22. Eldrin

Chapter twenty-two

Eldrin

I did not lie to Amber—I could never lie to her. I knew these trails, these hidden ways through the forest, better than most of our people. I also knew how to cover our footsteps, to make it seem like we went in circles when Vanir’s men finally hunted us. And they would hunt us.

For now, we didn’t have to worry. For a couple days at least, while we carefully picked our way around the lakes, we would be fine. He wouldn’t find us. I knew what we could eat, and I knew where we could rest. We wouldn’t be comfortable, but we would live. And we would be able to hide.

We were not on our own. The Darkening Woods was dense and particular about who traveled on its hidden roads—it wouldn’t be pleased with a large force plundering through its boughs. No, Vanir would be limited in who he could send, and how many. And it would take his minions some time to determine that we were gone at all. Vanir would search the palace first, the festival, and then the city. No one saw us leave the grounds, no one saw anything other than that we were with the other courtiers the morning of the festival, as expected. We likely had until nightfall until they realized we weren’t in the king’s domain at all.

We had time.

We had time.

But then, assuming that we successfully escaped, what next? I told Amber I would answer her questions later, but that was mostly to buy myself time to plan, for none of our options were good. I knew nothing about the poison that worked its way through Amber’s veins. Elves were immune from the worst of it, though the veinwart’s bite was painful and prone to blood poison, and the initial antidote she was given was used by our people to speed the healing from its initial effects. There was no point in trying to escape the Woods until we removed the poison.

We had no choice. I would have to take Amber to the most remote village in the Woods (ironically, Gold Glen) and beg a healer for help. Someone had to know something. And then I would take her back to her people. Where she belonged. Where she had a future. Where she would be safe.

At least, that’s what I told myself would happen.

T wo hours after we left Great Glen, we stopped. I had long ago told Amber that we had reached the point where we would have to run if encountered—no one would believe that we were merely walking any longer. We needed to keep going, but she needed rest. She didn’t complain, but she was not an elf. She struggled as we went through the Woods, her breath racing and sweat gathering on her brow, her posture hunched.

“I’m fine,” she said when I inspected her shoes after she slumped to the ground, the slippers already fraying at the seams. The small grove where we rested was off the tiny footpath we had been following, where I would be able to hear anyone coming long before it was an issue.

“Tell me if the pain becomes too much and you’re finding it hard to walk,” I said. Maybe I could steal something better for her to wear somewhere.

“Never.”

“Please don’t pretend—not with me.”

“I’m tougher than you think.” She cocked her head, flashing me a grin.

I nodded, defeated. It pained me that she would have difficulties during our journey, but there was nothing I could do. Besides, I had more pressing concerns.

I left her at a small shelter of intersecting trees while I looked for a meal. It didn’t take me long—I found some berries and bitter nuts, and when I returned, I urged her to drink from the spring. Thus far, the Woods did not hint at anything amiss. The Woods wouldn’t necessarily carry a song of alarm through its rustling leaves if we were being pursued, but there was always the possibility. And I had every sense strained to detect the first sign of pursuit.

And then, once Amber had a chance to rest and eat, we walked again, her steps more halting than before. But she still pushed on. We couldn’t travel fast, dressed as she was, and a human at that. Tonight, I would have to trim the gown’s hem and sleeves and hide the scraps, but for now I could admire her, the beautiful garment wasted with no one to see it.

“What’s wrong?” Amber asked. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” I said, and she blushed even deeper than her already flushed skin. We fell silent once more, focusing on a part of the path where the branches went low, making even Amber have to bend. We stayed quiet most of the day out of instinct, since my ears were our best defense to being alerted to being followed. There was so much I wanted to say to her, and I desperately wanted to hear her voice.

That all would have to wait.

There was nothing around us, nothing that didn’t belong in the forest. Just Amber’s steps on wet moss, her heavy breathing, and the rustling of leaves on the wind. This far from the city I could hear trees’ songs, notes so faint it was unlikely Amber heard anything, though I was sure even she noticed that the Darkening Woods was alive. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend it was seven years ago, when my father was alive, and the world stretched before me, and everything I desired was only a voiced thought away. At that time I walked in the forest, trusting that I would be the lord of these lands when my time came, yet also fearing when that would happen. How much of my fear was that I didn’t want to be burdened with the responsibility of ruling, as much as I feared failing at it? If I had done what I was supposed to, if I had fought to keep the throne, then Amber would be safe. Our people would have a ruler who was doing his best to protect them and not extract everything he could for greed. I didn’t know what it would take for the barrier to be fixed, or if any human blood needed to be shed, but Amber was not going to be the one to repair it. I would watch the last drops of my life leave my veins before I let harm befall her.

And then, just when the sun was a rubescent orb hovering over the horizon, we rested next to one of the lakes. Small waves gently lapped at the shoreline, chiming as they ran over pebbles. Birds flew in the trees, snatching berries off nearby branches. The sun beamed its last rays on the water, cascading the surface with its glow.

And there she was next to me, taking in her first evening of freedom. With me.

“It’s beautiful,” Amber said. Her gaze was heavy, her head tilted. She could go no further tonight, and she needed to save her strength for the days ahead.

“It is,” I agreed. “Rest. And stay close to the ground by these trees. I won’t go far—I will find something for us to eat. She nodded and did as I suggested, landing on the ground with a soft thud. I would enjoy having her with me, as soon as her other needs were taken care of.

Leaving her hidden in the foliage, I searched nearby and found more berries and lily roots that grew in the waters. We were lucky—it was easy to scavenge in the Woods during this time of the year. And if we became desperate, I could hunt, if needed—I had my daggers—but these findings would serve as an adequate meal for the night. It was best to avoid hunting for another reason—a fire would be a risk, an unnecessary one. I doubted Amber wanted to eat raw game, and I wasn’t about to try to make her.

Regardless, I had our meal.

It was time to rest.

We were alone, and for now, we were safe.