Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

When I reached the table, I glanced at my raw palms in frustration.

"I'm sorry I grabbed you," Eadric said, handing me my damp handkerchief.

"It wasn't out of malicious intent, so I'm glad you did. The water wouldn't have tasted the same after we dipped in it."

He smiled crookedly as I wrapped my right palm, the worst one.

"I suppose not. Do you want me to mill?"

"Please."

He milled the flour. Darian came to stoke the fire, and Garron carried the water, pouring in as much as I directed. Liam measured out the oats once the water boiled, and Daemon stirred. I was grateful for all the helping hands since mine burned fiercely each time I moved them. The cold cloth I alternately wrapped around my palms helped soothe some of the pain.

"Let me look," Brandle said when I went to change the material again.

I showed him both hands.

"I'll be back. Don't let her do anything," he called over his shoulder as he walked toward the cottage.

"Kellen, is it supposed to look like this?" Daemon asked, peering into the pot.

I moved to look down at the bubbling mass of oats with him.

"Exactly like that. Haven't you had oats before?" I asked.

"Not in a long while. Since Eadric ate all the honey."

"How long ago was that?" Darian asked with a grin. "Five years now?"

"At least," Daemon said with a laugh.

"It doesn't taste good without the honey," Liam said.

"The berries will help sweeten it," I said. "At home, we often had it with berries and cream."

"We haven't had cream in a very long time," Darian said.

I glanced at him, unsure why such a missed luxury would remove his typical humor.

"Many go without cream. And honey. And soft beds and blankets. That you can remember them at all means your life here is better than most. My mother often reminded my sister and me that hardships are meant to teach us to see beyond our current life circumstances. That there are always those who suffer more." I flashed Darian a wry smile. "Mostly, she reminded Eloise when she whined that there were no sweets to eat because she ate them all."

Darian's smile returned. Daemon, his twin, winked at me.

"Is your mother why you're wearing a mourning gown?" Eadric asked.

Garron reached out to cuff him upside the head.

"You don't ask that, Eadric," he mumbled.

"It's all right. My mother is why I'm in mourning," I said. "She's been gone almost a month now. In many ways, it feels like much longer."

Someone cleared his throat, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Brandle standing nearby.

"I have something that should help your hands." He held up a clay container and gestured to the table.

"Eadric, would you remove the pot from the flames and add the berries, please?" I asked as I sat.

While Eadric did as I'd directed, Brandle uncovered the clay container, and I heard one of the others swear.

"You said we had no more honey," Edmund said angrily.

"I said there was no more honey to eat," Brandle said calmly as he opened my palm and used a carved spoon to drizzle honey on my abraded skin. I saw flecks of something else in it.

"A lie is a lie," Edmund said with more heat.

I kept my attention on my hand, not wanting to provoke him further.

"If you were to eat this honey, your mouth would go numb," Brandle said. "While Darian would likely find your attempts to speak amusing, I doubt you would enjoy the feeling. Would you still care to try some?"

Brandle dipped the spoon again and offered it to his scowling brother.

"No?" Brandle said when Edmund crossed his arms. "Then perhaps I did not lie when I said there was no more honey to eat."

He put the spoon back and carefully wrapped my hands with clean cloth.

"Try not to use them today," he said. "Tomorrow, they should feel better."

I nodded, disappointed that my hands would delay my pursuit to learn how to survive the Dark Forest.

"How long do we need to wait to eat?" Eadric asked. "This smells good."

I turned and saw him inhaling appreciatively over the steaming pot.

"It should be ready," I said.

They moved in a rush, except for Edmund and Brandle. Brandle was closing the honey, and Edmund was glaring at him.

Daemon sat across from me and handed me a full bowl, blocking my view of Edmund's glare.

"Since you're not allowed to use your hands, allow me to feed you, Lamb," Daemon said, reaching for the spoon in my bowl.

"I have table manners and know how to hold a spoon with my fingers, not my palms, Daemon. Focus on your own oats."

Eadric sniggered until he took his first bite.

"If your oats taste like this, I can't wait for dinner," he said around a mouthful.

He got cuffed by Liam and Edmund this time. Neither seemed to bother him as he grinned and ate faster. Some of his humor might have been due to Edmund, who was moving closer to his own bowl of oats that someone had served for him.

"How did you make it taste like this? It's not just the berries," Darian said.

"A pinch of salt, the right amount of water and boiling time, and the berries. If one of those is off, it won't taste like this."

"What else do you know how to make?" Liam asked.

"Bread, pastries, oats, soft boiled eggs, meat pies, stews, roasts, vegetables…" I shrugged. "I spent a lot of time in the kitchen."

"You expect us to believe you were a kitchen maid?" Edmund asked. "Dressed like that?"

"I expect nothing from you but your biased hate, Edmund. Eat your oats before they grow cold."

"You don't speak like a kitchen maid," Daemon said.

"Do you know many kitchen maids?" I asked, giving the unpopulated glade a meaningful glance.

Daemon's grin widened.

"You're a stranger to us. It's only natural we're curious," Darian said.

"My mother was a noble woman disowned by her family when she married my father, a merchant. We don't have any titles or own the home in which we'd lived. But we didn't lack for anything. My father was a successful businessman, and my mother was well-educated due to her upbringing. She taught my sister and me to read and write. Father taught us math and trade. Judith and Anne, our help, taught us how to cook and clean. Nothing was above us or beneath us.

"Mother always told us that knowledge was a true wealth that could never be taken away, and the more we knew, the better prepared we would be for whatever hardships we might face in life."

The table rang with their silence until Edmund leaned forward.

"So, you're the daughter of a disowned noble and a rich merchant," Edmund said. "Why would your father come to these woods so soon after losing your mother?"

I set my spoon aside.

"Not everyone brawls to avoid their pain, Edmund. Some run from it."

I stood and left the table, pushing down my own sorrows that wanted to overwhelm me. No one said anything as I went inside and sat in a chair. Staring at the cold hearth but not seeing it, I ran my fingers lightly over my damaged palms.

Many believed that knowledge was power. But it wasn't. It was a tool. How one wielded it determined its use. Some used it to gain wealth and power. Others used it to help.

I wasn't yet certain how I would use the knowledge I'd gained since arriving.

These seven brothers had been here a very long time. Children living in these woods seemed impossible. Yet, they had stories of times past here. And they feared magic and strangers. When faced with the story of my loss, they'd shown true sorrow. Even Edmund, though he'd recovered faster than the others.

What had happened to these men? Why were they here? More importantly, why didn't they want me to leave when I was a stranger they mistrusted?

Certainly, my probable death couldn't stir their compassion enough to outweigh their need to be rid of me. If it did, I would find myself in an impossible situation, for I couldn't stay here an hour more than necessary.

Eloise was counting on me.

Long after they cleared away the morning meal, the faint notes of bird song drew me from my thoughts and to the door. Sunlight filled the otherwise quiet yard in front of the cottage.

Curious where everyone had gone, I left the cottage and wandered to the side yard, enjoying spring's teasing warmth.

Liam sat on a short stool near the well, scrubbing the cooking pot, while Darian stood over him, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

"I don't need you to tell me how to clean. Go turn the soil in the garden like Brandle said. We need to get the seeds in soon."

Darian's grin widened.

"Admit it. You're willing to wash the pot so you can be the first one she?—"

He looked up and stopped speaking when he saw me.

"Kellen," he said with a nod.

"Darian."

He tilted his head at me. "How do you know I'm not Daemon?"

"If Eadric and Edmund had the same eye color, would you mistake them for one another? No. Looking the same doesn't mean you are the same."

"You are right," he said with a laugh. "How do you feel about gardening?"

"It's something of which I have no knowledge."

"Would you like to learn?"

I nodded and followed him around the cottage to the garden where last season's growth had already been removed. Small mounds on the far side hinted that something was starting to sprout.

Darian used a long staff with a wedge of flat metal at the end to turn the soil. As he worked, he instructed me on the timing of planting different seeds and the watering and pruning methods for different crops.

"Were your parents farmers?" I asked, marveling at how much he knew.

"No. Henry, a friend of my parents, knew such things. He taught us."

"Will the rest help you?" I asked.

"We take turns doing the chores around here," he said.

"Then what are the others doing today?" I asked.

He shrugged instead of answering, and I looked around the glade.

If they weren't here, then they were out there in the forest with the creatures. If only I hadn't hurt myself, I could have left with them as well and learned how they wandered the trees without attracting attention.

Bird song drew my attention to where the tiny winged friend perched on the roof.

"We don't see them often," Darian said. "We had chickens at one time, but they died during a hard winter. I crave a soft-boiled egg."

"It is not possible to get more?" I asked.

"It's not impossible, but it would be difficult. They are noisy and would draw creatures."

"To the glade?" I asked.

"No, while we travel with them."

"How do you?—"

He held up a hand.

"Surviving these woods is not something easily taught." He leaned on the staff and studied me for a moment, his smile fading slightly. "I know you wish to travel to Turre to find a cure for your father, but what will you do if you cannot?"

"Travel there or find a cure?" I asked.

"Both," he said with a slight shrug.

I looked up at the bird happily singing on the roof. It reminded me of my sister. Animals often flocked to her. Nothing quite so obvious, but the trees around our home always rang out with more bird song whenever she went for a walk.

"Then I will find another way," I said.

"Another way?"

"Thank you for teaching me today. I should go start the stew for dinner."

I walked away from him as my thoughts spun.

Eloise was the one who acted without careful consideration. Not me. When I'd left home, I'd thoughtfully weighed each of the potential outcomes that might have resulted from my actions. The most likely outcome had been that I would be caught while trying to leave and Eloise would be punished. Yet, the potential that we would both be treated even worse had I stayed had prompted me to act.

With the spell binding my tongue, I'd been left with only one option—to seek out my father. While I'd known the odds of finding him alive hadn't been in my favor since he'd left us weeks ago, I'd still had hope. Discovering him alive, cursed, yet still aware enough to help me, hadn't been something I'd considered. Yet, all hope wasn't lost. In Turre, I might find help to cure him or perhaps even help to free my sister.

Staying in this glade and idling away time planting gardens and growing crops indefinitely wasn't an option. However, I knew that was what Darian had meant when he'd asked what would happen if I couldn't leave, or worse, could not find the cure for my father in Turre as I hoped.

I paused when the bird stopped singing and looked back at the cottage as it took flight. My feet had found my thinking path from the previous day, and I stood near the border of the glade. It suddenly felt unsafe to be so far from the cottage.

An arm wrapped around my waist from behind and pulled me sharply backward off my feet as another hand covered my mouth. I crashed into a hard chest as I was hauled away from the safety of the glade. But not by a creature. Not with the sun brightly shining. A man. Someone taller than me by almost two heads.

I thrashed in his arms, my own pinned uselessly to my sides.

"Come quietly, and I won't hurt you," the man said softly.

The threat had the opposite effect than what he'd likely intended.

Rather than feeling appropriately subdued, I bit into the fold of skin on his palm. He jerked it away with a curse even as his restraining arm tightened around me. I drew in a large breath as he continued dragging me toward the trees and screamed. Loudly. But the sound wasn't to summon the seven men reluctantly housing me.

"Quiet! The beasts will come," the man whispered, understanding the danger.

I inhaled again.

His fist connected with the side of my head. It hurt like hell and muddled my thoughts. But I thought of all my sister had endured with defiance, and I laughed like a mad woman.

"Let them come!" I yelled, kicking back with my heel. It connected with his shin, but he didn't even flinch. "I would rather the beasts have me."

The clearing's sunlight faded with each step he took.

A twig snapped behind us. My captor stilled.

I laughed again. "Where is your courage now? Is capturing me worth your life?"

He made a sound of frustration and cuffed the side of my head again as he released his hold. The blow knocked me to the side. On my stomach on the forest floor, I didn't have time to react before I heard the angry bellow and the man's grunt.

A scuffle, too close for safety, had me scrambling to stand. Someone stepped on my calf. The weight was there and gone before I could cry out, but it did motivate me to rise faster. My skirts thwarted my first few attempts. I heard fabric tear. Just as I gained my feet, three brawling bodies knocked into me.

I stumbled back, barely keeping upright as my gaze locked on them.

Liam and Darian fought the man. Smaller than him by a good deal, they worked together to keep him down so they could rain blows on his head. Based on the ferocity on Darian's face, my attacker was wise to use his arms to shield himself. But once he regained his feet—as he was trying to do—my saviors would be at a distinct disadvantage.

"I will not be bested by you," the man said, half-rising and swinging out to land a blow to Liam's face.

Deeper in the trees, I caught a glimpse of movement.

If we drove him back, the creatures waiting could deal with him.

I looked around and picked up a hefty branch. When the group turned, I brought the thick rod down on the man's back.

He grunted and fell back to his knees.

Liam grabbed the man's head and wrenched it down to meet his knee with a thud. The man groaned as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Breathing heavily, the three of us looked at one another.

"Who is he?" Darian asked.

"No one I recognize," I said. "He grabbed me and told me that, if I went with him quietly, I wouldn't be hurt."

"So you screamed."

I nodded.

"He won't stay like this for long. Go to the cottage and stay in the cellar until we come for you."

Hesitating, I looked between the two, noting the scratches on Liam's face and Darian's bleeding knuckles. The need to apologize bubbled up. Rather than uttering useless words of regret, I thanked them and hurried to the cottage.

After closing the door, I hid in the cellar.

In the dark, my thoughts dwelled on what had happened. Who was the man? I knew he wasn't simply a random traveler with some misguided attempt at rescue. He would have pulled me toward the light, not the dark trees. And he wouldn't have implied he would hurt me if I didn't remain quiet.

No one entered the Dark Forest without reason. Most entered to die. Considering the way he'd fought, that hadn't been his intent either. So why then risk entering the forest? And why attempt to take me?

I could think of only one reason: Maeve had sent him. Did that then mean Maeve still sought a way to control Eloise?

Tired, I rubbed a hand over my face. The wraps Brandle had used to cover my palms were gritty and damp against my cheeks. I pulled my hands away and sighed, knowing I'd made a mess of my face.

Thoughts of my appearance led to thoughts of what the other brothers would think when they learned of what had happened. Edmund would likely believe I was associated with the man who attempted to take me. And what explanation could I give to explain why someone had appeared to take me only a day after my arrival? None.

For my safety and the safety of the men that lived here, I needed to leave soon. But how? The beasts were still nearby, and I didn't have the glowing stone to keep them at bay.

Frustrated, I carefully paced a few steps in complete darkness and tried to think of a viable solution as I listened for any sounds from above. Minutes passed.

I stopped pacing and stretched my legs to ease the growing ache in my stepped-upon calf. My cheek also stung, but I didn't try to touch it. I needed a cloth, some clean water, and some privacy to erase what had happened. Liam and Darian would likely need the same. Was that what they were doing? Cleaning up? Or were they doing something with the man? Questioning him perhaps? Part of me hoped so. Another part worried that any answers the man gave would only cast more suspicion on me.

My calf suddenly cramped painfully. I lit the candle and looked for somewhere to sit. A stack of old, worn blankets on a shelf offered me a reprieve from the cool dirt floor.

I'd only just sat when the door to the cottage opened above. Footfalls echoed across the floor, and the cabinet quietly slid open, allowing more light to illuminate the supplies around me.

"Kellen, you can come out now," Liam said.

I opened my mouth to answer when a wave of dizziness washed over me. It felt unnatural. An energy just like I'd felt when I'd touched the stone. But wrong.

A tingle of fear raced down my spine.

"Something's wrong," I said just before all the light vanished, and I toppled over onto the blanket.

"Kellen? Are you hurt?"

I could hear the worry in Liam's voice but couldn't respond. I could feel the coarse cloth under my cheek but couldn't open my mouth and lift myself up. Nothing wanted to obey me.

"Close your eyes, Kellen. I'm coming down."

Why couldn't I see if the door was still open above? And why would he want me to close them if I could see?

The stairs creaked as Liam descended, and I fought not to panic. Were my eyes shut? I tried to open my eyes or blink, but neither worked.

"Kellen!"

I heard Liam move near my head and felt my braid move. He swore under his breath then bolted up the stairs. His solid footfalls echoed loudly in the space.

He'd no sooner left than the tingle returned. It didn't feel like it had the last time. It felt more like my limbs were waking as the feeling of wrongness faded.