “No—go. Get away.”

  “I’ve already been exposed,” I say as I rummage through his things, searching for the tinderbox. I finally find it in a pocket on the inside of his cloak. “No point in leaving now.”

  I walk back to Rhys and attempt to gather kindling in the near dark. He rambles a bit, but I can’t understand half of it. I try not to let it scare me, telling myself he needs me to be the brave one for once.

  My hands shake as I attempt to use my dagger against the flint, praying I don’t slice my good hand open. I finally get a few sparks when I sense it.

  The unnatural chill, the familiar fear that makes my skin prickle.

  We are not alone.

  Ember whines by my side, pressing close to me, scared of what she senses.

  Working faster, I desperately try to coax the bits of twigs and dried leaves to light. A breeze picks up my hair like an invisible hand. It caresses my skin with its icy touch, and I spook so badly, I almost drop the flint.

  And then…the tinder lights. The kindling catches. My tiny fire grows in front of me, weak and fragile.

  The wind picks up, circling around us, and I hear something in the trees nearby. It’s like a creature slithering through last year’s leaves, a strange shuffling sound.

  Then more join it, but this time, the noise comes from behind me. There are more than one of the creatures.

  I can now feel them pressing in on all sides. They’re playing with me, enjoying their sick game. The breeze toys with the fire like a child blowing out a candle, but each time, it flickers back.

  I try to pull Rhys closer to the flames.

  “My dagger,” he says raggedly, shoving it into my hand. “Take it, save yourself. Fight your way to your horse. They’ll be satisfied with me—I’m easy prey in this state.”

  “I won’t leave you.”

  “Don’t sacrifice yourself for me,” he says, grasping my arm. “I swear, I am not worth it.”

  I choke back a sob, knowing I couldn’t run even if I wanted to. I’ll stay here, protecting him for as long as I’m able. We both might die, but I won’t abandon him.

  Rhys catches my hand, clasping it in his. “Please, Amalia,” he begs. “Let me save you one last time. Go—go now.”

  “That’s not how this works,” I say, forcing a weak laugh. “It’s my turn to save you.”

  The words don’t sound quite so brave when my voice trembles, but there’s nothing I can do about it. And now it doesn’t matter.

  As if the creatures are tired of their game, they send a gust of wind that whips at my cloak and steals the fire.

  The forest falls into perfect darkness.

  I prepare myself, holding Rhys’s dagger out. There’s so much to say but no time.

  “I’m sorry we never got to spend our minutes,” I blurt out. “I’m sorry I don’t know how to fight.”

  “Amalia…” Rhys says, almost sounding as if he’s remembered something. He struggles to pull himself up.

  I turn to him, wishing I could see him in the night. “More than anything, I’m so truly sorry I didn’t choose you when I had the chance.”

  Tears run down my face. I can hear the creatures shifting closer. From the sound of it, there are dozens of them—far more than this little dagger and I have a hope to fight.

  Rhys knows it too.

  “Amalia,” he says again, more pressing this time.

  Before I can answer, he takes my head in his hands, gently forcing me to turn toward him. Just when the tiraiths are close enough I feel I’ll never be warm again, Rhys kisses me.

  And then…

  There’s light.

  I break away, staring into the branches above us. The buds on the tree swell, glowing like hot embers. They bloom, unfurling thick petals that flicker and gleam.

  Suddenly, the tree next to it comes to life, and the next after that. Moments later, the light spreads through the forest like a wildfire.

  40

  “It’s my turn to save you,” Amalia says.

  She should have saved herself, and now it’s too late.

  Every inch of me aches, and it’s almost impossible to move. I was already so cold; it took me longer than it should have to notice the tiraiths’ arrival.

  It was their unnatural wind that made me realize they were near, and even then, I wasn’t sure if I was hallucinating.

  But no, they are real, and they are far too close. There’s no way for Amalia to fight them. There are too many.

  “I’m sorry we never got to spend our minutes,” Amalia says as if she knows this is the end. “I’m sorry I don’t know how to fight.”

  My mind fixates on her first words—our minutes. There’s something important about that, something that means…something. There’s a pattern, one my fever-touched brain has discovered that I hadn’t connected in my rational state.

  Magic.

  Every time we’ve kissed, there’s magic. The kind that lights the sky with ribbons of color; the kind that sends glittering, diamond white flowers blooming across a lakeshore.

  “Amalia.” I push myself up, though every muscle in my body protests.

  She continues, “And more than anything, I’m sorry I didn’t choose you when I had the chance.”

  “Amalia.” I make her look at me even as I feel the creatures moving in.

  We’re either going to die in each other’s arms, or we’re going to witness a miracle. I clasp the princess’s face, making her look at me.

  The princess lets out a soft gasp when I kiss her, but her lips meet mine without hesitance.

  Suddenly, light blooms around us, chasing away the night. The trees glow, their just-opened flowers illuminating the dark…transforming our surroundings into a forest of firelight.

  The tiraiths scream and writhe as the flowers’ light touches them, melting away into nothing before our eyes.

  Vanished like smoke.

  “It’s beautiful,” Amalia breathes, staring into the trees. The light dances in her eyes, her expression full of wonder. “What happened?”

  I fall back, exhausted.

  Just before my world goes black, I smile. “I think your magic likes us.”

  41

  I’m staring at the trees, overwhelmed by the forest’s incredible display, when Rhys falls silent.

  I look over and find him lying still, his eyes closed. Immediately, I reach down to check Rhys’s pulse, frantic that after all that he might—

  “He’s not dead if that’s what you’re worried about,” a female voice says, making me jump.

  I whirl around and find a young woman standing behind us. Her hair is snowy white, and her eyes are bright blue. She’s beautiful—terrifyingly so.

  “You looked like you were checking,” she continues, “so I thought I would let you know.”

  “You’re one of the fae,” I breathe, almost unable to believe my eyes.

  “Very good,” she says with a bright smile, and I’m positive she’s mocking me a little. “But it’s not necessarily polite to point it out so bluntly.”

  “But…you’
re gone. You all left.”

  “Apparently not all of us. One—that would be me—drew the short stick and got to stay behind so that she could eventually talk to you.”

  I have no idea what to say to that, so I look up at the trees. “Did you…I mean, you did this? To save us?”

  “No.” She looks up, thoughtful. “I hadn’t planned the display for another week or two. I’m afraid this is all on you.”

  “Humans can’t wield magic.”

  “I didn’t say you could.”

  I stare at her…and she stares right back.

  “I suppose you’d like me to cure this,” she says after a long moment, waving her hand over Rhys, who remains unconscious.

  Suddenly, I wonder if I didn’t catch the sickness. Have I imagined all this? Am I hallucinating?

  “Nasty sickness,” the woman says, kneeling by the knight. “But we warned you, didn’t we? Did you listen? No, you did not.”

  I have no idea what to say, so I sit in silence as she runs her hand over Rhys, doing…I have no idea what.

  “Your distant grandfather was a stubborn man, princess. I told him that separating the kingdoms would cause chaos.”

  “You…were there?”

  She looks my age, maybe even a little younger.

  “Mmm,” she agrees, taking out a knife and slicing the leather laces of Rhys’s tunic. “I helped create the Chasm myself.”

  I wince as she pulls Rhys’s shirt aside to expose the infected wound. “So, who truly started the war? Renove or Draegan?”

  “You both did.”

  “What?”

  “Just a moment.” She looks at me, appearing a touch impatient. “I want him awake for this.”

  She places her hand over Rhys’s shoulder. Golden light spills through her fingers, and Rhys groans. His eyes fly open, startled, and he looks like he’s going to attack.

  “Stay.” The woman says, holding out her other hand, somehow immobilizing him. “I’m almost finished.”

  It must hurt something awful because Rhys growls and presses his head into the forest floor. His hands fist, and he shakes as he fights her magic.

  “There,” she says. “All done.”

  The gold glow fades, and she moves her hand, revealing a perfectly normal scar.

  “I could have patched it up without marring his skin,” she tells me thoughtfully. “But I prefer a man who looks like he’s been through a few tussles. Don’t you?”

  “I…”

  Rhys gasps and sits up, nearly pushing the woman aside. His eyes fly to her face, and I know the moment he realizes what she is because his mouth goes slack. “You’re…you are…”

  “Go ahead,” she says, giving him a smile that’s laced with mischief. “Say it.”

  “You’re a fairy.”

  She looks at me, raising a brow. “You humans—always so astute.”

  “You’re the witch,” I say suddenly. When her eyebrows fly up with indignance, I amend, “I mean, you’re not a witch. But you’re the woman in the woods who can heal people. We were looking for you. My cousin is—”

  “That’s not why you were looking for me.”

  I pause. “I’m sorry?”

  “You’re looking for me because it’s time for you to find me.”

  I glance at Rhys. He shakes his head as if he has no idea how to answer her either.

  Impatient, the woman sits on the ground in front of us, primly straightening her silver gown. “Ask me the question again.”

  “Oh…all right.” I frown, wondering if all fairies are eccentric, or just this one. “My cousin—”

  “Not that question. The other question.”

  I think about it for a moment. “I asked you who started the war.”

  She nods approvingly. “That’s right, and I told you both Draegan and Renove were to blame.”

  Rhys starts to argue, but she holds up her hand.

  “One hundred thirty-seven years ago, the heir of Draegan married a princess of Renove. On their wedding night, the princess was found with a dagger through her heart. Renove believed she was murdered, and they put the blame on Draegan’s royal court. Draegan believed she had taken her own life, and they were livid that Renove would dare insult them so.

  “Thus, the fighting began. It was a bloody war that lasted seven straight years, both kingdoms too evenly matched for there to be a victor. Several times the kingdoms prepared to call a truce, but each time the meetings failed because their pride was too great. Eventually, it was decided the only way to keep the peace was to create a physical boundary between the two. That’s where I came in.”

  “You were there?” Rhys asks, skeptical.

  She waves her hand, irritated to be interrupted. “We’ve already covered this.”

  Rhys bows his head as if to apologize.

  “Where was I?” she asks.

  “You were creating the Chasm,” Rhys deadpans, and I press my lips together to keep from laughing.

  “The kings approached our people, begging us to create a physical, magical, boundary. They wanted the continent divided. We explained to them that while we could create something to separate the kingdoms, it would disturb the natural balance of magic that sleeps under the earth—which it did. Tired of the squabbling, we did as they asked, washing our hands of them.”

  “So…what actually happened to the princess?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “No one knows, but that’s not important. What is important is that the kingdoms are dying. There is a big, gaping wound between them, and if you don’t mend it, Renove and Draegan will cease to exist. You’ve seen the unnatural death for many years in Draegan, and now it’s seeping into Renove.”

  “How do we mend it?” Rhys asks.

  The fae watches Rhys solemnly. “The bloodlines must merge. The heir of Draegan and Amalia must fall in love, and he must make her his queen. Likewise, the heir of Renove and the Draegan princess must fall in love, and he must take her as his queen. Therefore, a king and queen of both bloodlines shall sit upon the thrones, and the feud will officially end. It’s very poetic, isn’t it? Desperately romantic—I came up with it and worked it into the magic myself.”

  Rhys looks as ill as I feel. “There must be another way.”

  “No.”

  “Any other way?”

  She shakes her head. “No.”

  “I’m not the heir of Renove?” I interrupt, refusing to even consider marrying a vile prince of Draegan.

  The fairy shakes her head. “No, you’re not. The kingdom belongs to your brother.”

  “Keir is the true heir?”

  She laughs. “Braeton.”

  Terror runs down my spine.

  “But…but he’s—”

  “Been abducted by the royal family of Draegan. I am aware.”

  Abducted? Abducted?

  Not dead.

  My stomach rolls, and I feel as though I’m going to be ill. My hands begin to shake, and my world tilts on its axis.

  “Well,” the woman says, rising and then clapping her hands. “I think we’re done here. Best of luck to you both.”

  42

  I stare at the ground, my head reeling. The kingdoms will die if Amalia and Edwin don’t fall in love? How can that be?

  I’ve long known that life is cruel, but this is too much.

  Too much.

  “Oh, that’s right,” the fae says before she leaves, and I can feel her looking at me. “I need to speak with you for a moment.”

  I look up, hating this woman more than any other I’ve met in my life. Yet I have no choice but to follow her.

  “I can tell you’re concerned, young prince,” she says conspiratorially, “as you well should be. Kidnapping—vile business. But I have full confidence that Amalia will forgive you eventually. Take heart—she’s already half in love with you. If she were not, the magic wouldn’t rejoice every time you’re close.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  The woman gives me a pointed look, the kind that
makes me think she believes me to be quite daft.

  “I’m not the heir of Draegan,” I snarl quietly. “I’m second-born.”

  Laughing softly, she beckons me closer. “Your eldest brother is indeed your brother by blood, but he is not your father’s son. You, Rhys of Draegan, are your kingdom’s true heir.”

  I shake my head, unable to believe it—terrified to let myself even contemplate it. “You’re saying Amalia is…meant for me?”

  “That’s right.” She gives me a sunny smile. “But do not misunderstand, the magic won’t help you. It’s all in your hands. You must convince Amalia to forgive you for abducting her brother and lying to her about…well, it’s basically everything, isn’t it?”

  I press my hand to my forehead. “What do I do?”

  “I have no idea—that’s up to you. My part is finished.” She turns to leave, but before she goes, she looks back and tosses me a blue bottle stopped with a cork. “Oh, this is for Gage’s fiancée.”

  “What is it?”

  “A cure for the sickness. A few drops is all that is needed—use the rest as you please.”

  “Gage’s fiancée isn’t sick.”

  “She will be,” she says cryptically, and then she saunters deeper into the firelit forest, disappearing in an ostentatious display of golden smoke.

  I walk back to Amalia, feeling like someone just hit me across the head with the blunt edge of a sword—and desperately hoping the princess didn’t overhear any of our conversation.

  “Braeton is alive,” she whispers, and then she looks up. “Rhys, he’s alive.”

  I force a smile. “So, I heard.”

  “You’re familiar with Draegan—you know how to get across the Chasm.” Her eyes light with determination. “We must rescue him.”

  Looking into the glowing trees, a coward unable to face her, I ask, “What about the other bit? The part where you must marry—”

  “I will never marry a prince of Draegan—not after what they did,” Amalia snarls, the thought alone making her so livid she trembles as she speaks.

  The princess then pulls herself to her feet and steps forward, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her cheek to my chest. “We’ll find another way to save the kingdom.”