by Shari Cross
Drake moves his hand to his side and grasps the hilt of the dagger. He pulls it out of his belt and places it in a black leather sheath. “Here, it’s yours,” he says as he extends it to me.
“But, you said . . .”
“I said that it wasn’t for sale and it’s not. I made it for you. Father must have accidentally brought it out here with the rest of the daggers.” He moves around the side of the booth and comes to a stop directly in front of me. His gaze remains locked on mine as he reaches down and grabs my hand. He holds it in his for a moment, his expression unreadable. A rush of heat and anticipation sears through my body. All I can think about is his hand and my hand and how I don’t want to let go. I involuntarily lean toward him, wanting to be closer, needing to be closer. He looks down, breaking my trance, and gently places the hilt of the dagger in my hand. With one last distant look, he drops my hand and walks away.
I stay where I am, feeling stunned and hollow. I don’t know what to think about my relationship with Drake anymore. It has become so strained. Frustration and angst seem to dominate the comfort we used to bring each other, and I often find myself fighting for air and control.
With a drawn-out breath, I reach down, lift the bottom of my skirt, and place my dagger in the top of my boot. I didn’t even thank him for it.
I straighten myself out and force myself to make my way through the packed market, trying to focus on finding Elizabeth. But she’s no longer at the jewelry stand where I left her. I turn back to Drake’s booth. My uncle is there now, conversing with a group of men in vibrantly colored turbans. Again, the look Drake had in his eyes before he walked away from me flashes in my mind, and I feel nauseous. I have a growing fear that he’s slipping away from me. I have to find him. I have to try to replace the distant look in his eyes with the look of affection and trust I’m so used to seeing in them.
My new resolve allows me to move through the crowd with more determination. But then the bells in the market begin to toll, and I stop. Three tolls means there’s an important announcement to be made by the Squire. Six tolls means there’s been an arrest, and a prisoner is going to be brought to the center stage of the market for sentencing. Ten tolls means there’s a village meeting being called. I count the tolls now, as they ring. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . silence. The minstrels are forced off the stage by several guardsmen, who are ushering up a filthy, elderly man, dressed in rags and covered in dirt. Behind him is Lord Berrenger, dressed in his navy silk cloak, his graying hair covered by a feathered cap, preparing to address the crowd.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of Faygrene, this man has been caught stealing. It’s up to you to decide how he shall be punished.” Many people call out their recommendations. I block them out as I search through the crowd, looking for Drake. Out of the corner of my eye, I see red hair. Elizabeth is with Mother and Father, moving closer to the stage. I feel guilty for not finding her sooner, but at least she’s not wandering around on her own. I look away from my family and continue on my mission to find Drake. I’m sure he hasn’t stayed to watch the sentencing of the prisoner, and I don’t want to either. I’ve seen enough in my seventeen years to know that these things rarely end well.
I make my way out of the crowded market place and head toward the woods. I don’t know where else to look for him and can only hope he’s gone there. Even with the uncertainty that seems to have grown between us, the woods have remained our place, and I have kept my promise to never go in without him.
As I approach the woods and our gate, I see a dark figure leaning against it. I break into a run, hoping with everything in me that it’s him. Once I’m closer, I recognize the familiar dark, tousled hair, and the stiff but still casual stance that could only belong to Drake. Relief streams through me. He wouldn’t have come here if he didn’t want me to find him. Maybe he hasn’t left me yet.
His head flies up and his eyes widen with surprise when he sees me running toward him. I run into his arms, crashing into his body, but he’s strong and steady, and his arms are ready to catch me. We stay there for an immeasurable moment, rooted in a crushing embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” He gently pulls away from me, just enough to look into my face.
“I . . . I don’t know really, but you seemed upset with me and I don’t want you to be.” I speak honestly, a tear slowly slipping from my eye. He releases a humorless laugh and gently wipes my tear with his thumb, his hand lingering on my cheek.
“Addy, you did nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m the one who’s been wrong, and I’m sorry.” His face is filled with sorrow.
“What could you have possibly been wrong about? You have done nothing wrong. You have always been there for me, protecting me, going along with all my ridiculous plans.” I offer him a small smile, and get a crooked one in return but it seems forced.
“Not always,” he says quietly, and I know he’s remembering what he said to me when we fought and how much it hurt me.
“Both of us have made mistakes, Drake. I just . . . I just want us back.”
“Addy,” he says with a shake of his head and a sad laugh. “If you only knew.”
“If I only knew what?"
He rubs his palms across his face. “Nothing. Just . . . don’t worry about it. From now on things will return to normal between us. I promise.” He drops his hands to his side and a small smile forms on his lips. His eyes are still weary, but at least they’re no longer distant.
“Good, because when Gregory leaves next month it’s going to be hard for me and I’m going to need my friend,” I say as I lean my head against his chest. I hear him murmur something that sounds like the word “friend,” but it’s hard to tell. He lets out a breath and rhythmically runs his fingers through my hair. I close my eyes and let the strong beat of his heart comfort me while I try to push away the sense of unease. Too soon he pulls away.
“We need to get back to the market. People have probably been looking for us.” He grabs hold of my hand and intertwines his fingers in mine.
“All right, but I want to stop by my home first to grab a few extra coins to buy Elizabeth something nice.” My mind drifts to the onyx hairpin. “I feel bad about leaving her.”
Drake nods his head, and we begin walking toward my home.
“Thank you, by the way, for the dagger. It’s perfect.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “It will give you a way to protect yourself, in case I’m not there.” Why wouldn’t he be there? I feel the trepidation returning, but tell myself I’m being foolish.
“So is this your way of telling me that you’re no longer going to follow me everywhere?” I say with a forced laugh, and gently nudge him with my shoulder. He smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I have to let you go sometime,” he says, mostly to himself, as we approach my front door. “Go on in. I’ll wait here for you.”
I hesitantly walk into my home, haunted by his words, hating what they imply. As soon as I walk into my chambers, I open my window and try to breathe in some fresh air and clear my head. You’re overreacting. They’re only words. He doesn’t mean anything by them. Everything will be fine.
After several deep breaths, I gather some coins from my table and tuck them into a hidden pocket in my skirt. Next, I carefully remove the dagger from my boot. My hands are trembling while I remove it from its sheath and rotate it, examining every precious detail. It must have taken him months to perfect the intricate pattern of the vines. I study the pattern and watch it lead up to the emerald leaves. The color of the stones matches his eyes and leaves me with a feeling of longing so deep it takes my breath away.
“Drake! How are you, my boy?” My father’s voice carries into my chambers through the open window, startling me. I move closer, straining my ears to listen.
“I’m well, thank you. How are you, sir?”
“I’m wonder
ful! Especially now that I’ve spoken with Gregory,” my father replies joyfully. “He told me you and Walter are joining the Schild with him. Is this true?”
What’s my father talking about? Drake isn’t leaving! He can’t be! He would have told me if he were! I gasp for air. No! My father has to be wrong! I drop the dagger onto the bed and grab the wall for support, forcing myself to listen, waiting for Drake to tell my father that Gregory’s wrong, that he’s not leaving.
“Yes, sir. Gregory was very happy when I told him.”
I can’t listen anymore. I push myself out the window and when my feet land on the ground, I run, heading for the only place I can find peace.
Chapter 9
HER
Alone. I haven’t been alone in these woods for what feels like a lifetime. I need it now. I need to feel the presence of the trees and nothing else.
I try to slow my breathing and push the haze out of my head.
He’s leaving. In six weeks, both of them will be gone. The thought is painful enough to bring me to my knees, but I force myself to keep moving. I push the pain away and focus instead on the anger. Anger is easier to deal with, and I’m not just angry, I’m furious.
I’m furious that he hasn’t told me. I feel completely betrayed. I thought he was my best friend, but how do you keep something like this from someone who’s supposed to be that important to you? We have all known for half a year about my brother’s plans to leave, and we all knew Walter was considering it, but Drake never mentioned any interest in leaving.
This means that Gregory has been lying to me as well. He’s known for who knows how long that Drake was going to go with him. Maybe he’s the one who convinced him to go. And now they’ve told my parents. Why have I been the one kept in the dark about all this?
“Addy!” The sound of Drake’s voice leaves me feeling as though all the breath has been taken from me. “Addalynne, where are you?”
There’s distinct desperation in his voice, and a searing pain throbs in my chest. I didn’t know it was actually possible to feel your heart break. My eyes burn and I swallow back the lump in my throat. Everything in me wants to answer him, but I can’t. I don’t think I would be able to look at him without breaking down completely.
“Addy, I know you’re in here and I know you can hear me! I’m not leaving! I’ll look for you all day if I have to!”
I look around for a good place to hide. But I’m at the Glass River now, near the Grey Tree, so there really isn’t one. I sit down and lean my back against a large oak that’s about twenty feet away from the Grey Tree.
Calm down. I need to calm down. I close my eyes and picture myself at the ocean. I imagine the feel of the moist breeze blowing gently across my face. I breathe in the smell of salt water and watch dolphins jump through the waves. I dig my fingers into the warm sand and wish the pain away.
The warmth of the sand sweeps across my fingers, bringing with it an instant calm. It feels incredibly real. I let out a sigh, knowing I’ve succeeded in pushing back the tears and gaining control. I let the ocean fade away, but the warmth and light pressure on my left hand is still there. I can’t be imagining it. It’s far too real.
My eyes open. Drake is next to me, leaning against the same tree, his hand on top of mine, radiating a warmth so endearing it breaks my heart. His eyes are closed, his face a blank mask. I’ll never understand how he can move so silently. If I weren’t so accustomed to the strong beat of his heart, I would think he was a ghost.
“Why didn’t you come to me when I called you?” he asks cautiously, his eyes still closed. I don’t trust myself to speak, so I wait for him to continue. “You should have come. It’s not safe for you to be in here alone, especially this close to the river.” He opens his eyes and turns his head toward me.
“I’ve been coming into these woods my entire life and nothing has ever happened. Besides, I’m going to have no choice but to come in here alone once you leave. Isn’t that why you made me the dagger?” I fix my gaze on him, my eyes telling him not to lie to me.
He moves from my side and comes to a crouch directly in front of me. The green leaves of the trees blow in the breeze behind him, their trunks surrounding us like legs of giants waiting to stomp us into the ground.
His dark hair is stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat, his full lips pursed in thought, his eyebrows scrunched together in consternation. The green of his eyes is made all the more striking by the flush of his cheeks, and it’s to those burning emeralds that I’m drawn now.
“What do you know about my leaving?”
I take a deep breath and consider my answer. I could avoid his question and walk away, or I could confront him about his plans to leave. I may as well get the pain over with. Besides, just because someone is afraid of looking directly into the flames of a fire, doesn’t mean it will stop burning.
“You’re leaving with my brother and Walter to join the King’s Schild. I won’t see you for years, if I ever see you again at all, and you didn’t even tell me.” I wait for him to respond, searching his face, but it’s carefully arranged to give nothing away.
“What did you overhear?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s true, isn’t it?” Please tell me it’s not true, that somehow this is all a terrible misunderstanding.
“Yes. It’s true.”
My body begins to tremble. I don’t want him to notice, so I push myself off the ground and walk away, wrapping my arms protectively around myself, trying to physically keep myself from falling apart.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he calls after me. “The truth is, I didn’t know how to tell you, but on some level you had to have known I was considering it. You know how badly I want to learn about my past, about who I am. If I travel to Synereal, I may see something that triggers my memory, or I might be able to talk to someone who can give me answers.” His voice is replete with urgency, pleading with me to understand. “If I could go without joining, I would, but you know I can’t. I could never afford to travel that far on my own.”
I think about his words and about how desperate he is to discover his past. I could help him. I could tell him what I know, and maybe then he would stay. But then he would hate me for never telling him the truth before. I really am the biggest hypocrite. Here I am, angry with him for not telling me about his decision to join the King’s Schild, yet I have lied to him for over four years.
I stop walking. My body is facing the Glass River, facing the exact spot from where I saw him stagger out of the fog. He approaches and stands behind me, close enough for me to feel his breath on my cheek.
“Can you really blame me for taking a chance to go somewhere that may be able to help me? You know if I stay here I’ll never learn about my past. I’ll never be able to remember, and no one will be able to help me.”
His words hit me like a slap across my face. This time I can’t stop the tears. I keep my back to him, not wanting him to see me cry. I don’t think I could handle his pity right now. His hand slowly brushes my hair off the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. He grabs hold of my shoulder and turns me to face him. Though my body is facing his now, I keep my sight on the ground, staring at the leaves and rocks that mix together in an erratic pattern of brown, grey, and green. He places his fingers under my chin and gently draws my head up to look at him. In his eyes I see the same sadness and guilt that I feel reflected back at me.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” he pleads, while reaching out and brushing my hair behind my ear. He’s hurting because he hurt me. I’m hurting because he’s leaving me. He feels guilty because he didn’t tell me. I feel guilty because I have kept my own secrets from him.
I try to smile. “I’m not angry with you. I understand why you want to leave. I just wish you would have told me.”
“I know I should have told you and I am sorry.” His eyes burn with sincerity. He’s desperate for my forgiveness, just as I will be desperate for his if I tell him the truth I’ve
been hiding.
Looking up at him, I think about him leaving me and I can’t stand it. The thought of not being able to look into his face every day, or hear his voice, or feel the sturdiness of his arms, is more than I can take. But he doesn’t have to leave. Maybe, if he knew the truth about how I found him, it would be enough to keep him here. It would give him a clue to his past and show him that most of his answers probably lie in Incarnadine. He’ll have to understand that going there isn’t an option, not when it’s so dangerous. And, though I know he’ll be angry with me, he can’t stay mad at me forever. Besides, if it makes him stay, it will be worth it.
“What if I could tell you more about where you came from? What if some of your answers lie here? Would you still leave?” I force out the words before I can convince myself otherwise.
“What are you talking about? He asks, his face taking on a look of confusion.
I turn my back to him again. I’ll never be able to tell him the truth if I’m looking at him. “I haven’t been completely honest with you about how I found you,” I say very quietly. But he heard me. I know he did, because his breathing completely stops. My heart races. I don’t think it has ever beaten this fast before. I wonder how much it can take before it gives out.
After what feels like an eternity, he finds his voice.
“What do you mean you haven’t been honest with me? What haven’t you been honest about?” There’s a tremble in his voice, but I can’t tell if it’s from fear or anger. Please don’t hate me.
“I’ll tell you everything, but please don’t say anything until I’m finished.” I stare out across the river, into the fog, and start to relive that day.
“I was sitting in the Grey Tree, looking out over the southern bank of the river, when I saw you. You weren’t floating on a log in the river. You were walking through the fog on the southern side, on the forbidden side, in Incarnadine. You were stumbling and dazed. When you reached the river, you fell to your knees and dunked your arms in. They were covered in blood and so was your tunic. After a few seconds, you fell over, unconscious, into the water. I jumped in and pulled you out.”
