Page 33 of An Arrow to the Heart

So he drank.

And drank.

Until all his worries were carried away on a cloud of honey.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

-Sylvie-

Sylvie soon came to realise she had really hurt his feelings, and she felt fucking awful about it.

He came home late that night, drunk as a skunk and he hadn’t come to her bed. He then slept a large portion of the following day, and they only exchanged awkward pleasantries. He was clearly avoiding her, and she supposed she was avoiding him too. The tension between them thick as the ice-licked fog that clung to the mountains like a warning of the coming winter. She didn’t want him gone and she didn’t like the thought of him upset but she also categorically did not want to talk to him about this. And she really needed to focus all of her attention on her twin brother right now.

She was close, she knew she was.

She’d come across a spell that she believed might actually work. She wasn’t accustomed to spells though. Sure, she had dabbled in light potion making, but never anything as heavy as true spells and she couldn’t trust herself, the outcome was too important, not that it mattered anyway for the spell required a certain ingredient that she could not provide. She’d gone over the options in her mind, relentlessly, again and again. She was certain her interpretation of the texts were correct. She’d combed over them thoroughly. No matter how she looked at it, there was no other way. Sylvie would require the aid of a bone witch.

The books Kain had provided her with had sent her down this particular avenue. He had been right and she was now certain that their earthen magic of bone manipulation is what had actually happened to Sylas. The latest books she’d acquired at the fair had provided the last missing pieces.

This is the only way, she told herself as she stared at the near crumbling, moth-eaten pages in her hand, the ink on them barely legible. Her hand trembled slightly as she took a deep breath, stilling her nerves and packed the pages into her bag. But before she would make the visit to a bone witch, she needed to acquire the other rare ingredient. As much as she loathed the thought of attending the black market Berengar had informed her about, she really didn’t have a choice. In fact, the timing couldn't be more perfect and she wouldn’t waste this opportunity. Even if that meant pushing Ardál away.

She needed to do this.

Gather the ingredients.

Convince the bone witch to help.

Free Sylas.

For the first time in decades, Sylvie had hope. She’d spent the previous night in a restless sleep, her mind whirling in thoughts. Of course Ardál hadn't sought her out, only adding to her frustration. The tension between them had only continued, him having chosen to again spend the entire afternoon and evening at the Alehouse. She pushed thoughts of him to the back of her mind as she got ready for the day.

Today was the day of the meet and she quickly wrapped a loaf of sourdough bread in beeswax paper and chucked some apples, carrots, cheese and dried meats into the bag along with the hard boiled eggs she’d prepared before grabbing the water skin and putting that in too. She had also packed spare clothes, a medical pack, a small tent and a bedroll, just in case. She was hoping to travel through the night to get back to Wyrmwind as quickly as possible once she got the required item but she preferred to be prepared. Nerves fluttered in her belly as she picked up the small wooden box she needed for the trade and put it into her belted pouch. It was too valuable to keep anywhere but on her body. She donned her forest-green woollen cloak, its hood fur lined, not only would it keep her warm in the dropping temperatures but it would allow her to blend into the woods better for she preferred not to draw attention to herself on this quest, and having hair the colour of the moon made that rather difficult.

“I’ll be out all day, making a house call. I’ll probably be back late so don’t wait up,” she said to Ardál, swinging the bag onto her back, who looked at her as though he knew she was lying before he nodded.

I’ll fix it when I'm back, she promised herself as she left the pink cottage in her wake. Her cheeks reddened by the morning air, crisp and cold, a hint of winter’s approach. The woods were silent as though still asleep. She was headed to the stables, opting to ride on horseback for speed. She saddled Mabel, the black mare, mounted and set off into the northern mountains without looking back.

She’d been travelling at a steady trot for a few hours, steadily climbing in altitude on the windy paths deeper into the wild mountains and she breathed in the scent of pine and juniper. The mountains truly were breathtakingly stunning up here, the tall trees stretching far above her and beyond that the mountain peaks wore the clouds as hats. She could hear the trickling sound of a stream just ahead and decided it’d be a good place to rest the horse. She dismounted, leaving the animal to drink from the stream while she went and relieved herself behind some nearby blueberry bushes. Just then she heard the sound of hooves on the path and the unmistakable sound of whistling. A sound she’d recognise anywhere.

Ardál.

What in the seven Hels was he doing here? Had he followed her?

He must have, why else would he be here. She quickly made her way back to her mare, there was no point hiding, he was clearly aware she was there.

“Were you following me?” she asked him, rather displeased, her hand perched on her hip as she stood in the reeds by the stream.

“No,” said Ardál without hesitation bringing his mare to a halt, a cocky expression upon his face. Why did he have to look so damn good up on that horse?

“Then what are you doing here?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’m merely travelling somewhere. Why are you here?” He asked, his eyes moving up and down her body, entirely too slow, like he was picturing what was beneath her clothes, because of course he knew. And that too familiar look in his eyes brought butterflies to her stomach.

“You know I’d be careful standing so close to the water, you could slip and fall in, I’d hate for you to be wet for the remainder of the journey,” he said with a wicked grin, teasing her.

The fucker, as if he didn’t know why she was there. He either followed her or took note of the meeting location. Damnit, she should have burned that damned note as soon as she got it and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of paying that second part any attention.

“You know exactly why I’m here,” she said, not at all amused, her brows scrunched. She was surprised that she managed to remain stern, for she felt her body already betray her at the way he had mentally undressed her. How did this human man manage to make her so weak in the knees?