The Woman In the Tree

by Natasha D Lane

  His shoulders sagged at the use of “we.”

  “Someone from before has to be alive. He couldn’t have killed them all, could he?” She had her hands folded tightly in her lap, her pinched eyes looked at him. There was water building in them.

  He moved to sit beside her but she pushed away and turned to face him.

  “I just need you to try. Try to remember what happened before he was king.”

  The lie had built in his chest now. It pounded at his rib cage. “My only memory of a king is Cadfen.”

  She muffled a sigh with her hand and wiped at her eyes. “Nothing, then?”

  He shook his head.

  She took in a long breath. “Fine. Then, I am here to tell you what you think fact is false. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but my uncle Terryn was king before Cadfen. Cadfen was one of his loyal soldiers. For a reason which I will never understand, he betrayed my uncle.”

  She wiggled in her small corner. Her feet tapped the floor.

  “I’m not sure where it all went wrong,” she said, staring into the torch’s light. “There was a rumor Cadfen was a traitor. I didn’t think it was true, but Arthur and my uncle slipped Morganna and me out the night he was supposed to attack. I left with my chambermaid, believing everything was going to be fine. And then, it wasn’t.”

  Alistair remembered when the news of King Cadfen had reached his uncle. No one in the north, King Herald included if rumors were true, could believe a foot soldier had ascended the throne. Not without some foul play. But as his uncle pointed out, none of that really mattered. What mattered was the citizens of the middle kingdom did not protest.

  No one raised arms or argued. It was like Terryn had been wiped off the face of the earth, right out of the scrolls.

  “My chambermaid, Elizabeth,” Robin continued, “she had been working for Cadfen the entire time. She attacked me and tried to hold me prisoner. Apparently, Cadfen intended to make me his bride. As if I’d ever agree.” The last words left her mouth like a painful joke.

  “Anyway, I escaped from her and my pursuing guards. The forest, I-I had always thought they were mostly fairy tales to scare children. And…well, I was scared, so I ran straight in, hoping to lose them and make it to the northern territory.”

  Alistair let her take her time. But he had to admit, he was feeling a little anxious himself at her tale. If what she was saying was true, Terryn was definitely dead and any still loyal to him likely had been killed, their bodies probably burned. Robin was alone.

  Her eyes were fixed on the torch like she was in a trance. “I kept running. I moved my feet as quickly into the earth as I could but they were so close. Then, they shot me in the back three times. I was bleeding and they were closing in on me. I thought the tree would keep me safe until they left and I could make my way north. Instead, when I woke, well, I think you know the rest.”

  He nodded but did not make eye contact with her. Her story played out perfectly along with King Terryn’s sudden disappearance. Men don’t just up and vanish, well, a few have been said to have when they stepped into The Cursed Forest but he was sure Terryn did no such thing.

  “So, do you believe my story?”

  Robin had scooted a bit closer. She was almost leaning directly above the torch and a misshapen shadow crossed her face, leaving only one eye exposed. In that one eye, there was a disturbing desperation, a vengeful need.

  Alistair let a chill run through him and then stood. “I see no reason not to,” he said with a breathy exasperation.

  Suddenly, she had a hold on him. Her arms coiled around his neck and pulled with such strength he questioned where she got it from.

  “Thank you, Clark,” she whispered into his shoulder. “Thank you for believing me.”

  He placed a hand on her head and pressed his cheek into her hair. She smelled like fresh soil and water, the scents from his childhood. Except, what Robin had been through was far from innocent. She had suffered, been nearly killed and even though he didn’t want to divulge all his secrets just yet, one fact was unmoving--he had to help her.

  He patted her head one more time and then gently moved her back.

  “I guess I’ll have to start calling you my lady since you don’t like Gwynevere.”

  She shook her head. “Only my parents can call me Gwynevere. Everyone else called me Robin and I hope you will do the same. The use of lady would be a little odd considering our situation, as well.”

  “Fine. Robin it will be.”

  “Yes.” The biggest smile spread across her face. “And now we need to make plans on how to take my home back. There has to be some--”

  “Robin?”

  “Yes, Clark?”

  “I think sleeping is your best option currently.”

  “But we--”

  “Are you even sure Arthur would still be in the middle kingdom? Maybe he fled north.”

  She sighed. “No. He never submits. Arthur, if he’s hiding, it’ll be somewhere close by. Somewhere no one would think to look. This is why we should start--”

  “Robin?”

  “Yes, Clark?” The word came out as a slow breath.

  “Have you ever heard the story of the sleeping bear and the sly fox?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “No, but what does a fairy tale have to do with anything we’ve discussed?”

  He cleared his throat. “Nothing, really except my mother used to tell it to me to help me sleep. I think it may do the same for you.”

  She chuckled. “It’s sweet but I’m not exactly a child anymore.”

  “And I’m not exactly a mother yet I’m willing to give it a go.”

  More importantly, you can hardly run much less take back Camelot.

  She paused and turned back to the window.

  “Robin,” he said, “there is nothing that can be done now that can’t be done tomorrow. Here.” He gestured to a tattered mat that lay on the opposite side of the room. There was a blanket and a few badly kept pillows.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor and tell the story until you drift off.”

  Robin examined the ratty mat. “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as the sun rising tomorrow morning.”

  She looked at the mat again. Her shoulders seemed to slack some and her eyes glazed over a little. It had been a long day.

  “I guess you’re right,” she said with a sigh.

  She curled up on the makeshift bed and pulled the covers over her. Immediately, she began yawning and Alistair had to hold back a laugh.

  “What’s this story?” she asked. “The sly fox must be the hero in the end.” Another yawn.

  He positioned himself so he was sitting with his back to the wall and his side by Robin’s head.

  “I’m not one for spoiling tales. You’ll just have to listen.”

  “Mhm,” she grumbled.

  “Once upon a time, in a forest covered in white, there lived a bear.”

  Chapter Four

  R obin awoke in a sweat. She tossed the covers off and searched her body for arrows. She had been bleeding. She knew she had. It had pooled out of her like she was hung up in a butcher’s shop. Where were the wounds?

  She rubbed her abdomen, searching for a soft red spot leaking her life into a puddle all around her. There was nothing.

  She checked her back. The same result. But she knew she had been hit! She knew she was dying and that Cadfen’s men were after her. Why couldn’t she find the damn spot?

  “Alistair, do you ever have fun?” A woman’s voice.

  Robin looked up from her body and took note of the strange room she was in.

  There was more chatter from outside. She crawled to a window and peeked over the edge, before craning her neck out.

  “I think only the rich have time for fun, Maddy.” A man’s voice, followed by a chuckle.

  Robin couldn’t see the young woman properly. She had a hood pulled up. What she did see was long hair an odd shade of black draped across her shoulder.

 
Robin stared at the man. He seemed more familiar than the woman, but his back was facing her. She couldn’t be sure. He had black hair with a streak of silver towards the front, reminiscent of the moon.

  And he smells like warm hay bathed in the sun…how do I know that?

  Robin’s head swam as too many memories fought for dominance in her mind.

  I was in the forest and-no. I left. I escaped from the tree. But how?

  “Alistair?” the young woman asked.

  She’s calling him the wrong name. He’s Clark, not Alistair.

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you have a friend over?”

  The man turned and stared up into the window, right into Robin’s eyes. Immediately, she pushed back from the opening and curled on to the mat. Her head had turned into an ocean and she was drowning. She felt as if the ground was uneven beneath her, shifting somehow.

  Purple? Why are his eyes purple? Why do I know that?

  All she could see were those purple eyes. Then, they turned blue and the man’s hair turned yellow.

  And it’s shorter too. Just above his brows. And he’ll smell like a garden. This other man smells like a garden, he…his name, he’s Arthur. Arthur.

  She could see him standing right in front of her.

  Why does this feel familiar?

  “Robin, are you well?”

  The image faded. Instead of Arthur, Clark, or Alistair, as the young woman had called him, was standing in his place, his hair dark like hers and mid-neck length.

  “Robin?”

  She shook herself and took a deep breath. “Uh, yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry, Clark. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No harm done. I was doing some work for my landlord below.” His eyes scanned the room and landed on the covers tossed to the side. He turned back to Robin.

  “Did something frighten you?” he asked.

  Yes, forgetting where I was.

  But she didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she said, “In the tree, I didn’t dream. I’ve forgotten how…terrifying they can be.”

  He nodded. “Sounds more like a nightmare than a dream.”

  She laughed though it sounded hoarse because her throat was so dry. “I’d agree with you yet I don’t know what’s worst. The nightmare or waking and realizing it’s a reality.”

  “Maybe both are just bad enough,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head. “No. As I said, my appetite is another thing that damn tree has taken from me.”

  “Water?” He raised a brow.

  Her throat pulsed at the very mention. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “Be right back.” He grinned and stepped out the door, leaving it open behind him.

  Robin got up and closed it. She returned to the mat and heaved a heavy sigh.

  Why did I forget where I was? Why couldn’t I recognize Clark? No, not Clark. Alistair. The girl called him Alistair.

  She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, sorting through her thoughts, and then she remembered.

  As the door opened, Robin narrowed her eyes at the young man.

  “Your name is Alistair, not Clark.”

  Alistair paused mid-stride and watched her. Robin jutted out her chin, crossed her arms, and smiled up at him. She had known she was going to get his real name eventually.

  Alistair ruffled his hair and shrugged. “At this point, I guess it doesn’t matter. Fred and I are sure you’re not a witch.”

  “Well, I’m glad that issue has been cleared up at least.”

  He squatted next to her and placed a bucket at her side. “Your voice sounds worse than an ax on stone. Here.”

  He placed a small tin cup in her hands and tapped it with his fingers. Another grin pulled at his lips. “I even got you the royal mug.”

  She pulled the cup away and batted at him. “You’re such a jester, are you?”

  He sat across from her, ankles under his thighs. “Well, Fred can’t talk with me and I need to find a way to make myself laugh. I believe I do a fine job, actually.”

  “Oh, look at that. Funny and full o’ himself. Very charming, Alistair, very charming.”

  He bobbed his head, the big grin still bold on his face. Robin sighed at him before dumping the cup in the bucket and scooping out water. She raised the cup to her lips and at the first drop she knew she was extremely dehydrated. Water had never tasted so good and suddenly she couldn’t have enough. With every mouthful she took down, it felt like her throat became drier, begging for more.

  She continued to pour water in her mouth, not caring but actually enjoying the dribbles that rolled down her dress and cooled her. And then, the bucket was empty. Robin licked her lips, her throat feeling somewhat satisfied. She stretched, pulling her neck back and finally sat against the wall, her knees laid to the side.

  “Should I fetch another bucket or bring you the whole well?” Alistair stared at her with a curved brow and a gaping mouth.

  Robin blushed but pinched herself to stop all the red from rushing to her cheeks. “I guess I need more water than food now,” she said, glancing at the empty bucket before returning her eyes to the young man. “Can I ask you something, Alistair?”

  “Of course.”

  She waited a moment, letting the words take their best form before she spoke. “Your eyes. I’ve never seen purple eyes.”

  “You noticed, then?”

  “The color is quite definitive in the sunlight.”

  He laughed. “It’s not exactly common.”

  “Exactly, so why are your eyes that color?”

  “To be honest,” he said with some exasperation, “I’m not too sure. My parents told me I was born earlier than expected. They attribute it to that.”

  Robin tapped a finger on her thigh. She had seen premature children before but never with purple eyes.

  Alistair stretched his back and placed both hands on his knees. “Now, are you remembering yet?”

  She stopped tapping. “Remembering what?”

  Though he didn’t sigh, the muscles in his face tensed for a moment. He ran a hand through his hair and blustered out a breath.

  “I suppose it’ll take more time,” he said.

  “What will take more time? What are you going on about?”

  Alistair’s gaze fell to the floor before his shoulders slacked and he stared back at Robin.

  “I mean that we’ve had this conversation. You wake from a nightmare. I come to check on you, you ask about my eyes. . . Do you not remember any of it?”

  A tight feeling wrapped around Robin’s chest.

  “I-I…no.”

  “Do you at least know where we are? How we met?”

  “Yes! Of course. You pulled me from that tree. We’re in Satbury at your home.”

  He nodded. “Good. And how long have we been here?”

  “We only arrived last night.”

  His face muscles tightened again. He shook his head.

  “No, Robin. It’s been a week.”

  A chill rushed over Robin. She had to close her eyes. She reached for her bracelet and began fingering the dragon charm. She tried to look at Alistair once more yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  I’m losing my mind. And I’m not even trapped in that damn tree anymore.

  Alistair cleared his throat. She watched him from her peripherals.

  “It’ll come back with time, Robin. Here, I brought you these.” He slid a bundle of clothes across the floor. “They’re clean and fresh. They’re a bit big for you but I thought you may want to get out of that dress.”

  The clothes he’d given her consisted of a stained white tunic and washed out brown pants along with a pair of leather boots Robin knew she couldn’t fit. They were, with all respect, peasant clothes, similar to what Alistair was wearing himself.

  She smoothed her hands over the rough material, noting every time a stray thread got caught in her nail. Then, she felt her own dress, before pulling the clothes close to her c
hest.

  “Thank you, Alistair,” she said. “Out of all the gifts I’ve ever received, I am most thankful for this. Your patience, as well. I know this must be hard.”

  He shrugged. “Life’s pretty hard. I’m used to it. Plus, what was I supposed to do? Leave you in the forest alone?”

  “You could have,” she said, finally turning her head and meeting his gaze. “I’m a stranger to you. You owe me nothing.”

  “You’re definitely not a stranger, Robin.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Alistair stood and moved across the room to sit beside her. He pointed at her eyes.

  “Your favorite color is blue like your eyes. It was your mothers too. Your favorite food is chocolate berries from the south, just like my aunt. Once, you got sick eating too many as a child.”

  “How do you know all of that?” she countered, gawking at him.

  “Like I said, it’s been a week in Satbury and you like to talk. Especially in your sleep.”

  She blinked, turned away from him and looked down into her lap, chuckling a bit. “It seems you do really know me.”

  He propped his head up on a fist and gave her a wide grin. “We’ve had more than enough time. Now, are you ready?”

  “For?”

  “Think, Robin. Try to bring back the memories. What have we been doing every time you wake up?”

  She closed her eyes. Everything before that morning was an empty space.

  “Anything?”

  She sighed and set her sights on him once more. “No. The only thing I’m feeling is the pain in my legs. Lord, why--”

  Her hand paused above her calf. She stared up at Alistair.

  “We walked yesterday. For me to practice. I fell when we were walking.”

  His lips curved up and he nodded vigorously. “Yes! I told you you’d remember.”

  Robin clutched her hand over her chest. She clenched her teeth together because she was sure if she smiled too much she’d never be able to stop.

  She turned back to the clothes in her arms. “I’ll put them on right now. Then, we can go on our walk?”

  “Of course. Come down when you’re done.” Alistair left the small room and closed the door behind him.