A White So Red

by Krystle Jones

  “… My mother. And my father.”

  “Oh.” He paused. “How do you carry it?”

  “What?”

  “The pain.”

  Natalia stared at a hole in the tent roof, thinking. “Sometimes it helps to hold onto something that reminds you of them,” she said, idly trailing her fingers along her bare throat. “That way you can remember them, and it’s almost like they’re not really gone.”

  “I don’t have anything of Lily’s,” he said sadly.

  That made her feel even worse for wearing Lily’s clothes. “Then hold onto your memories of her in your heart,” she said. “That’s the safest place you can store them, anyway.”

  “What do you have to keep your memories safe?”

  Worry gnawed at her. “My mother had a necklace.”

  Tristan glanced over at her. “I don’t see you wearing it.”

  “That’s because I lost it.” Each word sounded so heavy, so final.

  “Where?”

  “At the cottage. Somewhere in the dining room.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  She closed her eyes. “Like a piece of my soul.” It hurt to think about it.

  “… I could get it for you.”

  She smiled softly, touched. “It’s a nice gesture, but it’s not worth the trouble.”

  Tristan remained quiet after that, for which she was thankful. Somewhere in those few moments of peace, her eyes fluttered shut. She didn’t want to open them. The silence and solitude of her mind was intoxicating. In there, she could forget and not remember the pain of her past or the grim promise of her future.

  It seemed like she had only closed her eyes for a few minutes before someone was shaking her awake. Her eyes snapped open, and she rubbed the sleep from them. The fire was nearly extinguished, significantly dimming her surroundings. “What time is it?”

  “Sometime in the deep night,” Caspar said. He was kneeling in front of her, a tense look on his face. People were shouting outside the tent.

  She was immediately awake. “Has the Queen found us?” she asked, sitting straight up and glancing around.

  “No,” Caspar said, and she relaxed somewhat.

  “Then what is it?” She didn’t bother hiding the irritation in her voice.

  “I woke you up because a boy is missing.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “How old is he?”

  “Thirteen, maybe fourteen, or at least, I think that’s how old Malachite said his son is.”

  Her brain felt slow. It seemed to take a long time for those last words to process. “His son?” she murmured, glancing at the spot beside her.

  It was bare. Tristan was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Crone

  Natalia scrambled to her feet. “Tristan?” she called.

  “It’s no use,” Caspar said, standing with her. “We’ve searched everywhere. The only things we’ve discovered are that a dagger and a crossbow are missing from the weapons inventory.”

  “A dagger and a –” She stopped, cold awareness sinking in. “He’s going after my necklace.” She stalked past Caspar, not even sure where she was going.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he said, catching up with her. “What did you say? Do you know where he is?”

  Natalia barely heard what he said; she was too busy replaying her conversation with Tristan in her head. “Yes, I’m positive,” she mumbled, thinking out loud. “I was talking about it, and he asked me all those questions...” Her voice trailed off as she scanned the crowd. It was significantly quieter now. Most of the Thesperians appeared to be asleep.

  She didn’t have to search for Malachite for long, because he was quickly striding toward her with a group of armed men at his back. Several items were slung over his arms, but she was too focused on the fear in his silver eyes to pay much attention to what they were.

  “My son has vanished,” he said, stopping before her. He was still fully dressed, with another black cape intact. “Since you were the last one with him, do you have any idea where he could have gone?”

  “I do. I’m fairly certain he went to the cottage to find my necklace.”

  “Oh!” Caspar smacked his hand across his forehead. “Sorry, I forgot about that.”

  “Where is it?” Natalia asked. “Do you remember where you put it?”

  To her immense relief, he reached into his tunic pocket. “I stowed it away in here before I could have a chance to lose it,” he said, handing it to her.

  Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she secured the necklace around her neck. “I’m glad it’s safe, but what’s more important is finding Tristan.”

  Malachite nodded. His voice was taut and tension creased his brow. “The Silver Forest is treacherous at its best. We should leave immediately, while he still might be close. Here.” He handed her an elegant sword. Swirls were carved into the leather sheath. “And you’ll be needing this, as well. It’s chilly out.”

  She took a deep-red cloak from him. The material was thin, but when she slipped it on and fastened the silver brooch, she suddenly felt a lot warmer. She gave him a curt nod of thanks, and together they marched toward the entrance. “Have you sent out trackers to try to pick up his trail?” she asked.

  “They can hardly find anything,” Malachite said. “Mist moved in overnight, the thickest I’ve ever seen. You can have your hand out in front of your face and have a hard time seeing it.”

  They approached the waterfall, which sounded even louder in the dead-of-night stillness. “Be careful,” Malachite said, “and mind your step. It will become a bit difficult to see the closer we get to the outside.”

  One by one, they filed along the wall, skidding across the path’s skinny surface.

  “Really?” Caspar asked, slipping into place beside Natalia. “How bad can it –”

  He literally disappeared as fog thick as cotton enveloped them, so dense she could taste it. Her heart leapt to her throat as they inched along; she could just imagine missing a step and tumbling into the chasm below. When they cleared the path, she released a strong sigh of relief.

  The forest was quite dark; only the tree line was visible against the dimly lit sky. A blanket of clouds hid the moon, allowing it to peek through every now and then. For the most part, she had a hard time seeing anything until her eyes adjusted. It took a minute or two, but she at last saw that Malachite was right – it was the thickest fog she had ever seen. To test his statement, she held up her hand and had to squint to discern the outline of her fingers. “Remarkable,” she said.

  “More like annoying,” Caspar mumbled. “Where to now?”

  “Up the cliff and into the forest,” Malachite said. “We should stay together. There’s no telling how long this fog will last, and I’d hate for one of us to get lost in it. You’d never be able to get back on track.”

  “Well then,” Natalia said, taking a deep breath and fixing a determined stare at the top of the cliff. “What are we waiting for?”

  They climbed, with Malachite, Natalia, and Caspar in the lead, while the rest of the group, about twelve total, trailed behind. She was extra careful in selecting her foot and hand placements this time, knowing how slick the rocks could be. The trek was even more treacherous since she could barely see where she was going.

  Malachite stood at the top and knelt, extending his hand, which she gladly took. He hauled her up just as a rough voice shouted, “Hold on now!”

  They turned, not seeing anyone in the mist.

  “I know that voice,” she murmured.

  Out of the fog, Wormwart hauled himself over the side of the cliff and stood, ax in tow. He dusted his pants off as if he had merely climbed a modest hill. The rest of the dwarves filed in behind him. Even Avalanche, for all his bulk, didn’t look like he had as hard a time climbing the cliff as she had. Then again, they were probably used to climbing rocks, working in caves all day.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “What does it look like
?” Goldentongue said, walking toward them. Leaf and Twix trailed him, also armed. “Upon hearing you left to search for the boy, he was worried you’d get hurt and came to look after you.”

  Wormwart’s face turned bright red. “I – I most – I was NOT worried!”

  Natalia blinked. Though he had helped her back in the woods – and she still had no idea why he had, unless Via had threatened him again – she had spent all this time thinking he loathed her because she was human and Charmed. And now he was trailing after her again? Why the sudden change of heart?

  “Is that true, Wormwart?” she asked, eyeing him skeptically.

  He crossed his arms, refusing to look directly at her. “We were hungry. Since the damn marauders have been stealing all the game, we decided to go hunting.”

  The men shifted, sneering at the dwarves.

  Wormwart either didn’t notice or decided to ignore their glares. “We heard yeh were forming a party and opted to come with yeh. That way we could take what’s rightfully ours if yeh find any game.”

  A few of the men mumbled to each other, glaring at the dwarves. Her face heated. And here you thought it was about you.

  Midnight caught her gaze and smiled. Her chest warmed and she smiled back, her spirits lifting.

  “We shouldn’t dally,” Malachite said, turning. “If you’re done here, we need to start looking. The cottage is several miles away.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Lead the way.”

  Malachite took off instantly, moving so fast she practically had to sprint to keep up. They moved as a group, walking quickly but as quietly as they could manage. Trees loomed out of the murk, and several times, she nearly smacked into them. A bird fluttered to her left, and she looked over in the direction of the sound. Caspar pushed her right at the moment her face would have slammed into a razor-sharp tree trunk. “I’m easily distracted too,” he said, “but I’m fairly certain walking face first into one of these would hurt like hell.”

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling sheepishly.

  They moved in silence. The forest did not stir. It was eerie, made more so by the smoky, intermittent beams of moonlight. Not even a breeze kept them company tonight.

  “Snow,” a boy said faintly.

  She stopped abruptly, whirling around and wildly searching the fog. All she saw was white.

  Midnight grasped her hand. “Are you all right?”

  “What is it?” Malachite said sharply, walking back to her.

  “I thought I heard something,” she said, still scanning the area and growing frustrated because she didn’t see anything.

  Malachite froze, listening. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Maybe it was nothing,” she murmured.

  Malachite grunted and the group moved on. She took another step forward –

  “Snow,” the boy said louder. The air at her cheek warmed, as if he were saying her name right beside her.

  With wide eyes, she scanned the fog, her heart jumping a little. “Tristan?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

  Something rattled the leaves above her. She had only just looked up when a raven swooped down on her, cawing, its claws arched for her eyes. Throwing up her hands, she gritted her teeth against a sudden gale seemingly brought on by the bird’s descent. The air shifted, ripping past her and snatching at her hair. The force was so great it threatened to knock her down, but she braced herself against it, managing only to stumble a bit before it died down. Cracking her eyes open, she looked around. “Caspar?”

  No one was near. The fog was a complete white wall.

  Her breath clouded the air as the temperature plummeted. Chills broke out along her arms, partially from the sudden cold and partially from fear. “Malachite?”

  Not a bird sang, or a leaf shifted. It was simply still.

  She froze, breathing harder as her heart picked up speed. Slowly, her hand came to rest across the sword’s hilt.

  The laughter of a child came from behind her, and she turned, catching the blurry outline of a dark-robed shape moving through the mist.

  “Malachite, wait!” she cried, jogging to catch up.

  As she drew near, the figure vanished and she came to a sudden stop.

  What? But I just saw…

  “Hello, little dove,” came a crackled voice, like old paper, from behind her.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Slowly and not wanting to, she turned around.

  The mist shifted, revealing a clear path to a tall figure wearing a black hooded robe. The hood was turned down, showing only the tip of a wrinkled white chin and the ends of thin white hair. The stranger’s lips looked much too young for the crinkled skin. They were richly colored, somewhere between blue and purple.

  Like mulberries.

  Those lips…

  Natalia couldn’t move. Everything inside her screamed at her to run, but she couldn’t make her legs work.

  Like a bird, the hood cocked severely to the side. Natalia imagined dead black eyes gazing at her, studying her much the same way a hawk would its prey.

  “What have we here?” the crone said. “Has the little mouse lost its way in the big, dark, scary forest?”

  Natalia didn’t know how to respond. “I – I’m not lost.”

  The sores on the old woman’s chapped lips cracked open as she smiled, making blood run between her teeth. “Someone’s always watching here. Oh, yes, someone will find you in the end. And when they do…” She drew a long black fingernail across the air in front of her throat, making a gurgling noise as her smile widened.

  Natalia started to turn, having every intention of running as fast as she could. Where were the others? She didn’t hear anything. If they noticed her missing, surely they would be calling for her by now.

  “Don’t turn your back on me, peasant,” a cold, sinewy voice said.

  Natalia’s breath escaped her. She would know that voice anywhere; it had haunted her dreams and had sent spikes of fear straight into her heart for ten years.

  “It can’t be,” she whispered, more in denial to herself than anything.

  Bell-like laughter danced on the air. “Oh, don’t sound so surprised, dove. Surely you knew it was only a matter of time. Fate catches up to us all in the end.”

  Natalia turned. The snow-white hair of the crone had turned into silky black waves that hung down to her waist. The tattered robe morphed into a fine velvet cape as two much younger looking hands lifted back the hood.

  The Queen smiled at Natalia. “Greetings, little Tali. Rose says hello.”

  “What have you done with her?” Natalia hissed.

  “I haven’t done anything.” Her smile turned vicious. “Yet.”

  The sword was drawn in a blur, its tip pointed at the Queen. “If you harm her –”

  The Queen laughed, harsh and dry. “Don’t get your hackles raised. I’m not going to harm your precious Rosemydre. She’s much too valuable to me.”

  That scared Natalia even more. She wanted to press her stepmother for more answers when the Queen said, “Besides, it’s not your sister you need to be worrying about.”

  The Queen lifted the fold of her robe, and Natalia lost her breath. “Tristan.”

  “So you know him,” the Queen murmured, her smile widening.

  Natalia silently swore, hating the Queen even more for making her feel clumsy and reckless.

  The Queen wrapped her arms around Tristan and clasped her hands in front of his chest. He stared blankly ahead, eyes vacant. “Such a sweet boy,” she murmured.

  Natalia’s eyes flashed. “What did you do to him?”

  “Nothing,” the Queen said lightly. “He’ll be perfectly fine. He’s only checked out for a bit.” She ran a finger down his cheek, tapping her nail against his skin. Tristan didn’t so much as blink; he remained still, like a statue. “Young hearts are always the purest,” she purred, staring hungrily at Tristan’s chest, right where his heart was.

  Natalia squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop it.” />
  “What’s one more child, right? You already have the blood of hundreds of defenseless Thesperians on your hands. They can’t become any more scarlet than they already are.”

  “I said enough!” Natalia growled.

  In an instant, the Queen zoomed toward her, her figure disappearing into swirling black and white mist before reforming a few inches in front of Natalia.

  She staggered back, caught off guard by the Queen’s sudden appearance. Her face radiated cold beauty, mesmerizing and terrifying all at once. “You remember what I said earlier, about Rose being unharmed?” the Queen said in a low voice, stepping forward.

  Natalia stumbled backward, her heart picking up speed again, unable to find her voice. The Queen’s violet eyes burned into her own. Wham! She winced as the razor-sharp bark of the tree trunk cut into her back. She glanced to the side to make sure the space was clear before stepping away.

  The Queen threw a hand up against the tree, blocking her exit. She leaned in, placing her lips right beside Natalia’s ear. “I lied,” she whispered slowly, as if savoring the flavor of the words.

  A shiver ran over Natalia’s skin as terror shook her. “I don’t believe you.”

  The Queen’s eyes flashed with violet lightning bolts. “Wolves never lie.” Smiling, she reached into her cloak. Red ribbons dripped from her fist as she pulled out her hand.

  It felt as if the ground had dropped out from under Natalia. “Rose’s ribbons,” she said.

  “You should use them,” the Queen said innocently, scanning her. “Your corset’s looking a little loose. Besides, the previous owner won’t be needing them anymore.”

  “Liar!” Natalia raised the sword to the Queen’s chest, preparing to run her through. The blade went right through the Queen, whose image flickered in and out of existence. Natalia’s eyes widened. “You’re not real.”

  “Did you honestly think I would be foolish enough to risk going into the forest alone?” She dropped the ribbons, which fluttered to the ground, tangible and whole. The Queen stepped back. “I can’t say this breaks my heart,” she said. “Good riddance.”

  With a swirl of her cloak, the projection turned into black smoke, twirling in a mini maelstrom until fading away altogether.