Page 18 of Whisper Woods (Legends of the Whisper Woods #3)

Rafe

Carefully cradling two cups of steaming rivosh, I make my way from the dining room to my office. After our incredible night together, it pains me, physically pains me to leave Seff in my bed this morning. Well, leave Wolf. He made an appearance at some point during Seff’s sleep.

It’s no matter, because the point is the same. After years of tiny flashes of time together, and the intensity of this past week, he’s become infused into my essence.

The house is quiet in the early morning; the staff have disappeared to complete their duties. Opening the door to my office with my elbow, I am not in the least shocked to see Brydon already there at his desk in the corner.

“Morning.” He grumbles around a pencil stuffed in his mouth, not looking up from his work. There are towers of books on either side of him, his fingers tightly locked in his hair.

“Have you slept at all?”

He was working when we returned from Vansh’s last night. I tried to insist that he leave the work for the morning, but he insisted he would only be “five more minutes”, which we both knew was a lie.

Brydon shakes his head violently, grunting when I place his cup on his desk in the only free space. “No. Translating.”

He still doesn’t look up, but does let go of his hair to turn a page and have a sip of his drink. His tail flicks agitatedly against the floor as he snatches up a book, quickly flicking through the pages, mumbling to himself.

This sort of fixated behaviour is not unusual for Brydon while he’s working, whether it be with his dragon glass work or translation and valuation work for me. But my instincts are concerned. Leaning against my desk, I sip my drink and watch as he furiously scrawls notes on several sets of paper. I spy my Tavisher’s journal in the mix on the desk, which is not unusual. He often goes through my notes, re-recording them to make sense. But the pages bearing the High Council seal were certainly not here when we returned from the dragons yesterday.

“Is everything okay?” I finally ask, when he knocks his cup with his elbow, almost sending it flying over his work. He manages to save it just in time, cursing in anger and muttering.

With a deep, exhausted sigh, he slumps forward for a moment, then turns to me. There are grey smudges under his eyes, tight lines of frustration around his lips.

“It will be Rafe, it will be.” He punctuates his words with a nod and turns back to his desk.

“That is not as comforting as you think it is, Brydon.”

He snorts a laugh, and that, at least, makes me feel a little better.

“What is going on?” I ask, and his shoulders tense up around his ears, his tail flicking sharply.

“I… I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

It grates my nerves how his words echo my own to Seff only days ago. Apart from the niggling guilt still gnawing at me over the whole incident, it adds to my instincts sounding a warning for my pseudo-ward. After all, no one knows better than I that the sentiment can mean nothing positive.

“Are you in danger, Brydon?”

Another shake of his head, but he doesn’t turn to face me again.

“No. But you need to trust me.”

There is an edge to his voice. It’s the tone he takes with his father, or with the Tathissians who turn on him. I don’t like it. I place my cup on my desk, and take a step towards my old friend. He flinches at my movement, waving a hand over the papers on the desk to obscure what he’s working on.

“Seriously, Rafe. Like I said. Trust me.” This time he turns to me, his tired face imploring me to listen.

Something is undoubtedly wrong. Indecision rages within me, making me feel ill. I want to shake him, force him to tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it for him. But I don’t, because I do trust him. I nod, once, my jaw clenched tight to hold my tongue. Brydon relaxes marginally when I resume leaning against my desk.

“You have a message.” He says, turning back to his work, picking up another book. “From your parents. They wish to meet with you urgently.”

My parents? Frustration coils through me. My parents live in the foothills near the Tathissian borders in the eastern Woods. It’s several hours' ride there at the very least. I cannot possibly leave Seff for that long. It’s unthinkable.

But by the same token, I cannot very well deny a request from my parents. They would never request for me to visit them if it were not urgent—what if something has happened?

Jaw tensing irritably, I round my desk and snatch up the message lying neatly on my desk. My mother’s tidy scrawl doesn’t give any hint as to the reason for my audience.

“I will have to make my excuses. I cannot possibly leave Seff here while I visit.” Taking him with me is not a possibility either.

My parents have never been prejudiced against the Mundane. How could they be with Tavishers in the family? But on my last visit my father’s confusion had increased and I fear such an introduction, without some preparation on my mother’s behalf, would not go well.

Brydon rolls his eyes, but the act is in sharp contradiction to the tension in his shoulders, and the way his fist clenches his pencil so hard the thing almost snaps.

“I can entertain Seff. It will be great actually, considering I missed out on hanging out with him yesterday. And I can get to know him without all the horny eyes between you two. I don’t know if you are aware, but it is rather a mood killer for the rest of us.” He smiles and it very nearly reaches his eyes. But I recognise the deflection for what it is. It’s remarkably similar to Seff’s tactics.

Brydon matches my narrow-eyed stare unflinchingly.

“Why do you want me to leave?” There is something going on here, and I cannot help but feel insulted that Brydon doesn’t trust me enough to tell me .

“Do you think I mean to hurt Seff?” He sounds hurt, and it’s so remarkably genuine, I almost soften.

“No. Of course not.” He relaxes at my reassurance. “But, Brydon, there is obviously something going on here you are not telling me. That makes me wary.”

Brydon throws his pencil on his desk and scrubs his hands over his face. “I’m just stressed, my father visited yesterday and asked me to go through some other Tavishers’ notes. The translations in the book are draining me. Seriously, hanging out with Seff and asking him a million questions about the Mundane sounds like a relief. I managed to get his phone charged so he can show me some things.” He removes his hands from his face and lets me see the exhaustion there.

“And you will not relax until you visit your parents and find out what’s going on. You can message your mother all you like, you know she never responds. It’s early, if you leave now you could be home after lunch and have the entire afternoon to moon-eyes at each other.”

I pull a face at his ridiculousness, and he laughs, some of the tension between us easing. Running a hand through my hair, I remember that Brydon’s good sense is one of the reasons I hired him. I trust him. The sick sense of dread in my stomach is simply my loathing of leaving Seff affecting my natural instincts.

“Fine. Fine .” I decide on a long exhale. “I will be home as soon as I’m able. When he wakes, let him know I will be home as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Brydon shoos me from the room with a laugh. “Now, get going. And tell your mother I said hi.”

I drain the last of my rivosh and give Brydon a clipped nod goodbye as I leave our study, determined to get this errand complete so I can return to the wolf in my bed as soon as possible.

***

My parents' home in the foothills of the Woods is not far in actual distance from the city. The time-consuming part lies in actually getting there. The beings that choose this region of Tathys do so in particular because it is so difficult to access. Indeed, for certain parts of the year, many parts of the region are inaccessible due to flooding—including my parents’ home. But on a regular day, the trails are concealed so skillfully they are practically non-existent, and the terrain is almost purposefully inhospitable.

And if you manage to survive the sudden cliff drops, concealed cave entrances and surprise bog pits, there are corion nests ready to snare any unwary visitors.

All in all, not a great way to travel at the best of times, but on a day when you are in a rush and distracted? You are liable to get yourself killed. Which is why I’m having to exert all of my mental energy on keeping myself safe and not wondering if Seff is still warm in my bed, and if not, what he is doing right now.

Even though it’s cool in the Woods today, I am still sweating from sheer exertion by the time I reach the edge of my parents' property. There are no gates or fences, only my mother’s wards guarding their boundary.

My mother is a floriatae—fae beings who draw their magic from the landscapes they are born in. While all beings are tied through the ishke that carries the magic from the Gods, the floriatae, it is said, are children of the land, the first of their kind born from the flowers and trees.

Her magic feels like a warm hug when I cross into their lands. My parents’ home sits upon the very crest of the hill. On the other side the Woods descend rapidly to the cliffs at the very borders of Carconnois. The coveted position gives them not only unimpeded views of the Woods and the river that once a year cuts off their property from the world in the summer, but also the sunrise over the sea.

Their home in the Woods is nothing like our family home in the city. The stout house, made of stone and moss, is part of the landscape—built into the rocks of the hillside.

Her gardens circle the home, in a pattern whose meaning is only discernible to my mother. Dragonkin breed true, even when they breed with other beings, meaning I had been born without any of my mothers blessings.

“Rafe, my darling boy! What a pleasure it is!” Maman’s head pokes up from behind a shrub she’d been tending to.

She practically buzzes with the pleasure of seeing me, and I feel a small niggle of guilt at not visiting more regularly. She brushes the dirt from her hands on her skirt and rushes between her haphazard garden beds to throw herself at me for a hug. Another needle of guilt drives home when I smell her familiar floral scent, the flowers threaded through her waist-length silver hair tickling my face. Her hair had once been midnight black, much like mine, but she has long since given up the glamour of hiding her greys.

Her arms are tight around me when I spy my father resting in a lounge chair in the shade, where he raises his glass to me in greeting and then settles back in his seat. My mother pulls back, her dark eyes searching mine excitedly, a happy flush on her dark brown skin as she clutches at my arms.

“My darling, you look utterly wretched. Come sit in the shade with your father and I’ll get you a cool drink.”

There is little point arguing with her, as I am in dire need of rest and refreshment so I let her lead me to the seats set out under the ancient willow tree. We settle together on the lounger, and she refills one of the glasses on the table between the chairs with a simple wave of her hand. Accepting the glass, I sip the refreshing, cool water while Bapa and I exchange benign greetings which quickly devolve into him telling me the way of the world.

“—Elianora needs to resolve this now. Even the beings in these remote parts have heard of the troubles in the city. Her father never would have let Heylor gain control like this. The being has always been trouble. He has never known how to get past his own ego for the good of the Council and for Tathys.”

Maman reaches out to pat my father’s leg, when his passionate rant devolves into an angry cough.

“I understand, Bapa. I am not any more fond of Heylor than you are. But things are complicated. Our people are angry. They are scared. They do not understand.” A smile ghosts over my lips when I remember what Seff said about Tathys and the prophecy. “It is one thing to know the prophecy was coming, it is another for them to accept it is coming to pass. Gods, Bapa, many beings believed that the secondary prophecy, reunifying with the world, was just another legend in the books of the Orun. For centuries it has been spoken of as some nebulous concept, a thing for future generations to have to contend with, if at all. That the moment is imminent and entirely upon us feels surreal. They are in denial of the truth and questioning why, if it is to be so, it is happening to them.”

Bapa only grunts, his dark brows pulling into a frown and he lies back with a dismissive wave of his hand.

His scales—a brilliant teal—cover one hand and arm, as well as his neck and, I assume, other areas of his body hidden by his clothes. The change is permanent now, his body unable to complete the process either way. He is more tired today than the last time I saw him, and it’s a hard fact I struggle to acknowledge with everything else currently in chaos in my world.

“What was that?” Maman asks, nudging my arm with her elbow. I raise an eyebrow at her; it’s the sort of look that most find intimidating. But my Maman raised me when I was a hellion of a toddler racing off to play with dragon babies, so nothing scares her anymore. She snorts and wrinkles her nose. “That little smile. You’ve met someone haven’t you?”

I blush in the way of a youth embarrassed by their parents, which is even more shameful considering I am very much not a youth any longer. “Yes, Maman. I have. I think… I know I have met my mate.”

It’s enough of a statement to have my father prop his eyes open again, even though he winces when my mother gasps with joy. Her happiness brings a barrage of butterflies and bees to swarm around us, while sprites titter in the gardens. It’s a rather picturesque scene and I have a rather sharp pang of regret that I did not bring Seff with me.

“Tell us all about him.” Maman rearranges her dirt smudged gossamer skirts and settles in comfortably next to me. As much as I’m impatient to get home to him, I find myself unable to resist telling my parents about him.

“He’s a wolf shifter, from the Whisper Woods. We met several years ago on my travels and then kept running into each other over the years. It seemed like a fateful chance each time. We never dreamed anything could come of our connection. He was unable to come to Tathys and I could never leave it. But now… now there is a chance for us.” I take a deep breath and look up at the swaying branches of the willow. “He’s like no being I have ever met. He loves fi ercely. He makes me laugh. Seff—his name is Seff—being with him, it is like the other half of my spirit I didn’t know I was missing.”

“Well, why didn’t you bring him today?” Bapa blusters, sitting up to give my mother a happy, loving look. I know one of his great fears is that he would pass before I am mated.

“I wasn’t sure that was wise. Your message didn’t have a reason for your request and I did not want to bring Seff here if it were an inconvenience.” I have to tread carefully, not willing to upset my father when he’s in such a positive mood today. But Maman’s face twists in confusion.

“My darling,” she begins hesitantly, “we’re happy you are here, but we did not send a message. Your visit is a surprise to us.”

I blink at her, and then my father, who is not listening, but instead muttering to himself about inconveniences.

“What do you mean you? I had a message requesting that I pay you a visit as soon as I was able?” A cold tremor grips my spine, the pit of dread that I buried this morning blossoming painfully.

Maman shakes her head, the flowers in her hair sagging as her happiness fades. “I sent no message, Rafe. I swear it upon the Gods and my flowers.”

Brydon .

I know, without even the smallest shadow of a doubt that Brydon is responsible for the falsified missive. There is no one in Tathys with the skills to create a fake as flawlessly as him.

My stomach clenches painfully, panic splintering my thoughts into a thousand directions, each more disastrous than the last.

What purpose does Brydon have for sending me away? Was it for his own malevolent intentions or is he in some unknown danger that he has not felt able to trust me with? Have I not supported him? Been there for him and aided him through it all? Why would he feel the need to deceive me in a manner such as this?

My instincts were correct this morning, and I was a fool to question them, but right now is not the time for self-recrimination.

Because I left the man that I love, with the being, who it appears has betrayed me.

Swallowing the squall of emotions threatening to take away my reasoning, I stand abruptly. “Maman, Bapa, I—I must go. Now. I will message when I can. But keep safe. Please .”

I don’t hear their goodbyes, I’m already gone, tearing through the trees desperate to save Seff, and even Brydon, from whatever has begun.