King of the Woodlands

Chapter 32

The sun sank lower in the sky, the darkening, fiery colors of sunset saying goodbye and welcoming the velvety black of night. The evening sent the birds to their nests, and most Brightleaf villagers were eating supper.

But not Lilibeth (well, technically, she had a gooseberry pie and a piece of hard mouse cheese, which I believe counts as supper).

She was bundled in Mother's cream-colored, wool-knit coat that went to her knees. Beneath it she wore the soft black tunic and trousers that Father had worn when he'd wed Mother. A garland of bluebells crowned her head, and she held a lantern in one hand, the ring around her finger.

I'm actually doing this.

A twelve-year-old girl, breaking a curse that she barely knew anything about. A girl, doing things that only knights were supposed to do. She still couldn't believe that this wasn't some magnificent dream, pulled from her skull by the Dream Weaver and spun into being.

Before she left, she headed to the stables for a very quick visit. It still smelled of hay and freshly picked honeycrisp apples, which meant that Aheiran must be somewhere nearby. She searched for him, hay crunching beneath her boots.

Indeed, he was here! The fat, dappled-grey stallion was crunching on an apple, his liquid black eyes kind and witty and so sad.

"Aheiran," Lilibeth whispered, holding up the lantern. Gods, he still looked the same. And acted the same. "It's me. Lilibeth Faren?"

The horse looked up, startled. "Curse you for intruding, you boss-eyed stook!" he exclaimed. (It's vulgar Llewellenar slang, it simply translates to 'idiot' or 'fool'.)

His oil-black eyes darted around frantically, finally snagging on Lilibeth. "Mother and child," he said. "You're you! And-and you're a girl!"

"Yeah," Lilibeth snapped, a bit hurt. "Do I not look like a girl?"

Aheiran shook his head again in his aloof way. "Oh, I didn't mean it in that way. Oh, Lilibeth, you're back!"

"Yes, yes," she said, feeling a bit guilty now.

Aheiran sniffled.

"Are you going to cry?"

He jumped, trying to regain his composure. "I'm a noble steed, and noble steeds don't cry." He then looked at her with suspicion glinting in his eyes. "Why are you here?"

Lilibeth settled down in the hay and crossed her legs. "Whether or not you think I'm crazy, I don't care anymore. This is the truth, and do what you will with it." She took a deep breath. A magpie cooed outside. "He let me go."

"The Woodland King?"

"He let me go," Lilibeth said, looking into Aheiran's black eyes, stained with color from the ever-dying sunset. "He is kind, and my father plans to kill him. To end his reign of terror over Llewellenar."

Aheiran snorted. "If the Woodland King is kind, I'm a goldfish."

"You certainly have the memory of one, it seems."

His smile dropped. "I will get that-that witch woman—what's her name?—to winnow your teeth away."

"Aithne," Lilibeth said. "The witch's name is Aithne. Look, Aheiran. The Woodland King is broken. And-and kind, and so many other things."

"Like monstrous?"

She felt like throwing an apple at him. "He's extraordinarily good. Good like sunrise on the back of your neck, or bread with fried eggplant."

"Haven't you seen what he's done to this kingdom?" Aheiran said. "He's enslaved so many humans. No one knows how he does it, no one knows why. We don't understand him, Lilibeth, and that's what makes him so frightening. He's a monster, and you can't wrap sugary words around it."

"I thought the same once," Lilibeth admitted. And it was true. "But there's good in him. And even if you don't see it, I do. No one's evil for no reason, Aheiran. And the Woodland King isn't evil because he wants to be. He's evil because he's angry, he's hurt, and that cruelty is his armor. It keeps him from feeling and caring too much."

The Woodland King deserved so much better than this. If he couldn't have love, she'd give him friendship. If he couldn't have peace, she'd give him glory.

"But that's still not an excuse for enslaving so many innocent humans," Aheiran said. He was oddly serious.

Lilibeth wanted to scream, but she reigned her temper in the best she could. "Fine then," she said coolly. "You don't have to believe me. I don't care. But I just want to say hello and good-bye again."

"You're leaving?"

She looked into Aheiran's stubborn black eyes, and in them, she saw the whole world looking back at her. "I'm leaving. He needs me."

"Don't do this to yourself. It's not worth the risk."

"To me, it's worth every risk."

"Now I see where you get it from. Your father, if given the chance, would've done the same for your mother. He thinks he's done wrong, that he let her waste away. He grieves, but to him, it isn't enough. He thinks he should've taken action, that if he did, he wouldn't have failed her. And now you're going to the ends of the earth to save your Woodland King."

"I guess stubbornness runs in my family. And I'm willing to go anywhere to help a friend."

He laughed, his hooves scratching at the hay. "Good luck, Lilibeth. Prove me wrong. I know I can't stop you from doing anything your mind is already set on doing."

Lilibeth stood up. Her tongue was heavy with so many unspoken words that she wanted so badly to say but couldn't. She'd never been skilled at good-byes, and saying farewells always put her in a bleak mood for reasons she still didn't know. So she didn't say anything as she walked out of the stables, not looking back.

When she had stepped outside, the sky had shifted to a deep blue. The trees of the Wise Forest loomed in the distance, the canopy stretching high into the sky like clouds of green, roots buried beneath a carpet of acorns and twigs. For a moment, it was as if the trees were wishing Lilibeth luck.

She pulled the mirror from one of the wool coat's deep pockets, her heart pounding. Part of her didn't want to look into it, but she didn't have time for doubt. She needed to see how the Woodland King was doing.

And when she looked into it, her lungs blazing with the pain of her harsh breaths, her hands began to tremble.

The Woodland King's body lay on the grass, a fallen soldier, his wings torn. The silhouetted forms of villagers stood around him, arcs of flame from their torches licking at the air, darting like birds.

His curse still hadn't been broken. He'd either die from that, or the axes and pitchforks in the villagers' hands.

She let out a small cry. The mirror slipped from her hands and shattered to the ground, bright shards shining on the grass.

Lilibeth couldn't help it. She fell to her knees, auburn hair spilling from the bluebell crown's confines as she clutched her chest and sobbed. She touched her fingers to the broken glass, wanting nothing more than to throw it at someone and make them feel the pain she felt, that the Woodland King felt.

She took the mirror frame, the insides jagged with stubborn bits of glass still clinging to the shining silver. With a furious scream, she chucked it into the woods. Maybe Aithne would find it and make it into a fishing net. She didn't care.

Lilibeth turned the ring around her finger thrice, and then she was gone, borne aloft by her own unfurling wings.