Heart of the Forest (Arwn's Gift Book 1) (31 page)

“
Thywysogesau
,” he said with a smile, before he quickly pressed his lips to the tiny, neatly laced bow of my trousers.

It was awkward as hell to have a stranger—no matter how attractive—press his lips to the laces of my trousers. I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed his stooped form back from me, shaking my head no. He nodded and took a step back, retrieving another few scraps of linen from the pillows, and returned to press them into my hands. Unlacing my trousers, I shut my eyelids and slid that cloth between the lips of my sex as I caressed myself to climax as Red Sun watched me.

While still shaking, I held the linen out to him, and he took an open jar and closed it around the sopping fabric. Fastening my trousers, I made my way out of the hut. The line had progressed, and Baba Yaga in the guise of the three maidens was now meeting with the highborn elf in a circle of logs off to the side. Once finished with the silver-eyed elf, they approached me, still holding that black garland in their hands.

“For your wedding gift…”

“…we return to you…”

“…what is rightfully yours.” As the three of them spoke, they placed the garland on my head. At first, I felt the leaves and sprigs of branches scrape my scalp and forehead. Then I heard whispers in the night, as the garland atop my head shed its leaves and petals, leaving only gnarled, woven twigs behind, which turned to dust that caught on the wind and scattered in the slight breeze.

“That’s it?” I couldn’t hide the bitterness from my voice.

“Yes, my dear…”

“…what did you…”

“…expect? Lightning? Thunder?” The three of them shared a laugh at my expense.

“But you said this would help Aneurin return!”

“Yes, but we say…”

“…a great many things…”

“…child, not all of them true.” The three of them stepped together, and the shadows in the clearing grew thick and long, so thick I couldn’t see for a few moments. When my sight returned, I was greeted by the sights and smells of Baba Yaga in the form of the three-headed hag.

“So you lied to me, just so you could get the ingredients you need for your glamour?”

“Oh, no. We could never ever…”

“…lie to you. He would take…”

“…our heads and other bits if we did.” They continued to cackle at my frustration as my hands balled into fists and my lips twisted. I wanted to hit them. I wanted to pull my sword off my back and slice open their guts just to see if they were as rotten and fetid on the inside as they were on the outside.

“How is this going to help me get him back?”

“Time will…”

“…show you…”

“…everything.” The face missing its eyes twitched its head to the side like a massive vulture, smiling at me, wide and half toothless. They faded with their cottage as the sun started to rise behind the trees. They disappeared so fast that by the time I had picked up the rock to throw at them, they were gone. I stood alone in the clearing and screamed out my frustration.

* * * *

When I returned to camp, everyone was packing up. No one asked me where I had been, and Yorwrath never asked if I had been successful. The sun hadn’t even finished rising by the time we were on our way again, and the consistent rhythm of Caoilfionn’s hooves on the road lulled me to sleep. Every time my lids started to close Caoilfionn would snuff at me, forcing me back awake. We made excellent time, but the journey back to their main camp was far different than our journey to the abandoned forest. Every day that passed on the road only served to drive home my resolve to leave.

During the journey, I said little and spent most of my time reading one of the herbals Caoilfionn brought from the tower. It was an ancient thing with ornate borders around each page. The entire tome had once been covered in gold and other precious metals. You could see where the gold leaf had flaked off in places, leaving faint flecks behind.

The night we reached that large tree I had cut the innkeeper from all those weeks ago, the chill of autumn had finally taken hold, and the leaves began to change with the cold. I sat away from the fire, wrapped in furs, reading. The inn was a charred skeleton at the crossroads. It stood out as a reminder that I was back in the real world where there were more important things to worry about than some lost love.

Still, I glanced up at Aneurin as he and the others gathered around the fire laughing, drinking wine, and eating rabbit. At first glance, they seemed happy and close, but then on occasion Yorwrath would glare at Islwyn and Aneurin. When the fire grew low and there was no hope of making out the words on the page, I closed the heavy book and walked closer to where the others had congregated.

Aneurin and Islwyn had walked off into the woods together some time ago and hadn’t returned. Grwn was asleep on his pallet and so was Caoilfionn, which left Yorwrath and me more or less alone.

“I’m leaving,” I announced, taking a seat beside Yorwrath. It was the closest we had been to each other since the failed ritual.

“You won’t get very plowing far in the dark, Dy’ne.” He half snorted crossing his arms.

“I mean after we reach the main camp near Heves. I can’t stay.”

“Wasn’t going to fuckin’ ask you to, Dy’ne.” He sneered. “Don’t think that just because you’re comely and tight that you mean something to me. I’m commander of the Redcaps, Dy’ne. Remember? But my indifference isn’t your obstacle. Where I’d gladly relinquish my claim on you—since once we’re back at camp, I’ll have my collection to keep me sated—I’m not so certain about the Swynwr.”

“Fuck you.” I hissed, glaring at him, narrowing my eyes to tiny slits.

“Think I’ll pass. I’ve already had you, Dy’ne. My curiosity is sated. No need for me to go back and repeat past mistakes. Did you think I’d pine for you like my brother? Bemoan the loss of your affection like a simpering girl over the loss of the first thing that gave her a tingle in her quim?” He sucked his teeth. “You should know me far better than that, Dy’ne.” That dark voice of his rumbled in his throat as, like a flower in the cold, Yorwrath closed back up to me. “Don’t worry, I’m certain there are plenty of others whom Aneurin will thank for their loyalty with that tight little cun—” I was going to punch him. My arm was cocked and my fist was clenched, but as I followed through, aiming for his jaw, he caught my hand and glared at me in silence.

“Big strong elf acting like a twit because I neglected you a bit,” I gnarled.

“Aw, are you going to throw a temper tantrum now? I’m sorry, little Dy’ne. My world doesn’t revolve around your cunt or your feelings.” Again I swung to punch him, and when he caught my fist I yowled quietly in frustration. “You should really learn to use your words, Dy’ne. Are you done?” He smirked at me. I growled wordlessly and nodded, and he released my fist.

* * * *

Heves was mostly a burned-out ruin, though the Dawn appeared to be rallying behind the scorched temple. They ignored the loss of innocent lives and claimed it as proof that no matter what those in the darkness did they couldn’t snuff out the light of the Dawn. There was also an alternative narrative, which said that the devotion of the worshippers is what caused the fire. Its persistence—according to them—was because it refused to burn out until it purged the city of corruption. I grinned at the pamphlets that littered the fields. We kept from the main road and the city itself, but I could make out the increased presence of guards as we made our way past. It was like they knew what Aneurin was intending to do.

It was dusk when we reached the camp, and everyone welcomed Yorwrath and Aneurin back with open arms and tight embraces. While we were gone a visitor had arrived, and the far side of camp was full of purple tents draped in heavy canvas. Drums sounded, in an almost dirgelike droning, as a procession filed out from those tents. Horns sounded as I dismounted Caoilfionn, my attention focused on the approaching group.

Males—both human and elven, with bare chests and collars around their throats—carried a litter. On the litter sat two pixies, one blonde with long golden hair and irises the color of bluebells that were startling in her tanned face. She was topless, her ample breasts displayed for all eyes to see. It was how pixies gauged the worthiness of their allies. If their allies could keep eye contact, they would fight beside them; if they couldn’t, they usually killed the females and took the males as slaves. The blonde had on nothing but a pair of soft leather trousers. Leaning against her leg was a sword and a shield with an elaborate pattern on it that I couldn’t make out in the firelit dark. Beside the blonde was another topless female. Her eyes were gray, and her hair was so black that in the darkness it looked almost blue. Those almost navy tresses fell loosely around her to her waist, and at her hips was a skirt of the sheerest white silk.

The litter was set down, and the slaves helped the two women step off. Each man was armed with a short sword, and I was betting they’d all lay down their lives for their mistresses. The two females walked hand in hand to stand before Aneurin, barely coming up to his chest. They both looked him over for a moment. The warrior’s gaze, however, traveled to Yorwrath, and she licked her lips hungrily before returning her attention to Aneurin.

“We thought to come see you for ourselves, Swynwr. My mate does not believe you are truly he who was born amongst death. We traveled all the way from Vanotti to see whether or not you are worthy.”

“Amita’Ahti, you and your mate are very welcome amidst my camp, and I hope I do not disappoint either of you. I am indeed he who was born amongst death,” Aneurin said, carefully leveling his gaze to theirs.

“What about my six hundred warriors? Are they welcome too?” The warrior, Amita’Ahti, snorted. “You tart your words up like you were speaking to some soft human girl. I’m the queen of the pixies. I am the Knife of the Dark. I am a direct descendant of Aditi’Alala—the fiercest of female warriors. Talk to me like a woman and not like a child.” Her voice was soft, melodious, and deep. Standing tall and straight she was only slightly shorter than I, which made her voice more than a little surprising.

“Be straight with us, Swynwr. That is all we ask. We are a more direct people than you elves,” the dark-haired one said as she linked arms again with her mate. “Come, we can discuss our alliance in more depth over a meal.” They ushered Aneurin away. As I watched them walk I was mesmerized for a moment by the opalescent wings draped from the two pixie’s backs, looking like sheer capes.

Yorwrath walked away with another grave-looking Redcap, and Islwyn simply left without a word, leaving me, Caoilfionn and Grwn to stand at the edge of camp looking over everyone gathered there. Grwn stared at me for a bit before speaking.

“We’ll probably move camp tomorrow, maybe the day after. It shouldn’t take more than two days for Dryslwyn Tanllyd to surrender, and then I’m heading to the coast, and I’d like you to come with me. I think you’d be happier there. You’re a good person, Valentina. That’s rare as shit these days. They would be more than happy for you to be a Cunning Woman there. Lyr’s tolerant,” Grwn offered with a smirk.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.” With a small nod, he turned around and walked off, leaving me beside Caoilfionn. No one seemed to care that I was there anymore. My, how things had changed.

Aneurin spent his time with the pixie queen and her mate, as did Islwyn. Yorwrath and Grwn met briefly with the other Redcaps while their captives packed up their tents. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I spent the night tearing linen for bandages with Caoilfionn and their healers. As dawn crested the entire camp started packing up and I got to witness the Redcaps in full strength. I watched them ride out at dawn, as I stood beside the large fire at the center of camp. Roughly ninety elves with those red bandannas stepped from their tents with weapons in hand. Yorwrath and I stared at each other while I watched him talk to Grwn. I made a point to look away first, turning to smile at the others as the women of Yorwrath’s collection meandered through camp and started taking down Aneurin’s tent.

“I’m going to gather some herbs,” I stated after Yorwrath had ridden off at the head of his host of Redcaps. No one tried to stop me, not even Caoilfionn. The pale unicorn simply nodded a bit, casting a warm smile in my direction before returning to the task at hand.

The scent of the forest in the morning was indescribable. It might have been colder than a yeti’s left nut, but the air was crisp, and the quiet let me forget about everything. Pulling my hood up I walked among the trees, carefully surveying the forest floor. I was hunting lichen for my ointment. Needless to say, I didn’t trust the age of the stuff Caoilfionn had brought from the tower. And whereas dragon’s blood might not turn, I knew lichen could.

When I found a large patch of pale green-gray lichen growing on a large flat rock, I started humming to myself. Snatching a scrap of linen out of my pocket and my boot knife, I was careful as I scraped it from the rough gray stone. So careful that my attention was entirely focused on the precise motions. So focused that I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me.

“You should be more observant, Dy’ne. One day someone’s going to sneak up on you that actually means you harm,” Yorwrath grumbled behind me. Rolling my eyes, I continued to scrape up the lichen.

“Didn’t you ride out with your men?” I asked, keeping my attention focused on the task at hand.

“Aye, I did.”

“And you’re here because?” I asked, folding the linen into a secure little pouch.

“Because in three days’ time I might be dead, Dy’ne.”

“Shouldn’t you be scouting city gates or something?” I tucked it away and turned around.

In the pale early gray dawn, his irises were almost glowing, that metallic gold far more pronounced than it had been before. Whenever the light caught it, that gold flared to life. It made him seem all the more wild as he stared down at me. He had his bow on his back and sword at his side. The corner of his red bandanna was folded back, and for once both of his eyes were in view. He looked dangerous—then again, he always looked dangerous.