“Reload!” I shouted as I shoved the crossbow at Max, and to my amazement, he had his eyes closed again as he loaded it, feeling for the groove in the stock with the fingers of one hand. He’d clearly had a lot of practice.
While he wrenched the lever back to pull the string taut, I jerked my hatchet from my belt and gripped the handle as I lifted my arm over my head. The snake was too big and much too dangerous, with those massive fangs, to be fought up close. So I took a risk and threw the hatchet with all the force I could muster. It sailed end over end to thunk into the serpent’s neck, imbedded in the beast’s scaly flesh.
The monster hissed again, and its movements slowed.
“Where was the hit?” Max asked as he held the loaded crossbow out to me.
“Its neck. Along with the first bolt.” The serpent hissed again, its tongue snaking out at me. Then it began to move to the side, and for just a second, I thought it might retreat. Then—
“Move!” Max shouted, and when I didn’t process his direction quickly enough, he threw himself at me, knocking us both off the dirt path just as the serpent’s massive tail whipped toward us. I landed in the underbrush with my face in the dirt, Max’s arm across my back, but he was on his feet in an instant. I sprang up a second later and snatched the crossbow from the ground.
If he hadn’t gotten us off the path, the beast’s tail would have hit us both, crushing us as it tossed our broken bodies deep into the dark wood.
“It’s hurt.” Max spun, clearly tracking the slithering sound as it moved around us, though his eyes were closed. “But they have thick scales, and even thicker muscle. You’re going to have to hit the head.”
“Okay,” I said as I took aim, following the beast as it circled us. “But if I miss, we run. Follow the sound of my footsteps.”
“Got it,” Max said as the beast bore down on us again, its scaly body twisting along the ground much faster than should have been possible—he was right about that. “Kill it, Adele.”
I sucked in a deep breath to steady my aim. Then I tilted the bow up a little, to compensate for the downward pull of the trigger. The snake lunged at us again, hissing, a little off-kilter from its injuries.
I pulled the trigger.
The bolt pierced the serpent’s skull, right between its eyes, with a sickening thunk-squish. The beast let loose a brain-scrambling screech—a sound that didn’t seem like it could have come from a snake. Then its forked tongue fell limp, and the monster slammed into the ground with enough force to shake the earth beneath our feet.
For a moment, I could only gape at the massive serpentine corpse. “Well done!” Max clearly knew exactly what the thud had meant.
“I can’t believe it,” I murmured, stunned.
“Believe it.” He stepped closer, his eyes open and aimed at my face, though he couldn’t possibly see me. “Believe in yourself, Adele.”
“You had as much to do with that as I did,” I insisted, my heart racing with our victory.
“Then believe in us. We could be an incredible team. What you do is important and dangerous. We cannot afford to forget that. But victory is a thrill, every single time, and you’ll need someone to share that with.” He reached out, and his hand found my cheek in the dark. His thumb stroked over my lower lip. “Someone who can understand the race of your pulse, keeping you up at night. The dizzying euphoria that follows success in battle. Someone who can celebrate with you. Someone who will celebrate you.”
My head spun. I felt like I was falling. As if I’d just leapt from a cliff, cold air rushing past me, with the ground far below.
As if I might never touch the earth again.
And Max, I understood, was now inextricably tied to this feeling of triumph. His touch was a part of this moment and no matter what happened next, it always would be.
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
Had he done it on purpose? Had he intentionally insinuated himself into the euphoria of victory to give himself an edge in the battle for my heart? For my hand?
Was that clever of him, or manipulative? Or was it simply an instinct, brought on by the rush of his own pulse?
The truth was that I didn’t know him well enough to be sure.
I stepped back, and his hand fell from my cheek.
“Let’s get your weapons.” He didn’t try to touch me again, but I could hear that his breathing had quickened. I could tell that his pulse was racing too, from the exhilaration of this moment.
I led him away from the path into the impenetrable gloom of the dark wood. When I stopped beside the massive felled beast, he swung his rucksack onto the ground again and held out one hand. “The bolts?”
I settled the strap of the crossbow over my shoulder, then I had to plant one foot on the serpent’s thick scales in order to pull the bolts one at a time from its flesh. They’d bit in deeply, and if not for the beast’s massive size, the first might have been fatal. But the snake was thickly muscled, and its scales were a bit like armor plating.
Max pulled a cloth from his bag and wiped the bolts off, then he stored them while I used my foot to brace myself again, so I could pull my hatchet free. I accepted the cloth he offered and cleaned the blade, then I used its sharp edge to pry loose several of the basilisk’s thick scales.
I couldn’t tell, in the dark, what color they were.
“We’ve attracted attention,” he whispered as I led him back to the trail. “Can you hear it?”
I could, though there were so many sounds closing in on us now that I couldn’t make sense of any one in particular. “It’s okay,” I said, despite the urgent pounding of my heart. “We’re almost to the clearing.”
“You were great,” Max whispered, squeezing my arm gently. “I knew you would be.”
But all I could think, as I guided him to the right at the fork in the path, was how relieved I was not to have let him down. To have gotten us both killed. “Your crossbow and your ears were much appreciated,” I said at last.
“I wish I weren’t blinded by the dark wood.” His sigh carried the first true frustration I’d heard from him, and it felt like another peek behind his charming smile. A glimpse at his true thoughts. “Though, rest assured that should any of the monsters venture out of the dark wood and into sight, I would not hesitate to fight at your side. If you’d have me.”
I huffed. “And now you’ve cleverly circled back to the subject of our union.”
Max chuckled softly, his eyes unfocused in the dark. “We never strayed from that subject, Adele.” He cleared his throat. “So, since you know what I hope for, in a marriage . . . what do you want?”
I exhaled slowly, still walking as footsteps and odd snorts closed in on us. “I know you and your village need a guardian. But as selfish as this may sound, what I need is someone who wants me not for what I can do for him—and his village—but for who I am. And you don’t really know me yet. You can’t possibly.”
“I know enough to know that I want to know more.” He couldn’t see me. Yet again, he was looking right at me, as if his gaze were pulled toward my face through some force independent of sight. And with his words echoing in my head and the ghost of his touch still haunting my cheek, a warmth began to coil up from the pit of my stomach. Pulling me toward him, not just there, on that path in the dark wood, but in my head. In my—
“Come along, you two, before that ogre sneaking up behind you rips you each in half.”
I looked up to see my grandmother standing on the path ahead, the light from her cabin backlighting her silhouette. “Gran—”
“Move!” she snapped, and I tugged Max toward her so suddenly that he stumbled on the dirt path.
“Why didn’t you bring a light?” I asked, as my grandmother ushered us toward the clearing.
“Because I didn’t come from home.”
“What? Where did you come from?” I exhaled as we broke through the dense forest into the lit clearing surrounding her cabin, and when Gran didn’t answer, I turned to
frown at her. “You were in the woods, weren’t you? You were following us?”
“I was protecting you, as I’d protect anyone who wandered into the dark wood unprepared.”
“We weren’t unprepared!”
“No need to sound offended. But you’ve only just passed your trial, child. Fortunately, you have quite an accomplice here.” Her gaze rose to take in Max, and my face flamed when I realized what she’d witnessed, between us. “And you must be Maxime Bernard. I am—”
“Madame Emelina Chastain,” he said. “Enchanté.”
A smile spread slowly over my grandmother’s face as she offered him her hand, and I could see that Max had charmed yet another member of my family.
“I assumed Adele would bring you to meet me, sooner or later, and I’m very pleased it was sooner.”
She’d known I would bring him. Which meant she knew exactly why he had come to Oakvale. As I’d suspected, my mother and grandmother were in on this together.
“Your good name precedes you, Gran,” I told her. “He was dying to meet you.”
“Well, the dying part is completely unnecessary, boy. But I am pleased to meet you as well. You’re Michele Marchand’s boy, non? The firstborn?”
“Yes. Though she’s Michele Bernard now.” Max’s eyes widened as he looked around the clearing. “This is incredible. Is it . . . safe?”
“Well, you shouldn’t walk too close to the tree line. But as long as I keep the torches lit and chop down any seedlings that gain purchase, it seems to be.”
“Amazing . . .” Max breathed.
“Wait, you know his mother?” I said, as we followed my grandmother across the clearing toward her cabin.
“Not well, but we’ve met. Remarkable woman. Strong and smart.”
“That she is,” Max agreed. “And she’s eager to meet Adele.”
Gran glanced back just in time to see my frown. “What’s the matter, child? You don’t want to live in Ashborne? If memory serves, it’s a nice town. On the river, just like Oakvale.”
Though that comparison meant very little. Most villages formed on the bank of a river, for access to clean water, as well as for the ease of travel.
“It’s complicated,” I told her as she opened the door to her cabin and ushered us into the warm interior. “There’s a lot to think about.”
“Yes, I suppose there is.” She glanced at Max, who shrugged.
“I am not the only man vying for her hand.”
“So I’ve heard.” Gran’s brow furrowed as she turned back to me. “Why don’t you serve our guest some stew?”
I took a bowl from the shelf.
“Oh, really, there’s no need,” Max said. “We just had dinner.”
I laughed, knowing Gran would insist.
“Nonsense,” she said, right on cue.
I directed Max to a chair in front of the fireplace, then I ladled stew into his bowl from the pot hanging over the fire. “It’s usually venison,” I said as I handed him the bowl.
“Well, tonight it’s rabbit,” Gran informed me as she opened the chest at the end of her bed and pulled out a bundle of bright white fur.
“I stand corrected.” I left Max by the fire, my own food forgotten as I crossed the room. “Is that . . . ?”
“Yes. It’s for your hood. There’s enough to trim your entire cloak, of course, but a guardian can’t display that much whitewulf fur until she’s gained some more experience. So if you’d like to take some of it home, you’re welcome to line warm clothing with it. Or make gloves for Sofia.”
“It’s so soft . . .” I ran my hand over one thick length of the fur, marveling at the fine texture. The spotless color.
“It does make wonderful gloves,” Max said, around a bite of stew. “My mother gave me a pair at Christmas last year.”
“Speaking of gifts, I see you’ve acquired one.” Gran nodded at the crossbow I’d propped against the wall next to her front door.
“Did you get to see it in action?” Max asked, with a glance toward the far wall, as if he could see through it into the dark wood, where we’d battled the snake.
“I did!” Gran beamed at him. “It’s a fearsome piece of craftsmanship.”
His intense gaze caught mine, and when he spoke, my face began to burn like banked coals. “A weapon is only as fierce as the warrior who wields it.”
Fourteen
“Adele! Good morning!” Grainger called, jogging down the muddy alley between the bakery and the cottage next door. “I was hoping to catch you on my way to the sawmill.”
“Good morning,” I said as he stepped into the small yard at the back of our cottage.
“Morning, Grainger!” Sofia swung the empty milk pail at her side, and in her free hand, she clutched the horse Max had carved for her. A few weeks ago, she’d woken to find it standing on the table at her place, showing off a brand-new mane made of snow-white fur.
Whitewulf fur, snipped from the bundle Gran had sent back with us.
Sofia had hardly let go of the horse since.
“Is everything okay?” Grainger frowned, studying my face. “You look a little pale, and you’ve seemed tired lately. In fact, yesterday you almost fell asleep in your lunch.”
“Monsieur Colbert, your concern is unnecessary—but very sweet.” I smiled up at him. The truth was that I felt like I’d hardly seen him all month, though I’d made a point to have lunch with him nearly every day. Between my training and Max’s increased attention, the structure of my days had changed, and I would not let my relationship with Grainger suffer because of the new demands on my time. “Everything’s fine,” I assured him. “I’ve just been very busy.”
“She’s making clothes for Tom!” Sofia piped up. “I’m helping!”
“Elena and I volunteered to see that the boy has what he needs,” I explained. “The basics, anyway.”
But the real cause of my pale and somewhat haggard countenance was the fact that I’d spent the first half of every night for the past month in the dark wood hunting beasts and perfecting my aim with the crossbow.
Mama was a thorough instructor, teaching me about dozens of different dark-wood monsters while she drilled me on the fundamentals of fighting in both my redwulf and human forms. But as fascinating as all the beasts and their histories were, the most remarkable creature in the dark wood was, without a doubt, my own mother. She’d always been determined and independent—she’d run the bakery and raised two daughters all on her own since my father’s death—but in the forest she seemed to truly come alive. And she was fearsome! Fast and strong, with shocking reflexes and a phenomenal coordination that made me wonder if I would ever attain such skills.
Yet, a couple of weeks ago, she’d claimed that she was tired and asked Max to start accompanying me.
I believed she was tired; I certainly was. But I also believed that was a convenient excuse to send me into the dark wood with Max, so he could prove how very useful a part of my life he could be. Even though she would never have sent me off alone in the middle of the night with any other boy.
Subtlety was not my mother’s strong suit. Yet her gamble was a clever one. I’d improved significantly with the crossbow, and Max and I had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, wherein he could reload the weapon in seconds while I fought with my hatchet, effectively doubling the number of blows I was able to deal. All while he listened for approaching beasts.
And though I’d kept my distance from Max in the village during the day, after every kill in the dark wood, I’d found myself drawn to him physically, breathless from our victory. I had come to anticipate the brush of his fingers against mine as we passed the crossbow back and forth. The feel of his arm beneath my hand, as I guided him through the dark.
We didn’t talk about those little touches. About how I’d come to associate them—to associate him—with the exhilaration of the hunt. And as guilty as I felt during the day about those stolen moments, my adventures in the forest with Max almost seemed to take place in some o
ther world, removed from my life in Oakvale. In a domain of our own, where expectations and rumors from the village didn’t matter. Where they didn’t even exist.
I’d lived in two worlds over the past couple of weeks, with Grainger lighting my life like the sun during the day, and Max shining bright at night like the charming glow from the moon. That dual existence couldn’t last. I knew it couldn’t last. Yet I had no idea how to realign both halves of my life without losing something important.
A gust of wind blew down the alley, drawing me out of my thoughts, and I shivered from the cold. Grainger pulled me close, and the familiar feel of his hands at my waist sent a welcome thrill through me. Lunches hadn’t been enough. I’d missed him. So I rose onto my toes and pressed a kiss against his lips.
“Mademoiselle Duval, people will talk,” he teased as I settled onto my heels again, and I laughed.
“People are always talking about something. At least we’ll be keeping the village entertained, during the long winter months.”
“Speaking of people talking, did you hear that Madame Gosse is missing a hen?” he asked as he let me go.
“I hadn’t heard. There’s another fox in the village?”
“It hasn’t been spotted yet, but I’m on patrol tonight, and I will keep an eye out.” His focus dropped to the steaming bowl of porridge in my left hand. “Breaking your fast outside today?”
“That’s for Max,” Sofia informed him, and I clenched my jaw to hold back a groan. “He didn’t come in for breakfast, so Mama said to take it to the cowshed.”
“To the . . . ?” Grainger turned a questioning look on me. “He’s staying here? I’d assumed he was with the Girards.”
“In the cowshed,” I clarified. In case he’d missed that detail. “He’s sleeping in the cowshed. My mother invited him. She’s a friend of his mother’s.”
“So I’ve heard.” His frown deepened. “I’ll come with you and say hello. I’ve seen Maxime’s work on the church, and it’s very good. I was considering asking him to help with a little project I’m about to start,” he added with a knowing wink in my direction.
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