by Kara Jaynes
The blur turned into a rocky beach, white waves hissing as they threw themselves on the shore. We were only ten feet out when Silvan transformed back into his human form, both of us falling into the waves.
I was terrified the waves would pull him away, and surging to my feet, I reached out and gripped a fistful of his shirt, pulling him to me. Half carrying, half dragging him, I hauled Silvan out of the water, both of us collapsing on the shore. The boy moaned, his eyes shut. He was already asleep.
The air was cool but not cold. I laid my head on Silvan’s chest, his shirt salty and wet and plastered to his chest. I could feel the ragged rise and fall of his breath. Poor Silvan. I sat up for a moment, pushing wet silver tendrils of hair off his face. “Thank you,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his forehead.
I looked around, trying to see more of the land, but night had fallen, and it was too dark to see. I could hear a murmur of something as a soft wind blew, the sound like the whisper of many soothing voices. I couldn’t identify it, but I liked it. It made me feel safe.
I laid my head on Silvan’s chest again, listening to the beat of his heart, and the pulsing pound of the waves. I didn’t know what would happen to us, but the thought didn’t frighten me. We’d escaped certain death, and we faced an uncertain future, but we were together. Together. I shivered and snuggled my body closer to Silvan. This moment was pure perfection.
I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I was suddenly opening my eyes to a brilliant blaze of blue. Dawn had broken, and I found myself staring up at a cloudless sky. I remembered everything that had happened, but for a moment I pretended nothing mattered. I simply existed, grinning up at the azure sky like a giddy fool.
A stifled sob brought me back and I sat up, blinking.
Silvan lay huddled on his side, back toward me, his body drawn in a fetal position. His clothes were dry, salt and sand caked his shirt and trousers. I heard another sniffle, and guilt trickled down my spine. I had gained everything, but Silvan . . .
Silvan had lost so much.
I patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, feeling stupid. “I’m sorry.”
Silvan sat up, still turned away from me. “I didn’t know you were awake.” He scrubbed at his face.
“Were you very close?” I asked quietly. “To the Elite?”
“Very close,” Silvan said in a choked whisper. “They were my brothers.” He rubbed at his eyes again. “But it doesn’t matter what I felt, anymore. I made my choice. I must live with it, now.”
I bit my lip, guilt crushing me like a giant’s fist. “I’ll try to be worth it.”
Silvan started, turning around to face me, his tear-streaked face painted with incredulity. “You are worth it, Glacia.” He exhaled heavily. “You’ll always be worth it.”
We both fell silent after that, watching the tide. The air smelled heavily of salt, and . . . I lifted my head, sniffing the air. “It smells green.”
Silvan chuckled a little. He had dried tear tracks and salt on his face. “Well, we are next to a forest.”
“What?” I turned around to face the land, and stared.
Trees, great, green and massive, spread out before me. A breeze sprang up, rustling through the pines, and I heard the same, hushed, comforting whisper from the night before. “A forest,” I breathed. It was beautiful, and so unlike the mountains I grew up in.
“Do you like it?” Silvan asked anxiously, his beautiful face breaking into a relieved smile when I nodded. “Good. It’s your new home.”
“Here?” I stood, taking a tentative step toward the woods, hope budding in my heart.
Silvan laughed. “The whole thing. It’s a very big home.”
Wordless, we reached for each other’s hand, and together we walked away from the rocky shore to stand under the protective eaves of the forest. I listened to the trill and song of birds, and to squirrels as they scampered up and down tree trunks, chattering to one another. Deer watched us from the shadows, and I caught the flash of red fur as a fox retreated deeper into the woods. I took it all in, hungry to experience everything. “I’ve never been in a forest before.”
“I know,” Silvan said, squeezing my hand briefly.
“Have you?”
Silvan nodded. He seemed more relaxed here, and he studied the woods with obvious interest. “Yes, I have,” he said. “But the forests are smaller at home—back where we came from,” he amended. He glowered at nothing. “This is my home, now.”
I beamed up at him. “It’s lovely, Silvan. I can’t think of a better place to be.” It was true. In the halls of the Chosen, I had cherished my time with Silvan, but I never was able to spend as much time with him as I’d like. Here, it was different. Here, I basically lived with him. I bit my lower lip and turned my face away, hiding the flush in my cheeks. It didn’t matter that I was a forgotten princess, and that he was an Outsider, or an Elite. Here, we were just Glacia and Silvan. A girl and a boy, trying to make sense of their new world, to make a new life for themselves. It didn’t matter if we were rich or poor. To me, being with Silvan was all that mattered to me, ever. I looked up at the pines that grew closely together, at the blue sky trickling through. I had only been here for less than a day, and I already loved it.
Our forest. This was our home.
19
Silvan
I loved her. More than anyone. More than life. I had wondered, in the past, but I knew it now, sure as dawn. It explained the skip in my heartbeat when I thought of her, the warming of my blood when I saw her, the awareness that pulsed through me when I touched her. I would do anything for her. I would die for her.
Glacia started in surprise when a chipmunk scurried across our path, and I laughed. “Terrifying.”
Face red, she nudged me in the shoulder. Lightning skittered across my skin at the contact, the beast in me roaring for release. I swallowed, forcing my heart to calm itself. Why did I feel this way? Master had warned me about this, about women, and the intoxicating madness they stirred in a man. Why hadn’t I listened?
If I had, Glacia would be dead.
Instead, Master was, and all my Elite brothers with him. I blinked, trying to keep new tears from spilling. Stop being a weakling. Master wouldn’t want me to show such emotion. But then again, Master wanted me to stay, to protect the brotherhood. I'm confused. I hate myself.
“Silvan? What’s wrong?” Glacia looked up into my face, her brow furrowed with concern. “Are you okay?”
I coughed self-consciously, looking away. “Yes.”
“Guult!” A harsh voice sounded in the forest, startling both of us.
I grabbed Glacia’s wrist, pulling her to stand behind me. I didn’t have a weapon, but I didn’t need one. I was a weapon.
A strange creature stomped from the bushes to stand in the center of the path directly before us, its red eyes trained on me. Its lips were pulled back to expose yellowed fangs, a low growl rumbled from its throat. It was shorter than Glacia, but looked strong, its broad shoulders covered with hair. It took a threatening stance and gibbered in a language I didn't understand. I wrinkled my nose at the stench that rose from it.
“Let’s go a different way,” Glacia said from behind me. I could hear the fear in her voice. She reached out, gripping my sleeve with pale fingers.
I wasn’t going to budge. I glared at the creature, determined to stare him down. “Move aside,” I growled.
The beast seemed unaffected. It spat in the dirt and took a step forward, spittle dripping from its sharp teeth.
“I’m warning you,” I yelled, planting my feet firmly in the earth. I lifted my arms in a defensive gesture.
The monster ran at me with a snarl, and I twisted, grabbing Glacia by the wrists. With a heave, I threw her into the foliage. If any blood was shed, it wouldn’t be hers. I ignored her squawk of indignation and met the beast head-on.
It barreled into me, a solid mass of hair and muscle. I grunted in pain when it gripped me by my throat and shoulder. It was going to
break my neck.
I transformed, releasing my dragon-rage. Roaring, smoke billowed from my nostrils as I stomped my front legs into the path, the ground shaking under the impact.
The creature leaped away from me with a shriek. “Daemyn!” it hollered. “Daemyn!”
Demon. I screamed, fire billowing from my mouth. To be compared to the foul, filthy creatures that took my home and murdered my family was beyond unjust.
“Silvan!” Glacia darted out of the brush and jumped at me, wrapping her arms around my front leg. “Don’t hurt the forest.”
I snorted in surprise and looked down at her. Glacia wasn’t afraid of my dragon form. Not even a little bit. She would be the first.
Swinging my head back to confront the monster, I found it gone, broken ferns and foliage leading away from me. Inhaling deeply, I tried to calm the blistering rage that smoldered within me. I exhaled, and changed back, losing my balance and toppling onto the dirt path. The downside of transforming was that it always seemed to leave me anywhere from a little tired to completely exhausted.
“Thank you.” Glacia brushed dirt off my shirt and trousers when I stood. “I thought for sure you were going to send the forest up in a blaze.”
“It’s too wet for that,” I said, yawning. “It’s a fairly damp forest. I suspect it rains a lot.” I looked around, but the creature was well and truly gone. “The wretched beast ran off.”
“Hopefully for good,” Glacia said. “I don’t want to see it again.”
I eyed her. She had dirt stains on her dress and leaves in her hair. Still pretty. “Sorry for throwing you,” I mumbled, feeling awkward.
Glacia patted me on the cheek. “It’s all right.”
We continued down the path, my weariness leaving me as we walked along. It didn’t look well-traveled, with ferns and brambles growing onto it. Eyes narrowed, I scanned the area around us as we walked. It seemed doubtful that the monster would come back, but I wanted to be on my guard just in case.
I considered telling Glacia to keep an eye out, too, but when I looked at her, I found she was gazing about wide-eyed, taking in the forest. Strange. I had always taken my freedom for granted. I’d had the luxury of exploring as much as I liked as a child, and had seen lots of different terrain and environments. Glacia had not. She was a lamb among wolves, and it worried me that she had so little experience. I watched her childlike wonder, loathe to do anything that might make her feel less safe, so I didn’t say anything.
I would watch, wait, and destroy anything or anyone that tried to harm her.
“What are these?” Glacia knelt, studying some bright red flowers.
“They’re poppies,” I said. “Interesting, how some of the plants here are the same . . . back there.”
Glacia nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. That is strange, but nice, too.” She picked a poppy, stuck it in her hair, and scampered back onto the path. She began to hum to herself. The tune was a lullaby, and I wondered who had sung it to Glacia for her to know it.
I spent the remainder of the morning helping Glacia gather berries and fetch water from a stream, all the while watching, and keeping guard over her.
20
Glacia
The forest was green, growing and vibrant. Full of life. Bursting with activity. On the surface, the forest seemed still. But on closer inspection, it was an extremely busy place. Animals were everywhere, in the trees, on the forest floor, under the earth, and lurking in the dark green shadows, eyes flickering in the half-light. I loved it. I loved this strange new world, so different from my own. I studied it, hardly daring to blink. I didn’t want to miss anything.
When I glanced over at Silvan, I saw he was watching the woods, too, but he didn’t mirror the same wonder I felt. His eyes were alert, his body tense, like he sensed a danger that I didn’t.
“Is everything all right?” I asked, and his eyes flickered to me for a lingering heartbeat before scanning the trees again.
“Yes, everything is fine,” he said. He didn't sound concerned. I decided not to worry about it.
We continued walking through this mysterious maze of trees and foliage, my senses desperately trying to soak in everything.
A sound grew in my ears, quiet at first, then louder as I drew closer, a dull, constant roar. I tilted my head, nose wrinkling in puzzlement. “What’s that?” I asked.
Silvan finally relaxed, his beautiful eyes crinkling in a smile. “Water.”
The tangle of trees grew thinner, and opened to expose a massive waterfall, cascading down a tower of jagged rock. I watched it, amazed that something usually so calm and silent could make so much noise. It poured into a river that churned and bubbled, effectively halting our progress.
“It’s so loud,” I said, yelling so Silvan could hear me over the thundering crash. “Yet it’s smaller than the ocean.”
Silvan nodded. “The ocean can roar, too,” he shouted, his gaze sweeping the river. “And so can I.”
I giggled. “I noticed.”
Silvan grinned back, his blue gaze sparkling with amusement. He extended a hand to me. “We’ll fly across the river.”
I took his arm, exhilaration rushing through me when he lifted me effortlessly, cradling me close.
I closed my eyes, feeling his body shift and change. He hurtled across the river, landing with a thump on the other side.
Feeling him shift back, I opened my eyes, slipping from his hold to land in thick, soft grass. I turned around to watch the river churn and roil past, its surface foamy white.
“What would happen if someone fell in?”
“That person would need to be a good swimmer, and strong,” Silvan replied, his voice a warning.
I nodded, feeling suddenly cold. Another danger I had been unaware of. “I don't know how to swim.”
Silvan touched my shoulder lightly before continuing on the path. “There'll be plenty of time for that, later.”
I hurried after him, and we went deeper into the forest.
As the sun curved down behind the trees, the woods grew darker, and what had once seemed like a green, innocent world to me began to look sinister and frightening. The sweet chirping of birds and chatter of squirrels died away and were replaced by the hoot and screech of an animal I didn’t recognize. The first time I heard it I jumped, squeezing Silvan’s hand.
“It’s just an owl, Glacia,” Silvan said sympathetically. “It won’t hurt you. It’s probably looking for something to eat, like a mouse or a weasel.”
I knew what mice were. They had sometimes scampered down the long cold halls of the Chosen, but I didn’t know what a weasel was.
“Weasels are similar to stoats or ferrets,” he said, and chuckled at my puzzled silence. “It’s a small, furry, long bodied animal. They tend to eat rodents, eggs, frogs, rabbits, anything that’s meat. They can swim and climb trees. They’re feisty creatures.”
“How do you know so much?” I asked, glad the sun was down so he couldn’t see my reddened face. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. I didn’t know half the things he knew, despite the fact that I had studied all the time.
Silvan’s voice softened, as if he could read my thoughts. “I lived a privileged life, Glacia. I was raised in the wild, which gave me the opportunity to study it hands-on. I know a lot about animals, plants, how to survive. How to fight. How to kill.”
“Do you know how to kill people?” A stupid question. He could shapeshift into a dragon.
“Yes,” he said, a touch of pride in his voice. “But I only kill if I have to.”
I didn’t reply, feeling wholly inadequate. He knew so much, and on top of that, Silvan could work magic.
Silvan took my sudden silence as fear. “I won’t kill you,” he said, his voice gentle. “And I’m well-suited to protect you. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
I wasn’t worried for myself. Silvan would keep me safe. But who would keep him safe?
I smiled, the thought almost ludicro
us.
“Let’s rest here,” Silvan said a few minutes later. It was quite dark at this point, and I blinked, peering in the direction he pointed. “By that tree.”
“Which one?” I asked. In the gloom, the trees were a dark, tangled blur.
“Oh, that’s right. I see better than most,” Silvan said matter-of-factly. “It’s part of my ability.”
“I see.” I followed him, still hand-in-hand. Mine fit perfectly in his, his pale fingers curled around mine.
A few minutes later we were nestled against the trunk of an enormous tree, listening to the symphony of night. Owls, cats, wind, leaves; once I was able to make out each individual sound and identify it with Silvan’s help, it didn’t pose a threat to me. Silvan had gathered a few fallen branches and twigs, and lit a fire, too quickly for me to see how. Flint, perhaps? Or magic.
I closed my eyes and laid my head on Silvan’s shoulder. I was tired, and sleep began to creep over me. The thick, hazy heat of summer was still prevalent, even at night.
A sudden cracking had me sitting bolt upright. Fear sent my heart into a sprint. “What was that?” I asked, my voice breathless.
Silvan’s body was tense, his jaw clenched as he gazed out into the darkness, the fire casting an orange glow on his face. “I don’t know, but it was big. Probably a deer, but I’m going to stay awake for a while, just in case. It could be a mountain cat.”
“What’s that?”
“Go to sleep, Glacia. Ask me in the morning.”
“Okay.” I yawned, unable to stifle it, and snuggled my face into his shoulder. Another loud snap sounded in the woods and my eyes flew open. “I’m scared,” I whimpered.
Silvan eased me away into a sitting position and patted me on the head. “Don’t worry.” He stood. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll go check and see what it is.”
He stood and strode from the tree, barely taking more than two steps when a blood-curdling howl rent the air.