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Dangerous.
At least that’s what the whispers say. But how is that any different from what I face with the lord and lady? It’s a risk I’ve been pushed to take.
Char had also said the fae can be beautiful and kind, and I only hope to find the ones who are. Only one irrevocable step through the Gleam stands between me and what I hope is freedom.
It feels like an eternity passes before my foot hits the ground on the other side. The tingling subsides. When the colors fade to a soft orange glow, I cautiously open my eyes.
I gasp, squinting at the unrecognizable landscape before me.
The sun beats down on a meadow of cheery blossoms, a sea of lush magenta and periwinkle wildflowers that reach up to my waist. They sway lazily in the soft breeze, as if they don’t have a care in the world.
A delirious laugh bubbles up from my throat.
The meadow is no more than a small circle opening in the middle of a forest. Dense trees, endlessly tall, stand guard at the edges of the clearing. The woods are lush, thick with vegetation.
Birds flitter and tweet around me, their sweet lullaby soothing. With each exhale, my adrenaline subsides, but the grief grows. Exhaustion soaks me to my bones. Char had said not to linger in the forest, but I need a moment.
I can’t—
I don’t know how—
Curling myself into a ball, I whimper and tremble, trying to hold myself together. I’d rather endure a thousand lashings than lose Char. My hair soaks to my wet face, and I keep my eyes pinched shut to slow the flow of tears.
It’s unfair that my blood continues to pump through my veins while Char’s stains the lord’s floors. I was right when I told myself things could always be worse. And now, things are worse.
I wake with a violent thrash.
The thin material of my dress clings to me like a second skin, soaked with sweat. I grasp at the grass around me, as if I’m desperate to physically hold onto the earth. As if I might fall off if I let go.
Even in sleep, I cannot escape the harsh reality: Char is really gone. I’m alone.
My head throbs and my mouth is dry and sticky with thirst. I need to press on.
Standing to stretch, my legs ache from running, and my arse screams from the lord’s last whipping. Not to mention my feet are caked with grime—dirty, angry, and sliced up from the stones and sticks littering the forest floor.
In a bout of good luck, they are still intact. Somehow I managed to avoid frostbite.
I weave my way through wildflowers, trudging to the treeline.My stiff legs loosen up as I hobble deeper into the forest.
The sun hides behind a knot of silver-blue clouds, and combined with the thick canopy of leaves above, it’s quite dark in the forest. It’s a maze of shadows and looming shapes. Twisted branches and towering trunks stand in silent isolation, stretching intimidatingly into the skies. Other than my quick breaths and crunching steps as I traipse over rotting leaves, it’s utterly silent. Like a world of its own.
I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself.
I move past the hickories with their craggy bark, the oaks with their gnarled branches, and the beeches with their pale trunks. Unsure of where I’m going or where I started, it’s as if I’m traveling through an endless loop. I’ve trudged on for what feels like hours, but I’m failing to track the true time spent out here
After a while, the thousands of trees blend together.
I try to pay attention to which side the moss is growing, but it’s everywhere—crawling over the forest floor, roots, and rocks in every direction.
Right as I’m about to take a break, something shatters the beautiful monotony of the forest. A glimmer of joy sparks. Between the trees sits a small clearing, no bigger than the estate’s kitchen, filled with an abundance of forget-me-nots.
Flowers I recognize from the lady’s gardens.
In late spring, when her roses and tulips would bloom, Char and I were tasked with pruning the wild forget-me-nots that popped up relentlessly. Lady Nilda called them unwelcome weeds. She said they were parasites, sucking the beauty from her garden.
I always liked them. For their resilience, and for the fact they bothered the lady. Most of all, they gave me and Char a reason to get fresh air.
My heart swells at the memory of working side-by-side with Char, knuckle deep in dirt, and I try to hold onto that image of her instead of her final moments.
