Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

I moved silently as I weaved my way through the trees near the road. Despite the thick canopy overhead, the early spring air began to warm. Nothing unpleasant. But combined with my unending exertion, I began to sweat, and I knew my trick to mask my scent had stopped working when I heard a distant howl.

Instinct told me to run, and I did. The sound of a creature giving chase filled the air around me, pushing me to run faster. Branches and bramble tugged at my hair. I jumped over logs and stumbled down small ravines only to scramble back up the other side.

Something roared behind me. The same sound echoed from all around.

Close.

Too close.

"Father, run!" I yelled, reaching into my cloak.

My labored breathing filled the air as I clawed the pouch open and tore the hard stone free. The emanating light nearly blinded me.

Howls of pain broke loose around me, making my ears ring. What I'd thought was a tree in front of me burst into flames, and I almost tripped on my skirts as I swerved around it and kept running.

I didn't see the log. My foot caught. I went down in a heap, and the warm hum of the stone left my hand. Scrambling to my feet, I grabbed the stone and held it high again. The acrid smell of burnt hair filled the air and my lungs as I panted for breath.

Ignoring the burning mounds toppled around me, I squinted and frantically looked for a direction to run. I'd lost the road.

Where?

After shielding my eyes, I spotted a hint of light through the trees and started my feet moving again. Perhaps it was a burning beast running from me, and I was giving chase. Perhaps not. Either way, I couldn't stand still and wait for the magic of the stone to fail. The screams of the dying were drawing the attention of others.

Distant yips drove me to run faster. The light ahead grew more noticeable.

Pushing myself past the point of breathing, I held my skirts with one hand and the stone aloft behind my head with the other and burst into a sunlit glade.

A trio of men, who had been sitting at a far table playing a game of cards, stood abruptly. I registered their stunned expressions as I wheezed. One started toward me, his brown eyes squinting to see.

My knees gave out as I gasped. Spots danced before my eyes. The world tilted as I fell to my side on the ground.

I heard voices but couldn't make out the words as everything went dark.

A hand tapped my cheek, quite roughly, demanding my attention.

"Sister, cease and let me sleep," I mumbled.

"She's coming around," a deep voice said.

Not Eloise.

I opened my eyes and sat up abruptly. A man close to my age, who'd crouched beside me, leaned away warily. We stared at one another, though for perhaps different reasons.

He was one of the most handsome men I'd ever seen. His soft brown eyes drew one's attention away from his overly long and slightly unkempt brown hair. The proud length of his nose and divot in his chin had likely bespelled many a young miss.

Though momentarily stunned by his handsome visage, I knew not to blindly believe his exterior beauty might reflect an internal beauty. Forcing my gaze from his face, I took in the rest of him with a sweeping glance.

Although both Eloise and I had learned from our parents never to measure a person's worth by the clothing they wore, one could certainly find clues about a person. Despite the shabby quality of the baggy, rough-spun pants and overly large, poorly mended shirt the man wore, they were clean. That proved he had a measure of self-worth regardless of his circumstances, and those who found value in themselves often saw the value in others. It gave me hope this man would not attempt to mistreat me.

Forcing my gaze away, I glanced around the clearing, recalling the man's companions. They remained by the distant table. Like the man beside me, their clothing was oversized and worn. But clean and mended.

They bore a striking resemblance to one another in their high cheekbones and strong jawlines. However, one had blonde hair, and the other a lighter brown than the man beside me. Both were attractively handsome as well. Even the blonde who scowled at me.

The only thing not well-kept about them was their untrimmed, shoulder-length hair. But I didn't find that shocking. Simply normal for their rougher existence.

"I apologize for the intrusion," I said, my gaze again meeting that of the man beside me.

The pair at the table heard. The man with light brown hair made a muffled sound that hinted at humor. The blonde said, "It would have been easier to kill her while she was unconscious."

I gave no reaction to those words. Instead, I watched the man beside me. He made no move to act upon the suggestion. His gaze swept over my face in a way that should have made me wary. Yet, something whispered that I was safe. In the glade or with him, I wasn't sure.

"How high has the sun risen, and how far is Turre from here?" I asked when he remained silent.

He tilted his head slightly. "Where are you from?"

"Towdown in Drisdall," I said. "I entered the forest just after first light."

"Why?" he asked.

"To find my father."

"Did you find him?"

"I did."

"Why isn't he with you, then?"

"Enough, Daemon," the blonde man interrupted. "Stop wasting time, and be rid of her."

Daemon. His name settled into my mind.

"Because he can't be with me," I said, ignoring the blonde one.

Daemon's soft brown gaze swept over me from crown to toe.

"Looks like you ran into trouble. Were you bitten?"

"No. I had—" I stopped and looked around for the stone.

"The bright stone? It fell out of your hand when you fainted. I threw it into the trees."

Masking my disappointment, I met his intent gaze again.

"The light burned them."

"And your father?"

"I told him to run before I used it."

He nodded slowly, still studying me.

"Turre?" I asked. "Can I make it there yet this day?"

"Why do you wish to go there?"

I chose my words carefully. "I wish to see my sister again. I believe I will if I go to Turre."

The man stood and offered his hand to help me to my feet. I hesitated until I noted the rough calluses covering his palm. Those who labored understood hardship. Surely, he wouldn't condemn me for suffering hardships of my own.

The heat of his hand brought my attention to the chill in my own as he helped me upright. Once I stood, I was shocked to realize I was taller than he was by almost a head. I was never taller than anyone. Even my twin rose four inches higher than me. And she wasn't exceptionally tall herself.

I glanced at the other two men and noted they were of similar height to the man before me. The one with blonde hair stood a few inches taller than his light brown-haired partner.

"How long was I unconscious?" I asked as Daemon released my fingers.

"Long enough for your breathing to return to normal," he said.

I nodded.

"Thank you for waking me. I apologize for pressing the issue, but any information you can provide regarding Turre's whereabouts would be most welcome."

"You won't reach it," Daemon said.

"Because you plan to kill me or because the sun is too high?"

He made a small, amused sound.

"Neither. You drew the beasties here. Without your stone, you won't make it more than a few steps outside this glade."

I turned to look at the woods and saw the dim light of the stone through the trees.

"The creatures burst into flames when hit by the light," I said softly as my thoughts churned.

"If you're thinking of trying to reach the stone, I'd advise against it."

"Why?" I asked, facing him again.

"It's too far to safely reach."

Frustration boiled up in me. "Why, then, did you throw it?"

"We don't welcome magic here," the blonde man said.

I glanced at him. "I see. I must be closer to Drisdall than Turre, then. Drisdall doesn't welcome magic either."

"So you admit why you left?" the blonde demanded.

"Enough, Edmund," Daemon said.

The strong name suited the man's temper.

I glanced at the one who hadn't spoken yet, and he averted his gaze.

"You think I'm a magic user?" I asked, looking at Edmund.

"How do you explain the stone?" Edmund asked.

"I found it on the remains of the road." I dug into my cloak and pulled out the still moss-covered pouch. "In this." I tossed it to him. Quite accurately.

He retreated a step and let it fall to the ground rather than catch it. His obvious mistrust and revulsion of me did not hurt. Caring what he thought seemed so trivial with everything else I'd faced.

"My name is Kellen Cartwright. I'm sixteen years old, born after the pillars fell in Drisdall. I have a twin. Eloise. She is the opposite of me in many ways, but I love her without reservation. She is why I risked these woods to find my father. She is why I must travel to Turre.

"Believe me or not. It matters little to me." I looked at Daemon. "To that end, either push me into the woods to let the beasties have me or offer me something to drink and somewhere to rest so I can leave as soon as it is safe."

"You're not staying," Edmund said at the same time Daemon nodded and waved for me to follow him toward the cottage that sat in the center of the unexpectedly large clearing.

"Daemon, you can't be serious!" Edmund raged.

Ignoring him, I followed Daemon.

As we crossed the packed dirt between the tree line and the table, Edmund turned and stormed off. The other one didn't move from his place, but he did finally meet my gaze. Briefly.

Daemon patted his shoulder as he passed him.

Not wishing to make him more uncomfortable, I focused on the unusual, thick beams of wood stuck into the ground beyond the table. Long strips of cloth hung between the posts, connecting them all in a circle. I wondered what they were for.

Behind them sat the cottage, a modest, rough plank structure. The door stood open.

"You can rest inside," Daemon said, stopping at the door. "I'll bring you some water from the well."

"Thank you."

He left me at the door, and after a glance at the other man who hadn't moved, I cautiously entered.

The small space was lit only by a pair of open windows. It was enough to see the bench beside the door and the neat line of worn boots that waited underneath it.

Sitting, I removed mine as well while noting the cozy interior. The plank floors reminded me of the owners' clothing—worn smooth from use but meticulously kept. Remnants of ash dusted the bottom of an otherwise clean, cold hearth. The kettle hung above it and the table set before it hinted at a cooking space seldom used for that purpose. Dust-free cushioned chairs spaced in different groups said the space was used more frequently as a sitting room.

Across from the hearth, a ladder rose to the loft above. From where I stood, I could see the ends of several beds. Thanks to the books from Mr. Bentwell, I understood the risks to my virtue if I chose to rest there.

A closed door set in the wall opposite the hearth piqued my curiosity. Rather than dare to open it without invitation, I considered Edmund's attitude toward me before choosing to sit on the short stool before the hearth. Better an uncomfortable stool than accidentally choosing Edmund's prized chair.

Tiredly, I ran a hand over my face. It came away with a bit of dried onion. I cringed and thought of Eloise. She would have laughed and gently poked fun at my appearance to tease me from the despair clinging to my heart.

"I think she would like to wash." The quiet words drew my attention to the doorway. The other man stood outside the door, watching me. But not with the same scrutiny as Edmund. Once our gazes met, he flushed and hurried away.

Daemon took his place and glanced at me curiously.

"I rubbed last summer's wild onion on my skin to mask my scent. It worked for a short time."

"Ah. I see. I can take your cloak and air it if you'd like."

I rose with less grace than usual and a wince.

"Are you hurt?"

"Sore. My sister is the adventurer who loves to run and climb. I prefer reading."

"I hear that's a suitable pastime for a lady."

The words struck a discordant note in me. A lady. How many times had Maeve lectured about appearances? What good was being a lady when one was beaten and chained?

"You don't look well," Daemon said, surrendering the pail of water he held.

"My mind is unsettled," I answered honestly. "My father was bitten and has become one of those creatures, and I don't know what to do."

"I'm truly sorry."

"You say it as if the matter is settled. Is there no way to save him?" I desperately clung to that hope.

"The creatures of this forest are cursed."

I knew more than I would have liked about curses. One bound me to silence. Another had killed my mother and sent my father to this place.

"Anything made can be broken," I said.

"Anything made by magic can only be broken by magic," Daemon corrected.

"All the more reason to continue to Turre. I heard magic isn't forbidden there."

"You'll find no help in Turre." He nodded toward the ladder beside the door. "In the cupboard, you can find a cup for drinking and a clean cloth for washing. Drink. Wash. Rest."

He started to turn away. The tingle of warning was absent, yet something still felt wrong. The same way it did whenever I caught Eloise in a lie.

"Daemon," I said, stopping him. "I've learned that kindness can be a lie. Don't trouble yourself with the effort of lying to me. I have nothing left and will give no more."

He nodded and left me. I closed the door behind him and removed the sling from around my shoulders to hang it and my cloak on a peg driven into the wall.

The cool water was a welcome relief to my dry throat, and the coarse cloth I'd found in the cupboard behind the ladder helped scrub away the onion from my skin. Nothing could be done for my dirt-stained hem. But I did peel off my muddy stockings to wash them. When I was finished, I hung them over the kettle's rod and carried the dirty water to the door.

Edmund paused his pacing several lengths away and watched me set the bucket outside.

That the men were wary of me was plain and something I understood. I didn't trust them either. Yet, I had very little choice in staying. I wished Daemon hadn't thrown the stone into the trees, but again, I understood his reasoning. I'd used the stone without consideration for the consequence due to my desperation. And magic, like people, couldn't be blindly trusted.

Turning away, I returned to the stool, this time moving it closer to the table where I folded my arms and rested my head.

An insistent tingle in my right leg roused me enough to hear the lower murmur of voices. I opened my eyes and saw the light hadn't yet faded, which meant I hadn't slept long. Through the open door, I glimpsed a group of men—seven—all of a similar height and build, ranging in age from a few years older than me to about my age. Two of them looked exactly the same.

Two Daemons. Twins, but not like me and Eloise.

I straightened with a grimace and used my arms to help myself stand from the stool. My back cracked like Judith's when she worked too long in the kitchen without a break. Thinking of the woman who'd been like a second mother to Eloise threatened to stir emotions I couldn't afford to feel.

One of the men noticed my attention and nodded to the others.

The conversation quieted, and they all turned to look at me. All had a degree of wariness as they stared at me. I couldn't hold them to blame for that after bursting into their clearing while holding a magic stone and promptly fainting. Anyone would be wary having witnessed that.

After a moment, one left the group and strode toward the cottage. His light brown hair was tousled in an endearing disarray, and he had sun creases around his hazel eyes. He looked the most wary, excluding Edmund's angry scowl.

I waited where I was beside the table and watched him pause just outside the door.

Despite striking me as a good-natured man who enjoyed a laugh, he frowned.

"Kellen?" he said.

"Kellen Cartwright, a non-magic using maiden from Towdown in Drisdall."

His lips twitched slightly. "Thank you for the clarification. Are you hurt?"

"I ran until I fainted and am sore and tired but not bitten."

"I see."

"I can imagine what you see. An unwelcome guest, certainly. But most likely someone with a more sinister intent, considering Edmund's initial anger. Though, I struggle to understand why. Only someone foolish and desperate would attempt to travel the Dark Forest."

"Do you believe sinister folk cannot be foolish or desperate?" the man asked.

I considered what I knew of Maeve and the results of all her actions that had led me to that moment. Nothing about her had hinted at foolishness or desperation. She'd been clever and discreet. Manipulating my sister and me so we had remained ignorant of her true nature until it was too late.

If Edmund had encountered someone like Maeve, I could understand his treatment of me. Was it unjust for him to assume I was like her? Perhaps. But would I not now question every woman I met?

My gaze scanned the group of men, and I understood Edmund wasn't the only one who questioned my intent. Likely, they all did. What a sorry lot we were.

"Ah," I said.

"Ah?"

"It isn't something I'd given any thought. But you're right. Anyone can feel desperation. Rather than try to assure you of my non-sinister intent, allow me to speak of how I plan to leave. Although I know nothing of the stone's origins, I do plan to use it to continue on to Turre as soon as the creatures are gone. Perhaps in the morning, they will have lost interest?"

His lips twitched again.

"That is very unlikely."

"Then the next day?"

He slowly shook his head, and I sighed.

"How long must I stay here?" I asked.

"That, I cannot answer. But you're welcome to this cottage until such a time as you wish to leave."

I couldn't help it. I arched a brow at him. "Welcome? I doubt that very much."

He flashed a wry smile. "What if I told you that you're the first outsider we've seen since settling here?"

"That would make you very fortunate."

"Fortunate?"

"You've found a place to remain unbothered by the world. No gossip. No greed. No pressure to be anything but yourselves. If I were not determined to reach Turre, I would ask to stay indefinitely."

If I didn't find help in Turre, perhaps I could free Eloise, and we could return here to hide. Certainly, braving the dangers of the forest a second time could be no less life-threatening than leaving her where she was.

"Daemon mentioned your desire to travel to Turre. There is nothing good there."

"Perhaps not, but there are magic users there. My father was bitten and has turned into one of the creatures. Yet, he didn't hurt me. He protected me so I could reach this glade. I cannot give up hope that there is a way to cure him.

"Why was he bitten?"

My limbs felt heavy with exhaustion again.

"I can see it's an upsetting tale. I apologize for asking."

Surprised, I studied him. No one could read me as well as Eloise. I kept what I felt hidden. Yet, this man had seen my pain. How? I had kept my expression carefully composed. My limbs hadn't twitched on their own.

"How do you know it's an upsetting tale?"

"I'm good at reading people."

"I thought the same. Then I met a woman who proved appearances can be deceiving. A smile that hid—" I choked, unable to finish my thoughts due to the curse. To hide the fact, I poured a cup of water from a pitcher that now waited on the table.

I sipped until the tightness eased and looked up at him only to see that my dirty cloak had been replaced with a clean, sturdy brown one beside the door.

"How will I know when the creatures have lost interest?" I asked.

"You won't see as many eyes watching us at night."

"And if I decide not to wait, will you attempt to stop me from retrieving the stone?"

He considered me for a long moment. "I think I might."

I set the cup on the table and contemplated what choices were left to me.

"I need time to think," I said. "May I walk around the glade to ease the ache in my legs?"

"Certainly."

He motioned for me to go ahead of him—courtly manners that didn't quite fit his rough clothes. Much like Father's fine clothes never quite hid his humble background. His mannerisms always gave him away. Yet, Maeve had been different. She'd hidden everything with her mannerisms.

Walking out the door without the borrowed cloak, I began to doubt everything I saw around me.

Seven small men hidden in the woods. Homespun clothes and work-roughened hands.

Why come to a place surrounded by cursed creatures? Why throw the stone, which they could have used to leave, out into the woods?

I paused halfway to the others and looked back at the man following me.

"Would you stop me because you truly believe I would not reach Turre or because you think I might?"

"Both. As both would likely mean your death."