by Elise Kova
“You…grow things out here?” I ask.
“There’s potatoes in this bed,” he says, now walking along the pathway and pointing as he goes. Sure enough, I recognize the pointed flat leaves of a potato plant. “Carrots are over here, mixed in with the parsley. Rosemary is in the back. The basil bush took over the tomatoes last winter, and then…died.” He looks a little guilty about that. “So, how are you with gardening?”
“I’m okay, I suppose.” It’s a bit of a stretch. Joyce rapped my knuckles with a switch more than once over poor yields. Not the worst scars she gave me. You would think her harsh punishment would’ve made me exceptional. It made me merely passable because it filled me with nothing but resentment for the task. “But I can certainly clean up this place, shore up the shed, redefine the beds. And if you give me instruction on the plants, I won’t mess them up.”
He looks skeptical. I’m excited for this project and I don’t want it to be taken away from me because I have mediocre skills when it comes to gardening. So I add, “I promise I won’t let you down, Oren.”
“Why don’t you start with cleaning up today?” he suggests. “Then we’ll see about you tending the plants.”
“Sounds great,” I say quickly.
Oren leaves me to it. It’s a bit of a daunting task, given the state of the garden. But that just means it’ll take me several days to complete. My mind is already starting a list of priorities and filling in all the opportunity this garden has. Maybe, if there are enough supplies after I repair everything, I’ll make a bench. This could be a lovely place to sit in late spring or summer when the pollinators are happily going about their business.
I dare to open the shed door, and the whole thing nearly collapses when I do. But inside is a rake and that’s all I need for now. I start with the pathways, piling up the needles at the back edge of the garden. There’s a clear line where the stone pathways end and the forest floor begins. I push the pine needles off onto the forest floor but go no farther.
It’s late morning when I take my first break. I lean against the wall and wipe sweat from my brow. My muscles are sore. It’s been only a week of lounging and I’ve already lost some strength. The stiffness in my bones makes me feel even better about keeping busy. Work keeps me moving, which keeps me strong.
The sound of a sniffle summons my attention, followed immediately by soft crying. I look around for the source and my eyes are drawn to the woods. There, in the distance, I see a young girl with hands balled into tiny fists, wiping wet cheeks as she weeps.
“What the—What are you doing out there?” I call out to her. She continues crying as though she can’t hear me. “Little girl, are you lost?”
Still no response.
I look around, trying to see if I can spot anyone else around her. There’s no one. She carries a satchel slung across her body. Who would bring a child into the dark forest? I know there are men and women who dare to forage within it but I’ve never heard of anyone being so foolish as to bring a child. I push away from the wall and walk to the edge of the stone pathways, cupping my hands around my mouth.
“Little girl, look, come over here.”
She stills, hands dropping from her face so she can look at me. She rubs her nose with her knuckles. And then dashes behind a tree.
“No, wait! Don’t run!” I step off the pathway and onto the plush piles of pine needles I just finished raking. “You don’t have to be afraid; I’m trying to help you. Did you come out here with your parents?”
I see her poke her little face out from around the tree. Her hair is a painfully similar shade to Laura’s.
“It’s all right,” I coo softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I trail my hand along the wall, walking to the very edge of where it crumbles to nothing, and come to a stop. “Come here.”
She retreats behind the tree.
“Please, it’s not safe out here for a little one like you. There’s chocolate in the kitchens, I can get you a piece if you’d like.” I have no idea if there’s chocolate, I just know that bribe always worked with Laura when she was this age.
The girl reemerges. I can see now that she’s absolutely filthy. I expected the mud and dirt covering her clothes. I didn’t expect the blood.
“Are you hurt?” I whisper.
She shakes her head and begins sobbing once more. A picture is forming in my mind of what might have happened here. Someone must have taken her into the woods, either well-meaning or nefarious, and then a horrible misfortune befell them that this girl somehow managed to escape. That also means that somewhere out there the man, or beast, or even fae who did this might still be hunting her. It might be hiding behind any of these trees.
“I need you to listen to me now. Be a good girl, yes?” She’s still crying. I scan the woods for danger and then look back to her. “You’ll be safe in the little castle behind me. Please, come with me. The lord of this manor is very kind, and generous. He won’t hurt you.”
The girl sobs harder. I think I see movement in the woods behind her. I creep forward.
“Can you tell me your name?” I ask. She shakes her head. “My name is Katria. The woods are a scary place, aren’t they?” More movement in my periphery. My heart is racing. I extend a sweaty palm. “Come on, take my hand.” I don’t know if Lord Fenwood’s protection, whatever it might be, will extend to her as well. But if she takes my hand, with one yank we will be back behind the crumbled edge of the wall. If I run as fast as I can, we’ll be in the garden in a breath.
She stops crying and raises her tiny fingers. My hand closes around hers. Her eyes flash a bright yellow, like torchlight hitting a wolf’s eyes at night.
The girl smiles wide, and her mouth is full of too many teeth, dagger-sharp. She wrenches with a strength that she should not possess and pulls me past the wall. I topple head over heels, letting out a yelp of surprise. On my knees, I dig my hands into the moist underbrush of rotting leaves and damp earth, and jerk my head back in her direction.
The girl is no more. In her place is a gnarled woman. She has bright yellow eyes with slits for pupils. Gossamer wings unfurl behind her, dragging on the ground as she stalks toward me with bony claws. Around her shoulders is a swirling shawl of shadow.
I open and close my mouth, trying to form words, but there are none. I blink several times, as if she’ll go away, as if I’ll wake myself up from this nightmare, but she comes closer and closer.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I squeak, pushing off the ground, crab-walking backward. I should get up and run, but fear has made a fool of me. Her bloodshot eyes look for my death.
“Maybe I won’t hurt you.” Her voice is garbled and worn—it’s as if someone has ripped out her voice box and shoved it back in the wrong direction. In addition, the common tongue doesn’t seem to be her first language. “If you promise to do one thing for me.”
“What? I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Open a window of that room.” She points a bony claw toward the dining room. “Leave it open this night.”
So she can murder me in my bed later? “I—of course,” I say quickly. “Anything you want.” The metallic taste of lies fills my mouth. There’s no way I’m leaving the window open for this creature.
“Hmmm, your kind can lie.” It’s as if she can smell the metal on my breath, and she reconsiders her offer. “Maybe I’ll just make you scream loud enough that he has no choice but to come out himself.”
I let out a squeak as I back into a tree. Get up, my mind screams. But I’m locked in place. I have to run. I have to fight. I can’t die like this.
She crouches before me and digs one of the points of her claws into my chest. “He’s begun amusing himself with humans, has he? Let’s see how long he’ll be amused if you don’t have an arm.”
The crone grabs my left wrist, yanking my arm. Her right hand rears back and upward. Those wicked sharp claws are going to sink into my flesh. I close my eyes and turn away as I see her hand move through the
air.
A roar rocks the earth. The sound is part man, part beast, and all primal rage. Air rushes past me, and my arm is pulled painfully until it pops. I let out a scream as I hit the ground. My head strikes a rock.
I blink, dazed. My vision is blurry and all I can see are the woods. But behind me a struggle ensues. I try and push myself up from the ground, but my one arm refuses to work. The world tilts and I upturn the contents of my stomach. I continue blinking, trying to bring things back into focus. The pinpricks of sunlight poking through the dense canopy are far too bright. The noises far too loud. I fear I might be sick again.
These sensations are familiar. The last time I felt them was when I fell off the roof with Helen. Then, my world became hazy, and when I came to—
“Take her.” That’s Oren. “Go back to the manor, I’ll hold her off.”
“Thank you.” I recognize Lord Fenwood’s voice, even in my state, even never having laid eyes on the man. I know it’s him. Just like I can feel his presence behind me, warm and sturdy, undeniable. “Close your eyes,” he whispers, surprisingly tender and in stark contrast to the growling and grunting still happening behind us.
I don’t want to close my eyes. If I do, when will I wake up? And what will be happening then? But I want to stay out here even less, so I press my eyes closed with a whimper.
Two large hands slip underneath me, one around my shoulders and one under my knees. I’m weightless as the lord hoists me into the air and clutches me against his chest protectively. I was right, he is tall. But far more muscular than I was expecting. I can feel that rippling strength beneath the thin shirt he wears. Strength he’s using to protect me.
“You’re safe now.” Yet even as he says those words, a scream erupts from the beast. Nothing feels safe.
“Please don’t hurt me.” My voice quivers.
“I will never hurt you.” Truth.
“What’s happening?” I press my face into his chest so I don’t open my eyes out of temptation. I don’t think I want to see what’s going on. The image of that woman is already seared onto the back of my lids, threatening to haunt me for forever.
“You’re safe now,” he repeats. “I have you in my arms, so you have nothing to fear.”
It’s not an answer. But my nose doesn’t singe, so it’s also not a lie. I exhale with a whimper and put my faith in him as he carries me back to the safety of the manor.
Chapter 6
He kicks in the door to the kitchen, where the familiar scents mingle with his own cologne of moss and sage. Safe, I repeat the word in my head, these smells mean I’m safe. I try and imprint the fact on my very soul. My heart is beginning to slow, though his still races against my cheek. I clutch his shirt lightly, though I can’t tell if I’m trying to reassure myself or him.
Back in my room, he lays me down on the bed. I keep my eyes pressed shut. I won’t disrespect his wishes, especially not after he saved me.
“I need to go and see if Oren is all right. But first… How are you?” he whispers.
I can almost feel his hands hovering over me, like he wants to touch me. The phantom sensation of his fingertips on my cheeks races through my mind. I try to stay focused but everything that’s happened has scattered my thoughts to the wind.
“My shoulder hurts some. My head is splitting.” As I say that, I feel two fingertips run lightly over my temple. He gives in, his touch so small and gentle it sends a jolt through me. “I’ll be fine. Don’t leave Oren out there alone with that thing.”
“‘Thing,’ indeed,” he repeats with a snarl and pulls away. I hear him move through the room.
I almost call out to him. I don’t want to be alone. But I keep my silence. Oren needs him more than I do. And based on what the creature said…there must be some kind of ward, or protection around this house. They just need to hold off the beast long enough that they both can get back behind the wall. It must be safe in here.
It must be…
It’s twilight when I open my eyes next. My shoulder is stiff and screams as I try to move it. But I can wriggle all my fingers and bend my elbow. I think it’s just a terrible sprain. My head is splitting but my vision is no longer blurry. I sit up, rubbing lightly where my temple met the rock. My fingers come away bloody. I’ve bled on the pillowcase, too.
I curse under my breath. Fortunately for me, one upside of womanhood is that I’m already well versed in getting blood out of linens. I pull the case off the pillow, swing my legs off the bed, and stand slowly. The world does a little tilt, but nothing too alarming. I’m stable enough to make my way to the washroom. I look a mess, but washing my face is a significant improvement in getting me back to “human” again.
Pillowcase cleaned, I emerge back into the hallway feeling refreshed. I notice a note has been pinned to the door that leads to the main, central tower. I cross over and read the elegant script that I can only presume was made by the strong hand of Lord Fenwood.
K~
There will be an exception to the rules tonight only.
When you wake, if it is before dawn, you may come out and access the dining room and kitchen. Take whatever you need to care for yourself in body and spirit.
My stomach is still too unsettled from the events of the day to be particularly inclined toward food. But my curiosity is far too intense to turn down this opportunity to wander at night. I crack open the door.
The main hall looks…normal.
I don’t know what I was expecting. There’s been such a fuss made about me not emerging at night that perhaps I thought the entire castle somehow changed. That beyond the door was a portal to another land. I laugh softly at myself.
Dishware clinking in the dining room stills me. My heart races as though I am back in the forest. I take a deep breath. I am safe here, I repeat to myself. I’ve lived here now for over a week. For over a week, that monster had been in the woods. It only attacked me when I ventured too far. Within these walls, I have nothing to fear.
The golden glow of candlelight strikes out the frame of the dining room entry on the dark floor. I pause at the side of the door, not looking in. There are two possibilities on who is eating late, and I’d rather be safe than sorry.
“Lord Fenwood?” I say. It’s my turn to have my back against the wall, shoulder barely exposed. “Is that you?”
There’s a long stretch of silence. “Just a moment and I’ll be done.”
“Don’t rush on my account; I’ll come back.”
“No, no. Stay.” Is that longing that I hear in the unfathomable depths of his voice? I don’t move.
“What are you eating?” I ask, before the silence can become awkward.
He chuckles. “Nothing particularly fitting of a lord. A hunk of cheese I cut mold from and a knob of bread that I couldn’t let turn stale.” He hates wasting food. That similarity between us, however slight, softens my stance. “But at least the mead is good.”
“Oren didn’t make you dinner?” Dread fills me at what this might mean.
“He’s had quite the day so I gave him the night off.”
“Is he all right?”
“He is.”
“Thank goodness.” I heave a sigh of relief.
“Though he very well could not have been.” Lord Fenwood’s voice shifts into the realm of disappointment.
I pick at a string on my blouse, tugging on it. It’s then I notice that the string comes from a gap at the seam of my shoulder. That monster nearly ripped my sleeve clean off.
An idea strikes me. I tug and pull off the sleeve the rest of the way. I continue ripping at the seam down to the cuff. I’m left with a long, rectangular piece of fabric that I tie firmly over my shut eyes.
Fingertips resting lightly on the doorframe, I step into the dining room. At least, I think I do, it’s impossible to be sure. The heavy cotton of my blouse over my eyes nearly blots out all light.
“What are you—” His chair scrapes over the floor.
“I can’t see anything, I
swear it.” I hold up both of my hands, trying to calm him. “I just thought it might be easier to talk this way, rather than around a door.” He says nothing, which sets my nerves ablaze. I know I must look a right mess in my still-soiled clothes, one sleeve missing. “I wish I could look you in the eyes so you could see how sincere I am when I say I’m sorry. But since I can’t do that, I thought this might be the next best thing.”
Unless he has figured out a way to leave the room and pass me completely undetected, I can only assume he’s still standing there, utterly silent. I wonder what expression he has. Is he upset? Or maybe he’s amused, or even impressed that I thought of a blindfold as a solution… A harmless fantasy of him being delighted by me runs away with my thoughts for a second. But the memory of Oren fighting that monster in the woods alone so the lord could save me sobers me right up.
“My Lord, I never meant… I didn’t intend to go beyond the edge of the wall.” I stare in what I hope is his direction. For some reason I imagine him sitting in the same chair as me, at the head of that long table. Made small by this empty room.
“You swore to me you would not. I should have known better than to trust you.” Frustration seeps into his voice, bleeding from a wound I never intended to make.
“Please hear me out. I never meant to betray your trust,” I say quickly. “I saw a crying girl among the trees. I was afraid that someone had brought her into the forest and something wicked befell that person. She had blood on her. She looked… The girl looked like one of my sisters when she was no older than seven. I was trying to help her and before I knew it she had become that thing.”
“A fae.”
Those two words shake me to my core. I realize I never really believed in the fae until now. I spoke about them. I warned my sisters of them. I think I even tried to look for them during those dusky morning rides. But in my heart of hearts, I never believed the old folktales, that the woods were filled with them—the wandering folk of a long-ago war between humans and magical creatures.
