Dryads and Nymphs

Chapter 19-Momentary Goodbyes

She woke up with a jolt, adrenaline pumping in her veins. She swiveled her head around, trying to get her bearings. Her eyes caught a mess of red curls fanned on the pillow and she realized it was Rose. She lay back against the pillows, sighing. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember her dream.

She had been looking at herself, or rather at her reflection in the lake. Then suddenly her view had changed. She was standing in the canopy of the willow, looking downwards, watching herself. She was running away from the willow, glancing over her shoulder as if someone was chasing her. She had woken up that way, adrenaline still pumping through her blood, the metallic taste of fear in her mouth.

Relief slowly washed over her like a wave. The inside of the room was dark, the only light coming from the window, in moonbeams. She got up and went to the window. The night was unusually clear, the stars bright around the crescent moon, like the flames of candles floating in a big dark lake. She wondered if the stars would appear brighter at the lake, reflected in the lake’s glossy surface.

It hit her like a gale of freezing wind: the realization that she should be at the lake by now, and that Aron would be making his way there or worse he would already be there. She really needed to hurry.

As soon as she stepped outside a cold breeze swept her hair across her face. Impatiently tying it at the back of her neck, and grabbed the bow and arrows George had handed over to her that evening. She had a glimmer if an idea what she was going to ask the prince as a reward. She made her way as briskly and quickly as she while being silent, to the back gate. It shut behind her with a clang and she sprinted to the forest, not looking back. The woods were dark, lit only by the meager moonlight that filtered through leaves. She navigated by memory, running blindly as fast as the woods would allow.

Soon the lake appeared before her, black in the sky. The clearing was deserted. As her eyes swept the area, she felt relief, and a tinge of disappointment that Aron was not there. She had a feeling he would not come today, and that it had something to do with yesterday.

She sat on the sloping branch and her hand clamped around the seahorse necklace around her throat, and she remembered Salem, her cheeks growing hot. She heard a faint sound. It sounded like the faint pitter-patter of feet. Slowly the sound grew louder into the thunderous noise of hooves. She walked over to the lake edge of the lake, in a daze, her gaze lingering on the entrance of the clearing.

Aron erupted from it, one hand holding Phillip’s reins the other on Silver’s. There was no sack today, she noted absently. Aron came over to the willow and got off his horse.

“You probably know this but you live in a beautiful place,” he said, taking off his gloves, and walking towards her.

“Good evening to you as well,” she said, bowing a little.

He grinned at her. “Sorry I’m late.”                                                      

“What caused you to be late? I have been waiting for you,” she said, in an angry tone though she had gotten her just a few minutes ago.

Aron pulled out a scroll, from his belt, unfolding it. “Special order of my father: the king. He wants me back for a few days. Says it’s urgent, though he refused to say what ‘it’ is.”

He handed her the scroll and in the dim light, she could see an elaborate script, with a green wax seal at the end of the page, the impression of a quetzal printed on it, the three feathers from its tail trailing to the edge of the seal.

She handed it back to him, silently. Looking up she found his eyes trained on hers, his a soft brown flecked with gold near the center.

“Are you upset?” he asked, gently.