Forged by Magic (Falling for Fables, #1)(74)
Shock rolled across Rivelin’s face. He tried to cover it up with his mask of disinterest, but he failed. I’d seen it. And from his lack of a response, I knew Gregor had not been lying. Not about this. Perhaps he hadn’t been lying about any of it.
I shook my head and took several more steps back. “So it’s true. Everything you said to me, everything you did.” My voice nearly broke, but I forged ahead. “You were trying to placate me so you could twist everything around and make them hate me, just so you could win your ridiculous competition. Well, good job. You succeeded.”
“I—” Rivelin tried.
“I’ve heard enough.” I took a step back. “I’m leaving.”
“I’m afraid we can’t let you do that,” Haldor said, but I shut him up with a scowl I felt in the very depths of my soul. The time for niceties was over.
“I am leaving.” I looked at Rivelin, who merely stood there with a hard, unyielding gaze. “Don’t try to come after me. I want nothing to do with your Games, and I will use this Vindur sand against you if you try to lock me up.” I patted the pouch of sand by my side, the gift from Kari. “I don’t know how, but I’ll figure it out. Stay away from me.”
And with that, I pulled off the handmade bracelet, tossed it at Rivelin’s feet, then took off down the road, running as fast as I could.
32
DAELLA
A s soon as I reached the edge of Wyndale, despair choked me. I’d fought hard to keep it together when facing Rivelin and his fellow villagers, but now that I’d put some space between us, I couldn’t hold back the tears.
Salted lines streaked down my face as I left the merry village behind for the dark, lonely woods of the Ashborn Forest. I had no idea where I was going, or how long it would take to get there, but I knew I had to keep moving for as long as I could. If the villagers truly believed I’d caused so much damage to their peaceful world, they would hunt me down no matter what I’d said to keep them away. I had a small bag of Vindur sand, but I didn’t know the first thing about magic.
A numbness crept over me as I continued pushing forward down the overgrown path. Thorny branches scraped my bare arms, but I didn’t stop to tend to the cuts. Eventually, I slowed to a walk when my lungs began to ache, and I glanced over my shoulder to search for any sign of pursuers.
The forest looked still and silent. For now.
I tried to think as I continued to press forward. How had it come to this? Why hadn’t I seen the warning signs? But the truth was, I had seen them, and I’d dismissed them. When Rivelin’s tools had appeared on Gregor’s floor, I’d thought it strange. It had seemed so blatant. I’d been foolish to ignore that gut feeling.
Rivelin had planned all of this to win the Midsummer Games, and now he would get away with it because he had the perfect scapegoat: a hated murk from the Grundstoff Empire. And if he was willing to do all that, if he was willing to burn down someone’s house using dragonfire, what else was he capable of?
Heart pounding, I slowed to a stop. The thought hadn’t occurred to me before, but the words lit up in my mind now, impossible to ignore. What if he’d been lying about what he planned to ask of the island? He had a dark, violent past. He said he’d moved on from that, that he’d left it behind. What if he hadn’t?
What if he truly was a Draugr?
My hands clenched. Perhaps I shouldn’t have run.
But what was I to do against a village full of angry elves, demons, dwarves, and humans who believed I was the enemy? They would refuse to listen to me. They would lock me up. Still…there had to be something I could do, and at least I had some time to figure out what. There were seven days before the final ceremony of the Midsummer Games, where Rivelin would no doubt be crowned the winner.
The trees rustled overhead as I continued my dash down the forest path. There was a bite in the air, a chill that hadn’t been there a moment before. Frowning, I picked up my pace. I needed to find shelter for the night, then move north to the village of Milford. I had some coin now, along with the Vindur sand. Perhaps I could buy a weapon before returning to Wyndale to take my stand.
My stand against Rivelin.
That thought hurt more than I wanted to admit. I’d opened up to him in a way I hadn’t with anyone in years, and I’d truly believed he’d done the same with me. There had been something there between us, something I’d yearned for all my life, despite believing I’d never have it.
Despite believing I would never be free, let alone learn to trust someone.
He’d broken down my walls just to stab me in the heart. Rivelin was worse than Isveig had ever been. At least the ice giant did not hide his monstrous nature.
I wandered the forest for six full days before I admitted to myself I was lost. I’d tried to follow the path Rivelin and I had taken north toward the mountains, but I’d chosen the wrong fork somewhere in the dark. I was hungry, tired, and soaked in layers of dirt. The ground had been my bed for the crisp, lonely nights.
As I tried to retrace my steps, the wind whipped my hair, bringing with it the scent of storms. Grimacing, I glanced up at the dense canopy just as a steady drizzle cut through the leaves. A few splatters hit my arms, and pain lanced through me. With a silent sob, I pressed my back against the trunk of the nearest tree and searched for something I could use as shelter.