Forbidden Forest (The Legends of Regia) (22 page)

Forest’s fists clenched again. She wanted to pummel him for being right. She looked at the tight line of massive trees and sobered. She took a few deep breaths, trying to let go of her anger. She watched Syrus pull his arms through his backpack straps and adjust his T-shirt, the trees at his back. They were here. This was the beginning of the end of their time together. And before she realized what she had done, Forest had gone to him and pulled him into a tight hug. He hugged her back just as fiercely. She knew as well as he did they were trying to reassure each other.

She let go reluctantly. “All right, once we’re inside we need to make a beeline for the Heart. The outer rim is the most beguiling, and we’ll need to get off the trail as soon as possible. It’s good that you’re a vampire and immune to shadow sand. It’s also good that you’re blind; the beauty won’t stall you or lead you in the wrong direction. It is a shame, however, that you won’t get to see the Heart or the Waterfall of Silverlight.”

Syrus shrugged. “I’ll see it on the way out. You’ll show me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Forest said lightly. It was the most awful and painful lie she had ever told.

Forest felt the surge of power through her veins as they crossed through the invisible curtain draped over the wood. She watched Syrus as they entered. He shivered, and she could see his senses pique and roll through him.

“Wow,” he said under his breath.

“If you think that’s something, wait till we get to the Heart. The power you’ll feel there is, well, hard to describe…overwhelming. As we get deeper, you’ll understand why the Heart repels instead of drawing. I’m sure Maxcarion will have made his home near the Heart.”

Forest’s heart expanded as she threw her head back, looking up through the trees, and taking deep breaths. It had been so long, so very long, since she had beheld the beauty of the Wood. She had traveled to some of Earth’s most beautiful places, but nothing she had seen there could compare to the transcendent heartache caused by beholding the glory of the Wood.

Syrus reached for Forest’s hand. She took it easily. For a few moments, Forest allowed herself to daydream they were doing nothing more than taking a morning stroll. If she wasn’t careful, she would fall victim of the hallucinatory power of the outer rim and lead them in circles and probably into the hands of a few wolves. The amount of time that had passed since she had been in the Wood made her more sensitive to its seductive power. The dust particles floating on the air were tainted with shadow sand. It entered her lungs as she breathed, reaching in with soft skilled fingers that tickled and stroked the hidden desires buried deep in her mind.

Forest shook herself, she had almost walked right passed the fallen tree with the branch that looked like a man’s arm, where they needed to turn and pass under, off the trail.

“How do you withstand against the sand?” Syrus asked.

“I know where it’s concentrated on the ground, so the only problem for me is what’s floating around in the air. I have to remind myself to stay focused when my mind starts to wander, but that’s about as bad as it gets for me. I think the amount of time I spent here in my formative years gave me some level of immunity.” Forest laughed darkly. “Either that or it made me toxic and my system hardly takes notice of it now.”

“Did you use it when you were a youth in revolt?” Syrus asked with a little smirk around his mouth.

Forest chuckled. “I’m still a youth in revolt, but no. I’ve felt its effects transdermally a handful of times. But I only tried snorting it once. One nostril of that stuff was enough for me. Becoming lucid after that was just too depressing. I see why so many become addicted. And I almost fell into it; it would have been so easy. But I had ambitions and being a sand junkie wasn’t one of them.”

“Before I became a mage, I welcomed any addiction that could grab me. It used to irritate me something fierce that I was immune to sand. I tried it once too, just to see if it would have any effect at all on me.”

“Did it?” Forest asked.

“Oh, sure, it had an effect, but it was far from the desired one. Mostly just a lot of sneezing and blowing gritty snot from my nose for the better part of an afternoon.”

Forest laughed and had to cover her mouth with her hand. “Don’t make me laugh, Syrus! We have to be quiet.”

“Sorry.”

“The first time I ventured into the Wood alone, I was a child. I got stuck on the outer rim and did nothing but walk in circles for hours. When my mom found me, she said I was totally glazed. I have this fantastic memory of those hours. It’s too bad it was only a cluster of hallucinations. I was rather disappointed when I learned that nothing I experienced that day actually happened. Watch your head, Syrus. There are some low branches here.”

“So, Leramiun created a toxic, living labyrinth.”

“Yes,” Forest said. “That is very much what it is.”

Shi drifted silently overhead, watching them as they traveled the hidden path she had taught to Forest many years ago. She was bemused by the situation. How could it be that her little Forest was the life mate of the vampire prince? Even though Shi had a fierce desire to talk to Forest, she held back, not feeling she could trust herself to behave the way she considered an ancient should.

Shi examined Syrus thoroughly, grudgingly pleased with his internal makeup. She did not object to him being paired with Forest, except for the fact that he was a vampire. Why did Forest always get tangled up with suckers? She examined the newness of their relationship and their incomplete connection. It wouldn’t be incomplete if Syrus knew they were mates, but he was still holding his tongue and keeping his secret. Shi might grow to have some affection for him, but for now, she would remain silent. She would watch over them and keep them as safe as she could.

Chapter Fifteen

NETRIET’S CHEEK pressed against the cold stone floor. Her breathing was shallow and labored. Sweat beads glistened on her forehead and cheeks as she trembled with a fever. Horror assaulted her as the memories of the last round of Philippe’s experimentations on her surfaced. In his attempt to master the workings of the collar, she lost her left arm.

She knew the second the collar began to spread its needles and poison through her hand, and she remained silent. Through sheer force of will, she had not cried out when the pain washed through her arm like water running down a pipe. Another few moments, and it would have reached her heart. But no such luck was hers. Philippe noticed just in time and chopped her arm off in one swift slice from the dagger he carried in his belt.

The flesh pulled together quickly over her short stump, her quick healing capabilities preventing her yet again from dying. The last thing she’d seen before losing consciousness had been Philippe removing the collar from the hand of her severed arm. She had thought that at least if that happened again she would have no more fingers and the torturous experiments would be over.

The warm nectar of blood filling Netriet’s mouth brought her awake. Through the haze of wounded, feverish exhaustion, she fought to reclaim her wits. Philippe wanted her to regain her strength so he could continue to torture her. Her eyes dragged themselves open slowly and shock roused her further. It was Philippe who fed her from a small cut on his wrist, no low ranking foot soldier or serving wench, but Philippe himself. How could he be so foolish?

Their eyes met, and he smiled knowingly. “Go ahead. Bite me. I can see what you’re thinking. It won’t work. I won’t fall victim of your brainwashing persuasion,” he said confidently.

Netriet hesitated, wondering if she should try it anyway. She sank her teeth into his flesh, took one strong pull from his veins, and spat the mouthful into his face. For a long moment, she hoped. His eyes sparkled with rage. Then he blinked and smiled at her, getting to his feet and wiping the blood from his face.

“Still clever, Nettie, even in your physical state. I’m impressed. I’m not going to kill you in a rage, though. And I’m not going to let you die of starvation while I still need you to help me master the trick of that damn little thing.”

“A girl can dream,” she said feebly.

Philippe laughed, shaking his head. “If only you were a she-wolf. I’d have made you my queen.”

Netriet smiled weakly. “Yeah. If only.”

Philippe laughed again and picked her up off the floor. To her amazement, he laid her down on his bed and covered her up with a wolf pelt. She was too weak to kick the disgusting thing off so she tried to ignore that she was lying under a corpse. The pelt was warm and soft and she was soon asleep again. She had strange wolfish dreams and the traces of Philippe’s blood, still in her mouth, went down her throat, giving her back a small measure of strength.

****

Forest was fighting down the panic creeping up her body. She was unsure if they were lost or not. Had she taken a wrong turn? Syrus waited silently behind her. They stood on the edge of a large clearing that Forest had never seen. The trees appeared to have been cut down recently. This must have caused Shi great heartbreak. They had obviously stumbled upon an area where werewolves frequently gathered. The smell of them was everywhere.

It looked like a place used for relaxation and revelry. The silver river snaked through the clearing, and she could tell where they used it as a swimming hole. The ground was flattened with footprints, paw prints, and a wolf’s partially transformed beast prints. Cold fire pits and forgotten or discarded articles of clothing littered the ground. Forest’s eyes carefully scanned the entire area. Off to their left was clearly the path the wolves used to travel to and from this spot. They would have to skirt that path at all costs.

Syrus stiffened next to her. She had heard it too—voices approached down the wolf’s path. Forest momentarily froze as she considered fight or flight. Running would put the wolves on the hunt and that was the last thing they wanted to happen. Fighting was a good option if they weren’t too outnumbered. Hiding was impractical in such close range; the wolves would easily catch their scent. She listened closer, trying, to determine how many might be coming when a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

“Wolves are coming. You must hide, Forest.”

“Ssshhhiiiii?” Forest hissed through her teeth.

“You must hide,” Shi’s disembodied voice said again. “This way.”

A light breeze sailed past Forest, lifting her hair. She watched the direction of its wake. Forty feet away, the leaves of a very large tree swayed in the ghostly breeze. It was the only tree the breeze caressed. Shi was directing them to safety.

“Over here!” Forest whispered urgently to Syrus.

They ran silently to the tree. Forest couldn’t see how standing behind a tree was all that great of a hiding place. Did Shi want them to climb it? Forest placed her hand on the trunk and walked around it until she saw the concealed opening. The trunk was partially hollow. She grabbed Syrus’ hand, and they both squeezed into the tiny crevice hidden in the base of the massive tree.

Forest’s heart thundered in her ears. The wolves hadn’t spotted them but could this hiding place cover their scent?

“Don’t worry,” Shi whispered in her ear. Syrus apparently couldn’t hear her. “They will smell nothing.”

Forest exhaled in relief as she heard the wind pick up and blow their scent away. The dark confined space sandwiched her and Syrus together face-to-face. The pain that lay sleeping in both of their chests awoke and began winding searing ropes around their hearts. Worse than that was the knifing sting within the eyes. Forest winced in pain, and Syrus hissed through his teeth. After a long moment of agony, the pain eased and mutated into a pulling sensation that drew them tighter together.

The two wolves tromping through the area were both in man form and grumbling to each other in broken French. They clearly weren’t there doing anything official or stealthy given the amount of noise they were making. Forest strained her ears to catch some of what they were saying.

 “
Pour quoi suivons-nous Philippe du tout
?
Il est fou
.”

“We follow him
because
he’s crazy. Do you want to stand up to him? Oh…uh… parce qu’il est fou. Voulez-vous se tenir jusqu’à lui ?
Did I say that right
?”

“Yes. I mean
Oui. Je pense ainsi
.”

Forest was afraid that if she kept listening she might laugh when Syrus captured her mouth in a slow and devastatingly sweet kiss. She barely had enough room to pull her head back from his.

“Are you crazy?” she whispered. “What do you think you are doing?”

He smiled broadly. “Taking advantage of the situation. Duh.”

“If those wolves discover us, we may both be dead.”

“Exactly my point,” he said under his breath and captured her mouth again.

Forest could have protested further, but her heart wouldn’t have been in it. So she merely sighed and sank into him. Mortal danger all around, and she couldn’t remember ever enjoying herself more than making out with him while squished into the trunk of that tree.

A long time after the wolves had passed them they still had not resurfaced to the world, even though it was perfectly safe for them to do so. Syrus’ lips were so tender and intense; Forest could almost feel the folds of her brain unraveling.

“We need to go, Syrus,” she said against his lips.

He shook his head back and forth. “I don’t think it’s quite safe yet,” he murmured crushing her mouth again.

“Don’t you want to find the wizard? Get your sight back? Kick lots of wolf ass and become the king?”

“All in good time.”

“We’ve been here for over an hour,” she protested feebly.

He smiled against her mouth before kissing her deeply again. “And I’m not even close to being finished with you.”

“This is ridiculous, Syrus. Let me go.”

Her tone had returned to its usual lilt. He sighed in defeat and they both grunted and pushed themselves out into the open again. Forest squinted in the afternoon sunlight. Syrus rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. Likewise, Forest stretched and took a few deep breaths of fresh air.