It was almost anticlimactic how easy it was to follow her trails. Not only were there large, enduring, recent marks on the forest’s trail signaling the direction she’d led her carriage in, but there were also the occasional crumbs of lavender-colored, lavender-flavored bread. Her favorite.
Then again, it wasn’t like she had any reason to keep her path a secret. If anything, her trails had been deliberate; she wanted to be found in case something happened.
Why would she want to hide her passage?
Constance had no one in the forest to protect, and it would be a blessing for people to come help her find the roses and help defend her against the fearsome beast.
I grit my teeth, fearful for Shao despite myself. I hoped Constance had stumbled upon Shao so she could be protected… but would Shao have protected her if Gunnar were by her side? Gunnar was untrustworthy. Demonic. Shao knew it, too, since he’d protected me from the brown-haired man himself.
I was thinking about Shao again. The thoughts were causing me to tremble—again—and not out of fear, but out of some twisted nostalgia and longing. I grit my teeth and focused on Constance’s trail through the window of the carriage, listening to the soft, low, nonchalant hum of the driver.
“So. Remind me. Why are you following these tracks again?” The man asked, wriggling his nose as he took a quick glance back at me. Disdain and wariness seeped through his nostrils as he sniffed. “A jilted lover? Or something else?” The last two words in particular were laced with mistrust, as though he were wondering if I were stalking someone.
He wasn’t off the mark, but not in the way he thought.
“Focus on the road, please,” I replied, and he grunted in irritation, but he obeyed me for now.
“I won’t go much farther than this, sire,” he said. “It’s getting dark. I’ve heard rumors of beasts that will gobble you right up if you stray too far into the forest. N-not that I believe them, but I have a family to take care of.”
I laughed at the outrageousness of the comment, but I wasn’t about to tell him the beast was a harmless man.
“Take me as far as you can and drop me off there,” I said. Although the message I conveyed was exactly how I’d intended it, my voice came out grumpy rather than polite, and I cringed at my own subtle disregard for the driver. He sniffed again.
Minutes later, he dropped me off when the path grew too narrow and the ground too rocky and uneven for me to take me any deeper in.
I tossed all the coins I’d brought in gratitude, although I was paying him ten or twenty coins more than he deserved. He’d been prompt, albeit a bit too chatty—any amount of talking was too much when my teeth were chittering from fear—and his horses had been strong and fast.
He arched his brows and thanked me profusely, asking me if I wanted him to stay or come back. I shook my head. I wanted neither; I didn’t know when I’d be back, I didn’t have any more money, and… the way back home would take another full day or so, even if he were here immediately upon Constance and my return.
Maybe that was just an excuse for me to see Shao again.
Or maybe not. It was simply the only logical train of thought. Constance and Gunnar likely had their own carriages, although I had no idea where it had gone. It was nowhere in sight, but there were no reversed tracks signaling its return to the town. The trees were too narrow, and the tracks disappeared.
Wolves didn’t eat carriages, though… Right?
Shiver.
The man soon turned his carriage and disappeared behind the mass of trees, and I took a deep breath as I followed the emerging footprints in another sprint. I’d rested enough on the carriage. My body felt antsy, or so I told myself, although my calves still burned from my run to the nearby town.
Did minutes pass? Hours? Days?
I couldn’t tell the passage of time, for the sky was covered by layers upon layers of foliage and branches, casting the forest in enduring near darkness but for the occasional flickers of light that passed through a gap in the leaves. I had just enough brightness to see the footsteps and run without tripping over the roots and pebbles.
Then I heard a shriek.
I shrieked, too, because the voice was too familiar. It was Constance.
There was a rustling in the bushes that sounded like the powerful beats of a bird’s wings, and I prayed it was Shao as much as I prayed it was some innocent, unrelated animal that had nothing to do with him.
My heart hammered. Thundered.
Throat dry as a desert, I raced towards the sound.
I had to make it.
She was alive.
I had to get to her in time!
Hurry, hurry, hurry!
My surroundings flickered, leaving my sight as quickly as they appeared; branches and thorns flicked against the skin of my shoulders and cheeks, but I felt nothing. I ignored the wounds, failing to realize I had any in the first place until I felt the faint trickle of blood running down my skin.
Connie.
A clearing emerged in the distance, and it was the very place I’d met Gunnar. Had she been waiting here? How long? I breathed a sigh of relief as I continued blitzing through the woods. The clearing was safe. The wolves couldn’t get past the trees—
The trees, I remembered, had been bulldozed through by Shao himself using several magical talismans.
I suppressed a scream of despair as I approached, my last talisman firmly in both my hands; I was ready to tear it apart at any moment, even though I didn’t know exactly what it would do or how to control it.
A slobbery growl echoed off the trees. I gulped.
Another shriek—Constance!
Forgetting the wolf, or rather because of it, I hurried to her side, snatching her closer through a half-hug as I eyed the wolf, shaking in fear as I saw its size and bared fangs.
Saliva coated the wolf’s mouth and throat, and it pelted down to the grass in large, disgusting chunks.
It wasn’t Shao. It wasn’t a shifter. It was a large, monstrous wolf, plain and simple, and it was famished.
She turned towards me with tears lining her bloodshot eyes, which were wide with terror and confusion and—
She slammed into me, shaking like a leaf in a way I’d never seen her, as she hugged me tight and let out a wail.
“We’re dead,” she grumbled; the wolf snarled once more, teeter-tottering; it lunged towards us—
I tore the paper.
I smelled death, smelled burning ash and bitter dust, before I saw the flames. Devouring, flickering flames surrounded us in a circle of protection, and it danced and glowed as it spread outwards, threatening the wolf.
The wolf snarled, growled, as it wiggled and spazzed, darting away. From the enduring, albeit weakening, sounds of its feet thudding against the ground helter-skelter, it survived.
I should have been relieved I hadn’t killed a living creature, but the flames turned towards us instead. They grew and burned and destroyed as it devoured everything in its path; Constance and I were enveloped, caged in, by the hungry flames.
The air around us sizzled, even seemed to flicker, and seemed to grow pregnant with tension and unbearable heat.
I gulped as Constance shrieked, and I screamed as Constance wept.
I tore at the paper more, screeching, “stop! Stop! Stop!” Without success.
The fires only grew, burning mere feet away from us. Deadly heat pinched at us from all sides. Fingers of flames darted towards us, greedy for our skin and lives.
It had been denied life from the wolf; it wanted ours.
Furious wingbeats flew above us, cawing madly as the space between us and the flames shrunk and shrunk and shrunk.
There were some sounds from beyond the flames, but my own deafening heartbeat and the crackle of the fire drowned it out.
“Help!” I shrieked, and I screamed the word repeatedly like it was some sort of prayer. I felt helpless. Worthless. Lost. Defeated.
I felt hopeful, because the raven had appeared—and
perhaps Shao had, too.
More muffled noises from beyond the impenetrable wall of flames, inches away from us.
I cried for help until my throat was sore and it felt impossible to yell any longer; then I continued to scream even though I felt as though I could burn if I so much as twitched.
And it did; a flicker of a flame grazed against the skin of my palm in a dance of death, and I shrieked until I cried at the unbearable pain.
A roar of pure agony—not ours.
It shredded through the flames, ripped through our hearts and the world around us.
Burning hands—covered by blue flames—blackening into ash where the life was being seeped out—pierced through the flames. Snatched the shredded pieces of my talisman from my limp, weak hands.
“Heart of Mulan!” A pained, desperate, dying groan. The flames zipped away to the sky, growing invisible and intangible.
I collapsed to my butt. Gaped up high at the hands; they still flickered with flames that dissipated, and residues of ash and fire remained on the human-like figure, rendering him unidentifiable, until those, too, vanished…
Revealing the man whom I’d grown to expect in moments of danger and fear and sorrow.
“Shao,” I breathed, and he bent down to lend me a hand, helping me up. Greedily, I accepted and hoisted myself up. I wanted to stay on the ground longer to gather my breath, but I wanted to feel the warmth of his hand more. “How did you—how are you alive?”
Despite our past, our hands lingered on each other a heartbeat too long before we let go, allowing me to pat my dress and avert my gaze.
“That was an illusion,” he said, but he still sounded pained.
The pain from the flames had faded for me, but the memory of it still lingered, leaving an acrid taste on my tongue and phantom agony shooting up my skin.
I looked up at him, my expression twisted with guilt and confusion and so many questions.
“What was—why did—how could—?”
Shao sighed. He stroked my cheek as if to test that I were real—as if to check for any signs of hurt—and I flinched away, remembering why I’d left.
“Sol didn’t tell you?” He asked, and I shook my head.
“He didn’t remember the talismans until we were home, and there were too many people there. I’d have been attacked for carrying magic spells.”
Shao cursed under his breath. “The only way to stop a curse before it extinguishes itself is to utter Heart of Mulan,” he explained. He shook his head as if to clear a mirage—as if to clear away my presence. “It’s a throwback to the hero of the witches during the Magnolia Wars. Hua Mulan. All the talismans are like that; the witches love and revere her.”
I nodded slowly, not caring. I didn’t care about what he’d uttered. I cared about why he’d endured the stabbing torture of the flames.
“Typically, only the caster can cancel a curse,” he said. “If anyone else wants to stop it, they need to hold the involved talisman in their hands.”
“But you—”
“I’d do anything to save you,” he said, and I hated that I blushed.
I glanced towards Constance, who was staring at me with a perplexed and… fearful expression.
“Wh-who are you two?” She cried out. “Is one of you the beast?” Her voice trembled, but it held a stubborn steel edge to it.
I realized I still looked like a man, and I glanced towards Shao, my forehead wrinkled with confusion. It was impossible he’d recognized me. Had I been transformed into a man he knew?
Chuckles bubbled out of Shao’s throat. “Flames out of nowhere was quite the giveaway, but I’d recognize you anywhere, Beatrice,” he said, and I had to bite my tongue and clench my fists to keep the protective barriers around my heart from withering like the flames.
“Heart of Mulan,” I whispered, unable to respond to Shao, and my body felt lighter as sweet smoke surrounded me once more, revealing my true self when it dissolved away.
Constance stared at me, slack-jawed, her entire body twitching. I licked my lips and gave her a small shrug. I’d explain later. Maybe.
“Let’s go home,” he said, turning around in a hurried, quick pivot. I was about to follow but stopped myself and pointed to Constance.
“Gunnar.” I managed. “Where is he?” I refused to take him with us.
Constance blinked at me, her palms up and facing forward. “Not here. He went back home. I’m surprised you knew he came with me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Somehow, I doubt he left. Why would he leave you here alone? If you find me, that means he’d find the roses, too.”
He may have returned home before, but that was only because of Shao. I had no idea how long he’d been ambling around the forest then, but I was certain he’d been in here longer than a week or so. Why wouldn’t he have stayed again?
“He only came here to help me find you,” Constance said, crossing her arms. “I told him to leave, since all I was doing was walking around and trying to find you. He gave up on the roses during the last visit, after he spent three weeks searching the forest without success.” Her eyes bored straight into mine, and they were firm in their resolve. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Bee.”
I melted at her use of the childhood nickname I thought we’d lost forever. I sighed. We may have grown apart, but she was still my sister. She was still precious to me, and I trusted her.
I turned back to Shao. “Let’s go.”
A cursed word—home—twisted at my tongue, desperately wanting to slip out and shift my words into something different. Something more.
But the mansion wasn’t my home.
It never could be.
Chapter 25
Our trip back was marked by Shao’s explanation of how he’d found us.
He’d received the letter from the raven the day after I’d left, and he’d considered sending the letter to me, only to realize I’d be home already. So, he’d instead sent the bird to his siblings; he hoped they were nearby and understood they had to come to help find Constance—and presumably me—and help drive us back home. Again.
After that, he’d been furiously running around with the help of the raven, and he had the disheveled appearance to match. His hair and forehead were slick with sweat, and it looked as though he hadn’t showered in a full day or so from looking for us without stopping to take a single break.
Shao was a lot of things, but he was protective, too. I tried not to dwell too much on that. The guilt from turning so many people into roses was eating him apart, preventing him from allowing anyone else to die if he could stop it. That was it.
Yet I couldn’t help but swallow, my lips pursed together, as I kept looking between Shao and Constance as they got to know each other.
Whenever their glances lasted longer than a split second, I worried sparks were flying between their gazes. When Constance almost tripped over a stray branch and Shao helped her regain her balance, I grit my teeth at their brief physical touch.
Shao lingered a heart-wrenching distance away from me. I knew it was either out of guilt or respect for me, but even so, I loathed that he wasn’t right beside my side.
I was grateful he wasn’t speaking too much to me after what had transpired. The air would be drenched by discomfort, awkwardness, and regret, and Constance didn’t need to see that. Feel that.
Constance’s cheeks were even more sallow and sunken than before from the lack of a proper diet and excruciating, endless work. Her once lustrous, silky, long hair was now cropped flat into a dry, split-haired bob that resembled a pile of hay.
Her new appearance polluted my mind with sorrow and guilt, and yet I felt a small, twisted spark of relief, too; she was still beautiful, but she wasn’t the irresistible siren she’d once been.
I hated myself.
“Don’t touch the roses,” I remembered to tell Constance at last, and she furrowed her brows as she turned back towards me, her expression marked with a flash of irritation and disbelief. She didn’t say any
thing because of Shao’s looming presence next to her, but her expression conveyed the words she wished to say.
I glanced at Shao, silently asking if I could explain to Constance everything, and he gave a curt shake of his head. Well, I didn’t need to reveal the secret of the roses, anyway. Not when…
“Father’s saved,” I blurted out, loud and clear and fast. Tears threatened to squeeze out my eyes again, and I tipped my head back to blink them back down. “Once he recovers enough to paint, he’ll be able to get us out of debt.”
Constance’s frown only grew. Her voice came out a slow, distrusting drawl. “That’s impossible.”
“Why do you think Shao didn’t appear with me?” I asked, and she shook her head. “I left to save Father, and I only returned because you were missing.”
Constance shook her head even faster, and she waved her palms forward at me. “No. No, Father can’t be—”
I squeezed her hands, looking into her eyes as she’d done for me. “I wouldn’t lie to you either, Connie,” I whispered, giving her a quick wink. “You’ve seen my conjured flames and my transformation. Magic. Illegal and inaccessible to the common folk. Can’t you trust me? It doesn’t even have to be for long. The moment we get home, Father will no doubt be waiting with his nose to the window, anxious for our return.”
Constance bit her lip in the way only she could—alluring, despite her mess of her hair and skin—and my mind flashed to all the times I bit my own lips and looked like a starving orangutan devouring my entire mouth.
“N-no, Father can’t…” Her words trembled. Her eyes were as wide as a puppy’s, and there was moisture dotting them. “That’s impossible.” Her voice came out as a breathy whisper. She turned to Shao, her expression altered into something like admiration and fear at once. “I thought Beatrice was… wrong about you,” she settled on saying, perhaps feeling too guilty to say she thought I was being stupid after I’d been proven right.
Weak laughter bubbled out of Shao. “I wasn’t sure if I could procure the cure for her either, but…” Shrug. “I’m glad he was saved, Beatrice,” he said, turning towards me with an expression that thawed my heart—before his breath caught in his throat. He snapped his gaze away. I gulped.
A Kiss like Roses: Fairy Tale Synergy Book 1 Page 20
