Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

My eyes opened on their own, and I sat up to look down at myself. Physically, everything seemed the same as before. I struggled to my feet and reassessed how I felt as I straightened the skirts of my mourning dress, which was now ripped in several places. I couldn't say I was sad about it. I hated the dress. But like all my aches and pains, the tears weren't from whatever had just happened.

Favoring my leg, I carefully made my way up the stairs. As I reached the top, I heard Liam urgently speaking outside.

"I'm all right," I called.

However, I didn't feel right. What happened in the cellar had unsettled me more than the man in the woods.

The hushed conversation quieted as I reached the door, and I looked out at Darian and Liam. Their guarded gazes also held concern. For me or themselves?

"I'm not sure what happened. I was below, waiting like you said. One moment, I felt fit and fine; the next, a wave of dizziness brought me low. It wasn't a faint like when I'd arrived in your clearing, exhausted from running. When I fainted then, I knew nothing. This time, I couldn't open my eyes or speak, but I could hear you, Liam." I looked from him to Darian. Both seemed to withdraw further from me. While I knew it was for the best, I found it disappointing.

"The man?" I asked, changing the subject. "Is he gone?"

"Gone and unlikely to survive long," Darian said. "The creatures haven't left yet."

"I know. I saw them when I screamed." My gaze swept over the pair, taking in their injuries. Liam's eye was beginning to swell. "It's not safe for me to linger here. Please help me convince Brandle. I need to leave."

"I pulled some water from the well," Darian said, nodding toward the side yard. "Go wash. Liam and I will take our time to bring up the supplies for dinner. We'll give you a few minutes of privacy before we check on you."

Understanding the dismissal for what it was, I left them at the door and went to wash. Any hope of keeping my bandaged hands dry quickly vanished. The cloth was caked with dirt, and it felt like I had dirt in the herbed-honey.

I unwrapped my hands and washed them. The abrasions from earlier stung as I gently cleaned away the debris. I found new scrapes on the backs of my hands and a few on my face.

Leaning over the bucket, I viewed my reflection in the water. A pale, distorted face. Bright blue eyes outlined by thick black lashes and a single black braid hanging over my shoulder. I looked like myself in only the barest way. Disheveled. Displaced. Desperate.

The laces of my dress didn't cooperate with my fingers. I pulled hard and heard the already ripped fabric rip further. I felt the sound inside of me too. The anger I was trying so hard to keep at bay bubbled up.

I trembled against the volatile energy of it.

I hadn't only learned to hide what I felt to ease my mother's burdens. Containing what I felt kept those around me safe. I couldn't lose control. Not ever.

My moves were rushed and jerky in my haste to pull the gown off. Breathing harder, I tossed it to the ground and stood there in my chemise with my hands fisted and my eyes tightly closed.

Each point of pain became my focus. My raw palms. The stinging places on my face. The scrape on my arm. The ache in my bruised calf. I centered myself around them and slowed my breathing until I regained control.

Then, when the trembling stopped, I calmly picked up the cloth and washed my face.

"Do you have another gown you'd like me to fetch?" Darian asked from behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder and found him and Liam watching me from near the front of the cottage. They didn't look offended or overcome with desire by my lack of clothing. More like wary.

"I would rather not ruin another dress since I still hold hope that I will find my way to Turre," I said. My gaze drifted to the mourning dress I hated. I didn't want to put it back on.

"Do you have any spare clothing I might borrow?" I asked, remembering my conversation with Eloise. We'd bantered about hearing of women who wore men's clothing, and I would much rather do that than wear the mockery of the mourning dress Maeve had made for me.

"You want our clothes?" Liam asked, sounding shocked.

"It needn't be yours," I said. "Any pants and shirt will do. Please. And a cap, if you have one, to hide my hair."

Darian frowned slightly. "You wish to hide that you're a woman."

"Being a woman has brought nothing but hardship and pain to my life," I said. "Perhaps dressing as a man will prevent me from being pulled into the trees again."

He turned to Liam. "Watch over her while I find something that should fit."

Liam nodded, and I faced the well to continue washing. The cool water soothed many of my aches. I had a cut on the back of my leg, which explained why it hurt so fiercely. Thankfully, it had already stopped bleeding.

I glanced over my shoulder at a soft rustle of sound and saw Darian standing there with a bundle in his arms. His gaze was on my calf.

"It will be fine," I said. "I had a similar scrape when I fell out of a tree once."

Darian cleared his throat and met my gaze.

"Brandle will want to look at it when he returns."

"I doubt showing him my injuries will persuade him to help me leave," I said, holding out my hand for the clothes.

Darian's gaze locked onto my raw palm, and a sigh bubbled up inside of me. If I were Eloise, I would let it out, but I'd learned that venting one's emotions rarely led to the desired result. So I swallowed it down and used reason instead.

"I don't need Brandle's attention. Time will heal all my injuries. Now, will you give those clothes to me, or must I wear the torn gown?"

He surrendered the clothes.

"You should change inside," he said.

"Thank you."

They left me alone to change. It felt odd removing the chemise and dressing in a man's tunic and pants. The coarse material made my skin itch, and I debated the wisdom of continuing with such a scheme. Yet, wouldn't wearing men's clothing prove to them that I am serious about learning how to survive the forest?

I set my chemise aside so I would be able to sleep in comfort and twisted my braid up to tuck into the cap Darian had provided. My hands hurt fiercely, and I didn't bother attempting to tie my boots after I slipped them on again.

When I emerged outside, both Liam and Darian were by the table. The cooking fire blazed merrily.

"If you tell us what to do, we'll be your hands," Liam said.

Both followed my instructions well, and soon, the evening's stew simmered over the flames. Once the biscuits were formed, I debated how to cook them.

"I've never cooked biscuits over an open fire before," I said. "But if we use a flat-bottomed pot with a lid, it might act like an oven. Or we could drop them in the stew, and they will cook like large fluffy dumplings."

"Let's put them in the pot," Darian said.

I nodded and cautiously stretched. The aches from earlier were settling in, making everything stiff. Liam's eyes were nearly swollen shut, and Darian had a bruise at the corner of his mouth.

He caught my look and grinned.

"Should we tell Edmund this is from him?" he asked, touching his mouth and wincing.

"I doubt he would feel much guilt," I said. "If that's your intent."

"It would be. Why do you think he wouldn't feel guilt?"

"He's still too angry and afraid to feel anything else."

"Afraid? Why do you think he's afraid?"

"Because I'm here," I said.

"You think Edmund's afraid of you?"

I considered the wariness creeping into Darian's posture.

"I think you all are, which confuses me. Why detain someone you fear?"

I shook my head and looked at the forest. The light of the day was beginning to fade, yet I couldn't see the soft glow of the stone in the trees. The urge to sigh bubbled up again.

"You've either moved the stone, or that man has taken it. Since you did not like me using it and would be unlikely to aid someone who you've fought, I believe one of you moved the stone so neither he nor I could find it."

I glanced at Liam in time to catch his look of surprise. Darian laughed.

"You're as clever as you are pretty, Kellen," he said.

"If I were truly clever, I would know why you're keeping me here."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I am an unwanted intruder in your sunlit glade, who desperately wishes to continue her journey; yet, I am unable to do so because those who wish me gone will not assist in my departure. What am I to think of that, Darian? To what purpose does my presence here serve you or your brothers? For it must serve some purpose, or you would have already removed me as you did the man who attacked me."

"Ah, well, the answer to that is simple," he said. "You know how to cook."

I sat on the bench and leaned back on the table as I stared into the dying fire. The stew cooled to the side in wait for the others' return. In the silence of the yard, I let my mind try to untangle the puzzle of my presence.

Despite Darian's quick answer, I knew it wasn't the truth. They'd allowed me to stay until the creatures were gone before they knew of my ability to fix a passable meal.

A branch snapped in the woods, and I looked up to see the faint glow of red eyes deeper in the trees, far from the day's dying light. I stood and walked closer to the edge, curious. More branches snapped. More eyes blinked into existence.

How could anyone survive the forest with so many creatures prowling?

How had I survived to reach the clearing?

It was luck that I'd found Father first and that he had retained enough sense to want to protect me. And more luck that I'd found the road and the stone when I had. And still more luck that I'd found this glade.

Three chance happenings to bring me to this place? Not likely.

"Luck belongs to the foolish," I said softly.

"Are you calling yourself a fool, then, as well as a man?" Edmund asked from behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder at him and saw the rest of the men returning quietly from the backyard. Their shirts were marked with water drops as if they'd just come from washing at the well. Edmund's expression turned even darker when I looked at him and our gazes met.

Rather than answer him, I resumed my study of the woods.

"Why are you dressed like that? What are you plotting?" he demanded.

"How to survive when I leave," I said. "You should stop fighting with everyone. The blows to your head seemed to be affecting your memory."

Someone snorted. It sounded like Daemon or Eadric.

"Why are you so determined to leave?" Brandle asked.

"Why are you so determined to keep me?" I countered calmly.

"Who was the man that tried to take you?" Edmund asked.

I turned to face them all. Liam flashed me a guilty look, and Darian just grinned. They'd obviously told their brothers what had transpired during their absence.

"Why would you prefer the beasts take you than go with him?" Brandle asked.

It didn't surprise me that Liam and Darian had heard everything I'd said to the man. I had been rather loud about it.

"For me, a known fate is better than an unknown one," I said. "While some may consider my life sheltered, I've seen enough to understand what a man such as he might want to do to me. Would he violate me? Sell me to a workhouse? Perhaps I would wake one day and find myself beaten and chained to a hearth. How long would it take before I began to wish I had never been born? With the beasts, I know exactly what they will do to me."

As I spoke, I met each one of their gazes.

"Your lives are your own, gentlemen. Live them as you see fit, and leave me to live mine as I see fit."

"What are you saying?" Brandle asked.

"When I asked for your help to survive, it wasn't an invitation to control my fate. My fate is my own. Help me or don't. I will leave at first light."

I stepped around the group and made my way to the stew pot. After helping myself to a bowl, I took it inside their home and ate alone while they remained outside.

Since arriving, they'd never entered the cottage while I occupied it.

Initially, I thought it a courtesy to allow me privacy. However, Darian's open appraisal at the well had me reconsidering. With spring's thaw fighting winter's lingering grip, a chill clung to the air once the sun dipped below the canopy. Sleeping inside would be much warmer. Yet, from the moment I'd arrived in the clearing, I'd noted the evidence that they slept outdoors. Why avoid the cottage? Why invite me to stay in it? I glanced at the cabinet that hid their supplies and then at the locked door.

A mystery surrounded this home and these men for certain—but one I did not care to untangle. Finding a way to save Eloise remained my focus. I needed to reach Turre. If I couldn't find someone there to reverse the sickness that gripped Father, then I would find someone with the means to help me free Eloise from Maeve.

Outside, the lower murmur of their conversation came and went in waves. While I hoped that meant they were considering helping me in the morning, I contemplated what I would need to do to survive the forest if they didn't.

Could I count on my father to see me to Turre? Did his humanity still remain? Unlikely. I wasn't sure why so much of it remained to help me the first time.

Certainly not due to luck.

Three chance happenings.

I let out a slow breath, knowing what I must do but hating it. How long had it been since I'd opened myself to the world around me? Years, for certain. Yet, I'd been tempted when Mother died. If I'd done so, could I have saved us from what happened? Would I have known Maeve for what she was?

Rather than dwell on what might have been, I closed my eyes, leaned back in my chair, and tentatively allowed myself to feel. Just feel.

The pain from losing my mother. The anger from all that had happened since. The unending heartbreak of leaving Eloise behind to bear the consequences of my actions. It all swelled inside of me, straining against the walls of the well I'd carefully built to contain everything. It filled that space within me until the hair on my arms stood up on its own. My skin felt raw. Too sensitive to everything. The coarse fabric of my tunic. The smoke in the air. The hardness of the padded chair underneath me.

I opened myself to it all.

Then my awareness went further. I could feel the cottage. The echo of its history. The joy. The tears. The anger. The frustration. The hope.

So much hope wrapped in desperation.

Beyond that, I could feel them . Brandle. Daemon. Darian. Edmund. Eadric. Garron. Liam.

Fear. Worry. Anger—obviously Edmund. And hope…

I brushed past them and focused on the forest and the many beasts surrounding the glade. My skin tingled painfully. The energy threaded around me, tightening.

I quickly closed myself off and opened my eyes. The cottage looked the same. But it wasn't the cottage that would have suffered when I opened myself like that.

Standing, I went to the door and scanned the packed dirt of the yard. It looked the same. So did the seven men who'd stopped speaking at the sight of me. The fire crackled and illuminated Brandle's thoughtful gaze as he watched me.

Beyond them, the light didn't reach the forest, but in the darkness, I saw the red eyes of the beasts I'd sensed. Many, many sets of eyes.

Focusing on the men, I nodded.

"Goodnight."

They said nothing in return as I closed the door.

In the loft, I changed back into my shift and went to sleep. It was fitful at best, filled with dreams of running and calling for Father and Eloise.

Before dawn, I rose and dressed in the pants and tunic once more. When I descended, the closed door didn't surprise me. However, its refusal to open did.

I stared at it. Eloise would have beaten at it and called out obscenities. A waste of time and emotions but likely the reaction they expected. And if I did what they expected, they wouldn't be watching for what they didn't expect.

"What purpose does it serve to keep me here?" I called loudly before banging my fist on the door. "How is it that Edmund is the only one of you with any sense? Release me."

"It's not safe, Kellen," Brandle said from the other side. "Please. Just stay inside for a few days. What happened yesterday called even more of the creatures to this area."

"Let me speak to Edmund," I said.

"He won't help you," Brandle said.

I considered the door. "Won't or can't because he's not here. And if he's not here, that means there's a way to survive these woods even with all the creatures in it. Let me go, Brandle."

"I'm sorry, Kellen. I can't."

"Why?"

"I'll bring you something to eat."

"Don't bother. I'll throw whatever you bring at your head."

I heard a faint chuckle. Daemon? Eadric? Darian? Definitely none of the other three.

Three had lingered in the yard on the day I'd arrived. Two had remained behind with me the day prior. Perhaps five were needed to safely travel with the additional creatures? That likely meant Brandle and another stayed behind. Who, though? Deduction said Eadric since they seemed to be taking turns.

"Hateful men," I said at the door before looking at the cabin's two windows.

Through the one opposite the door, I caught a glimpse of Eadric watching me.

Understanding there would be no escape that route, I marched to the ladder and climbed to the loft where I looked up at the thatched roofing.

They brought this upon themselves, I thought as I removed the knife from my bag and began slicing through the thatching. It took some time to see light. I didn't pause my efforts, though, not even when my arms burned and my eyes watered from the falling debris.

The bed beneath me was strewn with thatching fragments by the time I finally made an opening large enough. Straw scraped my face as I pulled myself up onto the roof, and I briefly thought of how much Eloise would have cackled at my current antics. A sad smile tugged at my lips. Likely, my sister was testing limits with her own escapades.

Emerging after much strain, I flattened myself against the roof and scanned the yard. Eadric leaned against a tree at the edge of the clearing on the East side of the cottage. He still watched the window, with no view of what I'd done in the loft. Brandle was near the cooking fire to the West. The sun wasn't yet over the trees, which created long shadows that would work to my advantage. Despite the light, my warm breath still emerged as a small cloud in the chill morning air.

Pants made it easier to creep to the edge of the roof. The distance to the ground, while significant, wasn't anything that concerned me. Subtracting my height, my boots would be no more than four feet from the ground once I hung over the edge.

I lifted my head to check both Eadric and Brandle one last time then carefully extended my arm and let my bag drop to the ground. Neither seemed to hear the soft thump. I waited a bit longer to ensure they were distracted then moved my body so I was parallel with the edge. Swinging my legs over, I held onto the thatching and slowly lowered more of my body. The bite of the thatching burned my already raw palms fiercely, sending jolts of pain through my hands. My fingers slipped. I began to fall.

Strong hands gripped my waist.

"Do you have no sense?" Brandle demanded as he set me on the ground.

I pivoted to glare at him. He was only a few inches shorter than me yet still managed to look rather imposing with his fierce scowl.

"You could have been hurt."

"I'm sorry, Brandle," I said a second before I thrust the heel of my hand into his nose.

He staggered back a step. It allowed me enough space and time to scoop up my bag and sprint toward the trees.