Awry (3 page)

Everyone froze.

Tristan watched as the three men took notice of the patch on his right sleeve, hesitated, then ran away.

When the villains had disappeared into the trees to the south, Tristan lowered his bow and looked over at the girl.

Her bow was now drawn on him.

He sighed.

“Do you really plan to kill me?” he asked. “Even after I just saved your life?”

“What do you want?” The girl’s eyes were hard.

He could see her arm shaking and, at first, thought it was due to the strain of her bow. But then he realized her whole body was shaking.

It was a slight shake, barely noticeable, but there nonetheless.

The girl was scared.

“I want nothing of you.” Tristan put his arrow away.

“Then why did you follow me?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then why are you here?” Her pale blue eyes were accusing.

Tristan lifted his hands. “I was hunting when I heard you gasp.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I swear.” Tristan waited patiently, looking her over. Her dark hair fell almost to her elbows and framed her face. She was beautiful. Her dress was more tattered than before. But her face had grown even more stunning in the few months since they had first met.

Something inside him twitched at the thought that, had he not been in the forest today, she might be dead. Or worse.

Tristan waited with his palms outstretched.

She slowly lowered her bow, but kept her eyes on him.

Helowered his hands. “Why are you so suspicious of me?”

She began putting her weapon away. “Suspicion keeps me alive.”

He watched as she gathered her cloak around her body and tucked her hair into the hood she pulled from her back. The sun was beginning to set and soon the forest would be black.

“Good day, hunter.” She backed away from him.

He stepped over to where his horse stood and retrieved the reigns. “May I take you home?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because my home is the only safe place I know and I’d rather not bring a thief there.”

Tristan smiled. “I am no thief.”

She shrugged. “No matter. I still do not need a chaperone.” She turned to leave and Tristan felt something akin to panic kick in his gut.

He might not ever see her again.

He grasped for an excuse to keep her near him. “Are you sure you want to venture through the dark woods at night? Alone?”

Fear was not the most gentlemanly of tactics, but Tristan was desperate for her company.

Why? He had no idea.

She paused, her cloak swinging to a halt, then slowly turned back around and met his eyes. “I am not afraid of the dark.”

Tristan smirked. “If I had to guess, I’d say you are not afraid of very much.” He stepped forward. “But I am here, with a horse, offering to take you home under my protection.” He hurriedly added, “Which I know you do not need. But I’m hoping you’ll accept.”

An owl hooted in the twilight and another flock of birds ascended into the purple sky.

The girl’s eyes shifted around the forest. “Fine,” she conceded with a sharp look. “But if you try anything, I will stab you in the thigh.”

He didn’t doubt it.

Biting back a smile, Tristan said, “Fair enough.” He mounted his horse, trotted over to her, and held out a hand.

She looked at his hand like he was offering her a poisonous snake.

Cleary, she was not used to trusting others.

He waited patiently.

A moment passed and she slipped her hand inside his palm. He hoisted her up and waited until she was settled behind him.

She didn’t put her hands on him or balance herself against him in anyway. She scooted herself as far back on the saddle as she could. Tristan tried not to be offended by this as he looked back at her.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“What do you care?” she fired back.

“Must everything be so difficult with you?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged. “I guess I can call you ‘thief’ if you’d like. Or ‘girl’.”

She didn’t respond.

He faced forward and smiled to himself. He liked the girl thief, whatever her name was.

Nudging his horse, he started leading them through the trees.

“Scarlet,” came a small voice behind him. A voice that sounded more like a girl’s and less like a thief’s. “My name is Scarlet.”

Tristan didn’t turn around. “Scarlet,” he repeated. A smile spread across his face. “It suits your temperament.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Tristan asked, “Would you like to know my name?”

“Not really,” she responded.

He smiled again. “Very well. Where to, Scarlet?”

“To the east, just past the valley.”

Tristan nodded and led his horse in the direction of her home. They were silent for a long while, only owls and crickets sounding into the night. With the sun gone, the forest was now filled with shadows and creatures of the night. All of which stayed hidden.

Scarlet had yet to touch him at all, her body poised upright and distant behind him as they wove through the trees.

He wondered about her home, what it would look like. Because he delivered food to the outer villages, Tristan was familiar with the lifestyles of the poor. Would Scarlet’s home be rickety and overrun with insects? Would her roof be broken and weak?

It seemed unfair that he had been born into wealth and had never known a day of hunger or discomfort, while others were born into poverty and struggled all their lives. Maybe that was why Tristan chose to feed the hungry villagers. Maybe he wanted to make the world more fair. Maybe he felt guilty for all he had.

“Your clothes are fine.” Tristan felt Scarlet briefly touch his sleeve.

He grinned. “Are you planning to steal them?”

“No,” she answered simply. “I ammerely observing.”

They moved on for a few moments.

She cleared her throat. “Your horse is well-fed and your boots are well-made.”

Tristan nodded. “More observations?”

“You have money.” Her voice sounded resentful.

Tristan was silent for a long time. “Does that upset you?”

Scarlet paused. “Wealthy people cannot be trusted.”

Tristan guided the horse on, passing by the valley. “Have I done anything that is untrustworthy in your eyes?”

“No,” Scarlet said. “But that means little.”

Tristan took a deep breath, unsure of how to talk to this girl. He wanted her to trust him, but he didn’t know why.

He tried to sound lighthearted. “If it helps, any money I have belongs to my father. I, personally, am not rich.”

Yet.

Soon enough, he would inherit land and fortune. For no reason other than birthright.

They cleared the valley and Tristan slowed their pace, following Scarlet’s instructions as they wandered through more dense trees.

When her home came into view, Tristan brought them to a stop and turned around to look at her. In the moonlight, she looked younger and more vulnerable. Her hair lifted in the night wind and her blue eyes met his cautiously.

The small door at the front of the hut opened and an attractive older woman stepped out with worry on her face. “Scarlet, where have you been? When the sun set I was so afraid—”

“I’m fine, mama.” Scarlet dismounted and walked over to give the woman a kiss on the cheek.

“Hello,” the woman said to Tristan, looking at him carefully. “I am Ana Jacobs, Scarlet’s mother.”

Scarlet gestured to Tristan. “Mama, this is…a friend,” Scarlet said. “He brought me through the forest tonight.”

“I see.” The woman gave Tristan a shrewd smile before looking back at Scarlet. “How did hunting go?”

Softly, Scarlet said, “I have no food for us today, but tomorrow I will try again. Do not worry.”

“You have no food?” Tristan asked, shamelessly eavesdropping.

Pride stained Scarlet’s face as she turned around. “We are fine.”

He looked at the scant garden in the yard and the withered boards of the small hut, his chest tightening.

Scarlet was poor. Very poor.

Heswallowed back his hatred for the unfair world and nodded respectfully. “Very well. I shall be on my way.” He began turning his horse.

“Hunter,” Scarlet said, walking up behind him.

He stopped and met her eyes in the moonlight. “Yes?”

“What is your name?”

He smiled. “Have you grown sick of calling me hunter?”

“No,” she said. “I simply want to know who I should thank for…helping me today.”

He looked at her for a moment. “Tristan.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Tristan.”

“My pleasure, Scarlet.”

5

“No,” Gabriel began shaking his head violently, still gripping Scarlet’s hand. “No. She can’t be dead. She can’t be de—” The words lodged in his throat, suffocating him from the inside out.

He blinked back more tears and looked at Nate, whose eyes were wide and sad as he eyed Scarlet’s motionless body.

“You fixed her,” Gabriel said. “You got the arrow out. You stitched her up. She can’t be—” Gabriel couldn’t finish the sentence. Nate searched for Scarlet’s pulse and slowly shook his head. “I did everything I could.”

Gabriel squeezed Scarlet’s hand and waited in silence.

One minute…two minutes…three minutes….

No one moved or dared to speak as they stared at Scarlet’s body.

“She hasn’t disappeared yet.” Nate furrowed his brow. “Something’s wrong.”

Gabriel swallowed and traced Scarlet’s soft face with his eyes. Usually, Scarlet’s body vanished within a few minutes of her death.  That was how her curse worked. She would live. Tristan’s immortal blood living inside her would kill her. She would die. Her body would disappear. Then Tristan’s blood would bring her back to life years later.

“Maybeshe’s not dead.” Ridiculous hope filled Gabriel’s voice. “Maybe Tristan was wrong—”

“I’m not wrong,” Tristan whispered from his place on the floor, his green eyes flicking to Nate. “She’s not there. Her heart’s not beating.”

Because Tristan’s blood was embedded in Scarlet’s heart, Tristan was connected to her in a supernatural way. He could feel Scarlet’s heart and her emotions.

Something inside Gabriel snapped. Something long ago harnessed and hushed cracked in two, releasing a slow wave of helpless frustration into his veins.

              When the curse had first fallen—the curse that had promised Gabriel would never know love without Scarlet—a piece of Gabriel’s soul had been sucked away, leaving an emptiness he could never seem to fill. The emptiness followed him into nightmares and taunted him in daydreams, reminding him that he would forever be without love.

For the first few years after the curse, Gabriel hadn’t known better. He’d lived his life normally, not searchingfor, or even desiring, love. Because love was a faraway thought in his young, selfish mind.

But the years became decades, and the hole in Gabriel’s soul began to grow. Stretching and groaning, the hole overtook him until he could no longer deny the truth inside him: Something powerful and essential was gone from his heart, stolen by the curse, ripped away permanently.

Love.

He was missing love.

And the only person who could change his fate was Scarlet. Gabriel followed Scarlet from life to life, eager for love. Yet, even when Scarlet was alive—even when she loved him deeply—the emptiness inside Gabriel remained.

But her life, her presence, filled him with a gift almost as impossible as love.

Hope.

Scarlet brought Gabriel hope and made him forget about the missing piece of his soul.

She gave him hope for true love. Hope for life.Hope for freedom.

Gabriel lived for the years that Scarlet was alive, craving the distraction her heart brought to his.

But when she was dead, Gabriel was lost.

Empty, incomplete, and lost. Left to face the world with the full sting of emptiness until Scarlet came back to him.

He glanced down at her body, bloody and paleon the table.

Gabriel had spent many years loving her, protecting her. Only to lose her time and time again.

Tristan was reason the Scarlet continued to die. Tristan’s immortal blood lived in Scarlet’s heart and tore it from the inside out until her mortal body could no longer sustain its power.

Scarlet was Gabriel’s one ray of light, one beam of hope.

And Tristan had taken her from him.

He was always taking her from him.

Gabriel could almost hear his soul snap. “This is all your fault.” Gabriel glared at his twin brother as he moved around the table, lowering his voice. “She was shot with an arrow that was meant to kill you. You’re the reason she’s dead.”

It was irrational. Illogical. But Gabriel didn’t care. He needed to hate someone for the pain he felt.

Sitting on the kitchen floor with his back against the wall, Tristan looked up with wide, glossy eyes. “I was trying to save her life.”

“You were being careless!”

Tristan shook his head.

“Yes,” Gabriel said darkly. “You were being careless. Reckless.”

A muscle flexed in Tristan’s jaw as he stood up and spoke quietly. “Reckless was you allowing her to meet me when I specifically said I didn’t want to be around her.”

Gabriel’s voice rose. “No. You don’t get to blame me for this. This,” he pointed to Scarlet’s body, “is on you.” Gabriel shoved Tristan into the kitchen wall and Tristan’s eyes flashed in anger.

For a moment, they both stood still. Gabriel moved to push Tristan again and Tristan knocked his hands away, causing Gabriel to stumble back a step.

Filled with sorrow and frustration, Gabriel did the only thing he could think of to relieve his anger.

He punched Tristan in the face.

A loud crack sounded into the living room as Tristan’s chin jolted at the blow.

Silence.

Tristan turned deadly eyes on Gabriel—eyes Gabriel hadn’t seen in many years—and threw back his own punch, knocking his fist into Gabriel’s jaw.

Grabbing Tristan by the shoulders, Gabriel sank his fingers into his brother’s upper arms, and threw him to the ground, slamming his fist into Tristan’s gut.

Tristan wrestled Gabriel off of him, returning a blow to Gabriel’s side.