The Blood Forest (The Tree of Ages Series Book 3)

by Sara C. Roethle

  Anna’s shoulders slumped in relief. She peered down at Finn and Kai. Kai’s breathing had gone back to normal, and his expression was peaceful, as was Finn’s. They appeared to be softly sleeping lovers, not an immortal being giving away part of her life force to a dying man.

  Branwen stepped forward out of the dissipating mist, and Anna nearly screamed. She had completely forgotten the woman was even there.

  She moved around Kai and Finn, then took a seat on the stone floor next to where Anna knelt. Sensing they might be there for a while yet, Anna leaned back and swooped her legs around into a more comfortable position.

  “Will you be able to come with us when we leave this place?” she asked, still wondering at Branwen’s presence.

  Branwen shook her head, tossing her matted hair about. “No. The three of you have simply stepped between the realities, but you belong in the one you left. I am trapped between the living and the dead. I’m here, but I’m not really here. I think-” she cut herself off, as if deciding just what to say. “I think if someone were to save my body, I would go back. Or if I were to finally die in full, I would move on to somewhere else.”

  “I apologize,” Anna replied with a sigh. “I can’t help but feel I’m the reason you’re in this state. I’m the reason you first entered the Blood Forest, and ended up here.”

  Branwen smiled softly. “Do not apologize. I can sometimes catch glimpses of the world where my body is. The entire land is the Blood Forest now. I do not entirely envy your return to it. And,” she hesitated, “and I feel it is somehow my fate to be here. I’ve seen you when you visit in your dreams sometimes, and I felt compelled to be in this very place when you arrived. Perhaps I have a purpose to serve.”

  Never one to believe in the guidance of the old gods, Anna frowned. She could not think it fate that her life seemed to be interwoven with Finn’s, and even Kai’s and Branwen’s. It was merely bad luck, or good luck, however you chose to look at it.

  Anna stared down at Kai and Finn. It seemed they all might live, but for how long? And at what cost? Finn’s blood was now running through Kai’s veins, at least in part. That alone couldn’t be good.

  “I still apologize,” Anna said finally, looking to Branwen. “I’d much rather be around to fight, even if the odds are not in my favor. I’d rather live, than wait around to die.”

  “Well I hope you do,” Branwen replied. She glanced down at Kai and Finn. “I hope you all do, and I hope that if you see my brother, you will tell him to do the same. He always was a bit lost without me.”

  Anna nodded, letting Branwen’s words slowly sink in. She’d always been a loner, depending on no one, while no one depended on her, but perhaps Anders was not the only one who was lost without the person most important to him. Perhaps she had depended on Kai from the start, even if she had never been willing to admit it.

  At some point she drifted off to sleep, and when she woke, she was back in her chair at the inn. The curtained window was still dark, and the candles and fire in the room all burned as if they’d never gone out. Finn sat across from her, asleep in her chair, and Kai rested peacefully in the bed.

  For a moment Anna thought perhaps it had all been a dream, so she stood and did the only thing she could think to do. She checked both Kai and Finn’s hands. Each held a shiny new scar, the only remaining remnant of the strangest night of Anna’s life.

  BEDELIA TOSSED and turned in her bed, reliving the events of the previous night at the abandoned castle. Oddly, it had affected her more than the battle with the assassins, mainly because she thought it might soon put an end to her friendship with Finn. She’d aroused Iseult’s suspicions. It was the beginning of the end.

  She wasn’t dense enough to believe that Iseult and Finn had been discussing anything but her when she’d found them outside, whispering in the dark. The whispers had abruptly ceased at her appearance, and Iseult had given her a look that said, I know what you’re up to, and soon everyone else will too.

  She turned on her side and pressed a lumpy pillow over her head. Perhaps she was worrying for nothing. Sure, he was suspicious, but there was no way for him to know she worked for Keiren, and he likely didn’t even know Keiren still lived, if he even knew of her existence at all.

  Bedelia didn’t know why she cared. She did work for Keiren, and she’d have to do her bidding one way or another. Her friendship with Finn would most definitely end at that point. Previously, she would have been fine with the idea of being cast back into Keiren’s waiting arms, but she truly believed those arms no longer waited for her. Keiren had stopped loving her for some reason, or perhaps she never really did to begin with. Perhaps she had been Keiren’s puppet all along.

  “Of course I loved you,” a voice cut through her mind.

  “K-keiren?” Bedelia stammered. Had she been listening to her thoughts all this time?

  “Do not speak out loud,” Keiren’s voice snapped. “You know I am not truly there. Something still prevents me from seeing your friend.”

  Bedelia took a shaky breath and sealed her eyes tightly shut. You can read my mind? she thought.

  “Of course I can,” Keiren’s voice echoed back. “You swore a blood oath to me. You are mine.”

  “Then you-” she cut herself off, realizing she was speaking out loud again, but it seemed she had said enough.

  “Of course I knew,” Keiren replied. “I know how you have questioned me. How you have wondered if you could save your friend from me. I didn’t stop loving you. You stopped loving me.”

  I did not, Bedelia thought. I have always obeyed you. Even when I felt morally opposed to my tasks.

  “You simply didn’t want to be alone,” Keiren accused. “And now you think the girl can replace me. Just like my father thought she could replace me. It doesn’t matter now. You have betrayed me.”

  Bedelia’s heart plummeted, but for the first time, the sinking feeling was answered not with despair, but with anger. She had devoted so much of her life to Keiren, only to be spurned for wanting a friend.

  “Ah,” Keiren’s voice mused. “So you still have teeth after all?”

  I do, Bedelia thought. So what will you do now? Turn me into a tree like you did your own father? Then do it. I do not care anymore.

  Keiren chuckled in her mind. “Foolish girl. You will come back to me yet. When you once again wander the earth alone, you will come back to me. I’m the only person who could ever love a woman like you.”

  “I will never come back,” Bedelia whispered out loud, though her voice cracked as she said it. “I would sooner die.”

  “So be it,” was the only reply she received before Keiren’s voice left her mind.

  Bedelia knew what she needed to do. Come morning, she would tell Finn everything. If she was truly her friend, she would understand, and as long as she remained near Finn, Keiren could not touch her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  K ai sat up in bed and rubbed his tired eyes. Weak daylight streamed in around the edges of the curtained window, providing enough light to see by. He flexed his right hand, the skin feeling oddly tight. He lifted his palm up in front of his face and traced a large, fresh scar with his free hand. Where on earth had that come from? He gently patted his abdomen, searching for his bandages to check on the state of his wound, but the bandages were gone. He jerked his shirt up and was met with more fresh scar tissue. How had the wound already healed? Had he been lying in that bed an entire month?

  Suddenly frantic, he hopped to his feet. He’d expected to be sore, or stiff, or . . . something. Somehow he felt wonderful, as if he’d gotten a good night’s rest after a hearty meal. Nearly bouncing with energy, he searched for his boots, finding them near the foot of the bed. After quickly tugging them on and straightening his clothing, he opened the door and hurried out into the hall in search of his companions. Perhaps they’d be able to explain just what had happened to him . . . though even if they couldn’t, he wasn’t about to complain.

  His boots echoed do
wn the narrow wooden hall, then he took the stairs two by two, leading down into the common room. His traveling companions all waited below around a large round table, eating their morning meal. Few other patrons graced the establishment, and the innkeep hunched behind the bar, looking glum.

  Kai paused at the foot of the stairs as Finn lifted her gaze to him across the table. Her eyes widened in surprise, then she quickly looked down at the table, her face blushing furiously.

  Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he approached the group, gaining everyone’s attention. No one spoke.

  Agitated, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Can someone please assure me that I wasn’t in that bed for an entire month?”

  Anna craned her neck to smile up at him, though it didn’t quite reach her tired, dark eyes. “Just a night,” she assured, gesturing to an empty chair beside her. As he sat, she asked, “How do you feel?”

  He looked down at the boiled eggs and pottage already waiting on the table for him. “I feel good, if painfully hungry.” He reached for one of the peeled eggs and plopped it into his mouth.

  His chewing slowed as he realized everyone was still staring at him, especially Iseult, who was practically boring a hole through him with his gray-green eyes.

  Kai swallowed, then met the angry gaze with one of his own. “Have I done something to offend you?”

  Iseult stared for a moment more, shook his head, then returned his attention to his meal. Everyone else followed his example, but continued to glance at Kai warily.

  He lifted the spoon from his pottage in an attempt to ignore them, then put it back down with a huff. “Could someone please explain to me what in the Horned One’s name is going on? Judging by your speculative glances, you all have some notion of why I woke up fully healed from a near fatal injury.”

  Finn’s blush burned even brighter at his words. Why was she blushing? Had they done something horrible to him in his sleep? Was there some massive price to pay for the seemingly magic healing? And what about the scar on his hand?

  Finn placed her hands flat on the table, then pushed herself to standing. “Perhaps we should speak in private,” she advised sheepishly.

  He sighed, grabbed another egg, then stood. Finn slunk around the table, then led the way back across the common room, her back rigid. Casting a final questioning glance at Anna, he followed. His eyes remained on the stained shoulders of Finn’s shirt, and her recently combed, waist-length hair as she led the way up the interior stairs. Soon they were back in the room where he had awoken, and the silence once again ensued.

  Gently shutting the door behind him, he placed his hands on Finn’s shoulders, then gently directed her to sit on the bed.

  She obeyed, then studiously stared at her lap.

  “Spit it out,” he ordered, staring down at her.

  She raised her eyes, her brow furrowed in sudden confusion. “Spit what out?”

  “Whatever everyone is avoiding telling me,” he explained, “which I’m assuming has something to do with me waking up with my wound healed, and a fresh scar on my palm.”

  “There is much to explain,” Finn began, her gaze returning to her lap, “but to put it quite simply, I mixed my immortal blood with your mortal blood, thus giving you a fraction of my life force.” She met his eyes briefly, then quickly added, “I had little choice, you were about to die.”

  Stunned, he sat down on the bed beside her, holding his palm open to stare at the new scar. Finn held out her own hand, revealing a matching mark.

  He stared at their hands side by side. “I’m afraid I cannot quite comprehend what you’re telling me.”

  “Does it matter?” she asked, her expression pleading. “You are alive and well now.”

  He closed his hand and rested it in his lap, then turned to fully meet her worried gaze. “I’m not sure what I should say, or what I should ask, but I suppose I should start with thanking you.”

  Her shoulders slumped in relief. He had a feeling there was much she wasn’t telling him, but he’d get it out of her once she was ready. For the time being, he could only think of two important questions.

  “Will this change anything for me?” he asked, “Having a bit of your . . . immortal blood?” It was odd to even think of Finn as an immortal being. Rationally he knew she was hundreds of years old, but just being with her, he simply couldn’t fathom it.

  “I do not know,” she breathed, gazing distantly at the cold fireplace. “I apologize.”

  He nodded, not as worried about that answer as he was about the next one.

  He took a deep breath. “Will this change anything for you?”

  Her shoulders gave a slight jump, as if he’d surprised her. She turned wide eyes to him, her jaw slightly agape. He had the urge to lift his hand to gently close it, but resisted.

  She blinked several times, considering her answer. “I feel the same as I always have, but I’m not sure, really. I believe,” she hesitated, “I believe there will be consequences, but only time will tell what those consequences might be.”

  He nodded again, then decided not to resist his next urge. He took her scarred hand in his and gently traced the mark she’d incurred for him. She had resumed looking at her lap, and he finally had to use his free hand to turn her face to him. She still seemed to think he was going to react badly.

  He smiled to reassure her. “My thanks, dear lady.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t thank me. You may still curse me yet.”

  He laughed. “I have cursed you several times already. It doesn’t seem to have worked.”

  Finally she smiled. “And I you. Perhaps I’m to blame for your poor luck.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” he joked. “It’s not every day a man gets to fight assassins and live.”

  She laughed as he stood, then pulled her up off the bed with their joined hands. “We should probably pack up and move on before said assassins come and stab me all over again. I don’t want to push my luck with requiring your blood a second time.”

  She grinned mischievously. “A wise choice, as I’d be loath to give it to you again.”

  He playfully glared at her, and she tugged her hand free to shove his shoulder.

  Together they left the room and went back downstairs to join the others. He was still horribly confused, but there was one thing he now knew for sure. Finn cared whether he lived or died, and that was worth all of the consequences in the world.

  WHILE KAI and Finn discussed things privately, Iseult left the common room to tend the horses. He’d watched over them most of the night, only briefly relieved by Sativola, who seemed to not have suffered any of the negative reactions to his wounds as Kai.

  It had been nearly morning by the time Sativola relieved him, and he’d gone upstairs to find Finn asleep in a chair in Kai’s room. He’d carried her to her own room, at which time she’d woken and detailed all she had experienced.

  He trusted none of it. Finn believed the woman she’d encountered was her mother, but without her memories, there was no way to know for sure. The woman had previously admitted she traveled with the Cavari, and the Cavari were after Finn.

  He stroked his horse’s soft muzzle as it shifted its hooves, clearly ready to get back on the road. So was he. He’d never remained in one place for long. As long as he kept moving, he felt like the ghosts of the past would never find him. A chill crept up his spine.

  Now they had more reasons to keep moving than ghosts. Though Finn had easily bested the assassins, he suspected they might still follow and try again. Slàine did not seem the type to give up, and neither did Maarav.

  He frowned, realizing he half-wished Maarav would follow. Here he had been ready to be rid of his brother, and now he found he almost missed him. Almost.

  It made sense, he supposed. The idea of family had always appealed to him, but it was something he’d hardly known. He didn’t know what to do with the emotions it elicited.

  He was saved from his own thoughts by Bedelia, the companion he
questioned even more than Maarav. Her muddy brown hair, styled unusually short for a woman, framed the grim line of her mouth and her determined eyes.

  He turned to face her, noting that her bow was nowhere in sight, and her hands were relaxed at her sides, not poised near the pommel of her blade.

  “I have something I must tell you,” she said upon reaching him, brushing her pin-straight hair behind her ear. She wore her lightweight armor, and had her belongings slung across her shoulder, as if preparing to leave . . . though that did not make sense without her bow. Perhaps she wanted to project an air of harmlessness. He knew better.

  Leaning back against the wooden poles of the stable, he gestured for her to continue.

  She sighed. “This would be easier if you wouldn’t eye me so coolly.”

  He crossed his arms. “It is the only way I know how to . . . eye.”

  Her shoulders slumped as she looked down at her feet, then seemed to force herself to meet his gaze. She eyed him defiantly. “I wanted to say this to Finn, but I fear I am not brave enough. I know you and she are close, so I hoped you could be the judge. Tell me whether I should tell her, or tell me to leave.”

  He nodded for her to go on, hiding his surprise. He knew she was hiding something, but had never suspected she’d so easily divulge her secrets.

  She opened her mouth to speak, then turned her gaze as the inn door opened. Anna and Sativola hurried toward them.

  “An Fiach is near,” Anna huffed. “We must depart immediately.”

  “How do you know?” Bedelia gasped.

  Anna glared at her, then turned her gaze to Iseult. “I just know,” she hissed. Her eyes urged him to comprehend what was unsaid. She must have experienced one of her visions. “We must leave,” she pressed. “Please trust me.”

  Iseult found that against his better judgement, he did trust her. He knew she could see things others could not, and her goals were currently aligned with his. If Anna said they needed to depart, then it was wise to listen.