Page 109 of Blood of the Fairest

Vast trunks rise around us, their roots curling across the ground like gnarled serpents. The dense, twisted trees branch high above, knitting themselves into a canopy so thick that the cloudy daylight can only fall in bruised ribbons upon the forest floor. Leaves rustle without wind to stir them, the thick scents of damp earth and moss stagnating in the chilled air.

I am on edge already, far too aware of the dangers that lurk here. It only worsens when I realize Verena's soul scent is no longer right beside me.

I turn quickly around to see that she has not followed me for several paces.

"Verena?" Eris prompts, concerned.

If she heard him, she shows no signs of it. She stands hugging herself on the path, eyes trailing curiously over the trees. Her head tips, brow furrowing.

"I will protect you," I reassure her.

Verena's dark blue gaze finds me. She shakes herself to escape a thought.

"I know. It's just—I expected these woods to remind me of a memory I'd rather forget. Instead, I feel kind of…safe, right now. And believe me, I do not throw that word around lightly," she adds.

"Safe? In the Loomdark?" Eris sputters.

Eldrunia spare me—Eris is right. Her survival instincts must be horrifically askew.

"Perhaps I should carry you so you are not led astray by a wight," I mutter, frowning at the darkness around us as we travel onward.

"Carry me? Either you don't get what metaphorically ovulating means, or you just love to tempt me," she sighs, poking one of my arms. "I promise not to wander off, so put those muscles away, mister. I'm only human."

How strange that Verena thinks I tempt her on purpose, when she is a walking sin I would give anything to commit.

Perhaps when we return to Isenmere, I should do as Eris suggested. The idea of using my blood to tempt my vantaði seems underhanded, yet I am at my wit's end.

I will find some way to show this woman what we could mean to one another if she stays in this world.

What she already means to me, as shown in that mirror in the green-door room.

We walk for some time in silence. My eyes continually scan our surroundings for signs of danger. We pass several unmarked graves so overgrown by the Loomdark that I doubt Verena sees them.

Once, I look behind and see eyes glowing in the shadowed distance, watching us. I tense, preparing to defend Verena against the creature's attack—but its large, monstrous silhouette turns and lumbers the other way.

I frown at the bizarre happening, turning forward again.

Meanwhile, Verena's nerves appear the opposite of mine. She hums a slow, sweet, melancholy tune to herself as she steps over another thick root.

"Is this yet another song from your world about mirrors?" Eris prompts. "Who is it this time, Michael or the Lake of Timbers?"

"Timberlake," she corrects. "And no. Actually, I'm not sure where I heard this. The melody just randomly gets stuck in my head now and then. You wouldn't believe the amount of times I've tried to Shazam it."

"Shazam?"

"That one takes some explaining, and I'd rather not because you and I aren't friends right now."

Eris is exasperated once more and starts to reply, but cuts off when a distant scream reaches our ears.

Verena whirls, appearing ready to leap into danger herself. "That's a girl screaming. Come on, let's⁠—"

"Screams in this forest are often the call of monsters luring their prey," I warn quietly.

The scream fades as abruptly as it began. I unsheath my knife, prepared to slaughter whatever I can feel watching us, yet nothing happens.

We travel on until we near a small bridge crossing a babbling brook. Though it is surrounded by thick woods now, I recognize it as having been quite near Ida's cottage.

Gently, I place a hand on Verena's waist to keep her from taking another step forward. Lifting my chin, I sample the air deeply.