The Goblin Market (Into the Green) (17 page)

Him reached over and tucked his finger under her chin so that he could easily turn her gaze away from the darkness. “Will you be all right while I’m gone?”

“I’ll be fine,” she came back to herself and offered a slow smiled. “I’m sure Sir Gwydion will hold everything together.”

Appreciative of a clever quirk when he heard one, Him’s grin was the last thing she saw before he slid back into the woods and seamlessly became a part of them.

She wandered toward the fire and watched curiously as the pixie wrapped straps of vine across sturdy branches to make a spit so they might roast whatever game Him returned with. Though the rain had stopped, the trees behind them let go of the random raindrop from time to time, one of which fell onto Sir Gwydion’s forearm, causing him to twitch before scornfully sneering up at the trees.

Merry stood to the side and watched, arms crossed and head slightly turned. She could tell that it bothered him, his face melding into an unguarded sneer from time to time. “You and Him, you live day to day like this?”

“Not exactly,” he didn’t even look up from his task. “It’s not every day we rush headlong into foolish ventures simply because we can’t stand the thought of disappointing a pretty face.”

“You think I’ve made him come along, do you?”

When he didn’t answer, she toed the damp earth of the riverbank with her shoe and watched the patterns it made as the water rose momentarily to the surface.

“You’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t like me. But is it really me, or do you just not like for Him to enjoy anyone’s company that isn’t yours?”

“I beg your pardon,” he stammered, finally lifting his dark gaze to her face. “You make it sound like I’m some jealous lover, when that is hardly the case. I simply don’t approve of how easily Him follows his heart into whatever foolish quest presents itself and bats its eyelashes the most flirtatiously. It is his decisions I disapprove of, and unfortunately you happen to be directly related to the worst one he’s made in years.”

“I did not ask Him to come along.”

“No,” he agreed after a moment’s silent. “You did not, but it seems he had very little control over his choice either way. I am not a fan of fate, or what have you, and hardly chance to put my faith in forces I can’t even see.”

“You are a logical voice of reason then.” She sat down across from him on the face of a large stone and held her hands out to the fire. Her clothes were still damp from the rain, and they made her skin feel sticky. “I never put much stock in things like destiny either. My sister was always raving about how this or that was fate, or how the hand of destiny had intervened, but I never quite knew if I believed it myself.”

“Wise decision, that.”

“But see, now things have changed,” she went on. “I’ve become part of a whole new world, and everything I learned from Sylvanus suggests that fate has brought me back to this place.”

“My father used to hang idly on mystic words, prophecies and what not. When I was but a wee lad, he left on a quest that was imparted to him by a mystic. The mystic told him it was his fate to brave the Darknjan Wald, and so he packed his satchel, said goodbye to my mother, my sisters and me. We never saw him again, and so tell me how that was his fate?”

Meredith shook her head and watched the shadow of the fire stretch against the shore. The roar of the river had quieted once she got used to it, but like a subtle hush underneath everything it flowed on, always rushing on its way.

“That is why you do not want Him to go, why you wish not to go yourself.”

“Is that not reason enough?”

“It is,” she agreed. “It is more than reason enough. I am sorry that I have brought you so much sadness in all of this.”

He stopped wrapping the vine for a moment and lifted his eyes toward her. The sun was lowering behind him, but the shadow of the Darknjan Wald cut the light in half, as though the very darkness itself thrived upon the radiance it devoured.

There was a resigned sense of sarcastic acceptance on Sir Gwydion’s face when he finally said, “It isn’t your fault, I suppose. It seems it is our fate.”

They were silent until Him returned, but there was no need for either of them to actually say they’d come to some sort of understanding. Him dropped three small hares next the fire, and then sat down cross legged to begin skinning them.

“It isn’t much,” he held the first one out to inspect it, “but I am sure it is more than we’ll find once we’ve crossed the bridge.”

“Besides,” Sir Gwydion sighed, “the game over there would poison your blood, no doubt.”

“No doubt.”

By the time Him had finished skinning their dinner and set them up on the spit Sir Gwydion had fashioned, the sun was falling in behind the mist-shrouded mountainside, and though it was still half-light the darkness from the Wald made it seem like midnight. There was the comfort of nightsong, frogs and crickets against the rush of the river and the constant spit and crackle of the fire.

The companions were quiet, each of them wrapped tightly in their thoughts. Meredith pushed away the tempting images from her dream that morning and cast a sidelong glance at Him. There were far more important things on her path than the man seated beside her, and yet all she could think of was Him.

He stared deep into the fire as though it had enslaved him. Its orange light flickered against the green of his eyes, enhancing the color and making the deep olive tone of his skin appear brown as nut.

How could it be that in the world she came from there were no beings as beautiful and perfect as Him? He was the very essence of life, the wild forest, the trees, and all one might expect to find within the woods. She lifted her gaze to the antlers that set him apart, and found that even that which was most different made him incredibly desirable. Taut muscle flexed as he leaned inward to turn the spit, and as she watched him move she only wondered for a moment what had come over her. She had never desired anyone the way she did him, and that lack of experience made her question herself again and again.

“Just a few more minutes,” he announced. He moved back into his seat and noticed the way her eyes explored him. A faint smile flashed against his mouth, and he looked away, as though he were playing shy. He waited, and then met her eyes again, this time lingering until she found the strength to look away.

It was the same throughout dinner, the two of them stealing glances in silence until Sir Gwydion finally announced that he had tired of their company.

“I’m off to bed then,” he grabbed his satchel and started away. “I suggest you make the same decision sooner rather than later. Tomorrow will surely be the longest day of your lives.”

“Good night, Gwydion.”

Meredith watched his shadow begin unraveling the blanket in his pack, and then she looked away, upward to where the first few stars should have made light of the darkness, but the heaviness of the Darknjan Wald’s shadow cut deep into the night and blocked out the starlight above. Its very presence lumbered over them like a giant and she shivered as she felt its malevolence to her very core.

“It’s like it’s completely devoured any and all that is light,” she murmured.

“Hmm?” Him followed her gaze toward the shadow, and then nodded. “That is exactly what it’s done. That is the power of hatred. It swallows everything that is love and light.”

 “And all of this came from the division of the two kingdoms?”

“Not all of it.” He wiped the grease from his hands. “The bridge once acted as a mutual divider between this kingdom and the goblin kingdom, but when the war ended and Kothar took to the goblin throne, the darkness began to creep across the bridge. Some say it is because he sacrificed the goodness of his soul for power, but it’s hard to say. I have no head for prophecies. That is my brother’s passion.”

“And your passion is the woods? The wild hunt?”

“My passion is life,” he explained. “Waking up every day and just going where the wind takes me. That is my passion.”

“And there is nothing that could tie such a spirit down,” she noted, a hint of sorrow in her voice. “Free spirits need to fly.”

“That’s not entirely true,” he grinned. “I’ve always known that when the time for me to settle into things came, my heart would know its place.” He reached across the space between them and lifted her chin so that she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “I have never seen such a shade of blue, and yet each time I look inside your eyes, I feel as if I’m home.”

Meredith felt like a small animal caught in the hunter’s range, and she could only stare while her body betrayed her with trembling anxiety. She had never been so close to a man in her life, and she had certainly never been looked upon by one in the way Him looked upon her then.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” He let go of her chin and moved back to study her.

“I...”

What did she say? Her mind conflicted against her heart and body, while flashes of intimate dreams in his arms flickered through her mind.

“It’s not you,” she finally confessed. “It’s just that we’ve only just met, and yet it seems I’ve known you always. Like I could tell you anything and you would never laugh or try to use it to hurt me.”

“I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Perhaps a bit of wine might make things more comfortable,” she suggested.

“Ah, the wine.” He reached to this side and began rummaging through his pack. “I nearly forgot it.” The bottle made a hollow thunk as he tugged the cork free and handed it over to her. “Help yourself.”

Meredith welcomed the sweet, heady warmth of the drink as it moved through her. She handed the bottle back to Him, and he took a needy swallow.

“Is it possible to feel completely at ease while at the same time you are absolutely terrified?”

Him laughed, and sipped from the bottle again before giving it back to her. “If it wasn’t possible before, I believe it was made possible the very moment we first met.”

She laughed then too, a free laugh completely uninhibited as it reverberated back to her in little waves.

Him became serious again. “Never before I met you had the sound of laughter seemed so perfect.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the wine or his compliment, but warmth rushed into her cheeks and made her head spin. “Is it true, what Sir Gwydion says about you? That you experience heartsickness at the mere sight of the wings on a dragonfly?”

“He said that?”

Meredith nodded.

“Well, I have never once loved a dragonfly.” The offense he wore quickly melded into laughter. “Though I have chased after a nymph or two in my time, and there was a sylph once, but she meant nothing to me. None of them meant anything.” He watched as she tilted the bottle to her lips. “It’s like I was waiting for someone all along, looking for her in every glance until I came face to face with you.” He tucked a strand of hair away from her face, his hand lingering to cup her cheek.

“But even if I do make it through the Darknjan Wald, my freedom is forfeit to the goblin king.” The finality of that truth suddenly restricted her throat and chest so she could scarcely catch her breath. Not even the small sip of wine she swallowed seemed powerful enough to placate her sudden fear. “Were it not for my sister... for this quest I can’t avoid...”

They both grew silent. Him was solemn as he withdrew his hand. It was as if the weight of the future had never darkened his brow before that moment. She watched eerie shadows stretch across his countenance. His sharp, beautiful eyes shifted away and then back to her again. He gulped down several mouthfuls of wine and then lowered the vessel to the ground.

He turned to look at her as he said, “Even the greatest love knows only a moment in time. Meredith, I...” he paused for a moment. “Even if I am meant to die for you, or die with you...” His talk of death frightened her. “Even so, my life would have meant nothing had you never come here.”

“But how can we...”

Once more he lifted his hand to hold her face from looking away. “How can you sit in this same space and ask how?”

Ashamed, she closed her eyes to avoid his gaze. He was right and she knew it. The strength of their bond was more than anything she had ever known, and she could not deny that their connection went well beyond the fabric of their own lifetime.

She was terrified. Love was not something she had ever counted on knowing, as she was already well past the age most girls were married.

Him’s fingers seemed to resonate against her skin, as though his very touch was magic. Yes, that must be it. He was somehow charming her.

“I am sorry, Him.” She nestled her face into his open palm, eyes still closed. She relished in the perfect touch of his skin against her own. “My heart trusts, and my body... but then my mind is riddled with logic and reason.”

“Wasted tools that speak to us of fear and try to convince us to avoid the whims of our heart,” he traced.

“Fear is a very real thing.”

“And so is love.” His fingers curled softly then, wound into the loose strands of her hair. He moved closer, and she knew if she were to open her eyes he would be right there in front of her. “Meredith, I promise you.” The raspy whisper of his voice breathed warm against her cheek. “I promise there is nothing in me to be afraid of.”

“It isn’t you.”

“Then let me take care of you.” The skin of his cheek, rough as dry sand, brushed against her face. His lips hovered inward to take hers in a kiss, and she gasped in surprise before she relaxed into the comfortable familiarity of Him. She leaned into his arms, and he held onto her in such a way that no matter how she tried, she could not resist him.

Warm hands moved beneath the fabric that separated their bodies and over her bare skin while his mouth hungrily explored the curve of her neck. She was alive with desire, as she had been in her dreams of him. Fingers wove into his hair, while her other hand wandered freely down the curve of his spine, over his hip until he moved back to look into her eyes.

Words were no longer necessary, they could feel each others thoughts and emotions, and it was through those avenues that all other communication was guided.