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The Whisper in the Woods

Grace

He is late. He is always late. I swear he does this on purpose, I know he does. The first signs of the storm awaken against our disparaging oak cottage. Thunder booms in the sky above us while a harsh wind howls against our windows. The breeze blows the latches off the cheap glass, slamming them open with a loud crack. My shoulders hike up to my ears at the noise. This storm is going to wake up Mom.

I run over, battling the wind to close the window. The ocean scent of brine and fish is thick in the air as it rushes into the house. I successfully latch the lock and breathe a sigh of relief. No one in their right mind would be fishing out there. My brother would not dare sail in a storm like this, not after what happened to Pa. I know Fallon has been off that ship for hours.

It’s no coincidence that tonight is a full moon. He knows I have plans tonight, and the bright pinks in the sky have long since melted into purple thunderous clouds. I peer out the foggy windows and study the scattered raindrops touching down onto the frigid ground. The droplet patterns leave me entranced as they dance.

Annoyed, I groan. I run my fingers through my dark hair, scraping my scalp frustratedly. I still have to go to the market tonight on top of the temple. I hear a faint moan whisper against the screaming of the wind. My eyes cut to Mom’s door, and I stare with bated breath, listening like a hawk for another. I tiptoe across the floor as the burning logs in the fireplace crackle, the light swaying on the ground before each step. I come close to her door and carefully lean my head until my ear grazes the warm wood.

I listen.

The wind slams against the house, rattling the windows as it screams its rage. The storm roars outside like a mad beast, bellowing its fury. My heart pounds in my chest, booming against my ribs. If she’s awake, I won’t be going out tonight. She’ll need to be taken care of, and Fallon wouldn’t allow me to leave. He’ll use any excuse he can to keep me away from the temple. I swallow deeply, listening. I hover, frozen. Each thrust of wind tenses my muscles as it shakes the house. I stand as a nervous ball of energy, awaiting each sound to wake my mom.

The front door slams open behind me, its hinges creaking as it yawns, and I grimace. My head whips to the other side of the cabin, screeching silently, as Fallon charges through the door. A gust of wind bursts inside behind him, blowing through my long hair and cutting through the warmth of the fire. Wet fishing boots create large thuds into the wooden floor planks as he walks, tracking sticky mud inside.

“Could you be any louder?” I scream an angry whisper.

He is carrying his leftover load of silver fish that he couldn’t sell at the market. Big honey eyes regard me quietly by Mom’s door before lazily tossing the pile of wet fish on the stone counter. I rush over while he turns his back, taking off his dripping jacket, and I swipe one from the pack before he can catch me.

“Where have you been? I’m out of Mom’s medicine,” I scold him.

Fallon sighs. “Please, Grace, don’t take that fish.” His hand swipes through his pale, wet hair, sweeping it out of his face.

I look up to my towering brother, a hand on my hip. “It’s a full moon. You know I go every month for Mom’s prayers.” I am livid that this man has kept me here on purpose.

In a huff, I choose my favorite rain jacket from the pile and start putting it on. It’s a dark blue that blends into the night. I am much harder to spot in the darkness of the woods. I tug on my worn black boots; hopefully, the patches hold in the rain tonight. I grab my scarf off the wooden hanger, making it teeter on its clawed feet. Mom made me this when she first started to get sick. She had to sit a lot more back then, because she was always so tired. It’s a beautiful wool she got at the Mennola Port. She traded a week’s worth of prime fish cache to get it. It’s a stark white with silver shimmering streams woven throughout. We had to live off of potatoes for two weeks, but she said she saw the wool and knew it was meant for me. Mom was always doing amazing things for us, and now, it’s my turn to take care of her. That’s why I must do this.

“It’s illegal, Gracie. What if they catch you?” he questions me, concerned.

I continue getting ready to leave, ignoring him completely.

“We need to talk about this, Grace. We need to be honest about this and realize Mom isn’t going to make it. We should focus on keeping her comfortable, not doing useless prayers to a Goddess who has long forgotten us. Just as we have forsaken her.” He stands in front of me, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to stop dressing. Fallon stares at me with his golden eyes, clouded in sorrow.

I’m taken aback by what he has said, anger and injustice filling my gut. “I can’t believe you’re giving up so easily. It’s Mom, Fallon!” I throw his hands off of me and take a step back.

“I know, Grace, it’s just—”

“No! Don’t! I’m sorry you don’t feel like Mom is worth it, but I’m not sorry for wanting to try everything I can to save our mother.” I grab my fish quickly and run out of the door before he can stop me. My footsteps crunch along the rocky ground as I sprint through the garden, glacial wind whips dark strands of brown hair into my face. I hear Fallon’s voice yelling after me, but I can’t make out his words through the whistling in the wind. I keep running until his voice fades, continuing into the chilled night.

I run far, gaining distance from our home and into the neighboring village of Wyassa. The town is dark as they’re preparing for yet another storm. Living on the cool coast, we are constantly hit with gloomy weather and storms. Villagers have their windows shuttered, and not a single lantern is lit outside as they wait for the wild wind to tear through. I run through the wet gravel roads, my feet splashing in the puddles under me. The crisp air makes my nose cold and runny as I whip through houses. I silently curse my dad for building our house so far away from everyone. I have to pass through Wyassa every time I need to get to the market.

I think back on Fallon, I can’t believe he wants to give up on Mom. She raised us as a single mother after Pa died fishing in the Great Storm. I was young, but I still remember the way the hurricane rolled through our village. The wind shook our house, like it was a toy doll in young kids’ hands. The walls heaved, and the front door slammed on its hinges. Windows blew open from their locks, cracking the glass, and shards littered the floor. Lightning strikes rolled across the clouds, the high-speed snaps lit the sky in quick succession. Thunder followed, blasting above us and pounding into my little chest, vibrations dancing in my fearful heart.

Poor Dad, he was out fishing at sea when that storm blew through. We waited for his boat to come back into the Mennola Port for five days. Mom went to check the port every day, waiting for him to sail into the shattered dock. When it became obvious his boat wasn’t coming back, Mom was strong for us. She never missed a beat and picked things back up. She got work as a barmaid and fished when she could to provide for us. Fallon took up babysitting me, even though he wasn’t much older than me.

Then, Mom got sick and had to quit work. Fallon was sixteen when he had to start providing for us all. He became the adult of the family; fishing, cooking, caring for the garden. He watched over me and made sure I never went hungry. Even if that meant giving me his own meal. I watched over Mom and took care of her while Fallon was providing for us. It started out simple, helping her eat and walking her from room to room. But, her sickness progressed, and now she can’t do anything on her own. It started with her heart which the doctor said was sick. Now it’s slowly infecting the rest of her body. A cancer, working its way through her body at its own leisure. I am with her all day now, caring for her in every way. I don’t mind though. She’s my mom, and I love her. I would do anything for her. I know she would do the same for me.

Unfortunately, this means I don’t have time for anything or anyone else. I’ve had four offers for marriage, and Fallon rejects them every time. Although, one of those doesn’t count, because it was from Harry Pracker. That man is a pig, he does nothing but harass me. I went out and bought Fallon a nice big cookie as a thank-you for keeping that prick away from me.

Except, the problem is he also denies everyone else. He keeps saying I’m not old enough, but I’m eighteen now. That’s way older than some of the other girls marrying. I bet even if the richest boy in town, Carter Bellamy, wanted to marry me, he would still say no.

Which is exactly why I sneak out at night to see him.

Carter is the most handsome boy I know. He has the softest short brown hair that sweeps perfectly to the side with eyes that remind me of rich puddles of chocolate. His smile, oh Gods his smile, melts my heart into a mess of giddiness. The man is absolutely dreamy. Carter makes me forget about everything happening at home. He’s gentle and sweet. We talk and he listens to me, always giving me trinkets and red roses—my favorites. I love Carter. He could have any girl he wanted, and although he says he loves me, I’m pretty sure he just wants sex. I know he’ll never actually marry me, I’m way below his standing. He’s a gentleman, the son of a lord. I’m just a village girl, the daughter of a fisherman. It’s ok, though, because once Mom is feeling better, Fallon will find a girl to marry. Then, he’ll finally allow me to marry a good man, and everything will be well.

I know Fallon notices girls, and they definitely notice him. Whenever we go to the market together, the girls stare and giggle. Sometimes, they’re brave enough to come up to him and say hi, staring up under their lashes with stupid smiles on their faces. Fallon always smiles back, his dimples making an appearance. Sometimes, I see him wink at them. He’s got my dad’s handsome looks, built tall and lean. His pale hair is always windswept from being out at sea, and he often sports a beard. He argues he is not interested in marriage, but I know Fallon would have married by now if it wasn’t for me.

I finally get to the market, and it’s raining steady now. Large droplets bounce off the cobblestone walkway, and water pours off the top of the smooth material of the stalls. There is barely anyone out as I look around, only a few lanterns are lit among the stalls as they swing wildly. A hooded figure catches my eye as he runs toward me under the protection of the stalls. I squint—That jacket looks awfully familiar.

A handsome face peeks out from under the fine black jacket, donning chocolate eyes and soft lips. He sees me and startles. “Grace? Is that you?”

“Carter? What are you doing out here in the storm?” I run the rest of the distance between us, coming close to his lean body.

He smiles warmly at me as he steps closer, brushing his chest against me. “I wasn’t expecting to see you out here, but this is a nice surprise.”

Suddenly, I forget how to breathe as he leans into me, warmth pooling in my gut. I focus on his lips, pulled into a seductive smile. “We shouldn’t be so close, Carter. Someone might see you.” I breathe.

Carter looks around with a wry smile. “Yes, it really is quite busy out here.”

A shy smile pulls at my lips as he chuckles lightly. His hand comes out to my face, caressing my cheek and swimming into my hair. He leans in slowly, savoring me, before setting his lips onto mine. Carter kisses me languidly, enjoying me as he hums.

I am gone. I have died and gone to the Isles, absolutely blessed.

He pulls away reluctantly, taking my air with him. “I actually am on a mission tonight, Grace, or else I’d say we could continue this elsewhere.” He grabs my left hand, and his attention goes to my fingers as he plays with them. His thumb rubs them softly as he speaks, “I was thinking, on Friday, instead of our usual spot, perhaps we can go somewhere new. I found this place, it has a beautiful stream with a waterfall. It really is something at sundown and has a great view of the stars once the dark falls. I would really love to share it with you. I have a little surprise for you there.” Carter looks up at me, suddenly nervous as his eyes shine with insecurity.

“Of course, I’d love to see that, Carter. I’d like whatever it was you wanted to show me.” I place my palm on his wet jacket assuredly.

He smiles once more and brings my hand up to place a gentle kiss on me as I blush. “I’ll see you soon, Grace Teller.” And he strolls away into the dark. I watch Carter run toward a market ship, boarding it quickly.

Where in the blazes is that man going?

I breathe in the cool air and listen to the water streams dripping off the stall overhang, feeling rather lightheaded. What was I doing out here? Shit, Mom’s medicine. I waste no time and head straight to the pharmacy stall, praying he is still open.

I get to the small shop and find Mr. Wilder packing up his herbs.

Panicked, I hurry up to him. “Wait! Mr. Wilder, please. I need my mom’s medicine,” I plead with him.

He sighs, standing tall and cracking his back dramatically. “Do you know how late it is, Grace? It’s raining up a storm out here, and you decide now, when I’m all packed up to go home, to bless me with your divine presence.”

Mr. Wilder is a crotchety old man with more wrinkles than I can count, but he’s the best at what he does. I’ve tried other medicine vendors, but his herbs always give Mom such a burst of energy. She feels so good after taking his medicine and for that, I’ll never go to another apothecary again. Some say he gets his herbs straight from the Thelios Fae Gardens, but that is impossible. The Fae may trade many of their wares, but they do not share their medicine with us.

“Please, Mr. Wilder. I’m sorry. Fallon—” I try to explain that Fallon kept me, but he cuts me off.

“Bup! It’s fine, Grace! I’m gonna sell it to you, because I like those pretty green eyes of yours. But I’m charging you five extra silvers, because I’ve already packed my wares.”

Five extra silvers? I guess I won’t be getting anything extra for dinner this week. It’s always fish for dinner around here at port, we live in a fishing village after all. Anything more and you’ll have to buy it, which can cost you. We’re lucky to live next to the Mennola Port, which is one of the more extensive trading markets in the kingdom. It’s the biggest port in all of Calibria. Which means you can find everyone here trading and bartering for rare goods, Fae and human alike. Fallon and I used to love coming to the market to buy uncommon goods, but now, any extra coins go to food. I shouldn’t complain about the fish, I know it’s more than most have. So, I pay the five extra coins.

“Thanks, Mr. Wilder.” I give him the silver coins, letting them clink into his open palm. I take the small sack of herbs, sniffing the mix of plants. The scent is strong, making me breathe easier deep within my chest.

It’s raining harder now. Hard pellets hit my hood as the ground starts to puddle in the dips and grooves of the cobblestone. I know I should just keep going to the temple, but I chance a trip to the blacksmith to go see Evie. Usually, I would run home after getting Mother’s medicine so late and with the heavy storm rolling through. But tonight is the full moon, which means there is still the matter of my sacrifice to the Moon Goddess. Evie’s birthday is also coming up, and I want to know what she has planned. Of course, the little Fae fox will never actually tell me how old she is turning. She’s been eighteen the last four years in a row, and I have a feeling she’s much older.

Evie runs the blacksmith here in the east port. Many men have words to say when they find out she’s the one that’ll be making their metal, and even more, when they find out she’s Fae. But, when they get a look at her wares, specifically her swords, they’ll usually look the other way and pay her what she asks. Evie makes the best damn swords I’ve ever seen. Her craftsmanship on metal is another level entirely. She says it’s how she was trained to make them in Thelios. I’m not sure why she ever left the Fae lands, honestly. The tales of Thelios are tales of legends, akin to the Land of the Gods. I believe if there ever were Gods, they reigned in Thelios. But anytime I try to ask her, she never answers.

Evie’s shop lies near the end of the eastern market at Mennola Port. It’s a moderately sized, humble smithy that she runs by herself. It is built with a sturdy wooden overhang and a large forge. Weapons hang along the walls and tools are scattered. It’s an organized mess, as she calls it. Her cozy well-built stone house is attached on the side. I rarely find her inside though. She is always working.

I spot her through the haze of the rain.

“Evie!” I call out to her excitedly, running the remaining distance.

She’s in her leathers, bent over a hot piece of metal glowing redder than a Fae Magma Ruby. She slams her hammer, shaping what looks to be a sword, before shoving it back into the fire.

“Gracie!” she squeals.

“Evie, don’t call me that. Ever. You know I hate that nickname.” I cross my arms, popping out my hip and glaring at her.

“I know, but I heard Fallon call you it the other day, and I liked it.” Evie grins mischievously.

“Your birthday’s coming up. How old are you turning this year?” I pry.

She acts like she’s in deep thought, tapping her fingers to her head. “Hmm. What was I last year?”

“Eighteen,” I answer suspiciously.

“Then I think I’ll change it up and be … eighteen this year.” She smirks at me.

“You’re such a smart-ass. You’ve been eighteen since I’ve known you. We’re officially the same age now.” I chuckle.

Evie laughs loudly, her beautiful smile glowing brighter than the fire behind her. She is radiant, even covered in black soot and dirty leathers. She has her midnight black hair pulled back into an elaborate braid, letting it drape behind her. The hairstyle showcases her long delicately pointed ears. Deep brown eyes pop out amongst the soot on her face, measuring you with her feline gaze .

“Evie, you have no right to be as beautiful as you are making swords.” I shake my head in disbelief.

She pops out her hip with attitude, placing a dirty hand on it, “How’s Carter?” Evie teases.

I blush. “None of your business.”

She laughs. “Oh come on, I saw his little body sneaking through the rain tonight. Went right past me.”

I bite my lip. “I don’t know what he’s doing out here, but I saw him too.”

“He asked me to make something for you,” the Fae fox whispers.

My eyes bug open as I look at her. “What? What is it?” My curiosity is fully piqued as I scuttle closer to her.

“I’m not going to tell you!” she yells, baffled. “That would break the trust of my very loved customers!”

“Evie!” I swat at her arm.

“Get away from me, little gremlin!” she shouts, slapping at my hands. Evie scurries away through her shop.

“Just tell me what it is!” I run after her, passing the forge and getting a blast of heat.

“Get out of my smith, or I won’t make it, and you’ll be very sad!” she warns, throwing something metal at my shoes, the clink making my feet dance.

I cross my arms in a huff, glowering at her.

Suddenly, her head swivels to the street as her eyes narrow. “Get down,” Evie warns quietly.

I look to the street, but don’t see anything except dark rain.

“Grace,” she hisses urgently.

I jump behind a barrel and squat down, making sure I’m fully hidden. I wait nervously, my heart thundering in my chest.

A pair of heavy footsteps walk up to the smithy. “Evening,” a deep male voice calls out through the heavy cascade of rain.

“Evening,” Evie replies coolly.

“A bit of a storm going on, isn’t it? Yet, you’re still working?” he questions.

“Yup,” she replies.

“We heard there was a Fae blacksmith here in market,” another male voice calls over the rain.

“Yeah, that would be me,” she speaks, barely giving them any information.

The man chuckles lightly. “Not very talkative, are you, sweetheart? ”

I watch Evie walk up to a wooden counter, pulling out a dagger from the sheath on her thigh. She plays with the tip, pressing it lightly into her finger. “Nope.”

There’s a long silence as she eyes them.

“Well, we’re just doing some local patrols, because of the incident in the neighboring city Jalinda. I’m sure you’ve heard, but don’t worry, we’re here for your safety. We’ll be around all night.” His voice has gone dark with a threatening aura to it.

Evie takes her dagger and plunges it through the counter. The force cracking the slab of wood underneath. “I’ll be here,” she purrs dangerously.

There is a long pause before wet splashes of footsteps leave. I watch Evie with bated breath, waiting for her signal to come up.

“It’s safe,” she says, coming over to me.

“Who were they?” I breathe.

“Moon Guards.”

Nervous energy fills me to the brim. “All the way out here? I thought they were for the King’s Priest?”

“You didn’t hear? They captured a traitor in Jalinda yesterday. Hung him right there in the city and are transporting his body to the King’s Wall,” she whispers to me.

I stare at her, unable to speak. I watch her concerned gaze focus on me as a dirty hand comes to rest on my shoulder. My tongue becomes thick as I suddenly forget how to swallow. Jalinda is just on the other side of port to the west. The King’s Priest has his attention on us now, he sent patrols to our side. Some say the King’s Priest is the real ruler of Calibria. They say he even controls the King.

Evie’s eyes go to the silver fish attached to my jacket. “Please, be careful.” Her face cuts outside once more. “Go. Now.”

I don’t wait around to see who’s coming, I sprint out of the smith and skid in the water as I turn to run away.

I wave goodbye and hurry my way to the forest path I know all too well. It’s pouring rain now, and the moon is being blocked by the dark clouds. But I know the way even through the dark, I come through here every full moon. I head for Silver Bluffs Point. It’s the location of one of the last known ancient temples of the Gods and, for that reason, no one will go near it.

The Gods ruled these lands long ago, a time no one really remembers, but will also never forget. Priests of the Moon Mother said humans rose above them and kicked them out of our lands because they were cruel rulers. We then put up the Veil to keep them out. But I don’t believe them; the Veil is deadly. Men have traveled through the Veil to never come home. If we had put up that Veil, surely we would have made it so we couldn’t travel through, right? What if the Veil is a trap, luring us to the other side? Which begs the question—What lies past the edge, behind the Veil? Men have sailed along the sea to its border and found no end. Entire ships have gone through to answer its call and never come back. It’s a beautiful silver siren. I know because it calls to me, too, begging me to cross. I know better than to listen to her calls. I know her song is just the voice of Death, disguised, luring me to its icy embrace.

We answer to the Moon Mother now. The Gods are forbidden, but the moon is ancient and final. She awakes the ocean. She breathes life into babes. She calms the dead, and she heals the sick. She calls us to the Blessed Isles or banishes us to the Infernal Realm. But I know she also has another name, Mene the Moon Goddess. That’s why I travel to her temple at Silver Bluffs Point every full moon. I give her back a fish for her ocean and pray to her to heal my mother, Lana.

A twig snaps behind me and I whip around. I try to see through the black woods, but it’s pure darkness with no moon to give light. I hold my breath, listening and watching. I feel the forest ground under my worn-soaked boots. I smell the damp earth all around me. I savor the cold wind twirling itself into my hood and awakening my face. I ground myself, waiting. But there is nothing, just a rustle in the wind and the sound of gentle rain taps on the trees above me. I give it a couple more minutes and hesitantly continue on my hike.

Is someone following me? Perhaps I should go home, I can’t risk being seen going to the temple. That is a death sentence with no trial. But what about Mother? She’s getting so sick. I can’t miss this offering tonight. No one is out here, I tell myself. No one ever comes out to these woods. It’s too close to the forbidden temple. Plus, they would get lost out here in the rain and dark. I’ve been here hundreds of times; I could find my way blindfolded. Who else would even be out here on this freezing cold night during the rain? No, I’m just being paranoid. Fallon got into my head earlier.

I continue to the point and hear no more noises. I cross through the last of the trees, revealing the temple. It lies on the edge of the cliff point, collapsing and broken. It won’t be long before it crumbles off the cliff and into the sea, forever forgotten. Emerald vines creep along the broken columns of marble, and tall grass has overgrown the entrance. The clouds break open to reveal the moon, letting her shine her light on the forgotten temple.

In the background, among the sea, lies the Veil, glowing and shimmering in the distance. It rests behind the holy shrine, reflecting our world back to me. It calls to something in me, and I have to force myself to look away.

White lightning cracks across the sky, startling me as it illuminates the woods around me. Thunder booms above me, shaking me to my very core. I let loose a shaky breath and cross the remaining distance, heading into the temple. It used to be beautiful, I can tell from the large marble columns and statues everywhere. I can imagine people coming to see it for prayers, joined with loved ones and gifts for the Gods. Families would be happy, laughing and smiling. Some would be more solemn, with a mission of sorrow, like me. I walk along the broken remains of statues. There is rubble and dirt on the ground with large-fractured stones scattered along the stairs and flooring. Thick vines have worked their way into the once opulent cella, creeping along the walls and select statues. Open gaps in the ceiling leak in rays of moonlight, illuminating the path before me in pale fragments. I quietly find the statue I come to every full moon, Mene. I’ve cleaned her statue the best I could, clearing away debris and plants in the past. She’s broken, her left arm and head missing, but her name is carved into her pedestal. She has a beautiful flowing dress carved into her stone, its surface still smooth after all this time. I lightly run my fingers along the alabaster stone, relishing the cool touch as I listen to large water drops fall from the cracked ceiling.

A serene feeling fills my heart, and I kneel before the statue. I have been in this same exact spot countless times as I devote my time to Mene. Except, I do not know how many more I’ll be here, Mom really isn’t doing well. I look up to the beheaded statue, looking for some kind of answer. I really need this to work. I just need something, Mene.

I reach for the slimy silver fish from my jacket, placing it into the smooth bowl as I begin to pray to her. “Moon Goddess—”

“There she is. I told you she comes here,” a menacing voice echoes into the cella.

I whirl around to find two men walking into the temple. Harry Pracker and Carter’s father, Mr. Bellamy. How did they find me?

Mr. Bellamy is dressed in fine clothing, holding a dripping umbrella in his gloved hands. He scrutinizes me, looking me up and down. His judging gaze lands on the fish in Mene’s bowl .

“Interesting. Last I heard, worshipping the false Gods was forbidden. Punishment by death, I believe,” Mr. Bellamy drawls.

“I wasn’t—” I try to make an excuse, but he cuts me off with a stern wave of his hand.

“You’re the girl distracting my boy. Carter won’t marry a proper girl, because of you. He said he’s in love, if you can believe that.” Mr. Bellamy scoffs.

My eyes light up. He loves me? Carter actually told his father that he loves me? Oh, Mother Moon, he loves me. I never really believed him when he told me, but if Carter told his father, it must be true. Hope soars through my heart and warms me hotter than a hearth. I bite my lip to keep from grinning.

“Oh no, sweetheart, that’s not happening.” Mr. Bellamy chuckles darkly.

An arrow of despair strikes my heart, dropping it into a dark pit in my stomach.

“You’re going to let him off and make him marry someone of his standing. And, to make sure you do, you’ll be accepting Harry’s proposal. If you don’t, we’ll be going to the authorities about your little temple visit.” Mr. Bellamy takes a step forward, using his umbrella as a cane.

“What? I won’t!” I shout, aghast.

Marry Harry ? I could never, that boy picked on me relentlessly when we were growing up. He took my coins whenever he saw me at the market, he threw fish in my face on more than one occasion, and he pushed me to the ground all the time. I would come home with scrapes on my hands and knees because of him. It wasn’t until my breasts came in that he decided to ask Fallon for my hand in marriage. Fallon denied him immediately.

“Grace, stop being a stupid little girl and grow up. Carter doesn’t love you, he just loves rutting you up against the trees.” Harry mocks.

“What? Gods, did you spy on us?” I gasp.

“It wasn’t hard to find you, love, I’m sure the whole village heard you screaming.” He laughs.

“I’m not marrying you, Harry! I’ll never marry you. My brother was right to deny you. You’re a disgusting little prick. I love Carter and he loves me. Besides, you have no proof I was here.”

Harry’s face twists sour, his fists balling in anger. “Proof?” He takes a slow step forward. “You think we need proof, baby? He’s a fucking lord, and you’re just a little whore, who are they really going to believe?” He chuckles lightly. “Come on, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I can be real good for you, just as I know you’ll be real good for me.”

“Better Carter’s whore than your wife,” I declare proudly. I knew Harry was a disgusting pervert. I always hated the way he watched me as I walked past him, but hearing him finally reveal his true self, makes bugs crawl under my skin. I wonder how long he’s been waiting for a moment like this. I wonder how long he’s been tracking me.

Harry chuckles darkly, taking another step forward. “You always were a little fucking tease. I knew you had a fine pussy, but fuck, turns out it’s good enough to trap a lord’s son.” Harry laughs while a hand rubs his fiery beard. Blue eyes roam my body sinfully slow as he licks his lips.

“You’re disgusting.” I spit at his shoes. “How long have you been following me?”

Harry chuckles. “You’re not a very good sneak, baby. And your window is always open. You sleep hard, sweetheart, real hard.”

My heart pounds hearing his confession, and my breathing picks up. This is too much. I need to get out of this fast.

“I never touched you.” He takes a step forward. “But I think I’m owed a taste.”

He storms me faster than I can react, barreling his weight into me. Air leaves my lungs in a hard whoosh as I’m hurled backward. My head lands on the marble statue behind me with a sickening crack, and I collapse to the ground with a heavy thud, unmoving. Blood quickly starts to pool around my head onto the dusty marble ground. Its rivers flow dark, turning my dark brunette hair into a sable red mess.

I taste metal.

I can’t feel my body.

My heart feels tired.

I feel tired.

I hear muffled voices through the ringing in my ears.

“Shit, is she dead? ”

thump, thump

“I don’t care. Get rid of her, Harry.”

thump, thump

“How? If Fallon finds out—”

thump, thump

“He won’t find out. Throw her over the cliff and let the cold depths of the sea take her.”

thump

The world goes black.