Chapter 22

22

KASSANDRA

W e travel for two days without any incident, stopping at night to get some rest and then setting out first thing in the morning. It’s slow going and a tiring process, and I have to wonder if the males are dragging their feet, reluctant to venture through the Forest of the Damned despite the urgency of our situation.

Blaze tells me they’re just being cautious. After all, we don’t know what—or who—we’re going to run into.

Still, despite his reassurances, I can’t help but taste the tension thickening the air. It spirals through me until I feel like a loaded spring, jittery with restless energy.

I remain in the carriage while the guys alternate who’s leading our procession and who’s protecting the rear of it.

I have to marvel at what an unruly crew we make—two princes, an elf, and the famous Death Whisperer. Why does this sound like the start of a horror novel? Our bounties combined would be well over a million gold coins—high enough to feed an entire kingdom of fae. What lengths would others go to secure that money?

The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

We should reach the Forest of the Damned by late afternoon, but we unanimously decide to wait until first light before venturing through it.

According to the princes, there are monsters that roam the forest. Wraiths, for starters—bloodsucking, emaciated creatures that devour your internal organs. Wyverns, which are apparently like small dragons. Selkies. Basilisks. And so many other mythical creatures that my head spins just thinking about them all.

Blaze told me that the forest is also full of magic. Dark, insidious, unfettered magic just waiting to sink its claws into anyone who comes too close. It can make you lose your mind. See things that aren’t really there. Hear voices. Hurt the ones you love most.

For the one thousandth time since I’ve heard that news, I debate the merits of taking the long way around. Surely, the mark on my arm can’t be any worse than that…can it? Nothing has even happened yet. I feel perfectly normal.

Perhaps the males are blowing this out of proportion. Maybe the mark used to be a canister of power, but it’s possible it doesn’t react the same way now. After all, Chaos is asleep—and has been for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Surely, his magic is sleeping with him, right?

Nerves eat at my stomach as the carriage crawls to a stop. We must’ve reached our destination for the night.

“Rise and shine, Kassie.” Treyton flashes me a smile as he pokes his head through the carriage door.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” I sign.

The Spring Prince eyes me dubiously. “No? You sure? I could’ve sworn I heard cute little snores…”

I lean forward to whack him across the chest before I can think better of it. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the smartest decision to punch the Spring Prince, but Treyton doesn’t seem to mind. His smile remains in place, not faltering or wilting at the edges.

“I do not snore,” I protest.

“You do.”

Blaze materializes behind Treyton’s shoulder and arches one arrogant eyebrow at me. “Are we talking about Kassandra’s snoring?” He focuses on me and cringes in mock sympathy. “I hate to tell you this, little beast, but you most definitely do.”

I shake my head adamantly and shoulder past them, desperate to stretch my taut muscles. I much prefer riding in a carriage than on the back of a mulino, but that doesn’t mean my body doesn’t ache fiercely afterwards. We have so much luggage piled in with me that I’m forced to fold myself in half more often than not.

I dip my brows when I see our camp for the night.

We appear to be in a small, abandoned town that borders a dense forest. It’s still sunny out, yet no light seems to penetrate the tapestry of leaves overhead. Darkness extends before me as far as I can see.

The town itself is smaller than even Faye’s settlement. There are a few dilapidated houses and shops, what appears to be a pub, and a stone fort only a few inches away from the forest’s border.

Not just any forest.

The Forest.

Blaze follows the direction of my gaze. “The royal family used to keep a contingent of soldiers stationed here to keep an eye on the Forest ,” he explains, emphasizing the last word in a way that tells me he’s talking about one specifically. “Most of the homes and shops here were designed for the soldiers. The majority of fae know not to go near the Forest, especially at night— What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Blaze stomps towards Aleksander…who’s attempting to climb a tree directly at the border of the Forest. The elf’s smile is wide and guileless, and his eyes twinkle with mischief.

Treyton lets out a disbelieving scoff beside me.

“What?” Aleksander blinks innocently from his perch on top of the tree branch. “I’m just trying to grab dinner for tonight.”

“Did you not hear anything I said about the Forest being immensely dangerous? Full of monsters and magic?” Blaze practically roars.

Aleksander places one hand over his heart in feigned surprise. “Oh. You were talking to little ole me? I didn’t think you cared, big guy.”

“Some believe the Forest to be sentient,” Treyton muses. Unlike Blaze, who appears murderous, Treyton just sounds amused. A budding smile blossoms on the Spring Prince’s face before he can squash it. “If you take that fruit, there could be dire consequences for you.”

Aleksander’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’re lying.”

“Try it and find out.” Treyton shrugs as if he doesn’t care either way.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch the—” Blaze begins.

But Aleksander ignores him.

Touches the fruit.

And then is catapulted out of the Forest and onto the ground at our feet.

The elf releases a pained groan as he sits upright. In his hand, he holds a bright-red apple.

“Worth it,” Aleksander murmurs…and then promptly passes out.

“If I knew the reward of being knocked unconscious was being coddled by you, I would do it more often.” Aleksander blinks up at me, dark smudges beneath both his eyes and his lips slightly chapped.

Still, there’s that familiar sparkle I’ve come to know in both of his eyes.

After the…incident…Treyton and Blaze set up camp in one of the abandoned buildings while I remained with Aleksander. Once they were done, I begged the two princes to drag Aleksander inside. Blaze refused, grumbling under his breath about idiotic elves getting what they deserve, but Treyton offered me a soft smile and slung the huge elf over his shoulder.

For the last orbit, I played with Aleksander’s dark hair while he slept peacefully in my lap. If you asked me why I stayed with him, I wouldn’t have an answer—at least not one that makes sense.

Aleksander is untrustworthy and terrifying and a liar…yet, when he was flung from that tree, terror crawled insipidly up my throat and clogged my airways. I told myself that the only reason I was playing with Aleksander’s hair was because I wanted to feel the difference in texture between my hair and his.

Not because I wanted to take comfort in his rhythmic breathing and the way his eyes fluttered behind his thin lids.

No, definitely not that.

But now he’s awake, staring up at me with penetrating blue eyes, and I have no excuse to keep touching him.

Yet I still do.

I continue to fork my fingers through his mane of hair as he offers me a sleepy smile.

“Somebody hand me a hammer, please. I’m going to whack myself in the head with it repeatedly.”

I still my hands and frown down at him.

Why would you do that?

I can’t ask the question out loud—or even sign it to him—but he reads me easily.

“Because.” He winks. “I like the feel of your hands on me. And if I have to be hurt in order to get you to touch me…”

I roll my eyes at his dramatics, even as his words trigger a smile.

The building we chose to spend the night in served as the military outpost a long time ago. There’s a closet full of weapons—though most of them are broken—and a window overlooking the Forest of the Damned.

I can’t imagine what it would be like to be stationed here. Forced to stare at this innocent-appearing thicket of trees for days on end.

Nothing bad ever comes out of the Forest, at least according to Blaze. The danger lies within the woods.

“That just means the monsters get the meals some other way,” Aleksander piped in cheerfully when I brought it up.

And that was the last we spoke of it.

Runt whines from where he’s perched on the windowsill. One of his tiny paws bats at the glass. It almost feels as if he’s attempting to communicate with me, and I can’t help but wonder if he senses something we don’t.

Something dangerous.

Insidious.

Malevolent.

Unease prickles along the back of my neck.

When Aleksander realizes I no longer intend to play with his hair, he sits up and stretches exaggeratedly, the lines of his muscles limned in moonlight.

“Where are my two favorite princes?” Aleksander asks, seemingly noticing for the first time that the room’s practically empty.

There’s nothing but a wooden table—one of the legs shattered, causing it to tilt precariously—and a shelf with knocked-over books. Our bedrolls are placed in a haphazard circle in the very center of the room.

“Blaze is keeping watch outside, and Treyton’s preparing dinner,” I sign.

Aleksander’s eyes dip as he watches my fingers move. “Do it again. Slowly.”

“Blaze is keeping watch outside?—”

Aleksander snaps his fingers together with a triumphant smirk. “Blaze is taking a shit!” he translates proudly.

I cover my mouth to hide my growing smile, even as I shake my head no.

“Dammit.” Aleksander pouts. “And here I thought I was getting good at Falkan.”

I decide to mime my words instead of signing them. I pretend to flex my muscles.

“Blaze!” Aleksander exclaims, and I nod.

Next, I point between my eyes and the Forest repeatedly until the elf understands my meaning.

“Oh! Blaze is keeping watch!” He rubs his hands together with glee. “I love this game. Keep going.”

For Treyton, I throw my hair back dramatically and pretend to admire myself in an invisible mirror.

“Treyton!” Aleksander’s practically bouncing up and down in his excitement.

It’s strange to see. He’s a huge, terrifying elf…yet he has the temperament of a child sometimes. He’s the epitome of contradictions, and I can’t help but want to know both sides of him. The childlike elf and the terrifying assassin.

I rub my stomach like I would after eating a filling meal and then pantomime shoving food in my face.

“He’s…eating?” His brows furrow. “No, that’s not it…” He begins to rock from side to side as he thinks. “He’s cooking!”

I smile and nod, pleased that Aleksander was finally able to understand me. It may not be Falkan, but I suppose it’s the next best thing.

Aleksander’s eyes glow in the moonlight breaching the stone room. The blue almost appears black—a midnight sea, when the waves are tranquil. The difference between this Aleksander and the one who was sleeping only a few ticks ago is striking. The latter appeared almost…innocent. Vulnerable. Without that combative, sinister glint in his eyes, he could’ve been a completely different male.

But I can’t imagine Aleksander being anything but cunning and wicked. Even when he was pretending to be a fae named San, there was always a spark of something in his gaze that made me cautious. Something keen and cutting, like a knife that is all blade and no hilt.

Who exactly is Aleksander? Which version is the real him?

The elf seems to be studying me as intently as I am him. A contemplative expression takes over his face as one corner of his mouth bends upwards.

“Can I ask you something, cherub?”

I’m instantly wary but reluctantly nod.

“How do you say my name in Falkan?”

The question takes me by surprise. For a moment, I simply gawk at him, unsure if I heard him correctly. But his gaze is surprisingly earnest, almost eager, as he leans towards me, draping his long arms over his knees.

I hesitate but see no harm in teaching him.

Names are usually spelled out in Falkan, at least until you become intimately familiar with someone. Then, they receive a Falkan name—which is just a basic hand gesture you use whenever you’re referencing them.

For some reason, Blaze’s Falkan name is the pressing of my middle finger and thumb together. Treyton’s is my hand fisted and my thumb pointed to the side.

After I finish spelling out Aleksander’s name, I fold my hands in my lap and wait for his response.

He sits backwards—looking eerily like a predator just waiting for the opportunity to strike—and seems to consider something.

After a few ticks, he says, “Most elves call me Aleks.”

“Aleks,” I sign, staring up into his dark-blue eyes.

I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. He ensnares me as artfully as a trap hidden beneath foliage, designed to capture unsuspecting prey and hold them hostage.

“It suits you.”

“I don’t know what you said at the end there, but I believe it’s something like, ‘That’s a sexy name for a sexy elf.’ Am I right?”

I nod exaggeratedly and offer him a thumbs-up.

Before he can respond, Runt releases a high-pitched, keening cry. My pet launches himself off of the windowsill and races towards me. He begins to knead at my chest, a strange sort of desperation fueling his movements. Ominous noises emanate from him.

What is he trying to tell me?

“Does he have to take”—Aleks lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper—“a poo-poo?”

Never in my life did I expect to hear a terrifying, grown elf say the word “poo-poo” with a straight face.

I shake my head and focus on Runt, who continues to tremble and whine in my arms.

He’s trying to tell me something.

But what?

I know the Forest of the Damned is a dangerous and terrifying place, but this seems…different. Runt had been perfectly fine until only a short while ago.

So what exactly did the pacon see that scared him so much?