The Springborn

SABELLA

I n the woods beyond the stone wall, Calder discovers footprints in the mud, just where Fabian said the kidnapping occurred. They were made by narrow boots with pointed toes. A woman’s boots. Delphine’s boots.

“You can let go now,” I say, unsuccessfully trying to free my hand from his. I only meant to hurry him out of the house, and I ended up holding his hand for half an hour. Half an hour!

“It’s only friendly hand-holding,” he insists. “A sensible measure to ensure that we don’t become separated in the woods.” His imitation of innocence would not fool even the most gullible child.

I yank harder and fail again. “Well, we’ve been friendly enough for one day.”

“Fine. I surrender for practical reasons.” He lets go and points to where the trail of footprints leads. “That path between the rocks looks a bit treacherous. You’ll need both hands to grab onto trees where it gets steep.”

Without waiting for him, I follow the tracks. They go on for a while, first up a slope, then winding between sharp-edged, red-brown boulders, and finally through a grove of young silver birches. In a place where the ground is strewn with pebbles, the footprints become indiscernible.

Calder curses under his breath. He turns red when I look over my shoulder at him. “Sorry,” he says. “But now what will we do?”

“We will not give up. Delphine is not a ghost who can simply disappear. There will be more tracks somewhere.” I point to the left. “You search the ground along the edge of the rock face that way, and I’ll check in the other direction.”

“No.” He plants his feet and crosses his arms. “I am not moving more than ten feet away from you. Delphine is young and strong this time of year. She has some magic, too. She could take you before you even sensed her presence.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I promise I’ll be careful. Besides, she could just as soon snatch you.”

“Say what you like. I’m not leaving you. Two are better than one, as the saying goes.”

“Your stubbornness is not helping Rhys and Branna.”

“Neither is yours.”

“Fine,” I say. “We’ll stay together, although I hold to the opinion that it isn’t at all necessary.” I trudge toward the edge of the rocks and he follows me like an overgrown puppy.

My skirt snags in a thicket of thorns. I am caught like prey in a trap. I pull at the fabric, but it only seems to make the thorns grip harder. Of course nature would prove Calder right about our need to stay together within five minutes of his declaration. I wriggle and jerk the fabric furiously. If I were one to curse, the words I’d say…

“Wait,” he says behind me. “Let me help. I swear, you become more stubborn by the minute.”

Now he’s next to me. He takes a folding knife out of his pocket and starts to cut the offending branches while I stand still and brood. His nearness and his slightly musky scent fluster me. My pulse quickens. He’s done nothing but vex me for the last half hour, and yet my puerile mind reminds me of every detail of our long-ago kiss. Blast and darnation.

The fabric tears, and my skirt is free. “There,” Calder says, looking pleased with himself. “The thorns left a few holes, but they can be easily mended, I imagine.”

I must be scowling because his smile shifts into a grimace. He sets his fists on his hips. “So I still have the plague, do I?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Your face would.” He stuffs his knife into his pocket and steps back. “All I did was to help untangle you. Like a gentleman.”

“Well, there was the hand-holding.” I regret saying the words as soon as they leave my mouth.

“Blazes, Sabella. You are impossible. Was I the one who started the hand-holding? I clearly remember otherwise, Miss Let’s-be-friends. You know, I think you were right. Searching separately is a grand idea.”

He turns his back to me and rips a dead branch off a fallen tree. I watch him walk away in silence, his head bowed as he uses the branch to overturn leaves and flip stones, looking for signs of Delphine. My chest constricts with sadness because there is such misery in the slump of his shoulders and the angle he holds his head. Because I have hurt him.

“Calder, please.” I begin to follow after him. “I didn’t mean?—”

He does not turn but raises the stick in his hand as if to signal me to stop speaking. “Let’s leave it, shall we? We need to find Branna and Rhys right now, and frankly, I’m tired of whatever this is between us.”

“Very well.” Tears sting my eyes. I quickly wipe them away with my sleeve, glad he’s not looking in my direction to witness it. I asked him for friendship instead of romance, but it seems I may lose both.