Page 112

***

That night, he led her to a smaller cottage on the outskirts after they had settled Kenji, Aiko, and Sora in the guesthouse.

He had taken her into the washroom to run a bath and slipped in beside her. He washed the dust from the journey away before threading his fingers through her long curls, occasionally stopping to kiss a wet lock, all the while watching her. He carefully washed her hair while she sat straddling him, teasing him while he tried to concentrate. Finally, he got out and lifted her like a doll while she sleepily leaned against him as he towelled her dry. Then he carried her to the narrow bed, and they sat together naked, him behind her, while he combed her hair until it shone like silk in the low light. She allowed him to tuck her under the quilt before joining her. She didn't protest as he parted her thighs and joined them together. They were both already close, and it didn't take long for him to take her over the edge before joining her. Then he tucked her against his side like a little bird and whispered for her to sleep.

***

They reached the Great Oak after two hours on foot through the wilderness. The air was warmer now, and the forest was alive with bird calls and the cries of forest creatures. Blaidd and Fae went ahead, with Sulien and Kenji following at a distance. Ruri and Sora wanted to come, but finally agreed to stay back to guard the pack.

The forest did not seem to consider the Great Oak as separate. In fact, a little robin nested on a branch, and a little wildone watched them approach from a high branch.

Daylight still filtered through the canopy, and yet the air around the oak seemed dimmer, as though it drew shadow toward itself. The surrounding woodland bloomed in late-season colour—ferns unfurling, moss thick and green, wildflowers threading through roots—all of it blending naturally.

The oak itself towered above all else, but still was a part of it all.

Its bark was ancient, fissured deep like the face of a creature that had watched centuries pass.

And as they grew closer, they saw them. At first, Fae thought it was a trick of light, a ripple in shadow. But as her eyes adjusted, she made out forms moving along the trunk—humanoid shapes the colour of bark, their limbs elongated like branches, their movement more slither than step.

They seemed to shimmer and disappear before appearing elsewhere, while their black, bottomless eyes watched the visitors.

After a moment of hesitation, Blaidd stepped forward. "I am Blaidd, the former alpha of the wolf pack at the edge of the forest. I would like to speak to your leader," he called, feeling a little foolish, all the while shielding Fae with his bulk. His axes were strapped to his back, ready to be unsheathed with a thought.

He kept his voice even and unthreatening as it carried through the clearing.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, the bark itself seemed to part.

A figure emerged from the trunk of the Great Oak as though stepping through water.

The figure had a female shape, tall and willowy, not unlike a tree. Behind her, more of her kind watched carefully with similar bottomless, pitch-black eyes.

Her body appeared carved from wood, grain visible along her arms and throat. Her hair fell in trailing green vines that swayed even though there was no wind. Her eyes were pits of darkness—depthless and unreadable. A faint, knowing tilt to her head as her mouth, which they now realized was full of small, sharp, splinter-like teeth, smiled like a predator sensing prey.

When she spoke, her voice did not come from her mouth alone.

It echoed from the trees, from the earth, from the hollow spaces between roots. It made the fine hairs on the nape of Fae's neck stand up.

"Who wakens me from my slumber?"

Her gaze drifted across them before settling on Blaidd. "Oh," she said in a deceptively soft tone. "It is you."

"What can I do for you, former alpha of the wolf pack?"

Blaidd did not answer immediately; instead, he turned and lifted the bundles from the back of his horse. He carried them forward and laid them carefully at her feet before backing up without turning his back.

Everything Isolde had left behind was wrapped in cloth.

"I kept my promise to the witch," Blaidd said. "I honoured your nestmate with eight years of silence. The pack was not to blame for her death. She chose to open the door for her lover, condemning many women and children to a death they didn't deserve."

The changeling's vine-hair shifted slightly. Slender creatures separated from the tree to carry the belongings away.

"Why do you not let our pack go?" he asked.

The creature's lips curved faintly. "Because you have not returned everything."

A subtle ripple passed through the bark-forms behind her as if they were readying to attack.

"What of her two children?" she asked softly. "You need to return them. The price must be paid."