Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Cassia

There's no sound out here except for the occasional rustling of leaves when a breeze whispers through the trees. It's a beautiful fall day, and the leaves are golden in the setting sun. The cool air brushes against my skin, and this comfort is a relief: the perfect mix of cold and hot. The Fall Court has to be the most comfortable court to live in judging solely on weather. I close my eyes and take a deep, relaxing breath, enjoying the peace and quiet of the forest.

That peace is shattered by ear-piercing screams. Every muscle in my body stiffens. It's a child screaming, their voice filled with a kind of terror that chills me to the bone. I'm jolted by the sound, and my feet start moving.

Why am I running towards danger? I don't have time to truly ponder that because I enter a clearing and see a bear. I shuffle to a stop. There's more than just a bear here. I weave slowly around the trees as the scream comes again beneath the bear. It's a sound filled with a kind of terror I'm sure I've never felt in my life .

Then I see him. A little boy with auburn hair and pale skin. Blood runs down his face, and the bear's sharp teeth are inches from him.

The bear's going to kill him!

I feel like my feet are chained to the ground. I can't move. The bear is massive and dangerous-looking. If I go to help, chances are we'll both be torn to pieces, but I can't just leave this child to his fate.

The boy cries out again, then screams, "Father, father, please!"

My gut turns, and I look around. Where is his father? But I see no one. He's all alone.

In the blink of an eye, three arrows whiz through the air and into the bear. Two hit its back and one its throat. I hold my breath and watch, hoping that'll be the end of it, and that it won't simply piss the creature off. Its roar turns into a gurgle, then it collapses in a heap, trapping the boy beneath it.

I hesitate, knowing the arrows belonged to someone. Perhaps his father, but certainly someone who has come to help. They'll comfort him and get him patched up in a way that a stranger like me couldn't.

Right?

The bloodied child screams again, wiggling until his upper body is free. He tries to free his feet from under the weight of the enormous bear, but seems unable to do so. I scan the forest, but no one is around.

I hear laughter. Faint at first, but as horses approach, it grows louder. A large man with red hair rides up, his head thrown back in laughter, along with the four other men who approach. They're Fall Fae through and through, from their massive size to the reckless energy that radiates off of them as a child struggles, injured.

I'm having the hardest time figuring out what's so damn funny. This child needs medical care. There's a gash that cuts through his face, nearly top to bottom, and who knew what other injuries I can't see. Beyond that, he's clearly terrified.

How can anyone laugh at this? And why was he out here all alone?

The four men take their time dismounting from their horses. Their laughter continues to echo through the forest. They slowly pull the dead bear off, but none of them approaches the boy or checks his injuries. They don't even look at him.

My heart breaks for this child. His face still bleeds, and his cries are a stark contrast to the laughter. How can any man, even a Fall Fae, be this heartless?

I don't know if I feel relieved exactly when one of the men comes back and approaches the child. The large red-haired man pulls the boy to his feet and says, "Suck it up, son, and be a man. A future king needs to be tough." His words are followed by more laughter.

My blood starts to boil. How can he treat his own son like this? Where is his empathy? Where is there even a flicker of love for this child?

Three men grab different parts of the bear and haul it away while another gathers wood to build a bonfire. They sit by the fire and talk about the hunt, glancing at the child curled up behind them, and laugh more, talking about how fast their bear had taken the bait, if only their bait had been quicker. The urge to stab every last one of them surges through me. Instead, I stare at the boy.

He's lying there, holding his face. His cries have now turned to whimpers. He couldn't be more than six years old with the roundness of a baby's face, and it breaks my heart. He looks up and makes eye contact with me. His face ages before my eyes, he ages before my eyes, until Forrest sits there with that jagged scar going down his face.

His father. The men. They all fade away, and it's just him and the fire. His expression is broken, his body curled around himself as if it alone could protect him from the world.

Without a thought, I run to him and kneel down next to him. He's crying, his shoulders shaking as he hides his face in his arms, and my heart shatters into a million pieces. The big, brave man is broken. As broken as the child was. I reach out for him, but I'm afraid to touch him. How do I heal this kind of wound?

His voice comes, low and filled with pain. "I don't want any of this. I just want to be a kid. I just want to feel safe."

"You deserve that," I say, tears stinging my eyes, my words thick with emotion.

His whole body shakes. "I don't want this. I just want to be a kid. I just want to be safe."

"Shhh, Forrest, I'm here, it's okay." I wrap myself around him and feel him stiffen for the briefest moment, but I rub his back, whispering comforting things to him, and press myself against him. The warmth from my body should be soothing. He just needs to be sure he's not alone.

"Cassia?" He whispers my name, and the shaking of his body slows.

"I'm here. I'm with you."

"You didn't leave me?" A shudder rolls through his body, and I feel the rapid rising and falling of his chest slowing .

"I'm here." It's all I can think to say. What else is there?

Is that how he got his scar? Part of me doesn't understand how all of this is happening, and part of me doesn't care. I just want to hold this man until all his pain washes away.

He turns in my arms, and his big hand runs over my hair as his gaze roams over my face. "You are. You're back. You're safe. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

Placing my hands on his chest, I feel the rapid beating of his heart under my palm. "It's okay, Forrest."

His eyes are filled with unshed tears. He stares into my eyes, and it feels like he's staring into my soul. "I will be good to you. I swear it. I don't want my children to go through this. I just want them to grow up knowing they're loved." I think he means every word that he speaks.

I try to imagine a life with him and some adorable red-haired children. For the first time, I can see him being a loving and kind father. A father who spends quality time with his children, who teaches them life lessons with compassion and empathy. The vision brings a smile to my face.

"You'll be a wonderful father," I tell him.

His expression softens, some of the pain and desperation fading away. "I'll try. Always."

Unable to help myself, I trace his scar with my finger.

He shivers at my touch and shifts away. "It's ugly."

"It's not." I kiss him lightly next to his scar, then again, and again, making my way down his face.

His scar is just part of him. Another piece that helps explain the man who I'm betrothed to. Perhaps I shouldn't have dismissed him quite so quickly .

I pull back and look into his eyes. They're pleading with me to accept him. I look at his scar, wondering if he looks in the mirror every day and feels rage from the neglect he experienced.

"I'm sorry he hurt you." My voice comes out no louder than a whisper. "But I like your scar, just like I like you. It just adds to your beauty."

His eyes widen with shock, and then they fill with something else: a new-found openness or vulnerability. We both soften our gaze and smile.

He leans in a little. "Can I kiss you?" His breath is warm on my lips.

Without answering, I lean in and close the distance between us. His lips are hot on mine, and they grow hotter as they devour me. It's like the softness I felt a moment ago rushes away in a moment of desire that burns like flames. He rolls on top of me, and he's huge. He surrounds me in a way I've never felt before, even though he keeps his full weight off of me.

We kiss. We touch. My fingers tangle through his hair, urging him closer, and then he's kissing his way down my body, and I'm aching for more. For him.

His hands shift from my waist to my ass, pulling me up so that suddenly his erection is pressing between us. He sinks lower and rubs, and I gasp, pleasure awakening inside of me. I grind against him, and he swears, holding himself rigid for a minute, before he shivers.

That hot mouth of his moves from my throat back to my lips, and his hands slide under my skirts until he's holding my bare ass. Rubbing me against him. So little fabric separates me from him.

I reach down and untie his pants, then slide them down. His long, hard cock springs forth, and I wrap my hands around him.

"Cassia!" My name slips from his lips.

I grip him harder. Stroke him harder. I love it when I feel his precum coat his tip. I slide it down over his length, readying him for me.

He pushes my hands away, pulling me closer. His tip presses to my opening as his lips move back to suck at my throat. My nails dig into his arms, and I fight the urge to jerk my body, bringing him inside of me.

Slipping into my folds, he rubs himself against me, and then I'm crying out. Needing him deeper. Needing to know if his hard length can fit inside me.

"Get your ass up!" The words shatter the world I'm in and are immediately followed by a hard kick to my ribs. I wake up gasping for air and covered in ashes.

Forrest. My hands curl. He was with me. We were touching. It feels like I left a wonderful dream and slipped into a nightmare all in the same moment.

My eyes move to Etha as she towers over me, her lips curled into a sneer. "Sleepy time is over." She kicks her boot again, and I flinch back, but she simply scatters more ash all over me.

Fuck her. The only place for me to sleep was apparently beside the kitchen's fire or by the men. No surprise, I'd chosen the fire. It's warm at night, but also smokey and dirty. It's not pretty, but at least I feel a little bit safer with fire at my back.

But not like I felt with Forrest. That was safe.

"Sweep up all of this cinder, then get breakfast going," Etha tells me, then leaves the room without waiting for my reply.

I hate her. I hate all of them. I expect this kind of bullshit from men, but the woman surprised me. She's complete scum. I've never wanted to stab anyone in my life so much, but now it's all I think about.

And about how much I miss my family. And the men who I hope are still waiting for me.

If these assholes weren't so filthy these past few days, they wouldn't need me to clean so much. They're disgusting. They leave food laying out. They don't put anything away. There aren't even cans for their trash. It just piles up in corners around the rooms.

I don't know who raised them to be like this, but it's despicable.

No one works. I don't know how they get food or money, but it's never in short supply. They eat better than I ever did, yet they act like I'm some high fae royal who's lived like a goddess her whole life.

I should burn this whole place down while they sleep. Then all my problems would be solved.

I'm so mad. If I could summon fire, I actually would burn this place to a crisp. I snatch the broom out of the corner I put it in last night, knowing that not completing this task will result in more than just my ribs hurting… except the ashes are gone.

"What in the world?" I gasp. The cuffs on my wrists burn, making me yelp. I rub at my wrists and shift the cuffs as much as I can. To my surprise, I see burn marks there. "What the hell is happening?" This feels like magic. There's no other explanation. But how?

I stand for a moment and consider, but nothing I can think of makes any sense. Then I turn to go make breakfast. Magic, I don't have time for. Survival is the only thing that's going to get me through this… until I can find a way to escape.