“You look like a man,” he says before turning away and walking at a gingerly pace though the open valley before us.
For a moment, all is completely still, and even my raging heart has seemed to calm its pace. Despite all of Aras’ shortcomings, he at least knows how to bring me back to myself.
“Thank you,” I call out.
And I mean it. I really do.
Fifteen
The walk to the woods is a brisk, silent one. The kind that hurts with every step, but feels right nonetheless. Once when Aras abruptly stopped, mumbling something about a water break and rest for my untrained legs, I took the opportunity to unwrap Sara’s package. There, underneath several cloths and tucked away with love, sat my dagger. Along with the letter, it’s one of my last remaining connections to Papa. He always wanted me to have it, this dagger, and he made it special, too. Although I noticed Aras’ slight interest in my direction, I never looked up. I never said a word. Sometimes, the best-kept secrets are those that you flaunt, but never let go.
Now, as afternoon light shies away at our back and the dark trees of the forest linger ahead, I begin to wonder what truly awaits me on this journey. Will I find my papa? My mother? Will she speak to me as if nothing has happened, as if she didn’t lie and give me away? And what of Knox? Will he try to harm me, as she apparently thought he would, even though he fights so hard to get me back? The truth is that I’m not sure if I want to know the answers. Sometimes, it’s better to go into a situation blindly, with no expected outcome, or else you’ll end up carrying a heavy load of regret. I already have enough of that to last a lifetime.
It takes me a second to realize that I’ve stopped, staring like the dead into the beckoning dark, when Aras clears his throat.
“If you’re done pondering the mysteries of the world, we’ll enter now. However, we must keep one thing clear. You have to keep quiet. I know it will be difficult, but your tongue will have to stay leashed for once.”
My head whips in his direction, immediately angered and baffled by his choice of words. Quiet? He wants me to be quiet, just as I’ve been all day, yet he thinks that now it’s suddenly beyond my measure?
The dagger burns against my calf where I stashed it in my boot.
Aras casually raises both of his hands, as if he’s calming a wild animal preparing for attack. His brows inch up in false surrender. “I mean no personal offense, Bravest. I’m simply trying to state the importance of the situation.”
I meet his lie with an angry laugh. “Spare me, Aras. You have a job to do, and so do I. Perhaps it’s your tongue that is in need of a good slashing.”
Aras grins widely before shouldering past me, aiming straight for the woods. “Now, now. One cannot get along in life simply by good looks alone. If I’m going to get us through this, I need my charm, and if I need my charm, then I most certainly need my tongue.”
Clearly trying to prove him wrong, I bite back my retort, tilting my head up in defiance and following his delightful path. When I told Darcy that I might not survive this, I was only kidding. Now I’m beginning to second-guess my judgment.
As we near the lining of the trees, the pathway jumps out with welcoming arms, despite the tingle that begins to form along my limbs. Although I’m sure of my decision, the darkness seems to taunt me, waiting for me to get close enough just so it can swallow me whole. Something darts to my left, and I imagine it’s the little blond savage. His thin lips pulling into a wicked smile. My steps falter, and I struggle to right my bearings. Like an annoying cat, Aras senses my unease and stops, looking over his shoulder with a surprising amount of encouragement. For him, at least.
“We’ll stop to rest at a safe spot of mine. It’s where we’ll spend the night. I’ve got some important materials stashed there, so I’d like to make good time.” He pauses, eyes roaming over me as if once again looking for the long crack I feel building in my soul. “If you’re willing, that is.”
Vowing not to give him the least bit of satisfaction, I nod curtly before turning my focus up ahead. If Aras wants quiet, quiet is what he’ll get. Sensing my defiance, Aras nods back, turning to the thin path and letting himself become one with the dark wood.
ↄ
True to our desires, the walk is a quiet one, though I can’t help but wonder at the soft murmurs that seem to tinge my ears. The forest itself is dark, hardly a bit of light shining through the treetops, but that’s nothing I didn’t expect. The sun has all but set, and these woods haven’t been known for their brightness on even the cheeriest of days. Despite my will to keep calm on the outside, I can’t stop the restless stirring that continues to build within my heart. The sounds, though Aras seems oblivious, are starting to unnerve me. Piece by piece. Whisper by whisper. Although I know it can only be the sound of the wind between the towering treetops, I can’t help but fight the shiver that runs through my bones.
It’s a still and windless night.
Every so often, Aras peeks back over his shoulder, his sharp eyes giving away nothing of his thoughts. Sometimes, I stare back with a sharp look of my own, but other times, when the whispers get so loud that my shoulders rise in an attempt to block them out, I simply look to the dirt floor, refusing to let his masked questions in.
The dead man is haunting me—I know it.
Chills rise over my covered arms, and I rub my hands hastily across my tensed muscles. My mind tells me I’m a fool, but my blood pumps to a beat of its own. The Cursed One wandering in the Cursed Wood. It’s the like calling to the like. I’m afraid that if I turn my head, I’ll see him standing there. The long arrow protruding from his neck.
I shake my head, closing my eyes tightly for good measure. I’m okay. I simply have to be.
It feels as if we walk for hours, though the sensation of losing one’s mind has a way of fiddling with the present. As quickly as the unnerving murmurs began, we round a bend in the shallow stream we’ve been following, and just like that, they leave. Evaporating into the sky and soaked up into the stars above. My shoulders drop, and I feel the ache in them the moment I’m allowed to breathe again without fear of the noises coming back. If this is what my two weeks in the woods is going to be like, I fear that I won’t make it. In fact, I know I won’t.
For once, Aras’ shoulders seem to relax, too, making him look dangerously close to chirpy as he bounds ahead toward one of the more towering trunks. His sudden movements stun my senses, and I’m left standing numbly in the path, wondering if this is the point in the journey where he leaves me behind to be consumed by the wild inhabitants of the woods.
“Don’t look so frightened,” Aras calls, now seemingly unconcerned with the vow of silence he pushed on my conscience.
I stumble forward, lost in a trance as he bounds up the side of a nearby tree. Retrieving a hidden rope, he flings it down, leaving it swinging inches from my shocked face. Aras jumps down from the tree with the grace of a predator, and I take a small step back, my mind confused by the actual words that hit my ears. The whispers have wounded me, stripping me bare and leaving me with nothing but the arrant hope that they were never really there to begin with.
I let out a shaky breath.
“Skies above! You are frightened.” Aras’ brows knit up in one tight unit, sloppy strands of black hair hiding them in their escape. His hand flies to my shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
It takes all I have to simply stare at him in return, marveling at the true concern that seems etched across his features. For a delirious second, I consider telling him about the sounds. The dead man who haunted my every step in this very wood. But then, that would be like admitting I’m crazy. A true loon who belongs locked up in a faraway kingdom. His eyes search my own with genuine interest, but I’ve already decided that I have everything to lose.
“I’m fine, Aras. Just surprised you opened your charming mouth, is all.”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He knows something’s changed within me since we’ve entered the forest, but thankfully
, he also has enough sense to know I have no intention of letting him in on that secret. At this understanding, I find myself flashing a slight smile of my own. Whether to appease him a little more or because I’m sincerely thankful that he didn’t push for answers, I don’t know.
My eyes dart away, suddenly uncomfortable with his warm hand resting on my shoulder. I’m not exactly sure how I feel, but the near darkness has a way of highlighting even the smallest of gestures.
Tilting my head up and staring into the leafy top of the large trunk in front of me, I spy a wooden ledge. The beam only visible by the long rope that’s clearly strung around it. All of Aras’ talk about a safe haven begins to make sense. He must have built this place, and from the looks of it, he’s kept it hidden well. My eyes focus back on the rope, and my weary arms begin to throb with anticipation. Of course he would have me climb this at the end of such a horrid day.
“Are you going up first or am I?” I ask, pulling on the rope to test its strength.
Aras drops his hand, clearly amused by my ability to brush him off, and stares up into the treetops before us. “You go first. I’ll hold the bottom and keep watch.”
I eye him. “Keep watch for what, exactly?”
He shrugs, though entertained by my sudden interest. “Not sure yet. That’s why I’ll be watching.”
I scowl, refusing to make eye contact with him again, and pull up to attack the rope with all my might. “Well, if that’s the case,” I grunt, “then I’ll be sure to pull the rope up when I reach the top. Don’t want any unwanted guests getting in the way of my good night’s sleep.”
Aras holds strong to the rope, making it steady as I climb. “Am I on this list of unwanted guests?”
He pauses, staring unabashedly as my boots shimmy up in small spurts and my arms burn with the pull. “On second thought, don’t answer that. I never have been able to sleep well on a bruised ego.”
Wild laughter begs to burst from my lungs, but I hold it in, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Instead, my rhythm falters, and my carefully placed hands burn with the mistake. I still for an agonizing second, willing the sting to fade away and silently curse my foolishness.
That one will leave a mark.
Below, Aras doesn’t say a word, choosing to whistle a light tune as I wrangle my way up the rest of the rope. Though the climb is easily two stories high, it feels nothing like the short jaunt up to my balcony. My limbs are numb and my mind is way past present, making each pull more challenging than the last. When I finally reach the top, it takes all the strength I have to calmly pull myself onto the wooden beams instead of flinging my body across them like a broken doll. Looking down, I’m surprised to find Aras already making his way up the rope. Its long tail swishes freely below him as he fights for purchase with his boots.
I scramble away from the edge, not daring to let him catch my stare. One look around the small, covered space before me sheds a little more light on my dashing companion. His bow, along with a small collection of various weapons, lies neatly tucked into an open, wooden crate. The sight of it brings on a wave of unease, and I lean back on my hand, willing myself to stay upright. I know it’s nothing of the bow’s doing, but I can’t help but feel that evil dwells there. Its spirits locked up in the curved wood, waiting to stream out in a cloud of thick, black smoke. That bow killed a man because of me. Or maybe that was just Aras.
Heavy feet pound the floor behind me, and I startle, turning to face him as he splays out like a giant fish across the beams. Though the light is low, his humidity-curled hair stands out like dark waves against the wood, soaked with sweat and matted across his forehead. It’s the only sign I’ve seen all day that makes me think he’s human. Slowly, he tilts his head in my direction, an unusual sense of peace raked across his features.
“Well, Bravest, is it up to your standards?” he prods.
I blink, unsure of what he asks. For a moment, I think he’s talking about himself, as he all but lounges across my lap, and all I can do is sit and stare as if he’s my only connection to the living world. But then I blink again, and the flutters of my heart slow to an even pace. He’s talking about his treehouse.
“Surprisingly enough, it is,” I reply, hoping to lead him away from my unsettling thoughts. “How ever did you build it?”
I ask the question because it’s obvious he had help, and the thought scares me. Who would come to Aras’ aid in the middle of The Lost’s territory? Certainly not Papa or anyone from Ashen. The wood below me, while rough, was purchased for sure. And the thatched roof that sits upon the three connected walls certainly wasn’t a one-man job. Aras must sense my unease because he sits up, choosing to casually lean back on his hands.
“You’d be surprised who is willing to help a guy like me,” he says.
“Enlighten me,” I say, standing up in an uncomfortable stoop to get a better view of the treetops around us. The house, while plenty long enough for Aras to stretch across, doesn’t save much room in the way of height. It was a smart decision though. Its small nature helps it to blend in better with the trees, and it’s why I never saw it until the rope dangled before my face.
Aras puffs out a streak of air, annoyance humming in his bones. “Look, there were a few people in the area who owed me some favors, that’s all. It’s nothing for you to worry about. You should just be happy that we even have a place to stay at all. During my first few runs to meet your father, I can’t say I was so lucky.”
His words surprise me, though I was a fool for not thinking of it sooner. Of course he would need to find shelter during his trips. It’s a two-week journey one way. And for most of that, he had to have been alone. And young. And though I know he’d never admit it, in his younger years, maybe even a bit afraid.
“It’s nice,” I say, and even though he scoffs in response, I can’t help but ask the one question that’s been nagging at my mind. “And these people who helped you. They belong to The Lost?”
He hesitates, but then says, “They do.”
“But we’re still safe here, considering they know where to find you if need be? What if,” I start, dropping to the floor so that my legs dangle precariously over the open front of the small room, “what if they know about what happened that day?”
He doesn’t have to ask which day I mean. He knows it by heart as well as I do. “They’re friends, Bravest. They have no reason to hurt me. There are some of The Lost who might surprise you, you know. And as for what happened that day, I’m fine. It’s all clear. They don’t suspect a thing.” He pauses, shaking his head. “Well, they don’t suspect me.”
He surprises me then, sliding up beside me so that his long legs dangle alongside my own. My fingers dig into the wood as my grip tightens on the ledge. For some annoying reason, his close proximity rattles my nerves. I have the irrational thought that he’ll shove me forward, and we’ll both topple down to the forest floor in a messy and complicated heap. I bite my lip, willing my mind back to its senses. Aras said he would never hurt me, and although he likes to tease to the point of complete frustration, I know he will keep me safe. I’ve just never been alone like this with anyone before, and for the life of me, I’m not sure what to think.
“Bravest Penelope,” he whispers, his soft tone worming its way into my heart, sending tingling pulses through my ears.
In answer, I turn to face him, my green eyes shining like a deer in the night.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Of course,” I breathe, the words sounding fragile even to my own ears.
The corners of his mouth turn down, and in the dying light, I can barely make out the knowing glint of understanding in his eyes. He doesn’t push though. He doesn’t press. Instead, he shoves himself back away from the ledge and stands to what can only amount to a crouch.
“Well, come on then. Supper won’t cook itself, and I’m starving. Besides, can’t have you wasting away and flapping off in the wind before I can even get your puny hide to Orien.”
For the first time all day, my smile reaches my eyes.
Sixteen
As it turns out, Aras’ idea of supper isn’t all that bad, considering we’re suspended in the treetops. We had our fill of jerky, nuts, and bread that Darcy packed for us in Ashen, all the while depending on his assurance that we’d find more food tomorrow. Aras seems to think he has connections in these woods. With his frequent trips over the years, I guess I shouldn’t find it so surprising. Although I’d never admit it, he does have some sense of charm about him, when he wants to, that is. I could see how it might be hard for others to resist his ways.
I, of course, am very immune.
Talk is light and almost nonexistent during our meal, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. I never feel the need to fill in the blank spaces between us. Oddly, I find myself relishing in them, content to have found a bit of peace within our conflicted hearts.
When the light has all but vanished, and I can barely see the food I’m so eagerly shoveling into my mouth, Aras unexpectedly hops up and shoots toward the open wall. When he pulls a small rope left hooked on a side wall, a heavy tarp falls down across the opening, hiding us from the forest below. True blackness envelopes me. Its slick, heavy fingers slide up my neck. My breaths become quicker than the last, and I struggle to say anything that will pull me out of its clutches.
“Is this the part of the journey where you lock me up in your dark castle?”
He lets out a low whistle, and though I can’t see it, I can feel the dismissive roll of his shoulders. My breathing slows.
“Wherever did you gain your vivid imagination, Bravest?”
He smiles at me, the tiny room illuminating with a soft glow as the strike of Aras’ match lights a small lantern atop an overturned crate. Not seeming to care if he ever gets an answer, he moves about the space, pulling two pallets from a covered bin. A large blanket dangles from his fingers as he plops the pallets in a rumpled heap.
Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1) Page 12