Awry

  Ana kept her chin high. “You are poisoned and black inside. I will not help you.”

  “You will!”

  “I will not!”

  He slapped a hand across her face and demanded, “You will give me what’s mine!”

  Ana rubbed her face and stared at him defiantly. “Never.”

  Francis released her sleeve, stepped back, and cocked his head to the side again. “Then you leave me no choice.” With a forceful blow, he ran his fist into Ana’s face, knocking her to the ground and sucking the air from her lungs.

  Ana’s head hit the hard floor and blackness closed in around her as she started to lose consciousness.

  ***************

  Tristan lay on the riverbank with Scarlet in his arms. After a long and unsuccessful day of hunting, he and Scarlet had gone for a swim and now lay together watching the afternoon sun glint off the river.

  Scarlet was draped across his bare torso, tracing circles against his skin with her finger. Her long hair flowed over his chest and down to the grass beneath them, lifting slightly in the soft wind.

  Tristan kissed the top of her head and ran a hand down her back. She was so small and soft and tough and brave…and she was forever in his heart. There was nothing he could do to remove her, even if he wanted to.

  Which he never would.

  Scarlet picked up a newly-fallen leaf beside them and bent it over in her hand, breaking the leaf in half. A dark green syrup oozed from where the leaf split and ran down Scarlet’s thumb.

  She turned her head to him and gave a mischievous smile.

  He raised a brow.

  Scarlet sat up and eyed his torso.

  “What?” he asked, looking down at himself.

  “Nothing.” She bent to kiss his lips and then sat back up. Resting a hand on the grass, she set the dark green edge of the leaf to Tristan’s side and began to draw on him, the green syrup from the leaf staining his skin as she traced across his hip.

  “What are you doing?” He looked down, amused.

  “I am drawing an arrowhead, for you are a great hunter and your arrows are true and steady. Just like your heart.”

  She kept her eyes on his skin as she finished the arrowhead and began to draw around it.

  Soon, her leaf became dry and she quickly found another, breaking it in half to squeeze out more of the green stain. She went back to her drawing, making strokes that went upward, and then started to draw strokes downward.

  Her hands drew a stroke low on his hip, passing his hipbone and traveling even lower to the center of his body, causing him to shiver at her touch.

  “And what are those marks?” he slanted his eyes to her.

  “These marks,” Scarlet finished with her drawing and ran her fingertips along the lower design, clearly loving the shiver she pulled from him. “Are just for fun.”

  She tickled him again and this time he caught her wrist with a smile. “You are evil, woman.”

  She started laughing and Tristan gathered her into his arms, trying to tickle her neck with his lips. Her laughter rang up to the trees, across the quiet water, and rolled along the soft grass. Beautiful and free, the melody was everything Tristan wanted to feel inside himself for the rest of his days.

  When he released her from his grasp and her laughter cooled, she tucked herself right back into his arms, laying her head against his chest.

  He stroked her hair for a moment, thinking of how wonderful his life had been since Scarlet had entered it.

  “Marry me,” he said.

  He could not live without her and he did not want to. Not ever.

  Scarlet was silent for a long time. “Don’t be foolish, Hunter.”

  He smiled at the sky above them. “Marry me, Scar.”

  She turned her head to look at him with big blue eyes, her cheek smashed against his chest. “I do not belong in your village or your castle.”

  “You belong right here.” He looked at her and stroked her back. “With me. We can live in the village, or the castle, or the woods or the water…wherever you want. We will take your mother and be a family.”

  Scarlet eyes looked pained. “But I have nothing for you. I am a thief. I am nothing.”

  He smiled at her. “You are everything.” He went back to stroking her hair and lowered his voice to just above a whisper, “Marry me, Scar.”

  “Are you sure you want me?” Her eyes looked so insecure that Tristan thought his heart would break. How could this girl doubt his love even for a moment?

  “I love you,” he said. “I want you more than life itself. Forever.” He brushed a hand across her cheek. “And I will take care of you always. Marry me.”

  Scarlet blinked and stared at him with her lips parted.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Yes?”

  “Yes,” she repeated, smiling. “But only because I love you.”

  Filled with joy, Tristan’s heart felt as full as his arms as he wrapped Scarlet against his chest and kissed her passionately.

  He was complete.

  ***************

  Ana awoke to the cold trickle of water sliding down her throat. Dizzy and confused, she slowly opened her eyes and found herself propped up against Francis as he held her mouth open and tipped his jug of evil water into her throat.

  “No!” Ana slapped the jug away and quickly stood up, bending her knees, ready to fight. Or run. Or claw his eyes out with her fingernails. The edge of her mouth throbbed and Ana felt hot blood ooze from where her brother’s punch had split open her lip. “Are you mad?”

  Standing from the floor as well, Francis yelled, “Yes! Yes, Ana, I am mad! I am mad with thirst and I am quickly running out of my supply of blue water. I need the map!”

  “You need freedom. You are enslaved by your wicked water!”

  He walked up to her, his vile breath wafting into her nostrils. Ana refused to budge. She would not flinch or cower. She would not be afraid.

  He curled a lip. “As are you, my sister.” He shook the jug in his hands. “You have now tasted the wicked water and you will now need it to survive.” He looked proud of himself. “Now, give me the map and we shall find the water we both need, together.”

  Ana swallowed back her fear. “No.”

  He screamed and knocked the small wooden table in the center of the room over. Pointing at her, he cried, “The water will drive you to insanity and you will need more. And I,” he lowered his voice and strode back up to her face, “will be back to save you. I will return for the map and you will gladly hand it to me in your suffering.” Whipping his head around, Francis left, clutching the jug to his side.

  For a few minutes, Ana stood still, breathing in and out heavily.

  She was going to die.

  Francis had just poisoned her and there was no escape. She would become like him and perish without more water.

  Her mouth ceased to throb and she brought a hand up to inspect her bloody lip. The wound had already healed, leaving only a dab of dried blood as evidence of her injury. The water was already working.

  Ana had two choices: She could surrender the map to Francis and use his resources to find the fountain and save her life.

  Or she could die a painful death, letting the poison die with her.

  Ana straightened her back and rubbed her palms on her dirty dress as she came to a decision.

  She would die. Painfully.

  But first, she needed to speak with the Archer boy and make sure he would care for Scarlet once Ana died. Tristan would keep Scarlet safe.

  From the way he spoke of Scarlet to Ana, he probably intended to marry her.

  Although the earl might never allow it.

  Tristan probably planned to run off with Scarlet and while that was deeply romantic, it was not what Ana wanted for her child. Scarlet had been running and hiding for too many years. She deserved a chance at a real life. A life without danger. A life where she could be free to love and live without
having to beg or steal.

  Ana touched a finger to the silver brooch she wore and a thought struck her.

  A risky thought.

  Making a decision, Ana gathered her cloak and walked out the door of her hut.

  If Scarlet knew what Ana was doing, she would never allow it.

  Neither would Tristan.

  Ana swallowed back the ill feeling in her gut.

  Scarlet and Tristan may have believed that they had everything they needed, but Ana knew better. Love wasn’t always enough.

  Sometimes, true love needed a little incentive.

  28

  A week after Scarlet’s eyes had flashed and Tristan had fled, Heather’s voice cut through Scarlet’s thoughts. “You’re doing it again.”

  Outside the coffee shop windows, snow was quietly falling on the town. January was almost over and people were bundled up against the winter weather and buzzing about the fair next month. Scarlet watched Marge, a homeless woman who lived off of Main Street, shuffle through the cold and her heart squeezed in sympathy.

  “What?” Scarlet pulled her eyes away from Marge and looked at Heather, seated across from her at The Millhouse coffee shop. “What am I doing?”

  “Staring off into space while I’m talking to you.”

  “Oh.” Scarlet looked directly into Heather’s brown eyes. “Sorry.”

  A pretty woman with dark hair approached their table, wearing a Millhouse apron and carrying two mugs in her hands.

  “Hi, Heather,” the woman said with a warm smile, setting down a tall white mug in front of Heather and a red mug in front of Scarlet. “Can’t get enough of our coffee, huh? Coming in on your days off?”

  Heather worked at The Millhouse four nights a week to support her shopping habit. And her coffee habit.

  Heather smiled. “Well, you know me. Can’t go a day without coffee. Clare, this is my friend Scarlet,” Heather gestured to Scarlet, “Scarlet, this is my boss, Clare. She owns The Millhouse.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Scarlet said, shaking hands with Clare. “Your coffee is delicious.”

  Clare smiled. “Well, you know what they say; whoever controls the caffeine controls the happiness.” Clare winked. “You girls enjoy your drinks. Nice to meet you, Scarlet.” Clare shuffled away to serve more customers.

  Heather looked at Scarlet. “So…anyway, back to you staring at the stars. Again.”

  Scarlet shook her head, feeling guilty for not paying attention earlier. “I’m listening now. What were you saying?”

  “I was talking about the fair and whether or not the mayor will wind up in the dunk tank again, but I think we should probably talk about what’s on your mind instead.”

  “Nothing’s on my mind.”

  Heather glared at her.

  “What?” Scarlet took a sip of hot chocolate from the red mug and burned her tongue.

  Stupid hot beverages.

  Heather jutted her chin. “Don’t act like you’re fine, Scarlet. I know you. You’re upset. And you’ve been all mopey ever since your eyes flashed and….” Heather paused and her eyes widened. “It’s Tristan, isn’t it?”

  Scarlet opened her mouth to respond.

  “O-M-G,” Heather interrupted. “You’re crushing on Gabriel’s twin brother, aren’t you? You’re all sad that he’s gone!”

  “I’m not sad that he left. I’m just….surprised.”

  “You’re surprised that a guy who cares about you doesn’t want you to die?” Heather took a sip of her coffee, somehow managing to avoid any tongue burns.

  “No, I’m surprised he didn’t say goodbye.”

  “Well, of course he didn’t say goodbye.” Heather put down her mug. “You would have convinced him to stay.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Oh, please.” Heather rolled her eyes. “You would have been like Oh, Tristan, please don’t go. Stay with me so I can crush on you and giggle at everything you say.” Heather nodded. “That’s what it would have been like. In that high-pitched voice and everything.”

  “First of all, I don’t giggle,” Scarlet said. “Second, I am not crushing on Tristan.”

  Heather waved a hand. “You think he’s attractive. Admit it.”

  Scarlet squinted at her. “Of course I think he’s attractive. He’s Gabriel’s twin brother.”

  “Yeah.” Heather took another drink. “That’s what makes this whole…” Heather waved her hand in a big circle in front of Scarlet, “…thing…sick. And hot. It’s a sick, hot mess.” Heather took another drink. “You have a thing for your boyfriend’s twin brother.”

  Scarlet leaned forward. “There’s no thing.”

  “Oh, there’s a thing.”

  Scarlet shook her head.

  “Really?” Heather leaned back in her seat. “Then why do you miss him so much? And why do you blush when you talk about him? And why, on earth, are you wearing those boots with that skirt?” Heather’s eyes darted to Scarlet’s shoes. “I know you’re from, like, biblical times or whatever, but really? This isn’t 1996, Scarlet. And even if it was…that skirt? Seriously.”

  Scarlet ignored Heather’s criticism. “I miss Tristan because….” Scarlet searched for a reason that had nothing to do with her attraction to him. “It’s a…it’s a curse thing.”

  Yeah. That sounded good.

  Heather set her elbow on the table and placed her chin in her hand. “I’m listening.”

  “Tristan and I are connected.”

  “Yes, I know. He can ‘feel’ you. Which sounds both sexy and creepy.”

  Scarlet nodded. “And I can feel him.”

  Heather’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?”

  “I can feel when he’s near and when he’s anxious.” Scarlet swallowed. “I know when he’s sad and when he’s jealous. I can feel him. I feel everything.”

  Heather ran her fingers across her lips thoughtfully. “And how does that explain your crush?”

  “I don’t have a cru—” Scarlet closed her eyes, took a breath, and looked back at her friend. “I’m drawn to him, that’s all.”

  “Because of the curse?” Heather looked at Scarlet skeptically.

  “Yes.”

  Liar.

  Scarlet looked down at her mug and felt for Tristan. She felt the pain his body bore and she could feel his heart softly beating behind hers. Constant. Steady.

  Odd how she never seemed to notice it before her mini-death. But there it was, silently hovering alongside her heart, whispering a heartbeat that felt familiar and faded.

  Was he far away? Was he close?

  Did it matter?

  Scarlet sighed. “I just don’t think it’s fair for Tristan to put himself through physical pain because my stupid eyes flashed one time. Wherever he is right now, he’s hurting. I can feel it.” Scarlet pointed to her chest, where Tristan’s heart rocked against her own. “I’m hurting him.”

  Heather slowly nodded. Placing her hands flat on the table between them, she leaned forward until Scarlet met her eyes. “It might not be fair, but it’s safe. And if you want to live long enough to find the fountain, safe is the way to go. Forget Tristan.”

  That was impossible. Scarlet couldn’t remember Tristan from her past, but somehow she knew she could never forget him either.

  Which was something she didn’t know how to explain to Heather. So she didn’t.

  Taking a deep breath, Scarlet said. “You’re right. I’m safe. I’m still healthy. And Tristan being gone is good for me.” She nodded, feeling her stomach drop to the floor. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I am.” Heather’s lips turned up, but her smile looked forced.

  Scarlet took another sip of her drink, burning her tongue again.

  Stupid, stupid hot drinks.

  ***************

  The next day, Tristan woke up to fresh snow falling on the trees of the Avalon forest.

  Tristan had tried to put distance between him and Scarlet last week, but he’d only made it to the highw
ay before his body started to revolt in agony.

  He spent the first night away from her in a motel at the edge of town, writhing in pain in her absence. Their connection was stronger than ever, making it impossible for him to put any real distance between them.

  Realizing he wouldn’t physically be able to leave Avalon, Tristan had made a new plan that would keep him in town, but away from Scarlet.

  He remembered the shack, broken and abandoned, on the Archer property and resolved to hole up there. It seemed fitting to isolate himself amidst the trees and the stars. A place no one else knew about. A place of silence.

  So Tristan had spent the last week sleeping in the shack. His body had not stopped aching though. Not once.

  He looked out of one of the dusty windows at the falling flecks of white. Along with the morning snow came a sense of peace. Tristan wasn’t as far away as he wanted to be from Scarlet, but he was far enough away to keep her safe.

  And that was all that mattered.

  Maybe in his absence, Scarlet, Nate and Gabriel would find the fountain. Tristan thought briefly of what it would mean to live without the curse.

  He would live without pain.

  Scarlet would live with a healthy heart.

  Gabriel would live with the freedom to love whomever he wanted.

  But would any of them really be free of the centuries of heartache?

  Probably not.

  A chill tickled his spine as he moved away from the window and started making a mental list of all the things he needed to do to fix up the shack. He’d already replaced the door and the couch. Now he needed to gut the place, clean it and refurnish it.

  Tristan had his work cut out for him.

  Good.

  29

  Cornelius stared at the peasant woman for a long time. She was probably close to him in age, but she looked much younger. She wore a simple dress with few tears and thin leather shoes, stained with mud and the sun.

  Most of her appearance suggested she was rather poor. Everything but the cloak she had draped over her head and shoulders and the silver brooch she had pinned to her chest.