Page 6 of Secrets of the Lore Keepers
“Gather the sage, I’ll gather the salt,” she repeated. “I’ll spend the afternoon searching for a memory spell. If you can, find out all you can about the stranger.”
Chapter Four
I followedthe slight rise of a hill to a crest. The scent of herbs filled me with a floating sensation. I walked past the rosemary bushes, baskets in hand, and vines of mint creeping across the ground. I went past the dill, already flowering in the breeze and the great sage. I pulled my knife out of the basket, knelt by the bush and cut. Whispers in the wind swirled around my thoughts, but I couldn’t focus. As soon as one basket was full, I abandoned my post, gathered some herbs and made my way to the barn.
It was quiet when I entered, and the horse whiskered. I hummed a tune, more to let the strange man know I was coming than to amuse myself. I walked up to the stall. “I come bringing gifts,” I announced. Except, aside from a lump of hay and an empty basket, nothing was there. A lump formed in my throat and visions of monsters entered my mind.
“Rae?”
I almost screamed at the sound of my name and spun around.
He stood a few feet away, outside of the mare’s stall, rubbing her nose.
“What are you doing?” I blurted out, pressing a hand to my racing heart.
His dark eyebrows rose as he eyed me, but he kept rubbing the mare’s nose. To her credit, she was enjoying it. Her head was over the stall and she nudged his chest from time to time, searching for a treat. I spoiled her, usually bringing an apple or carrot to tempt her, but my mind was scattered today.
I cleared my throat, correcting my accusation. “I mean, your wound hasn’t healed yet. You shouldn’t exert yourself. Besides, I came to dress it.” I held up the basket, wondering why my heart thumped in my chest as though I were caught doing something wrong.
“Thank you.” A wry smile came to his lips, and he turned his gaze back to the horse.
I took advantage of the opportunity to study him. The smile changed his appearance, making him seem softer, friendlier, and less fearsome than the stranger we’d found face down in the mud yesterday. He was a head and shoulders taller than I and lean, as though he spent much of his time exerting himself. He’d picked all the hay out of his dark blue hair, and I could see where it went past his shoulders. His face was heart-shaped with a strong jawline, but his nose was sharp, giving him an overall elegance. Again, I ran my eyes over his clothes and couldn’t shake the sensation that he was a man of means that went beyond the tailors, bakers, blacksmiths and tradesmen of Capern.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said to the horse, “for being rude earlier. You see, I woke up here, and it was unexpected. But I owe you, and your sister, thanks. Is there anything I can do to repay your kindness?”
A snort escaped my mouth at his gallant words, as though I were a princess of some faraway land who’d happened upon him.
His brows rose and his hands dropped to his side as he faced me, no doubt shocked at my outburst.
“You don’t have to thank us,” I said, “we would have done the same for anyone. You just appeared, as though you came with the storm, and I’ve seen no one like you in these parts. Did your memory return? Do you know who you are?”
His eyes were a dusty shade of brown as he studied me, taking in my wild curls and farm-woman clothes. My face warmed under his gaze, but I refused to be intimidated.
A flash of confusion crossed his face as he pondered my words. Finally, he spoke. “My name is Kian.”
He walked toward me, his gait measured and slow so not to irritate his wound. Up close I could see the plains of his wide face and the emotion behind his dark eyes, although he struggled to hide them. His slim hands moved back and forth, as though he could not decide what to do with them. “I am not from. . .here.” He gestured to the barn and then looked hopefully at the daylight streaming in the open doors. “I dwell in the enchanted wildwood with my tribe.”
A chill went up my spine as he said the words:enchanted wildwood. Twice in one day, news about it touched me. I flinched, but if he noticed, he said nothing.
“I’m not sure why I’m here, or what the blade means,” he confessed. “I recall everything else. . .”
“Your tribe,” I couldn’t help the questions that dashed off my tongue. Blue hair. Pointed ears. “You aren’t human, are you? At least not fully?”
He examined me again, noting our differences. “No, we are wood elves. Officially I am Prince Kian of the Tribe of Finros.”
Wood elves? Prince? Tribe? It appeared he’d walked straight off the page of one of my sister’s books. I gawked at him. “You’re an elven prince and you’re standing before me as casually as if you just told me you live in the neighboring farm! How can you stand here so calmly? Won’t your family be worried about you?”
His expression was strained as he moved away from me, back to the stall. Slowly he took off his jerkin, his eyes shadowed. “I wish I knew. We were preparing for battle, but I doubt that’s the reason I’m here.”
“It would explain your wound.” I set my basket on the bale of hay and stepped closer to him, reaching out to touch his arm. “If they believe you are missing, it’s best for them to know as soon as possible. My sister and I lost our parents five years ago, and it still feels fresh.”
“Oh.” He paused his movements and met my eyes. “It is unfortunate. What happened to them?”
The gentle lilt to his voice broke down something inside me, and suddenly tears sprang to my eyes. I reached for the basket, searching for something to keep my hands busy. “I don’t know. Their bodies were found outside of the wildwood. I always assumed the creatures of the forest had slain them.”
I gestured for Kian to lie down and he did, taking off his shirt to show off his well-toned chest. I should have blushed with embarrassment, but when he tucked his arms above his head, a novel sensation swept through me.
Thoughts of my parents’ deaths faded, replaced with a desire to trace my fingers from his chest down his abs. So consumed was I in my thoughts, I didn’t hear his question at first.
