The Wildest Woods

by S. K Munt

  But then he thought of all his queen had already endured, and smiled, knowing that the queen did not need his protection. In fact, she didn’t need a knight at all.

  *

  It was four in the morning when the queen stumbled out of her shower and into her own bed in her chamber, head spinning, heart still skittering- body still aching from the attentions that it had just endured. She didn’t feel as wrong as she knew she ought to, but she didn’t feel right either, and she didn’t know if she would ever feel ‘right’ again. Satan’s essence was still billowing through her like wind through lace curtains, filtering her unpleasant emotions and letting the ones like triumph and euphoria and excitement rise to the surface of her soul, but even Satan suffered from hurt, pride, regret and anxiety and Larkin could feel the fingers of those combing through her thrall, letting her know that if they could touch her now, they were powerful enough to shred her later. Letting her know that she’d never escape the fact that she’d sold herself tonight, even if she hadn’t taken a cent off the man that had purchased her.

  I won’t think about that today… she was Scarlett O’Hara, and she had to be: now more than ever. I’ll think about it tomorrow...

  Luckily, the fuzziness of her mind, the lassitude in her body and the lucidity of her conscience were all conductive to sleep and so she fell more deeply into the thrall than she had yet, erasing Kohén Barachiel’s glowing eyes from her mind, and imagining fields of cotton flowers that stretched to the horizon instead. But when her fingers brushed against them, she felt Kohén’s hair in her fists, and when the sun baked her golden skin, it was the warmth of Kohén’s body that was heating her… heating her so much that she whimpered softly and reached down to touch where she was raw and sore, but still pulsing.

  Her door creaked open just as she realised that what she was doing was going to wake her up more than it would relax her, and before she could begin to hope that it was Inoborna coming to retire under her bed and offer his forgiveness, she heard the heavy footfalls and understood that it was a man. Her visitor moved as quietly as possible, but clumsily, and her eyes filled with tears when she realised who it was, and smelled the alcohol that he had probably rolled around in following him like a cloud and souring even the jasmine that she’d gotten used to dominating the air in there.

  Oh no, oh no, please, Cairo… not now… I’m not ready to deal with your anger…

  But the footfalls stopped and for the longest time, all the trembling queen could hear was his breathing. She could feel his gaze burning into her though, and despite her best efforts to remain as still as possible in order to feign sleep, the unpleasant emotions that she had left got the better of her an she curled into a protective ball and sobbed to understand that this crazy, awful, exhilarating and surreal night wasn’t over yet. Not for her, and not for the poor pirate.

  The bed creaked and dipped under his weight, and though her muscles clenched in fear that he would try to get his birthday gift out of her after all, all he did was lift the blanket and curl up around her, slipping one arm under the pillow that her head was resting on, and draping the other over her waist. He tucked his face into the back of her neck and breathed her in, but he did not kiss her, and when his large, warm hand slipped around and cupped her lower abdomen, she felt it jerk away from him in reflex surprise. They were both fully clothed, but it was an intimate hold and it was the first they’d ever had in her bed together, and when he began to rub her tummy, her feelings of confusion increased.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she whispered, ever curious.

  ‘Praying,’ Cairo sighed against her neck and she felt that his face was wet with tears that he had transferred to her prickly skin. ‘For a miracle.’

  There was nothing more to say then, so they both cried themselves to sleep while in the corridor, your narrator sat with his head in his hands and his stomach in knots. And when Larkin awoke, she was alone, and there was a note on the bed besides her scrawled in handwriting so messy that she could hardly believe that it had been penned by her scholarly beau.

  Larkin,

  Arial told me that when time feels like it’s passing too slowly here, I should leave this home and seek out the ocean so that I do not knock my destiny or anyone else’s off course… so I have taken her advice on account of this being the longest night of my life.

  By the time you awaken, I will be gone. I am sorry if this pains you, for that is not my intention, but I fear that I will hurt us both more- and every chance we have of being happy together- if I stay in my current state of mind.

  But I will return, Larkin, and when I do, it will be with the intention of never leaving you again, on a ship that will be named not for my long lost love, but the one I am sure is fighting to find her way to me.

  I hope you prove me right.

  Your devoted friend who would be your everything,

  Cairo Kingslater.

  *

  The queen had dark circles under her eyes when she finally staggered down to the throne room the following morning at Sam’s side, but she was not supposed to be a queen, so no one reacted to how exhausted she looked or how oddly she was dressed the way they usually would have because like her, they were still wearing their masks- in the metaphorical sense, anyway. No one said it out loud, but they were taken aback to see the queen looking so off colour. They’d presumed that she’d had a late and taxing night, of course, but hadn’t she been protected by her mother’s energy? Shouldn’t she be thrilled to know that she could be with child already?

  But the truth was that the queen wasn’t exhausted from the night she’d had- she was feeling her brain fragment and then get re-arranged by the man that was apparently helping her down the stairs, because he was actually overdosing her with such an influx of information that her head was throbbing. She already knew that your narrator knew what most of her intentions were- she’d started screaming for his help with her mind the second that Kohén had suggested his plan, but Kohén had worked quickly to make his plan a strategy and now, she had to hurry downstairs to deal with without looking like she was the one dealing with it at all. On top of that, she was nervous about seeing Kohén again- nervous, excited and terrified, and when he grinned at her when she entered the room, he didn’t even bother to hide it, not even when your narrator scowled in warning.

  ‘Good morning, my lady,’ Kohén bowed to her. ‘I trust you slept well?’

  She’d barely slept a wink, but she curtsied and whispered a good morning before turning her attention to her father and smiling shakily, very conscience of the fact that Sam’s hand was still resting lightly and a little too possessively on her hip while Kohén’s eyes were seeing more than she was showing. Her poor father! Devil knew how many feathers he’d malted in worry the night before!

  ‘And to you, your majesty…’ she curtsied again, holding out the skirts of the formal dress that her mother had blinked into her closet a year ago- one she’d never worn. It was simpler than the one she’d been wearing the prior evening, but similar in style, and she’d chosen it because the long sleeves and skirts hid the tiny bruises and rashes that were scattered across her skin. ‘Sam said that you wished to speak with me?’

  She’d actually sent a note asking her father to do just that and to block Sam from his thoughts until his ‘decree’ had been made, but your narrator was unaware of that at the time, and her father played the part well, nodding and gesturing to Kohén.

  ‘Guardian Barachiel has already explained his plan to you, no doubt?’

  A blush crept up her neck to her cheeks. ‘Yes, your highness. It is a very courageous plan indeed.’

  ‘I agree.’ Bastien smiled warmly at Kohén, and the queen felt bad because she knew that smile was genuine. ‘But I’m afraid that I cannot in good conscience, allow him to make this journey alone and on bare foot. I intend on sending one of our guards with him, and though Kohén has expressed reluctance to involve anyone else, I have insisted. He has told me that the people in his divis
ion are outsiders to the people of Arcadia, and that one of our guards will have no issue with assuming the identity of the newest recruit, Ambrose Selleck, because he only just joined them in St Miguel, and with their former Guardian on parental leave… there is no one in Eden that will be any the wiser to the switch.’ He cleared his throat. ‘The guard we send will be well-acquainted with the beaten track that we have carved out that will get Kohén home faster and more safely than he could go without a guide, and I was hoping that you would lend two of your horses to the mission, in the interests of getting them in and out of Eden as quickly as possible.’

  The queen smiled. ‘That sounds like a very clever idea. Of course- the travellers can take my two fastest steeds.’’

  That sounds like your idea… your narrator mentally muttered, catching on, but instead of acknowledging that she concentrated on thinking about how the fallen prince beside her was smiling at her, and how foolish he was.

  ‘You like horses?’

  ‘Like? No she loves horses- everyone that knows her even a little knows that,’ your narrator said, and Kohén’s eyes flashed.

  ‘I suppose you know a lot about her that no one else could dream of figuring out, hmm? That must make you feel very special… and not at all like a busy body,’ and the queen almost giggled when she saw her father roll his eyes.

  ‘Gentleman please… act like it.’ The archangel stood up straighter while your narrator ground his teeth together. ‘And please, try to find a way to get along- because it is you that I am sending with him, Sam.’

  Your narrator sucked in a breath and the girl beside him cringed as bolts of steel that were shaped like expletives slammed into her head while the fallen prince laughed, held up his hands and tried to politely decline. But the archangel slapped his hand on the armrest of his throne and barked at them to shut up loud enough to make everyone in the room flinch, including your narrator.

  ‘Enough! Not only is Sam the most seasoned traveller that we have, but he is the best horseman. He knows things about survival that cannot be taught, he has a cloak that will allow him to look like whoever the hell he wants to look like should either of you need an emergency escape, and although I thought it was a rather obvious point- he can read minds.’ The archangel turned to your narrator and glowered at him while he called the queen a traitor and a dictator and accused her of trying to ‘off’ him because he’d gotten too close. ‘This is a risky plan son, and I’m sending you because I trust you to handle yourself better than anyone ever could, and find out things that others cannot. Karol may suspect that Kohén is lying, but if Sam can get close enough, he’ll be able to tell for sure. He’ll also be able to sense if anything else is about to go wrong, so you can regroup should the need to think of a Plan B arise.’

  Your narrator boiled in anger, but knew that there was nothing that he could say.

  ‘I am not exactly excited about this development…’ Kohén hedged. ‘But you make a good case.’ He turned to your narrator. ‘I would be incredibly grateful for your help, guard.’

  ‘I would be travelling as your equal, Prince Guardian Kohén the fourth, or whatever you are.’ Your narrator crossed his arms, standing tall and addressing the wall. ‘I won’t take orders. I won’t polish your boots, I won’t do all the hard work and I will not tolerate your bullshit.’

  ‘I never get anyone to do anything for me, and as soon as we leave the city gates, I will cease to be anyone but plain old Kohén Barachiel,’ he paused. ‘And when we return, I might even do something about the surname. May I ask what yours is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘All right.’ Kohén sighed and muttered under his breath. ‘This is going to be fun…’ and the queen snorted, earning a dirty look from both of them.

  ‘Your majesty, is that all you needed from me?’ the queen asked. ‘If they’re in a hurry to leave, I’ll need to go and prepare the horses at once.’

  Don’t you go too far, little lady! I’m going to get you for this! You said you can’t stand him and that you never want to see him again after last night… but you saddle me with him and send us off into the fucking Wildwoods? Wow, you’re a great friend!

  It wasn’t my idea, it was the king’s, and his word is absolute-

  Oh shut the fuck up, this is got evil genius written all over it and at best, Bastien is kind and vacant. I’m sorry if you’re not attracted to me in return, but my attraction to you has not prevented me from doing what is right by you! I never put myself first! I’m not in love with you, Larkin! You DON’T have to distance yourself from me!

  ‘Of course,’ Bastien said. ‘You’re excused.’

  ‘Thank you,’ the queen curtsied quickly, and then moved over to Kohén, glad that Sam was screaming at her in her head because it made this moment so much easier on her. ‘Guardian Barachiel… it’s been lovely meeting you again. I will pray for your safe return, and welcome you gratefully when you do.’ She took his hands and squeezed them, sort of astonished that neither her voice or her hands were trembling. She clung to her mother’s energy like strength, wrapping herself in it, knowing that she could not do what she was about to do, unless she pretended to be someone else.

  I’m not distancing myself from you Sam. Okay yes, I am… but you have to see the logic in the plan right? You’re the only one that can help Kohén pull this off and-

  ‘Erika, you’ve been more than a pleasure…’ Kohén’s eyes were sparkling as he lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed her ring finger. ‘I will return safely, be certain of that, and I hope that when I extricate myself from my country’s hold on me, I will pry you free as well.

  ‘God be with you,’ the queen whispered huskily, and your narrator was glad that her back was to him because he knew he couldn’t stand to see the adoration in her eyes for the fallen prince, even if it was fake.

  ‘And with you.’

  And with me- because I’m going to throw up right here on the floor! Your narrator raged. I can’t believe after all I’ve done for you, you’d repay me like this! You’d send me away? Do you have any idea what a city that size is going to do to my head?

  This isn’t a punishment Sam, it’s a reward. The queen picked up her skirts and turned to face him, her smooth expression betraying none of the radiant heat that he suddenly felt burning off her. She met his gaze and he saw that her suddenly black eyes were shining, and smiled serenely as she mentally replayed a memory of Kohén from the night before, eyes burning with indignation as he’d whispered: ‘There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you at my side!’ Then, she’d let him feel how much that had terrified her- how many awful memories that had brought burning back. She’d forgiven the boy she had once loved, and she’d even acknowledged that he’d worked off a lot of his sins, and was no doubt still a person of worth.

  But he wasn’t getting a second chance if what he intended to do with it was prove just how far he’d go to keep her at his side again.

  I don’t want you to bring him home safely once he’s completed this task, Sam. Her eyes flashed, and then flooded with violet as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. I’m giving you permission to kill him en route home, so Satan will never be able to ask me to whore myself out to him again!

  And for the first time in years, your narrator as filled with joy. Are you sure this is what you want to do?

  No. But like everyone’s said… this isn’t about my wants or needs, is it? Just please, if you can… make it quick and painless, and bury him after… The queen wiped a tear out from under her eye before she turned away, but not so quickly that your narrator didn’t see that it was bloody. He sucked in a breath, but she was already moving away, and he knew that to go after her would only make it worse. Maybe one day, I’ll get to take his daughter to the site, and tell her what a charming prince her daddy was, and of how he sacrificed his life to save our kingdom.

  You’d lie?

  No. That’s what hurts me the most… I don’t have to.

  ‘Be careful Sam,’ sh
e choked out to your narrator. ‘I can’t afford to lose my best friend again.’

  And then with a rustle of skirts and a duck of her head, the second-coming, was gone, and so was your narrator’s breath as he realised that he had to stop fighting to become the man in her life.

  He already was, and her friendship, however agonising, was enough for him.

  Epilogue

  Eden Palace, Arcadia

  Karol Barachiel

  ‘Buried alive… in an avalanche?’ I stared at my youngest brother, absolutely thunderstruck. ‘All eight of them?!’

  ‘Oh God…’ Ora Camden sank into the chair beside my desk, and Shepherd Choir came over and rubbed her shoulders. ‘Oh God…’

  ‘No, only the last four met their end in that particular travesty,’ my brother’s bright blue eyes were veiled by his eyelashes as he gazed down at the floor in shame. ‘Guard Paisley Branch developed pneumonia, Guard Templar McEvoy was attacked by a wolf…’ his forehead became pinched and he looked up at me while wearing a pained expression. ‘All of the details will be included in the report, your highness, which I’ll fill out the moment I return to the barracks according to protocol. But I will say now, that I would not recommend that anyone be sent into the north again. It is as wild as it is rumoured to be, and more; a breeding ground for poisonous weeds, feral animals that have no fear of humans, inhospitable ground that is too hard and frozen for planting or mining to be viable, and death. I don’t know if the people in that colony were killed by the land or one another, but from what I could tell, they were the first to make it that far, and I pray that Guard Ambrose Selleck and I here, will be the last.’

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I looked to the youth that was standing silently beside Kohén and winced to see that his eyes looked decades older than his face did, and that he was covered in scratches and bruises that would take me an hour to heal, as was Kohén. I looked back to my dust-covered, morose-looking brother and shook my head in amazement to think that they had survived such a murderous wilderness. I’d thought him weak in every sense of the word but now I wondered if he was stronger than I was, because I didn’t know what kind of shape I’d be in if I’d endured such a trial.