Forbidden Forest (The Legends of Regia) (6 page)

“My lord Prince.” Forest gave a little bow even though she knew he couldn’t see it. The words tasted like bile in her mouth.
Respect, respect, respect
. She chanted in her head.

“Forest.” He reached out for one of her hands in a gesture of greeting. She grasped it without thinking. He inhaled sharply and threw her hand away from him.

She remembered too late the silver rings she wore. “Oh! I’m sorry! I forgot that I was wearing them. I’m so sorry.”

Syrus shook his burned hand with an irritated expression on his face. He took a deep breath. “You have my thanks and the thanks of my family for taking this mission. I hope these next few days will pass with little consequence and very little danger. And although we are technically enemies, I’m sure that we can avoid killing each other.”

A half strangled giggle escaped Forest’s lips before she bit down on her tongue. She inhaled twice, working hard to control herself. “Let us hope so, my lord.”

“Please call me Syrus.”

Forest inclined her head again. “Syrus.”

“I assume you have a plan for our journey?”

“A flexible plan. We’ll take the tunnel under the castle, and we will travel through the night until we reach my home, in the fringe. It’s remote and secluded. If we are lucky, we will encounter no one. We have to wait for a signal from Kendel when it is safe to proceed into the Wolf’s Wood.”

“Is it time to start?” he asked.

“As soon as you are ready.”

Redge walked behind Syrus like a bulky shadow as they made their way to tunnel’s entrance. The tunnel would deposit them outside of Paradigm’s borders. It was enchanted for quick passage, and though they walked at a normal pace, they covered miles in minutes. Forest wondered if Redge was planning to come too. But as soon as they stepped outside, Syrus and Redge embraced like brothers, and Redge handed him a bulging pack, which Syrus slung over one shoulder. Redge turned and went back inside the tunnel.

“Lead on,” Syrus said.

Forest looked up at the night sky, gaining her bearings. Paradigm glowed in the distance behind them, the wilderness ahead. She furrowed her brow as she looked at Syrus. Excitement emanated from him. He shifted his pack on his shoulder, waiting for her to move so that he could follow. Why would he be excited? Maybe it wasn’t excitement, maybe it was anxiety. She could understand anxiety. She turned and began to walk, unsure at what pace she should assume. Given the circumstance, if she were alone, or had a companion that could see; she would be moving as briskly as possible. As it was, Forest was walking with a medium gait.

Syrus matched her pace and stayed on her heels with ease. Forest was relieved he had no problem following her without a guiding hand or having to place his hand on her shoulder. That would have made the trip seem twice as long, and more than twice as irritating. After a while of walking in silence, Forest began to notice that Syrus walked so stealthily he hardly made any sound at all. He glided sinuously behind her. She could easily imagine he was stalking her like prey.

Forest glanced up at the clear night sky, struck by the immense odd turn of events. It was hard for her to wrap her brain around the fact that the Prince of Regia was not only alive but was walking behind her, expecting her to safeguard his life. And to top it off, the royal pain was sexy as hell.
Stop thinking like that
! She told herself. The odds of getting through this trip without making a fool of herself were already looking thin.

“What is it?” Syrus asked in a low voice.

Forest jumped and checked herself. She had been looking at him over her shoulder as she walked. “Nothing.” She turned her eyes back to the road.

A moment passed.

“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I don’t know when someone is staring at me. I can feel your eyes on me.” Syrus’ voice went quiet and breathy. “The questions you’re too afraid to ask are running over my skin like someone’s fingers.”

Forest could feel her cheeks burning. “They are?”

“No.” He chuckled. “I could tell you were looking over your shoulder by the way your stride changed.”

Forest had a split second of indecision whether or not she was angry. The next second she was laughing quietly, and made a mental note that Syrus was ornery.

“So,” he asked, “you must have some questions, don’t you?”

Forest slowed her pace slightly and looked around, listening. It seemed safe enough to have a small conversation. She was certain, for the moment, they weren’t being followed. She had many questions she wanted to ask, but she took a moment to think about how to proceed. This was the beginning of their trip and the beginning of their acquaintance. Much of how things would be between them would be determined with this first exchange of words. If she was to have any standing with him, she had to demand it with her tone and demeanor. He was the prince and she was nothing. However, she had the knowledge and experience that had landed the job, so she was in charge. Casual friendliness with an unmistakable edge of authority was how she intended to treat him.

“Why are you barefoot?” she asked, remembering to keep her voice down.

“If I can feel the ground under my feet, it’s less likely I’ll fall on my face or in a hole.”

Forest thought it best not to ask too many questions, so he didn’t get the idea she was overly interested. Asking too much also opened the door for him to ask questions in return, and she wanted to avoid that.

“It was a wizard who attacked you, five years ago?”

Syrus sighed. “Yes. I never saw his face. I’m sure he meant to kill me. I was in a death-sleep for a long time afterward. When I woke up, the whole investigation was basically over, and I was blind. The wizard on the council, Devonte, tried to cure me.” Syrus snorted. “There were times that the things Devonte tried on me were more painful than the spell that blinded me.”

“So, we’re going to Maxcarion, specifically, because he was the one who attacked you?”

Syrus smiled. “You’re sharp, aren’t you? Yes. He was the wizard who attacked me. It’s not believed that he holds anything against me, personally. During the investigation, it was discovered that throughout the last few years, Maxcarion has been a mercenary. Someone else hired him to attack me. He is the best hope I have for restoration.”

Listening to him, Forest discovered she liked the sound of his voice immensely. She tried to think about what the last few years must have been like for him. If he was still considered a master of the Blood Kata, he would have had to have made serious adjustments, if not relearn many things to still be able to fight. But she figured that wasn’t the case. He had probably been allowed to keep his rank because he was the prince. She wanted to ask him about his formal training in the Kata, but those kinds of questions were too personal for a new acquaintance.

“What do you intend to offer him as payment?” she asked.

“That’s my business,” he snapped.

Forest huffed and picked up the pace. Annoyance tinged with reminder that she hated all vampires. This one might be good looking, but so what? Leith was good looking, and nothing would ever cure her of hatred for him. So that was that—she wouldn’t even try to soften the edges of her hatred. Since Syrus was bent on being rude, she would be coldly civil and nothing more

She looked around as she continued to power walk. The night was edging toward its halfway mark. The aquamarine moon was at its zenith, casting dim light on the road that stretched out before them. They were approaching a thickly wooded area. It was unlikely they would pass through unnoticed. She turned to tell Syrus this and found him, surprisingly, a long way behind her, obviously struggling to keep up. He wore traces of panic on his face, and she could tell by the way he was walking that he was in pain.

Forest ran back to him, filled with inexplicable concern. He stopped and exhaled raggedly. The scent of blood had her spine stiffening.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You were going so fast. This road is rough.”

Forest looked back along the road. The moon illuminated the smears of blood on the ground. Syrus’ feet were bleeding. So far, she was proving to be a poor caretaker. Well, it wasn’t her fault if the great moron refused to wear shoes.

“Come over here and sit down under this tree,” Forest said, reaching out for his hand, and then, remembering her silver jewelry, pulled it back again. He had followed her without assistance before.

Syrus took his pack off and sat down with his feet stretched out in front of him. Forest looked at his wounds. They weren’t deep and would probably only take a few minutes to heal.

“I need a drink,” Syrus said.

“Well, I don’t have one for you.”

“Sure you do.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Her mouth fell open in shock. Was he suggesting that she let him feed from her? Forest wasn’t sure how to best express her violent negative response.

Syrus shrugged and reached for his pack. “Some other time, perhaps.”

He dug his hand around inside, before pulling out a corked bottle. He ran his fingers over the neck of the bottle where Forest could see a few etched designs. He put the bottle down, reached into his pack, and withdrew another. Syrus ran his fingers over the neck of this bottle as well. It too was etched. His face held a look of indecision for a second before he shrugged, uncorked the bottle, and took a drink. He closed his eyelids, leaned his head back, and sighed.

Forest crossed her arms over her chest. “The etchings tell you what type of blood is in the bottle?”

“Yes.”

“What kind did you just drink?”

“Elf.” He smiled vaguely and took another swig. “The fastest healers.”

She looked at his knobby pack. “Did you only bring blood?”

“No. I have water as well.”

“Do you have any human blood with you?” she asked aggressively.

Syrus straightened. “No. Of course not.”

Her eyes probed his face. “Hmm.” Once again, her eyes itched with annoyance that her gaze was not returned. “Ogre blood has the strongest scent. Do you have any?”

He reached for the first bottle he had pulled from his pack and held it out to her. She took it from him, and one of her fingers touched his. A pain like someone jamming a needle up her finger jolted her, and she gasped. Syrus, likewise, retracted his hand, as though it burned and swore elegantly under his breath.

“Please take off that accursed silver,” he said angrily.

She ignored his request. “I’m going to cover the blood you left on the road so we aren’t tracked by it. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Sure, no problem,” he said sarcastically.

The pain in Forest’s finger eased and vanished while she trickled the ogre blood on the ground where Syrus’ feet had bled, completely confusing the scent. No one would have been able to figure it for what it was.

As she walked back to where Syrus was waiting for her, she began to bristle with anger. It was very early in the game, but he didn’t seem to be such a bad guy. Why did he have to be so damned attractive? Leith’s face wandered into her mind, and she compared it to Syrus’. Forest hadn’t thought superficially about the way Leith looked since she’d been a schoolgirl. Usually when she thought about him, she only saw red and plotted how best to kill him. But now, she found herself thinking about his face.

Most people thought Leith was extremely good looking. Forest had once thought so too. Now his looks were like that of a mannequin to her. Basically perfect, and perfectly boring. Syrus, on the other hand, was not only extremely good looking but his looks were interesting. If Leith had scars on his hands, as Syrus did, he’d have worn gloves everywhere. Leith was a baby, Syrus a warrior. The second she thought that, she corrected herself. She didn’t know that yet, but she sensed it.

Syrus was putting the bottle of elf blood away when she reached him. He held out his hand for the ogre blood. “Hold it from the top please,” he said. “I don’t want to get burned again.”

Nor I
.

“We are about to go through a wooded area,” Forest told him. “We might come across some company in there. We both need to be on our guard.”

“All right,” Syrus said nonchalantly.

“Put your hood up.”

The woods ahead were so dense and sprang up so abruptly that it looked like a small mountain instead of a small forest. The road led right into the heart of it. Entering was like going through a huge doorway into a tunnel. The moonlight barred by the thick branches made very little penetration. It was very, very dark within.

The road became narrow, threading jaggedly through the black trees. Forest had only ever been through this wood in the daytime. Many eyes focused on them. Forest and Syrus pulled closer together instinctively. They moved as swiftly and silently as the wind over the ground. She was surprised at how in this moment of danger, they were able to move together like one entity. If the ground was hurting Syrus’ feet again, he made no show of it.

The smell of death burned in Forest’s nose. They should have circumvented this place. Too late to turn around now. Something was following.

Syrus grabbed the back of her robe. “Faster,” he whispered aggressively.

They moved faster. Syrus kept urging her on by pushing his fist into the small of her back. She listened to the breathing and movements of whatever stalked them. It was a Guardian—she was sure of it. Forest swore inwardly. Dread dug sharp fingers into her belly.

The exit of the woods loomed in the distance ahead. It was possible they were being herded into a trap. If that were the case, their pursuer would have a cohort, or a number of cohorts waiting for them just inside the edge of the trees before the wood opened to the sky.

“Syrus,” she whispered, “in a second, we must get off the road. And we have to run. Can you?”

“Yes. Just say when. If I lose my grip on you, I’ll be lost. Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t. I swear it.”

They continued forward. The closer they came to the end, the more Forest feared she was right. It was a trap. She could smell those waiting to ambush them, hiding in the trees ahead.

“Ready?” she whispered.