Page 3 of Eternal Thorns (The Feybound Chronicles #1)

2

JOURNEY TO THORNHAVEN

D awn painted the stable yard in shades of gray and pink when Silas led Midnight from her stall. The black mare snorted, her breath forming clouds in the frigid air. He'd chosen this early hour deliberately, hoping to avoid any dramatic farewell scenes. The last thing he needed was Regina's smirking face or his father's disappointed stare following him north.

“Well, you look like shit.”

Silas nearly dropped Midnight's reins. Kai lounged against the stable wall, a packed horse already waiting beside him. He wore his usual crooked grin, the one that had gotten them both into trouble countless times growing up.

“What are you doing here?” Silas asked, though he had a sneaking suspicion he knew. His grandmother's efficiency was legendary.

“Thought I'd take a holiday up north. Hear it's lovely this time of year.” Kai pushed off from the wall, his worn leather jacket creaking. “Complete coincidence that I'm heading the same way as you.”

“Kai.”

“Fine.” He raised his hands in surrender. “Your grandmother might have mentioned you could use some company. And I might be between jobs at the moment.”

“Between jobs or between heists?”

“You wound me, my lord.” Kai pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “I'm totally legitimate these days. Mostly. Sometimes.”

Despite everything, Silas felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Trust Kai to show up exactly when needed, pretending it was all coincidence. They'd been doing this dance since they were kids - Kai, the servant's son with sticky fingers and a silver tongue, and Silas, the noble heir who'd rather spend time in the stables than the ballroom.

Silas remembered when their paths crossed.

He'd been twelve, desperately trying to prove himself worthy of the Ashworth name. The hunt had been going terribly - he'd missed two shots and nearly fallen from his horse. Then he'd heard someone laughing.

He'd found Kai perched in an oak tree, watching the noble hunters with barely concealed amusement. The servant boy had known every animal's trail, every hiding spot in those woods. More importantly, he'd had no interest in pretending to be impressed by titles or family names.

“You're holding the bow wrong,” Kai had called down. “And you're too stiff. Animals can sense that.”

Instead of being offended, Silas had asked him to teach him. That afternoon, hidden from the main hunting party, a servant's son taught a noble heir how to properly track and shoot. They'd ended up missing the rest of the hunt, too busy swapping stories and discovering shared interests.

His father had been furious when they finally returned - both at Silas's absence and his choice of company. But something had clicked that day, a friendship that defied class boundaries and social expectations.

Kai shook his shoulders and took him out of memory lane.

“You don't have to come,” Silas said, checking Midnight's saddle straps. “Thornhaven's not exactly a holiday destination.”

“Good thing I hate holidays then.” Kai swung into his saddle with practiced ease. “Besides, someone needs to keep you from brooding yourself to death.”

The key around Silas's neck seemed to grow colder at the mention of Thornhaven. He touched it through his shirt, making sure it was still there. The metal's strange engravings had haunted his dreams all night.

They rode out as the sun cleared the horizon, frost crunching under the horses' hooves. Silas was surprised to find his father had allowed him to keep Midnight, along with a decent amount of basic supplies. Small mercies, he supposed.

“So,” Kai said after they'd cleared the manor grounds, “want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Right then.” Kai clicked his tongue. “Lovely weather we're having. Very... white. And cold. Extremely seasonal.”

Silas shot him a look. “Are you going to do this the whole way north?”

“Only until you crack and actually talk to me.” Kai grinned. “I can keep this up for days. Remember that time I spent three hours describing different types of cheese just to annoy Regina?”

“God, please no.”

“Did you know there's a cheese that's actually illegal in seven countries? Fascinating stuff, really.”

“I will literally pay you to stop talking.”

“Can't afford me anymore, remember? You're poor now. Well, poor by obscenely wealthy noble standards.” Kai's smile faded slightly. “Seriously though. You okay?”

Silas focused on the road ahead, watching his breath mingle with Midnight's in the cold air. “I did the right thing.”

“Never said you didn't.”

“Then I'm okay.”

Kai nodded, mercifully letting the subject drop. They rode in comfortable silence after that, the kind that only comes from years of friendship. The well-maintained roads gradually gave way to rougher paths as they headed north. Neat farmlands transformed into wild meadows, then denser woodland. The villages they passed grew smaller, the people more wary of strangers.

By afternoon, something had changed in the air. Silas noticed it first in the trees - the way they seemed to lean away from the path, creating odd shadows even in full daylight. The usual forest sounds had gone quiet. No birdsong, no rustle of small animals in the underbrush. Just the sound of hooves and their own breathing.

“You feel that?” Kai asked quietly, all traces of humor gone from his voice.

Silas nodded. The sensation of being watched prickled along his spine. Midnight tossed her head nervously, and he stroked her neck to calm her. Even Kai's usually unflappable gelding seemed tense, his ears flicking back and forth.

They reached a small village as the sun began to set. The sign above the tavern was so weathered Silas could barely make out the name: The Twisted Oak. A bell rang somewhere in the distance, though he couldn't spot a church.

“We should stop,” Kai said. “Horses need rest, and I'm not keen on riding through these woods after dark.”

The tavern's common room fell silent when they entered. Suspicious eyes tracked their movement to the bar, where a weathered woman with steel-gray hair waited.

“Looking for rooms,” Kai said cheerfully, seemingly immune to the hostile atmosphere. “And any supplies you might be willing to part with.”

“Heading where?” the woman asked, her accent thick with the north.

“Thornhaven Estate,” Silas answered. The room's temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

The woman crossed herself. “Lord's mercy. You're the Ashworth then?”

News traveled fast, even out here. “Yes.”

“Wait here.” She disappeared into a back room, returning moments later with a cloth bundle. Inside were what looked like protective charms - dried herbs bound with red thread, small stones with holes bored through their centers, iron nails wrapped in leather.

“Take them,” she said when Silas reached for his coin purse. “Won't accept payment for these. You'll need them more than coin where you're going.”

“I don't understand.”

“No,” she said softly. “You don't. Not yet.” Her eyes flicked to the window, where darkness was falling fast. “Best stay in your rooms tonight. Don't answer if you hear knocking, no matter who it sounds like calling you.”

They took their leave from the tavern keeper, her warning about knocking in the night following them up the narrow stairs. The temperature had dropped sharply in the last hour, unusual for early winter. Silas pulled his cloak tighter as he crossed to the window, watching his breath fog against the glass.

“Getting colder by the minute,” Kai muttered, adjusting his own cloak. “Doesn't feel natural, does it?”

Silas didn't answer immediately. His attention had caught on the tree line visible in the fading light. Strange markings scarred the bark of several trees at the village's edge. They were too precise to be random damage - each pattern repeated with deliberate regularity, like words in a language he couldn't quite grasp. Time and weather had worn them down until they were barely visible, but something about them made the key against his chest grow colder.

“Those markings,” he said finally. “Do they look like wards to you?”

Kai joined him at the window, squinting into the gathering dark. “Hard to tell from here. But if they are, the question is - are they meant to keep something out?”

“Or something in,” Silas finished quietly.

“Yeah.” Kai lingered in the doorway. “Hey, Silas? Whatever's waiting at Thornhaven, whatever your father thinks he's punishing you with? We'll handle it. That's what friends are for.”

Something tight in Silas's chest loosened slightly. “Thanks, Kai.”

“Don't mention it.” Kai grinned. “Besides, this is way more interesting than my last job. Did involve less creepy forest vibes though.”

After Kai left, Silas sat on the narrow bed and pulled out the key. The engravings seemed to move in the candlelight, forming patterns that made his eyes hurt if he looked too long. Somewhere in the darkness outside, something howled - not quite wolf, not quite human.

Sleep proved elusive, and they set out again before dawn. The morning passed in tense silence as the path grew wilder, until finally, they crested a hill just as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. Silas pulled Midnight to a sharp halt, his breath catching in his throat.

Thornhaven Manor sprawled before them like a wound against the landscape. The estate's stone walls rose in sharp, severe angles, somehow both imposing and decaying. Gothic spires clawed at the darkening sky, and windows stared out like hollow eyes, their glass clouded with decades of neglect. But it wasn't the manor that made Silas's hands tighten on the reins.

Behind the estate, the Eldergrove loomed impossibly high. The ancient forest rose up like a wall of darkness, its uppermost branches seeming to scrape the clouds. Even in the remaining daylight, shadows pooled unnaturally deep between the trees. The boundary between forest and manor grounds was stark - cultivated land simply stopped, as if nature itself feared to encroach on the woods' territory.

“Well,” Kai said, his voice slightly higher than usual, “your father really knows how to pick a punishment, doesn't he?”

The key around Silas's neck suddenly flared with warmth, startling him. He pulled it out from beneath his shirt, finding the metal almost hot to touch. The engravings writhed across its surface faster than before, like agitated snakes.

“Shit,” Kai breathed, watching the key's movement. “That's not normal.”

“None of this is normal.” Silas tucked the key away again, trying to ignore how it pulsed against his skin. “Let's get this over with.”

They urged their horses forward along the overgrown drive. Dead leaves crunched beneath hooves, though Silas noticed there were fewer than there should be this late in the season. It was as if something had been gathering them up, keeping the path partially clear.

The manor's details emerged as they drew closer. Gargoyles perched along the roofline, their features worn smooth by time and weather. Ivy crawled up the walls in patterns too symmetrical to be random. The stones themselves seemed to absorb what little sunlight remained, making the building appear darker than it should.

A sudden explosion of movement made both horses rear. From one of the highest towers, a murder of crows erupted into the sky. Their cries echoed off the stone walls, multiplying until it sounded like hundreds of birds instead of dozens. The sound reverberated in Silas's chest, setting his teeth on edge.

“Not too late to reconsider,” Kai said, fighting to control his spooked gelding. “I hear the southern islands are lovely. Great weather, minimal cursed forests. Could be merchants or something.”

Part of Silas wanted to agree. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, to run from this place of sharp angles and watching windows. The Eldergrove's presence pressed against his back like a physical weight, and he could have sworn he heard whispers carried on the wind.

But beneath the fear, something else stirred. The key burned against his chest, not painfully but insistently, like a question demanding to be answered. The manor, for all its gothic menace, called to something in his blood. This place had been waiting for him, he realized. Perhaps it had always been waiting.

“I have to know,” he said quietly.

“Know what?”

“Everything.” Silas dismounted, taking Midnight's reins in hand. “Why my grandmother gave me this key. Why no one lives here. Why the forest feels like it's watching us.”

“Those all sound like excellent reasons to leave, actually.”

Despite his words, Kai dismounted as well, leading his horse forward. The rusted gates loomed before them, their elaborate ironwork forming patterns similar to the ones carved into the trees they'd seen in the village.

Silas reached for the gate with his free hand. The moment his fingers touched the metal, the key against his chest pulsed once, hard enough to make him gasp. Heat flared through his palm into the gate, and somewhere deep in the manor, something responded. A sound like distant chimes rang out, felt more than heard.

“Tell me you heard that,” Kai said.

“I heard it.” Silas pushed the gate open. It swung silently on hinges that should have screamed with rust.

They crossed the threshold together, leading their nervous horses up the drive. As they passed beneath the first row of watching gargoyles, Silas glanced back at the Eldergrove. In the deepening twilight, he could have sworn he saw movements among the trees - shapes that vanished when looked at directly, leaving only the impression of eyes and antlers and things that should not be.

The key gave one final pulse of warmth, then went cold again. Above them, the crows had settled back onto their perches along the tower. Their black eyes followed the newcomers' progress toward the manor's front steps, where decades of dust and secrets waited to be disturbed.

“Home sweet home,” Silas muttered, and somewhere in the gathering dark, he thought he heard the forest laugh.