Forest of Firelight

by Shari L. Tapscott

  Yesterday, it seemed Rhys wanted as little to do with me as possible, and last night I slept in his arms.

  It’s enough to make a girl dizzy.

  “Do you feel like taking a walk?” I ask him hesitantly. “I have several places I would like to see in the city. Since it looks like we’ll be here a few more days, we might as well go now.”

  Rhys nods, and we leave the horses in the fenced paddock behind the infirmary. The day is growing warm, and there are many people out and about. They walk the streets and speak in groups in front of shops.

  “Where would you like to go?” Rhys asks me.

  “Before he died, my brother wrote me a letter from Saulette,” I say. “He told me about a confection shop and a statue. I’d like to see both before I go north.”

  “North?”

  “Have you heard of the Forest of Firelight? Braeton was hoping to see it while it was in bloom. He never made it, so I thought…”

  “That you’d go for him.”

  I look down at the cobblestone street. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

  After a moment, he says, “It’s not.”

  His voice sounds so weary, I glance his way, wondering again if he’s lost someone close to him. Every time I mention Braeton, a shadow crosses his face.

  What memory haunts the knight?

  We find Braeton’s confection shop near the city garden, right where he said it would be, but I pause just outside the door.

  Gage has our money. I can make a withdrawal from one of the local banks, but I don’t know which one or even how to go about it. That information is with Gage as well.

  The window is full of tiny cakes, each iced in whimsical colors and topped with sparkling sugar. The striped ribbon candies that Braeton spoke of are displayed in a tall glass jar.

  “I don’t want anything.” I catch Rhys’s arm when he reaches for the door. “I just wanted to look.”

  He frowns, cocking his head slightly to the side as if he doesn’t believe me. I head toward the street, giving him a tug so he’ll follow.

  He refuses to be moved.

  “What about Ember?” I say, growing desperate. “I can’t take her inside.”

  “She’ll be all right out here for a few minutes. We won’t be long.”

  I give him a pleading look, but he won’t take no for an answer.

  “What do you want?” he asks me as soon as we’re inside.

  “Gage has my money,” I finally whisper, my cheeks flaming. It’s possibly the first time in my life I haven’t had a few coins to pay for something.

  “I figured that.” He nudges me toward the front counter. “What did your brother try?”

  A feeling that’s becoming increasingly familiar warms my chest. “The ribbon candies.”

  Rhys asks the shopkeeper for several, and then he looks back at me. “What else?”

  “That’s all I want.”

  “Are you sure?” He looks doubtful, but it’s the truth. This is enough—more than enough.

  Rhys pays, and a few minutes later, we’re back in the street. I pull a piece of the candy from the paper package and hold it in my hand.

  “Are you all right?” Rhys asks quietly.

  “I expected it to make me happy, but the moment is actually a little bittersweet.” I clasp the hard candy in my palm and bring it to my chest, fighting the ache.

  “Would you like to find the statue?” Rhys asks, his tone gentle. “Or have you had enough for the afternoon?”

  “Enough, I think.” I turn to him, meeting his eyes. “Rhys…thank you.”

  He nods as if he understands, and we turn back to the infirmary.

  Rhys seems lost in his thoughts, and my mind is on Braeton. That’s likely how Rupert is able to catch us unaware.

  “Hello there,” the pawnbroker says with a bright smile, stopping us on the street. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

  35

  Instinctively, I reach for Rhys. Immediately, the knight wraps his arm around my back. This time, the move feels like it’s less for appearances and more to let me know he’s here. I’m not alone.

  Sensing my unease, Ember stays by my side, not offering the pawnbroker her usual sunny greeting.

  “How long will you be in the city?” Rupert asks, falling into step with us.

  “We’re not certain,” Rhys answers, his voice aloof and unfriendly.

  Rupert pretends not to notice. “You’ll have to stop by my shop before you leave.”

  “Yes,” Rhys says, but it’s obvious he has no plans to visit the pawnbroker while we’re in Saulette.

  We’re nearing the infirmary, but I don’t want Rupert to learn Gage is bedridden. Who knows what he and his men might do?

  As if reading my mind, Rhys continues right past.

  Rupert walks with us, chattering like he’s an old friend. I have no idea if Rhys has a destination, but I almost laugh when we stop in front of a bladesmith’s storefront. Weapons of all sorts are displayed in the window.

  “If you’ll excuse us,” Rhys says to Rupert, motioning toward the shop. “This is our stop.”

  Rupert gives us a sharp smile. “Of course.” Then to me, he says, “Please do come visit me before you leave Saulette.”

  I resist the urge to tuck myself closer to Rhys’s side and give the man a noncommittal nod.

  To keep up with the ruse, Rhys steers me into the shop. I hold Ember close, silently begging her to mind her manners as I look around. There are more blades on display inside.

  Rhys scans the selection as we make our way to the cases at the front.

  “Pleasant afternoon,” the man behind the counter says cordially. “I am Trevon. Is there anything I may assist you with?”

  Rhys nods, murmuring appropriate greetings. “We’re looking for a dagger.”

  We are?

  “These are my daggers here,” the shopkeeper says, directing us to a case on the left. “Please let me know if anything catches your eye.”

  Absently, I notice there are no copper blades. Rhys’s dagger must be custom.

  “Which one?” Rhys asks me, waving his hand over a selection of small daggers.

  “Which one what?”

  “Choose the one you would like.”

  Gulping, terrified now that we’re standing in front of them, I look them over. My eyes keep going back to the one with the etched blade. It’s pretty…but I’m sure that matters little to Rhys.

  “I’ve never owned one,” I admit. “I’m afraid if I find myself in another fight, someone will wrestle it out of my grasp and use it against me.”

  “I’ll teach you.”

  The stubborn look on his face tells me he’s going to buy something whether I choose or not, and I do not believe his offer to teach me is a casual one.

  “All right,” I relent. “That one.”

  I point to a plain little dagger, boring and simple. My eyes, however, move to the one next to it.

  Rhys laughs under his breath. To the patient man behind the counter, he says, “I’d like to see the one with the etched blade.”

  “The other is fine,” I protest quietly.

  “So is this one.”

  Minutes later, we leave with the pretty dagger. Rhys paid far too much for it, but there was no talking him out of it.

  “Do you think I’ll need it?” I ask him as we make our way back to the infirmary.

  He glances at me. “You certainly will if you don’t have one.”

  “I’ll have Gage pay you back as soon as he’s well.”

  Staring straight ahead, Rhys answers, “It’s a gift.”

  “Thank you,” I say, wondering whether I should accept it.

  One moment, the man is avoiding me, and the next, he’s saving me from tiraiths and buying me pretty blades.

  Rhys looks back at me. “In exchange, will you do me a favor?”

  Ah—so it’s a gift with strings attached. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.

  “All right,�
� I reluctantly agree.

  “Don’t tell Tryndon.”

  The request startles me so much, I pause in the street. Laughing, I say, “Why?”

  His eyes meet mine, and his face is earnest. “Please, just…don’t.”

  “I won’t tell him.”

  Appeased, Rhys nods and continues down the street.

  Gage is still asleep when we arrive at the infirmary, so Rhys and I decide to go back to the manor. He says he wants to look the place over before evening. Just the thought of meeting another tiraith makes my skin crawl.

  I trail him as he walks the outside of the house, unsure what we’re looking for. Apparently, Rhys finds it in the form of a broken cellar door. I sit next to him as he fixes it, crossing my legs under my skirt. I don’t think I’ll feel better about my choice to stay the night until the lock is firmly latched to the new door.

  Ember runs around the manor, glad to be free of her bandages, chasing butterflies and squirrels. She’s as happy as I’ve ever seen her.

  This afternoon, a small flock of red herons arrived. They’re just down the beach from us, standing in the shallow water like statues. The males are bright scarlet, but the females are a subdued red, more like a tawny brown. I smile as I watch them, feeling almost as though Braeton is watching them with me.

  “There,” Rhys says when he finishes his task. “No more unwanted visitors.”

  I glance at the nearby trees. “Do you think there are more out there now?”

  He follows my eyes and shakes his head. “I don’t sense anything, at least not at this hour.”

  Eager to change the subject, I stand, brushing dirt from my skirt. “I’m going to wash my hair in the spring.”

  Rhys purses his lips like he’s not sure it’s the best idea, but I don’t care. I haven’t had a chance since we left Bayshore. He trails me into the manor, and I instruct him to stay in the hall while I change.

  I pull things out of my pack, trying to decide what a person should wear for a dip in the water. I could strip down to my shift, but that seems a bit indecent. I hold up the pair of trousers that I packed on a whim and glance at my new dagger.

  A few minutes later, I poke my head out the door and look at Rhys. “Don’t laugh.”

  He frowns. “Why would I laugh?”

  I step out, wearing the trousers that I cut off at the knees and Keir’s old shirt.

  Apparently, I must look a sight because Rhys bites back a smirk.

  I roll my eyes as I trot down the stairs, expecting him to follow.

  When we reach the makeshift pool, I peer in, suddenly nervous. “Do you think anything lives in there?”

  “Not likely.”

  “It smells a bit, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s just the minerals.”

  “Do you think anything grows at the bottom?”

  Rhys finally gives in to a laugh, shaking his head as if I’m ridiculous.

  I lower myself to the edge, cautiously dipping a foot into the water. Just as Rhys said this morning, it’s warm but not too hot—just perfect. With a sigh, I toss both legs over the edge. “It doesn’t look deep.”

  “It probably comes to your waist.”

  “Are you certain?” I look at him, nervous. “I can’t swim.”

  Rhys watches me for several seconds before he walks away, searching the ground for something. He finds a long stick and wanders back, kneeling beside me.

  “What is that for?”

  Without answering, he plunges the stick into the water, straight down, and then pulls it up, showing me exactly how deep the spring is. He arches his brow, silently asking if I’m going to die in water a young child could comfortably stand in.

  “I probably won’t drown,” I say solemnly.

  He tosses the stick aside, and a smile touches his lips. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

  Rhys’s mood is lighter, different—he’s far more relaxed than the Rhys of yesterday. I’m terrified I’ll do or say something to ruin it.

  The knight adds, “But I’ll save you should you try.”

  I meet his eyes and then drop into the water, which indeed, only comes to my lower waist. Sighing, I sink lower and tip my head back, wetting my hair. The rocks at the bottom are slick and uneven, but the heat soothes the tension in my muscles.

  “Toss me my soap, will you?” I ask, a little self-conscious.

  If my mother were to see me now, she’d likely faint dead away. But I’m covered and decent.

  Nodding, Rhys rummages in my pack. Then he pauses, his eyes on something.

  “What is it?” I ask, holding my wrapped hand out of the water and running the other down my wet hair.

  Silently, Rhys turns back to me and holds up a familiar ragged square of fabric. He raises his brows in question, looking almost amused.

  “Oh…” I feel myself flush, and I don’t think it has anything to do with the water. “I brought it just in case…”

  Just in case what? I lose my dozen other handkerchiefs and am forced to use the fraying scrap of cloth Rhys cut from his shirt?

  Putting me out of my misery, he returns to his task of searching for the soap. Once he locates it, he kneels at the edge of the pool and offers it to me.

  Avoiding his eyes, I thank him.

  Why did I bring the token with me? Why?

  I turn around and scrub the bar over the wet strands, sorely missing the liquid soaps I have at home just for this purpose.

  The task is nearly impossible to do one-handed. I attempt to hold the bar in the crook of my arm while working the soap into my hair. Now that the bar is wet, it’s slick. It slips from my grasp, and I squeal as I hurry to catch it before it sinks to the bottom of the spring.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” Rhys says gruffly, his voice a little…off.

  I look at him over my shoulder, and then I nearly drop the recently rescued soap. The knight pulls off his leather doublet…and then his shirt. The place where the bandit’s arrow pierced his shoulder is bandaged, just like my hand, but my eyes pass over it fleetingly.

  Rhys doesn’t look at me when he yanks off his boots, and he still doesn’t look at me when he lowers himself into the shallow pool in nothing but his trousers.

  I jerk my head forward, staring at the half-wall, barely able to breathe. Rhys is handsome clothed, but he’s even more—

  No.

  I bite back a giddy smile, refusing to finish the thought.

  “Give me the soap,” he says from behind me.

  My bandaged hand hovers awkwardly in front of me, but I have nothing else to do with it. I close my eyes, trying not to let out a nervous laugh, and pass him the bar over my shoulder.

  Just like earlier when he brushed it, Rhys’s hands are in my hair. His fingers caress my scalp, and I’m stricken temporarily mute. He’s quick and efficient, and though he doesn’t linger, I wouldn’t mind if he did.

  I wouldn’t mind at all.

  “Tip your head back,” he commands when he’s finished.

  I do as I’m told, letting my hair fall into the water, closing my eyes so I can’t accidentally meet his gaze.

  Rhys washes out the soap, running his fingers through the strands. Apparently finished, he turns to climb out of the pool. Without thinking, I grasp hold of his hand, holding him in place.

  We stay like this, silent for several moments—he with his back to me, and me with my hand in his, asking him to stay.

  Rhys’s back is toned perfection. His shoulders are broad; his waist is narrow. A wicked scar travels his left shoulder blade. Someday, if I ever get the chance, I’ll ask him how he acquired it.

  Slowly, Rhys turns. This time, our eyes meet.

  I drop his hand, nervous. “Do you know how to swim?”

  “Yes…”

  “Will you teach me?”

  He gives me a skeptical look. “In this little water? At most, I could teach you to float.”

  “All right.”

  A quick smile, full of disbelief, spr
eads across his face, and he rubs a wet hand over his forehead. “This is ridiculous.”

  “You never know when I’m going to be dumped into the sea,” I point out. “Just tell me what to do. It might save my life.”

  “If you’ve never done it before, I can’t just tell you.”

  “Then show me.”

  “Fine,” he says, reluctantly giving in.

  He’s still smiling. It’s mesmerizing, and it warms me more than the water.

  “I usually sink, though,” he warns.

  The knight leans back in the water, stretching out his arms and keeping his legs together. For one moment, he stays on the top of the water…and then he goes under. He laughs as he comes back to the surface, wiping water from his face.

  “I told you,” he says.

  I watch him, a ridiculous smile plastered across my face, and I finally admit to myself something I’m afraid I’ve known for a while.

  It’s no use. It’s too late.

  I have true feelings for Rhys. I like him more than a guardian. More than a friend.

  More than I should.

  “Your shoulder,” I say, motioning to his wet bandage.

  He waves my concern away. “It’s no more than a scratch.”

  I somewhat doubt that.

  “Go on then,” Rhys says, nodding toward me. “Give it a try.”

  Holding my breath, I copy him, extending my arms, keeping my bandaged hand above the water, leaning back…

  I sink.

  I come up, sputtering and flailing my arms. Rhys laughs as he helps me up.

  “Is it wet?” I ask, peering at my bandage. It’s a bit damp, but it looks all right.

  “Try again,” Rhys says, standing next to me. “I’ll help.”

  “How will you—”

  Oh.

  He places his hands on my back, one between my shoulders and the other at my waist. Then he dips me back. I hold my breath, not because I’m afraid of drowning…but simply because I’ve forgotten how to breathe. My side brushes against his stomach, but I keep my eyes on the sky above us.

  The clouds are nice today. And that tree is lovely as well.

  “You’re tense,” Rhys says. “Relax.”

  “Easier said than done. You’re not the one who will die if you decide to move your hands.”