Forbidden Forest (The Legends of Regia) (5 page)

Forest
could
hide Syrus at her cottage. Enchantments protected it well, and people stayed away from her anyway. She was not what anyone would consider a social butterfly. She maintained the important friendships and connections that made her life easier, and that was it. Friendship, for friendship’s sake, was a waste of time and energy.

“All right, Kendel, I accept the mission, and I agree to hide him in my cottage until I get word from you that it’s safe to proceed. How long do you think we will need to hunker in my house?”

“Can’t say for sure. I wouldn’t think longer than a week.”

“
A week
?”

Kendel sighed and looked at the sky. “Enough whining, Forest. Evening is coming. We’ve burned enough time. Get what you need from your closet, and meet Syrus in the lower council room. The two of you are to set off as soon as you have the cover of darkness. Leave through the tunnel.”

They both stood, and Kendel clasped both her shoulders, looking sternly into her eyes. “Forget about the war, Forest. Forget that you hate what he is. Forget who he is and just think of him as cargo. Get in, get out, and claim your reward. That’s all.” His hands squeezed her shoulders before he released her.

“Thank you, Kendel.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and waved it at him. “You’ll be in touch?”

“Yes. When I have news or instructions, I’ll send emails.”

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Okay. See ya.”

Forest stalked away from Kendel toward the castle’s side entrance. She paused, briefly, when Kendel called after her. “By the way, Forest, I like the freckles.”

Inside the castle, Forest was met by the usual annoyance of security checkpoints. They were a series of enchanted arches. The first scanned for illegal weapons, and when she walked through, it felt as if invisible hands were patting her down. She sighed in irritation as she passed through and the invisible magic hands gave her a firm slap on the butt.

The next arch was enchanted to detect true identity and that felt like swallowing some hot thick liquid that ran all the way down the inside of her body. It was much more invasive than the perverted invisible hands, and it always seemed to take longer for her to go through than anyone else. Forest assumed the magic had a harder time determining
what
she was. As far as she knew, she was the only Halfling permitted in the castle. As soon as she stepped out of it, her name, race, and rank were emblazoned across her chest in a temporary, glowing, magic nametag.

The final arch was larger and decorated with inlaid stones and carvings, all of which strengthened the magic it held. This one examined emotions and intentions. When Forest walked under it, she immediately felt like she was dreaming or high. Flashes of recent events played in her mind along with splashes of color representing feelings. Everyone hated this security checkpoint because it forced you to look at the ugliness inside you, hate, anger, and weakness. The magic was neutral. It had no inclinations of right or wrong, it simply exposed. Still, every time Forest passed through, she felt like a little child who had been scolded and sent to her room. If the magic had detected something like assassination in her mind, it would have solidified around her like ice, holding her in place until security Ogres came.

Forest went to the main foyer and found it empty. Shocked, she darted her eyes around suspiciously. The foyer was never empty,
never
. She pricked her ears and heard laughter coming from down one of the halls. She took off silently in the direction of the noise. The hall was dimly lit with enchanted torches, as all good castles should be. The doors lining the hall led to offices of the highest muckety-mucks in the whole institution of Fortress. They were all closed, except one.

Forest stood silently outside the door, looking in at Zefyre, the Elf priestess, who sat gracefully, an easy smile on her face, while the vampire, Lush, leaned casually against her desk. He was smiling also, until he turned and saw Forest in the doorway. His smile jerked into a sneer as he read her nametag. Zefyre, however, smiled warmly and stood up.

“Forest.” Zefyre’s voice was surprisingly welcoming. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Forest just blinked for a second like an idiot. “Uh…”

Lush snorted in derision. Zefyre shot him an icy look, and he straightened from his casual stance. “I’ll see you later, Zef.” Lush walked past her, knocking his arm roughly against Forest’s shoulder.

“Racist moron,” Zefyre said under her breath as he retreated down the hall. “Sorry about that. Is there something I can do for you?” she asked again.

“No. Sorry. I was just confused by the emptiness of the castle, that’s all. I followed the sound of your voice.” Forest wanted out of here as quickly as she could without being impolite. She had never spoken directly to Zefyre, or any other member of the high council. Apprehension gripped her belly as she tried to figure how to behave. Should she avert her eyes? Or would that seem weak? If she looked Zefyre in the eye, would that be taken as insolence? She decided to look down at the floor.

“Look at me, please.” Zefyre’s voice was soft and relaxed as she moved to stand in front of her.

Forest looked up and met Zefyre’s gaze. Zefyre brow furrowed as her eyes traveled over Forest’s face. Then she took a step back and crossed her willowy arms over her chest. “Hmmm,” Zefyre said smiling.

Forest had taken the opportunity to take a good look at Zefyre in return. She was beautiful, but then most elves were. She had a regal and authoritative air about her that was not completely cold. Slightly maternal. Her blond hair hung in straight, glossy perfection down to the middle of her back. Her large eyes were layered in the colors of earth’s oceans, and the shape of them reminded Forest of another pair of eyes she could easily recognize—her own.

Zefyre gestured to the door in a way that was unmistakable.
Get out
. Forest backed out, her eyes still locked with Zefyre’s.

“Good luck on your mission,” she said smiling, and shut the door in Forest’s face.

Weirdo
. Forest headed off to the winding stairway that led to the bowels of the castle and her locker. It was creepy how empty the castle was. The bowels of the castle were not dark and dank, but comfortable and designed to accommodate all the needs an operative might have. The front half was like a day spa. Multiple rooms dedicated to health and wellbeing. The back end was for training and weapon needs; complete with sparring arena and armory. The place was usually filled with movement and sound, but like the halls above, was quiet and empty.

Forest walked swiftly to her locker. Not made of metal with a little combination lock like the one an American high school student would have. Instead, it was a large closet with ornately carved, wooden, double doors. Her combination lock lay in the carving itself. Every operative’s locker was carved differently with the best Ogre craftsmanship. Forest’s depicted the trees of the woods. The points of the carving had to be touched in the right order and by the only fingers that fit them perfectly. Tiny places slid behind others omitting small clicks, like a Japanese puzzle box. Opening her locker gave Forest a strong feeling of satisfaction . She was the only one who could.

The doors swung wide, and Forest inhaled the wonderful scent of her weapons, armor, and Regian clothing. She opened her trunk and reached for her Katana. She exhaled, gripping the hilt tightly. Reuniting with her sword was always the best thing about coming home. Forest had made the blade herself in the ancient elf style, similar to that of the human samurai. In fact, everything about the elf culture was similar to the samurai, even the clothes they wore.

She pulled the sword from its scabbard and let the light dance across the blade. It was an extension of her arm; the manifestation of her spirit; her closest and most faithful friend. She swung it in a wide arc, and it sang as it sliced through the air. Forest danced with her sword, letting it center her.

She exchanged her human clothes for plain Regian robes and fitted herself with all of her favorite weapons. Small knives hidden here and there—even the pins she put in her hair could be deadly. Once she was dressed and carrying as much as was advisable, she turned to her full mirror and started at her reflection. The image of her true form bounced back at her. She had not looked at it in a very long time and had not intended to now. Strange. Had anyone else been there to look, they wouldn’t have been able to see it. All that anyone else would have seen was the freckled redhead Forest had constructed hours ago.

She looked at her real face for a moment and thought about the future. There was only one other person in all of Regia who could see this face, and when she finally met him there was nothing she could do to hide it from him. Her destined life mate would see her true form no matter how she shifted her appearance. She would never be able to hide her scars from him. She knew he would love her anyway because he would be destined to, but the truth would hurt him. Forest hoped there was no life mate for her. With luck, maybe because of her parentage, he just didn’t exist.

The reflection drifted back to the redhead. Forest grew her hair out a good six inches and pulled it into a ponytail. Her ears were visible and obviously elf, but now that she was home, she made no effort to curb their behavior. It was time to go and meet Prince Syrus, but her feet seemed stuck to the floor. He would be spoiled, entitled, well educated in books but no life experience, and he was probably more put out at this arrangement than she was. She fully expected him to be rude, demanding, and generally insufferable. From what she knew of him, the only redeeming feature he would have was his rank in the Blood Kata, but that would probably lend itself to excessive arrogance.

Forest rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath. It was just a few days. She could do this. If she could put up with Leith for the last few years and not kill herself then she could do this. Syrus couldn’t be as bad as Leith. She took another deep breath, forcing her feet to move. She could do this.

Chapter Five

SYRUS PACED back and forth, a squirmy feeling in his stomach, while Redge sat still in the corner. Bemused by the situation, Syrus tried to think his way through his feelings. He compartmentalized his outrage and rebellious intentions toward his parents and tucked them deep inside so he could deal with them later. Everything had to be channeled into survival. He wanted to live. He wanted his sight back. The hunger for it was strangling him. He wanted to see the faces of the people who thought he was dead, when he came back to life. He would squash his enemies under his foot and show them no mercy.

Focus
! Syrus ordered himself. How he would be, and what he would do, were thoughts that distracted from the immediate goal. He must survive. He must reach the wizard. He must keep his guide/guardian from killing him. Syrus told himself to be calm and polite to her even if she was caustic in return. She probably hadn’t volunteered for this.

Syrus heard her approaching footsteps outside the council chamber door. He turned toward the source of the noise, and Redge stood beside him. The hinges creaked as the door swung open. A sharp pang hit Syrus square in the chest. It lasted only a second and then vanished. The pain knocked the breath from him. When he inhaled again, his senses spun with Forest’s scent. Syrus’ teeth began to tingle. He would have to stifle his olfactory sense, or she would instantly be able to see how appealing she smelled to him. Just the idea of one taste was enough to contemplate begging.

Forest walked through the door and spotted Syrus and his personal guard standing at the other end of the room. Her stomach swooped as if the floor had just dropped from under her feet. Her brain screeched to a halt. Every muscle in her body clamped down in defense, turning her to stone. She stared openly at Syrus as though her brain could not process the information her eyes were sending to it. Desire. Admiration of beauty. Objection. Hate. Forest’s hatred of vampires snapped through her body. She hated him. No man had the right to be what he was. His existence was injustice.

Snap out of it
!
You have a job to do, regardless of your errant endocrine system
. Anger bordering on rage had her clamping her teeth together. She saw him, but he did not see her.

Forest forced herself forward until she was able to get a good look at his ruined eyes. They were the color of black pearls, and he had no pupils. The second she looked in them, a sharp needling pain filled her own eyes. It was a frustrated, grasping feeling. Determination cemented in Forest’s spine. She would succeed in getting him to the wizard. She
would
look into Syrus’ eyes and
he
would look into hers.

Syrus was dressed plainly, but she would have picked him out as royalty any day of the week. His clothes were made of a loose, ebony fabric—a tunic and trousers with a cloak casually hanging open on his broad shoulders. The hilts of two butterfly swords, one on each hip, were visible through his open cloak. A small flask hung on his belt as well. He wore no shoes. His black hair was long and glossy, bound back in a single braid. The length of his hair was a mark of his rank in the Blood Kata.

As she moved closer, Forest noticed some diverse scars on his hands, paler in color than the soft cream of his skin. Syrus had a beautifully full mouth with which he offered her a greeting smile, resulting in a wayward thought she had to banish from her mind. When he smiled at her she was glad that real vampires didn’t look like human saber tooth tigers, the way Hollywood painted them. All of Syrus’ bottom teeth were slightly pointed along with his top incisors. You could still call them fangs but they weren’t elongated, and they didn’t slide in and out. Syrus’ were subtle.

Time had stopped moving as Forest looked at Syrus, all protocol forgotten. She was staring at him like a halfwit. Someone cleared their throat, Redge, perhaps? Forest shook herself and straightened. What was going on in her head?