In the Wake of the Wicked (Veridian Empire #1)

21. Rose

21

Rose

I woke to something nudging my forehead.

Something… wet . And cold.

Releasing a groan, I reached out a hand to shove the intruder aside, when my skin met warm fur. I pried my eyes open and gasped at the sight of a black nose, a whiskered, white muzzle surrounded by a red coat of fur, and bright golden eyes staring back at me.

A fox.

I sat straight up, and a soft blanket fell into my lap. Confusion and alarm swept in. Where was I? What happened to me?

The fight with Callum came back in fragmented pieces, along with a pounding in my skull. I’d been on a path in the forest heading to the memorial. I fell off Colette and passed out, then ended up…

Slowly, I glanced up at the fox before me. The moment I moved, it sprang to all four paws and padded across the room to a door. With almost human-like grace, it wrapped its two front paws around the knob, turned it, and slunk out the door.

I blinked rapidly. How badly had I hit my head?

I stood from the small couch I’d been sleeping on, rubbing the back of my neck. The motion made me catch my breath as a sharp pain reverberated through my right side all the way up to the back of my head. Carefully, I peeled my black shirt up to find a massive bruise along my ribs. My fingers traced over the deep purple blotches, wincing at even the slightest pressure. Digging into my pouch, I pulled out a small ginger root and bit down on the end, muttering the spell for pain relief my aunt had taught me long ago.

I took a step forward and pain shot up my entire right side, my head spinning and throbbing. My magic was severely weakened from so much use today—it was going to take much more than a piece of ginger to make this go away. How was I supposed to get out of here? And where was “here,” anyway?

Turning gently in a wide arc, I took in the space around me. It looked like a modest-sized cottage. Wooden rafters lined the ceiling. Natural light came from three windows stationed around the single large room, which functioned as a living space and a kitchen. The couch faced a brick fireplace in the center of the wall, with a couple of blankets thrown over the back and an empty glass resting on an end table. Past the couch and to my right was a circular table and three chairs, a shelf with three plates, three bowls, and three mugs, and a counter holding a variety of imperishable foods—bread, apples, and dried meat.

Sitting on the counter was a basket with little glass vials and burlap pouches, twigs of what I recognized as lavender and thistle sticking out from some of them.

Did an Alchemist live here?

I limped over to the basket, keeping my arm wrapped around my side as pain echoed in me with each step. I needed to find something to heal me. The only remedies I’d brought with me were the ginger root and a vial of cedarwood oil, which worked best on topical injuries like a knife wound.

The familiar sweet and earthy scent of herbs and charms washed over me when I reached for the first bag in the basket.

I paused, my fingers hovering over rough burlap. The back of my neck tingled, the hair on my arms raising as a ringing formed low in my ears .

Before I could turn, a thick, warm rope wrapped around my neck like a noose.

I inhaled sharply and choked, pain shooting down my right side as I tried to move both hands to claw at my throat. A strangled cry left my lips.

“That,” a low voice growled from somewhere above me, “does not belong to you.”

“Let—go—of me,” I panted, reaching for my satchel.

“And let you use your charms on me? Not a chance, little Alchemist.”

I stilled. I recognized that voice. “Who are you?”

A rustle sounded from the ceiling. I shifted my gaze upward, the movement making the rope tighten around my throat, momentarily stealing the breath from my lungs.

On the wooden beams of the rafters, mere feet above my head, crouched a shadowed figure. One I’d met twice before.

This time, he wore no cloak, only black pants and a loose white tunic with the sleeves rolled up his arms, exposing tan skin corded with muscles and a tattoo of two fierce animal faces on his forearm. The veins around it flexed as he clenched his hand, his piercing black eyes practically glowing in the darkness.

“Of course, it’s you ,” I grumbled.

“Believe me, you’re the last person I expected to find breaking into my home.” In one swift movement, he leapt off the beam and landed before me. The rope at my throat twitched and unwound itself, falling to the floor and slinking behind him.

That’s when I realized…it wasn’t a rope.

Swallowing, I rubbed my neck, instinctively moving backward. “Is that…do you have a tail ?”

“Tell me,” he started, taking a step toward me with a suspicious glint in his eye. I could feel the wariness and distrust radiating from him. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla—the same scent that lingered long after I’d left the shadowed alcove yesterday morning—engulfed me. “Who sent you?”

I scoffed. “What are you talking about? Nobody sent me. ”

He growled softly and moved again, and I backed away until my spine hit a wall. A low hiss escaped me as an ache spiked through my skull and side.

Instantly, he stopped moving. His eyes flashed at the sound. “You’re hurt,” he said, almost surprised.

“I’m fine.”

His gaze fell to my right side, which my arm was protectively wrapped around. My jaw twitched from suppressing a grunt as his eyes slowly trailed back up my body to meet mine once more.

The front door banged open. He didn’t so much as blink. I craned my neck to see around him and spotted a beautiful blonde-haired woman in a deep burgundy cloak standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

“Leo! What are you doing to her?” she asked, dulcet voice sharp with annoyance.

He sighed and ran a hand through his dark brown hair. Turning to face her, he said, “I should have known she was one of your strays.”

“One of her—” I shook my head to clear my confusion, then winced at the motion. “Excuse me, I’ve never met this woman before.”

To my surprise, she smirked. “Funny way of saying ‘thank you for saving my life,’ but I’ll take it.”

I stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Yes, Rissa, I’d like to know that, as well,” the man—Leo—said, irritation lacing his words. “I thought Lark had you helping with the first trial.”

Rissa unfastened her cloak and threw it onto the back of the couch as she approached us. Growing closer, I could see her mischievous, glittering onyx eyes, so very similar to the man at my side. But hers held a softness that his didn’t, a playful gleam that had me wondering if she enjoyed toying with us like this.

“She did. You’re looking at it,” Rissa responded casually, gesturing at me. “I couldn’t very well let our charge lie alone in those woods after a horse nearly trampled her, could I? ”

“ You’re the one who brought me here?” I asked, trying to piece together the last few hours. Fates, I didn’t even know how much time had passed. And had Leo mentioned Lark? How did they know who she was? Or me , for that matter?

“Yes, well, after chasing off that maniac Illusionist once he broke free from whatever spell you had over him. Turns out, he’s afraid of a little bite.” On the last word, Rissa’s eyes took on a golden glow as her pupils elongated. Large canines burst from her mouth and she bit playfully in the air, her features returning to normal a split second later.

I gasped and gripped at the wall behind me. “You’re a Shifter?” She smiled in answer, and something dawned on me. The fox who’d been at my side when I woke up…it had similar golden, glowing eyes. “Are you a…a fox? The one who was here when I came to?”

Her smile widened and she gave me a mock bow. “At your service. Now, we need to get you back in shape so you can finish your trial. Lark’s going to kill me if she finds out I almost let you get killed on the first day.”

Anxiety raced through me. “What time is it?” I asked, whirling around to find a clock and instantly regretting the sudden movement. Pain lanced up my side, the ginger root hardly dimming the intensity.

Rissa pulled a pocket watch from inside the burgundy cloak hanging over the couch. “Six o’clock.”

“ Six ?” Over half my time was gone, and only a couple more hours were left with full sunlight. I had to get back to the trial.

Leo looked at me, his features pulled into a scowl while his eyes burned with displeasure. “ This is her? The person Lark enlisted for the mission?”

I didn’t know how he knew about that, but his condescension made me bristle. “I have a name, you know,” I snapped.

He ignored me and turned on Rissa. “It’s been a single day, and already Lark’s precious chosen one has ended up on our doorstep. You failed to mention she was a challenger —one who wound up injured barely into her first trial, by the looks of it.” When Rissa stayed silent, he scoffed. “And this is who we expect to infiltrate the most notorious Alchemist in history.” He stepped closer to Rissa and lowered his voice, but I still caught his spiteful words. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I should be the one doing this. This is a joke, and you know it.”

Anger blazed through me, hot and poisonous. As he spoke with his back to me, my eyes landed on a familiar vial of pale yellow liquid sticking out of the basket on the counter. An idea sparked in my heated, aggravated mind, and I swiftly dabbed a bit of the oil on my tongue, along with mistletoe leaves from my pouch. Whispering a quick incantation, I pushed off from the wall and made my way toward him, ignoring the spike of pain in my side.

“Oh, I’m a joke?” I said through my teeth. “You didn’t seem to feel that way when I took down that Shifter in the forest. Or when I saw you yesterday morning. Tell me, monkey boy ,” I mocked his earlier words, stopping inches from his face. His icy stare met my own. “What makes you think you’re so much better than me?”

His eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to respond when suddenly, his face froze. He swallowed, licking his lips, then tried again to speak. Nothing but a grunt came out.

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” I asked coldly. Turning to Rissa, I said, “Is he always this way?”

The fox Shifter simply stared at us with her arms crossed over her chest, curiosity and amusement on her features.

Leo moved his arm to grab me, but the motion was jerky and stunted. I tsk ed. “Did I say you could move?” Fingering the vial of oil, I leaned in closer. “I may be a joke to you, but at least I’m not arrogant enough to let an Alchemist get near enough to cast on me.” I shoved the glass vial into his outstretched, still frozen hand.

“Now, we’re going to start over, and you two are going to tell me who you are and what’s going on. Yes?” I hissed at him.

“Yes, ma’am.” Rissa’s voice came from beside me, that smirk back on her lips. I looked at Leo, whose fierce eyes defiantly held mine for a second. Two. And then he lowered them, his sharp jaw tightening.

“ Finiscere ,” I said, taking my thistle and releasing Leo from the spell. He immediately staggered forward, a snarl working itself up his throat.

“Oh, come on, Leo,” Rissa said, laughing. “You have to admit, that was good. What did you use, anyway?” She grabbed the vial from his hand and opened it. Taking a sniff, she said in surprise, “Calamus oil?”

“Among other things,” I said smoothly. Calamus oil mixed with mistletoe had been a potion I’d found in my father’s Grimoire that, when inhaled by your target, placed them under your control for a brief period. Back when I’d first discovered it, my magic had been stronger, able to hold the spell for longer periods. I’d used it for the first time when I was seventeen and caught a boy hitting young Beau. Needless to say, his schoolmates thought twice about tormenting him after that, and I further solidified my reputation as the poisoned, headstrong outcast.

But Beau had been safe—that’s what mattered.

“Clever. Perhaps Lark picked well after all, hmm?” Rissa said pointedly to Leo, who hadn’t taken his gaze off of me. “On that note, I think it’s time for a proper introduction. Leo, this is Rose Wolff—the new Feywood challenger and the person Lark has chosen to trust with our little quest . Although, I get the feeling you two already know each other.”

“We’ve met,” Leo said curtly.

“Well, then.” Rissa clapped her hands together, seeming to enjoy this far too much. She extended a hand to me, a warm smile on her fair and freckled face. “I’m Clarissa, Rissa for short. And this is Zareleon.”

My blood ran cold. I knew those names.

My heart pounded in my chest, working its way up my throat, a roar filling my ears. Along with five words.

Branock Aris sends his love .

“You’re…you’re the twins. The Aris twins,” I said hollowly, barely registering the words coming out of my mouth.

For the first time, Clarissa looked nervous. She tucked a blonde curl behind her ear and nodded. “In the flesh.”

Something venomous snaked its way through my veins, boiling over, drowning me.

I turned slowly to face Zareleon. “Your father is the reason mine is dead.”

And I launched myself at him.