The Woods

Chapter Thirteen

When I attended dinner that evening, Casper mentioned nothing about the events from the day, much to my relief. I just wanted to forget all about it, which was difficult when my muscles were burning constantly. I felt the same pains as when I had first begun training, except this time it was ten times worse. I would have never guessed someone could feel such pain.

Casper seemed to have forgotten all about our chat and was eating heartily, though he remained silent. As did Merilyn, who stared at her plate throughout the meal, having not touched her meal. The silence was becoming unbearable and I couldn't help but glance at the king's empty seat at the head of the table.

Casper must have noticed my glances because he eventually said, "His Majesty is away on business. He will be gone for three days."

"Is he looking further into the vine attack?" I asked.

He nodded. "We found nothing over the past two days, so he has gone to other sources."

"I hate him," Merilyn muttered. Casper pursed his lips but made no comment. His reaction made me assume she wasn't talking about the king, but I couldn't think of anyone else. Then again, I didn't exactly know anyone other than the few people I came across in the castle.

"So, the Woods has never attacked anyone before?" I asked, trying to fill in the silence.

"It is forbidden to do so," Casper replied. "There is ancient magic that binds it. It would happen occasionally before the rebellion, but after that, a spell was cast that kept it under the caster's control."

"Who casted the spell?" Casper was hesitant to answer, but the look in Merilyn's eyes told me enough. Whoever it was did something at some point to upset her.

"I'm going to bed," Merilyn suddenly said, rising and storming out of the room.

Casper stood. "Merilyn-" She waved him off and he let out a defeated sigh before slumping into his chair. I glanced between the door she left through and Casper, my brow furrowed. What had just happened?

I managed to stay silent for several minutes before curiosity got the better of me. "Would it be wrong for me to ask?"

He let out a huff of laughter, running a hand through his hair. "It's understandable. Her actions, I mean," he replied. "Let's just say marriages between different Houses can be fragile."

"How so?" I frowned.

"Because I come from the higher House, I could technically reject her whenever I want. The Cat House is the sixth most powerful, so she would have no say. She is afraid that I will leave her."

"Would you-"

"No," he snapped, cutting me off. "I would never." Then why would she make a big fuss? Surely, she must see how much he loved her. Though I supposed that me being from a different culture would affect how much I could really understand.

I nibbled my lip, unsure of what to say. "How long have you two been married?"

He seemed almost surprised with my question and sat thoughtfully for a moment. "Almost a hundred years," he eventually said. "I believe ninety-eight, almost ninety-nine."

I could tell that asking more about the subject would upset him, so I tried to think of something else to change the topic. Nothing was gnawing on my mind more than that afternoon, but I was reluctant to bring it up. After how he had acted. . .

"This afternoon," I eventually muttered. He looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. Would it be so bad to get an explanation? "Both you and Merilyn have made comments about me since my arrival. My eyes, my interest in your history. Why?"

I was silent for a long time and if it weren't for the flickers of emotion in his eyes, I would've thought he hadn't heard me at all. It seemed that he was trying to find the right words, or perhaps he was debating whether to tell me anything at all.

"Your eye colour is interesting," he said bluntly. I almost growled in frustration. "It is rare among mortals, and it always seen in the Fae. For you to be chosen and to possess that quality is unusual."

"I have seen plenty of girls with green eyes," I replied. What was he getting at?

"Obviously. It is not just the colour; it is the life within the eyes. A spark."

I thought over his words for a moment. "Coincidence," I eventually shrugged, albeit stiffly.

"Oh, I agree," he nodded. "It is just unusual."

"And what about how I responded to Dimah?" I asked, changing the topic slightly.

"I have no idea," he said casually, sipping from his drink. He seemed almost too casual about it. I narrowed my eyes and he copied my actions.

"You are a terrible liar," I huffed. "Tell me why I acted that way. I would rather know why and not do it again, than be ignorant and risk my life."

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "But it is so amusing to see you in such a state, Fida." He set down his drink and rose. "I must go check on Merilyn. Goodnight, Fida." He managed to leave the room fast enough that I didn't have the chance to say anything, but his echoing chuckle told me he heard my growl of frustration.

I stared at the door for a while after that, thinking through his words. It frustrated me that there was nothing I could do to convince Casper to explain, and hunting through the library was a waste of time. But perhaps I just needed to be more specific in my searching. Perhaps there were books on the specific traits of the Fae, or some sort of book based on emotions.

It was better than nothing, so I took one last sip from my drink before making my way towards the library.

I had to admit, my memory was not the best, and it was soon apparent to me that I had taken a wrong turn at some point. I did not recognise any of the paintings or tapestries on the walls, and the whole colour scheme was different to anything I had seen. Instead of the reds and golds I was used to seeing, the halls were bathed in blue and silver.

I nibbled my lip, turning around and trying to retrace my steps. I soon found myself at a set of large doors and I was suddenly hopeful – perhaps it was a second entrance to the library. But, upon opening the doors, I found myself in an empty room.

Well, perhaps empty was the wrong way to describe it. The room had some mounds, of what I could only assume to be furniture, covered in white sheets. Dusty chandeliers hung from the arching ceiling; the dust so thick it reminded me of lace. As for the room itself . . . it was enormous. No, that was an understatement. The room was clearly a ballroom and it seemed to stretch on and on. Against one wall was two thrones, the only things not covered in sheets.

Despite the decades of dust, I was able to see the beauty beneath it, and closed my eyes for a heartbeat, imagining the golden light and soft music. Why would such a beautiful place be abandoned?

I knew I should've gone back to my room, but something made me step forward, walking deeper into the room. As a child, it had been my dream to go to a ball. Music was rare in the town, and just the thought of the lavish parties the rich held had always taken my breath away. Delilah and I used to talk about it for hours.

It didn't take long for me to grow up, though, and I soon saw the futility in dreaming of such things. I was a baker's daughter. And yet . . . there I stood in a ballroom. Granted, there was no music, no men and women in lavish clothing, and no spark of life in the room. But I was there.

I was snapped out of my thoughts by a crashing sound in the hallway and someone cursing at themselves. Did they know I was there or were they just passing by? Either way, I decided it was my time to leave, and quickly slipped out of the ballroom, silently thanking whoever designed it with multiple exits.

No doubt I would get lost on the way back to my room, but I smiled at the challenge.