Natalia tossed another nut over the opening. It bounced along the floor, settling a few feet from the cellar door.
Leaf’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. Slowly, he walked into the meat room, his gaze fixed on the second nut.
Natalia silently climbed down the ladder, letting the boy take her place. Tristan softly whistled. Leaf looked up for a split second, and that was all the opportunity the boy needed to snag his eyes.
Instantly, Leaf’s eyes flared with green light, and he went still as a statue, mouth slightly open.
Tristan held Leaf’s gaze, implanting an idea in the dwarf’s head. Leaf nodded and turned around, stepping in a perfectly straight line out of the room. Quickly, Natalia and Tristan scampered out of the cellar, taking to the shadows and watching the other room with a mixture of nerves and excitement.
Leaf picked up a butcher knife lying on the kitchen table.
Slither’s breathing had slowed, and his chin drooped to his chest as Leaf shuffled toward him like a zombie. Leaf slid the blade right under his chin and up against his throat.
Slither awoke with a start. “What the hell are –”
“Don’t move,” Leaf said, perfectly monotone, “and don’t talk.”
Slither started to say more, but his words abruptly cut off with a choking sound.
Natalia winced. “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she whispered sharply.
“You told me to improvise,” Tristan said.
“I want you to go down into the cellar,” Leaf said.
Slither grunted a protest before crying out in pain.
“All right, I’ll go!” Slither said. “Don’t slit my throat, you backstabbing son-of-a –”
“Move,” Leaf said, more insistent.
A chair shuffled, followed by footsteps. Shadows fell across the floor as Slither and Leaf entered the meat room. Slither was in front with his arms up, while Leaf walked behind him, poking the tip of the blade into his brother’s back. Slither stopped at the cellar opening, peering down into it with a leer.
“Down the ladder,” Leaf said.
Muttering curses, Slither lowered himself onto the ladder and disappeared from view. Natalia thought Leaf might climb down after him. To her surprise, he sat along the opening, feet dangling in the air, and removed his crossbow, setting the knife down in the process.
He aimed the crossbow toward the opening.
“If you make one sound, or if you move where I can’t see you, I’ll shoot,” Leaf said.
Natalia’s brows lifted. “I take it back,” she whispered. “I’m impressed.”
Tristan grinned.
“Come on,” she said, pointing toward the kitchen. “Let’s get out of here.”
They tiptoed along the wall, sticking to the shadows.
“What’s that sound?” came Slither’s voice.
Leaf notched an arrow.
“To hell with you, Leaf!” Slither said, but he did not say anymore.
“Go!” Natalia hissed.
They sprinted through the kitchen, opening the door as quietly as they could, and stumbled into the yard. It was daylight, probably still off in the morning, and a little colder than yesterday. Her breath puffed in the air, and the sky was dense with gray clouds, which somehow seemed to make her even colder.
Tristan wasted no time. He set off toward the trees.
“Where are you going?” Natalia asked.
“To find my kinsmen,” he said over his shoulder.
Natalia followed behind him. “Do you even know where you’re going?”
“I’m following my gut. I grew up in the woods, remember?”
Natalia didn’t argue. As horrible as it had been growing up in the castle, she couldn’t imagine living in this place her whole life.
At first, she was edgy. She kept glancing over her shoulder every couple of seconds, half expecting a bear or a black wolf with purple eyes to leap out of the shadows, but it was eerily still, like a graveyard.
Though Via said Nefrim was gone, it did not make Natalia any less wary as they plunged deeper into the woods.
Tristan moved silently as a shadow through the trees, following paths only he could see in his mind. Try as she might, Natalia could not keep from crushing a leaf or rattling a branch.
“Isn’t it, well, dangerous to be out here? What if a bear or something finds us?”
“Ha! I wish. The woods have been silent the past few days. It’s become near impossible to run into any sort of game. Father says something has them spooked.”
Natalia swallowed, remembering the great black wolf.
They walked a bit farther before Tristan knelt abruptly.
Natalia veered to the side, hopping over a fallen log to avoid smashing into him. “What is it?” she asked.
He felt along the dirt thoughtfully. “Tracks,” he said. “Fresh ones. They can’t be far.”
She looked at the ground, not seeing any footprints. “How far do you think they are?”
“Closer than you might think,” said a deep voice behind her.
She whirled, drawing the sword and bringing it up, but the cloaked figure caught her sword arm by the wrist. He took the sword from her grasp. She cried out as he hooked her arm behind her, forcing her to the ground. Several other dark-clothed men stepped from behind the trees, their arrows, swords, and spears aimed toward Natalia and Tristan.
Heart beating furiously, she looked around. There were about sixteen total, all with broad shoulders indicative of men.
Fear gripped her as she wondered what type of men they were.
“Tristan?” asked the deep-voiced man holding her captive.
Tristan gasped with delight. “Father!”
“Take her,” the man said, looking at one of his comrades.
“Yes, my Lord.” The other man took his place, and the leader ran forward, wrapping Tristan up in a fierce hug and swinging him through the air. Tristan laughed, and the man sat him on the ground, kneeling before him and examining him. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”
Tristan shook his head. “I’m fine, Father.”
The man stood, removing his hood while turning to gaze at Natalia. He looked older, with black hair streaked with silver. She could not tell what color his eyes were, though they fixed on her with a look of complete distrust. His body was just as wiry as his son’s. Though he was thin, he carried himself with a stature that suggested quiet strength.
The man stepped forward, eyeing her with contempt. “This is the woman who keeps company with dwarves, am I correct?”
That produced a glare from her. “It couldn’t be any worse than a man who keeps company with thieves and mercenaries.”
He smiled. It was sharp, cunning. “The definition of a thief is often in the eyes of the one being stolen from and naturally so. Would you still consider a man a thief if he robbed only so he could feed his family, because his queen had left the people with nothing but broken spirits and tarnished dignity?”
Natalia held his stony gaze, thinking. “I would dare to call him human then, sir.”
The man stared at her for a moment, his eyes growing misty with faraway thoughts. He blinked and they cleared. “No matter your opinion, you are still partially responsible for my son being taken hostage.” He looked at the man holding her. “Kill her.”
Natalia’s jaw dropped.
“Wait!” Tristan said, grabbing his father’s arm. “She’s the one who helped me escape!”
The man eyed his son as he put an arm around him and pulled him close before looking back at Natalia.
She held her breath, waiting for his answer and silently praying he had some compassion left in his stone heart.
The man holding onto her shifted his weight. “Lord Malachite?”
Tristan’s father studied her, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Very well - she lives.” He looked around at his party. “Move out. Meet back at the Den.”
The men began disappearing one by one as they donned t
heir camouflage, not leaving so much as the trace of a footstep. The pressure on her arm vanished and she sank to the ground, rubbing the soreness out of her arm. The man sat her sword next to her before walking away.
Tristan lingered by his father, who looked at her once more.
“Thank you,” Malachite said.
He turned, pushing his son along. Tristan cast her a grateful smile over his shoulder, then the two figures were nothing more than shadows amongst the trees.
She searched the area, but they were gone.
“Next time I see Via, she is teaching me how to vanish,” she mumbled.
Gripping the sword and tucking it into her belt, she shakily rose to her feet. She looked around and replayed the path Tristan took, comparing it with the route Via had chosen last night.
If memory serves me correct, then the pond should be… that way.
She took off, her knees still trembling from adrenaline.
The woods set her nerves on edge. The memory of her first foray into the Silver Forest hung fresh on her mind, the bear’s claws still stinging the phantom scars on her back. She tried not to think about it too hard as she moved, watching the ground carefully and using her peripheral vision to watch for any movement from the sides.
Of course, there wasn’t any. As Tristan said, the forest really was still, as if holding its breath and praying not to be seen by something much larger and scarier than any creature within its realm.
Without her fears to focus on, her mind wandered to other things: a face with a half-smile and sharp green eyes the color of spring grass.
Caspar.
A light tingling raced up her chest and she blushed. “He is not handsome,” she told herself. “He’s a crook. He stole your mother’s necklace, remember?”
The tingling remained, much to her disgruntlement.
Apparently, she did not know the way as well as she thought. Every now and then when exhaustion overcame her, she would stop and rest, keeping her dagger close. Her nerves were so on edge that she never slept for long, snapping awake at the least little sound. As the day wore on, she became frantic. She forgot since it was nearing winter that the days were shorter. Nightfall came quickly, and she had absolutely no clue where she was. Fear coursed through her, vivid and cold.
She silently scolded herself, angry for being so foolish. The necklace wouldn’t matter if a bear tore her in half.
Strangely enough, the forest somewhat soothed her nerves. Moonlight lit up the trees in pure white light. For all its deadly wonders, it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Branches and flowers glimmered in the light, as if sprinkled in a coating of sparkling silver dust. Strange, tiny insects buzzed around her, their bottoms twinkling like stars, the first sign of wildlife she had seen.
She thought about Via, wondering where she was and if she were all right. She thought about her sister, locked away within the castle, and hoped and prayed the Queen would leave her alone. Desperate and a little frightened, Natalia wound her way through the trees, hoping she would somehow miraculously stumble upon the clearing, and that Caspar would be there to hold up his end of the bargain. For all she knew, he could be in Elyon hawking the necklace at the market. She quickened her pace.
The moonlight shifted, and the light grew stronger through an opening up ahead. Her heart raced.
There it is!
Relieved, she burst into the clearing, searching first thing for Caspar but finding only the moon-washed pond. The sight was dazzling. The clearing wore moonlight well, lighting up with a myriad of tiny diamond starlets. Slowly, she walked around the pond, not finding any sign of anyone recently being there. Disappointment stabbed at her heart.
Caspar wasn’t here. Maybe he had decided he missed the pleasures of court life and had returned to Elyon, and to the company of whatever woman waited there for him. Natalia frowned, anger tightening her chest. She was mad at him and mad at herself, not only for getting the necklace stolen and being stupid enough to return to the woods – alone – but for being jealous at the thought of him in another woman’s arms.
Seething, she turned around –
The rapier came out of nowhere. Shrieking, she jumped backward as the edge of the blade bit into the ground, sending up slivers of silver grass. Wild-eyed, she lifted her gaze and gasped.
Caspar’s moonlit face stared back at her, stony and cold. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said. With a quick jerk, he lifted the blade and stalked toward her.
Chapter Thirteen
Pretty Lies
She nearly tripped as she backed away from him.
“Are these your true colors, then?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice from warbling.
Caspar did not respond. Shadows crawled across his face as he came for her, moonlight glinting in his eyes like silver knives. Her hand fumbled for the sword, ripping it from her belt and holding it out in front of her chest. “Very well. I bested you before, I can certainly –”
“Kill me,” he said suddenly.
“What?” she stuttered, catching her heel in a hole and nearly falling backward.
“Kill me,” Caspar repeated, his voice so soft and sure it made her shiver.
“I…”
“I’m coming at you with the intent to kill. If you don’t kill me, I most surely will kill you. Make no mistake about that.”
“But –”
He swung out, giving her just enough time to bring the sword up and catch the blow before it could sever her arm. The force was so great she staggered a little, and her heart hammered violently inside her chest.
“Kill me.”
He lunged, plunging the tip of his rapier straight for her chest. With a cry, she ducked to the side and deflected it, the sound of scraping metal grinding against her teeth.
“Kill me,” he said faster.
“But I don’t want to!”
She brought her sword up, blocking an overhead swing that would have cracked her skull open.
“Kill me.”
Fire ripped through her arm as his rapier slit her flesh.
“Kill me.”
Pain exploded along her knuckles as he slammed the pommel into them, trying to knock the sword loose.
“Kill –”
“Ah!”
She knocked aside his blade and moved inside his outstretched arm, grasping the hilt of the sword with both hands and preparing to plunge it into his heart. Calm as a spring wind, he reached up and grasped the blade with his bare hand, and she felt only the tip pierce through his shirt. Blood ran down his wrist, staining his sleeve. She gasped for air. Her heart beat so fiercely that it hurt even to breathe.
Caspar let out a huge sigh and smiled. “Maybe you do have it in you, after all.”
“Have what?” she rasped, trembling.
“The ability to take a life – to kill. You’re too soft-hearted. You need to be more vicious if you have any hope of surviving out here.”
He released he sword, blood dripping off his palm, and sheathed his rapier. “I’m glad you decided to come here tonight. I was beginning to think you had stood me up.”
She eyed him warily, not sure what to make of his flippant change in attitude. “I’m not sure I would have, had I known you were going to be hell bent on taking my head off.”
“Are you awake now?”
“What do you think?”
“Good.”
He walked up to her, searching her eyes. She flinched but stood her ground, acutely aware that his mouth was only a few inches from hers.
He just tried to kill you, and now you’re thinking about kissing him? Where is your common sense?
“I swear I know you,” he breathed, eyes shimmering. “What’s your name?”
She swallowed hard, finding herself unable to look away. The “N” had formed on the tip of her tongue – “Natalia” – but she quickly swallowed her true name whole. “Snow,” she said quietly.
He blinked, looking confused and a little disappointed.
“Well, fairest Snow,” he said, “I believe I owe you something.”
His hand disappeared into the pocket of his tunic. After a moment, he held out his fist to her, palm skyward, and unfurled his fingers like flower petals. Something flashed red, reflecting off his face, and her gaze dropped to the pendant in his palm.
“A promise is a promise,” he said. “And for heaven’s sake, put that sword down before you cut me again.”
“That was your fault,” she muttered. With reluctance, she let him gently pry the sword from her grasp and toss it in the grass.
She looked back to his face, searching for any sign of ill intent and finding none. The crystal glittered in his palm. She reached out, grabbing the necklace and placing it around her neck with a sigh. It looked a little shorter; one of the links was missing from where Caspar had tugged it off her, but he had somehow linked the chain back together. She pressed her hands over the crystal, clutching it close to her heart, and closed her eyes with a silent prayer of thanks.
“It must mean a lot to you,” Caspar said quietly.
“Yes, it does,” she said, opening her eyes and sighing. “You have no idea how much.”
His eyes twinkled. “Actually, my Lady, I think I might.”
Her eyes sharpened, beckoning him to speak further.
He inclined his head toward the necklace. “That is no ordinary stone. That’s a blood crystal.”
She tensed. “And?”
“… and I’ve seen that necklace before.”
She wasn’t expecting that. “That’s impossible. You can’t have seen it before.”
He stared at it, his eyes clouding over. “Yes,” he murmured, “I think I have. I can’t remember when or where, but I know it’s familiar. Just like you.”
She quickly tucked the crystal inside her neckline and out of sight. “I think you’re greatly mistaken, my Lord.”
“Caspar.”
She blushed.
His eyes shimmered. “Regardless of where I’ve seen it –”
“ – or if you’ve seen it –”
“ – I’m curious: How did you come upon it? Blood crystals are rare as it is. Most are worth a king’s ransom.”
She scoffed at him. “Are you implying I stole it?”
A White So Red Page 13
