First Light (Call of the Forest Realm, #1) Page 3

  “You won’t be on your own,” he said, looking away from her. “There will be an entire realm that turns to you for leadership and council.”

  “Oh, no pressure then.”

  Cirro laughed a little, shaking his head. “For a child of light, you’re very pessimistic.”

  “I’ve spent my life doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Now, I’m responsible for an entire realm that I had no idea existed? I never asked for this.” Briony felt overwhelmed, pinned down by her newly discovered destiny.

  Cirro stopped then, spinning around to face her. His eyes were bright, and he put a cool hand on her chin and tilted her head up. “This is your birthright, Princess. None can take that away from you, not even yourself.” She returned his gaze and they both fell silent, listening to the forest around them.

  “I never thanked you,” Briony murmured, her voice soft in the warmth of the moment and the gentle shiver of the tall trees around them. She brushed her fingers over his hand. “For saving us at the house, I mean.”

  Cirro stared at her and then seemed to shake himself, and all the warmth in his face melted away. “It’s my duty to protect you, nothing more. There was no need for thanks.”

  Briony watched him pull himself away, dropping his hand by his side. She felt bereft, though she stepped back too, clearing her throat. Cirro was a guard, a soldier. She was a sunlit, abandoned princess who knew nothing of his world. Briony stared at him, though, making absolutely sure that he knew she wasn’t cowed by his shift in demeanor.

  “We should rest for a bit before we reach the southern archway,” Cirro announced, stopping them beneath a copse of ancient trees whose roots were large enough for them both to sit cradled inside.

  Heavy rain began to fall and Briony looked around in surprise. Maybe the storm from outside had finally made its way into the forest. Though the roots shielded them, Briony could see that the sky above them was slowly turning a deep, dark blue. There were no clouds to speak of.

  “It’s not the same storm as outside. The weather of the human world can’t reach this realm,” Cirro murmured from where he crouched beside her, tactfully avoiding contact as they huddled in the narrow space. “Think of the forest as its own entity. Rainfall comes and goes with a will of its own. Get used to it, Princess.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it,” she replied quietly, resting her elbows on her knees and watching the rain patter against the fallen foliage.

  Cirro seemed to hesitate for a moment before he pressed his arm to hers, sitting warm and close. There was no dry kindling, so they had no fire but Briony was warm enough beneath her borrowed cloak.

  “You’ve handled this all remarkably well, Princess,” he said, looking into the forest.

  “I didn’t really have a choice. It was either believe you or be killed by bloodthirsty monsters,” Briony scoffed.

  Cirro pulled his water flask from his hip and she took a drink, handing it back. He dug around in his pouch and pressed something into her hand. It was a piece of round, shiny leather, embossed with two hunting knives over some sort of writing.

  “My father’s seal,” Cirro said without making eye contact. Briony thought she might’ve glimpsed a hint of pink to his cheeks, but she wasn’t certain. “It has seen me through the most difficult of times. Keep it, perhaps it will do the same for you.”

  Briony felt a rush of emotions and her eyes pricked with unshed tears. She blinked them away and covered Cirro’s hand with her own as he watched the rainfall. He twitched his fingers, brushing hers softly, and then pulled away. Briony squeezed the seal in her hand, feeling calmer than she had before. Cirro stood from beneath the tree roots and stretched his legs and then his arms above his head.

  “Let’s go,” he said quietly, looking out at the depth of the forest as the rain slowed and then stopped altogether. Briony nodded, holding the seal close as they began the last leg of their journey. The archway was not far now.

  Chapter Six

  Briony took in the twined arch above her as they walked beneath it. There were boughs of ivy and moss, crowned with waxy white flowers that seemed to come together to stretch high above them into the trees. Cirro let her hold his hand as they passed under it and a shimmering veil seemed to fall behind them as they crossed over. On the other side of the entrance, a curling fog crawled over their feet, ghostly and pale. The forest was lit with thin hanging lanterns, flickering against the iridescent moss on the trees. The sky glowed dim purple and indigo, its dark colors like twilight.

  Briony felt strangely at home here in the low-lit copse of trees, and she wondered if her sense of belonging stemmed from her newfound heritage. She belonged here and her body seemed to settle, every ache and pain vanishing from her bones. Cirro led her to a lamplit path, covered in the same plush moss that spread over the forest floor.

  “Just follow the path, Princess. You’ll be safe here,” Cirro said, stepping backward away from her. He didn’t look at her and he wouldn’t make eye contact.

  “Wait,” Briony cried in confusion. “You’re not coming with me?”

  “My place is elsewhere and yours is here with your father,” Cirro replied wistfully.

  “Here...” She fumbled, taking off his cloak.

  “Keep it.”

  “Cirro, wait...” Briony reached for him, but he was already turning away to trudge back into the forest. If he looked back at her again in some semblance of familiarity, she didn’t see it.

  Briony stood still for a moment, somberly watching his retreating back. With no other choice, she started on the path, pushing her legs through the creeping fog. She wrapped her arms around herself, clutching Cirro’s seal in her hand and looking straight ahead. The lamplit path seemed to stretch on forever.

  Somewhere beside her, she heard the soft babbling of a stream and she realized how thirsty she was. Her stomach ached from hunger and she remembered that her gran had once told her a story of a girl lost in the woods, which cautioned her to never take food from a faery. She wondered if it applied to fae-folk as well. She was starving and at that moment she would consider being in eternal debt to one of her kin for a hot cup of coffee and her gran’s homemade chicken noodle soup. A soft sadness curled over her when she thought of her gran. As much as she felt a part of the forest, she missed her own world more than anything.

  “This is your world now,” said a bright voice ahead of her, and Briony jumped. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, Your Royal Highness. But I can see in your thoughts that you long for somewhere else.”

  There was a tall, willowy woman on the path ahead of her, barefoot and clothed in a pale dress that reminded Briony of the starlight that was meant to be above her, now invisible beyond the forest’s gloom. Her hair was long and dark, glimmering in the soft light around them. Briony wondered if she was some kind of hidden enemy, though Cirro had told her she would be safe here.

  “Call me Briony,” she said slowly, looking around to make sure no one else would sneak up on her. She stuffed Cirro’s seal into her pocket. The leather was warm from her hand.

  “My,” the woman said cheerfully, “you are sunlit, aren’t you?” She drew close to Briony and the smell of moor heather floated around her. She lightly touched Briony’s bright blonde hair before falling back again to the path ahead.

  “I guess?”

  “My name is Arion and I’m here to accompany you to the royal halls,” she told Briony amiably, grabbing her hand and pulling her along beside her. “My father was once your father’s royal secretary.

  “Uh, I can walk on my own—” Briony started, but Arion ignored her, swinging their hands like they were children on a playground. Briony resigned herself to her fate.

  “Oh, you’ll just adore your father’s dwelling. Tell me about the human world—is it really as bright as they say? Are there really so very many children there? Our kind rarely has children—that’s why your birth was so important!”

  Briony let her talk, th
inking of Cirro and of her home and her gran and Ava. She took a deep breath, struggling to will the sadness away.

  “Oh, you miss them dearly, don’t you?” Arion said, her eyes glistening.

  “They’re my family,” Briony sighed, wondering if the mind-reading had an off switch.

  “I’m sorry, I’ll block it out,” Arion mumbled, sounding as if she had said those words countless times before. Briony felt a pang of guilt surge through her.

  “No, it’s okay,” she said, smiling a little. “I do miss them.”

  Arion squeezed Briony’s hand and then eyed Cirro’s cloak around her shoulders, raising one dainty eyebrow.

  “It’s cold,” Briony said, feeling strangely defensive. She knew Arion could read her thoughts and see the turmoil inside—and her warm vision of Cirro, chasing the chill away.

  “He’s very loyal to your father,” was all that she said. Briony was glad for her discretion.

  “And my father,” Briony started, afraid of asking, finding it hard to say out loud now that she was so close. “Is he...?”

  “A good king, though harder now than when your mother was alive and the gremlins were not such a worry.” She shivered a little, glancing around warily. “They’re always searching for ways to pass through the archway and take over the realm.”

  Briony nodded. “Cirro killed one when he brought me to the forest. He said they would find their way to us eventually.”

  “We won’t think about that now,” Arion said brightly, pulling her more quickly down the path. “Here we are, Princess Briony, your home.”

  Briony looked up in awe at the tall structure, perfectly formed around ancient trunks like the great hollows of trees. Moss covered the whole of the dwelling and soft lamps lit the entrance, where two dark-haired guardsmen stood watch with their long, shiny swords. Arion smiled warmly, ushering the palace’s long-awaited guest toward her new home. The royal halls seemed comfortable and welcoming, though Briony had yet to meet the king and so she bit back the compliment that was poised on her tongue.

  As Arion guided her to the entrance Briony suddenly felt out of place with her sweater and jeans. At least she had the dark cloak to cover her. It must have been some sort of magic that kept the cloak’s fur-lined interior forever warm and she was grateful to have it. The guards seemed to recognized Arion, since they let her pass, bowing a little to Briony as they did so. How weird.

  The halls were long and winding, like the never-ending branches of a swaying tree out in the forest. Arion led her to a set of doors and pushed them open, letting Briony step inside first. The room was tall, infinitely high above their heads and the walls and doors seemed to be made of twisting vines and climbing ivy. There were no windows, but a large bed sat in the corner, its posts made of polished wood and carved with tiny forest creatures. Briony ran her fingers over the soft blue bedcover and the plush pillows, aching for a nap.

  “The sheets and coverlets are spider-silk,” Arion said enthusiastically. “Only available to the royals of the Forest Realm.”

  Briony nodded. She looked into a small door on the other side of the room. It seemed to be a bathing area. There was a large quartz tub, burrowed into the twisting wood as if it had grown there, and a big, sink-like structure made of what looked like smooth river rock. She closed the door and the lamps inside the room glowed dimly from beneath it. In the main chamber there was a small fireplace against the wall and a pale fire, similar to the light of the lamps scattered throughout the room, crackled quietly in the grate. There was a sitting area with down-stuffed chairs of ivy and wood, and a little nook with a spindly desk, parchment, and a quill. Arion watched her look around the room, her lovely face warm and happy.

  “Do you love it? Tell me you do, I furnished the entire room at the king’s behest,” Arion told her excitedly, wringing her hands.

  “I love it.” Briony smiled. She did love it. The whole room reminded her of home in a strange way.

  “There are some clothes in the wardrobe, pick out anything you want.” Arion smiled, pointing to the large closet-like structure in the hidden corner of the room. “Your father will see you whenever you’re ready and I’ll do your hair.”

  “What’s wrong with my hair?” Briony asked, patting the top of her head in confusion.

  “Nothing some braids and flowers won’t fix,” Arion told her brightly. “Would you like a bath?”

  “Yes, please,” Briony said gratefully.

  She sat at the edge of the bed, swinging her legs for a moment before she hopped off, headed toward the wardrobe. Inside, there was all manner of beautifully dyed fabrics. There were dark crimson dresses and glimmering silver coats, deep lavender trousers, and blue-black gowns. She thought for a moment and then pulled out a purple gown, almost the exact same shade as her gran’s old Victorian house. The sleeves seemed long and loose and the fabric was buttery-soft. She slid Cirro’s seal into one of the inside pockets.

  AFTER HER BATH, ARION pulled the long, glimmering dress over Briony’s head and sat her down in front of an odd-looking mirrored glass. Arion braided the sides of her hair away from her face and into a soft crown at the top of her head. She pulled sprigs of foxglove from the vase at the table and twined them into the plaited hair. After she was done, Briony looked the part of an otherworldly princess and Arion handed her a pair of doeskin slippers to wear on her feet.

  “You look wonderful.” Arion smiled. Someone knocked on the door and a dark-haired woman with round eyes stuck her head inside the room.

  “The king is in the banquet hall. Your Royal Highness, we’re all glad to see you’ve finally come home,” she said, bowing toward Briony.

  “Thank you, Sae, we were just leaving,” Arion said.

  Sae nodded, staring at Briony as she left the room. Briony took a deep breath and snatched Cirro’s cloak from the bed, throwing it over her shoulders and feeling more secure as she did so. She followed Arion, ready to meet the king—her father.

  Chapter Seven

  When they finally reached the banquet hall, Arion took a deep breath, composing herself. Briony did the same, squeezing the fabric of her cloak in her hands. On the way, the fae who passed them in the halls bowed deeply to Briony. It was odd, but she did what she could to take it in stride, nodding to them as she had seen princesses in movies do to their royal subjects. Royal subjects. Geez. She wondered what Ava would think of her, parading around in some fancy dress, pretending to be something she wasn’t even sure if she was yet.

  “Ready?” Arion asked, sidestepping the guards at the doors. She held a soft hand out, and Briony took it, nodding.

  Her heart thumped hard in her chest and she let all the air whoosh out of her lungs as she finally, finally laid her eyes upon the king. King Eldan was tall and willowy, sitting languidly on his throne of twisted hawthorn and spidery moss. His hair was long and dark, braided down his back, and his hands were fine and pale, his fingers tapping over the wood of his armrest. His other hand was on his chin and he seemed to be contemplating her. He wore a long, shimmering robe of deep green and a crown of foxglove like her own. His eyes were pale, and she noticed that his nose was almost exactly the same as hers. Instead of exciting her, the thought made her more anxious. Arion bowed and then stepped back, and the king nodded. After a moment of tense silence where Briony thought her heart might beat right out of her chest, he stood from his throne, a huge smile spreading over his handsome face and revealing two rows of white teeth.

  “My bright daughter, welcome home,” Eldan exclaimed, taking long strides to stand in front of her and then going down on one knee.

  Briony let him grasp her hand and the warmth of his face settled her anxious heart.

  “You look so much like your mother,” he said, looking her over.

  “Maybe one day you can tell me what she was like,” Briony said carefully, unsure of how to speak to a king, especially one who was also her father.

  “I would like nothing more,” Eldan told her graciously. “Now
,” he said, standing up and clapping, “we feast. Your Arion will join us, though the rest of the court will wait until tomorrow to meet you.”

  Briony’s stomach rumbled and she heard Arion laugh quietly behind her as Briony nodded. The long table of the banquet hall was already laid out with all manner of delicious looking foods. There were roasted meats still on skewers and boiled vegetables, smelling of herbs and spices. There were round loaves of bread and tall bowls of cream, little puff pastries, and glimmering cakes, all laid out with precise care and thoughtful arranging. The king beamed at her and though it was just the three of them, Briony was excited at the prospect of getting to know her birthfather and of eating, especially after she had gone so long without food while tramping through the forest. The thought of the forest reminded her of Cirro, and she wondered where he might be. Off rescuing some other wayward princess, no doubt.

  As a servant pulled out her seat for her, there was a loud thud and an unintelligible shout from outside of the doors. Briony looked back and the king froze, staring intently at the entry.

  “Is it...” Arion started, her voice shaking.

  Suddenly, the doors burst open, splintering, and a guard’s body tumbled through, bleeding dark crimson over the mossy floors. Briony fell back against the table, her hand fumbling for something to protect herself with. Her fingers reached a fork-like utensil with two sharp prongs at the end, and she held it aloft. Arion’s breath quickened and as the king called for more of his guard, a familiar hissing growl came from beyond the door. Gremlins. Eldan pulled a shining sword from his belt and looked at Briony.

  “Whatever happens, you are the future of the realm, my daughter,” he said, sounding grave.