Chapter 4: Roots Remember Her

She whispers my name, and she does it soft like she did when we were little and she had a nightmare. She is not fighting anymore because she is tired. Her head drops forward because the vine is choking her.

I remember her sleeping by the fire at home. I remember telling her no one would take her north. I remember thinking I was strong enough to stop this. My throat closes because I was so wrong.

Cael howls, and the sound breaks the ice on the walls. The bond snaps tight in my ribs like a chain. I know if I let the tree take her, the bond will break because the tree promised a pure heart for a cursed one. I know if I let it take her, I will live and Cael will live and we will have our three nights. I know it is the easy way out because the tree is offering it.

I do not take it.

I grab Cael's bleeding hand with my bleeding hand because our blood is the same now. I press our joined palms to the trunk next to Maya because I will not trade her life for ours. I say, "Take us both," because it is my choice. My voice does not shake because I mean it.

The tree shudders under our hands because it did not expect that and the black glow flares white for one second. The root hand stops an inch from Maya's chest because it is listening, and the vine around her ankle loosens just enough for her to gasp.

Cael turns his black eyes on me, breathing hard because he is still half wolf. “You stupid brave boy,” he says, his voice mad and proud at the same time. The tree groans deep under the floor because it is thinking and the whole hall waits because the trial is not over.

The white light spreads up the trunk and shows a shape inside the wood, a door made of roots and bone. The voice slides back into my head and says, “Then enter,” because it wants us to walk through. “If you come out, the bond breaks. If you do not, she lives.”

Maya's eyes open and she looks at the door, then she looks at me. Her lips move but no sound comes because she is too weak, and Cael's hand tightens on mine because he will not let go. The door creaks open because it is waiting for us.

Cael pulls me forward because we have no time and I step with him into cold air that smells like wet earth, old blood and pine sap because we are walking into the heart of the tree. My boots sink a little because the floor is soft.

The door shuts behind us and the sound of the hall cuts off completely. It is dark for a second and then the walls light up because veins of white sap run through the roots, and we are inside a tunnel that pulses because it is alive and breathing with us.

Cael still holds my hand with our blood smeared between our palms and the bond in my chest pulls tight because we are so close. His shoulder presses against mine because the tunnel is narrow and his heat burns through my shirt because his wolf is close to the surface. I can feel his heart beating fast because it matches mine.

A voice fills the tunnel, not in my ears but inside my head, and it is not loud and it is not soft. It says, “See the truth,” because it is tired of lies, and the walls ripple like water and show us a picture because the tree remembers everything.

I am looking at a cold stone room where a woman is screaming and it is my mother, young and terrified, her hair stuck to her face because she is in pain. Sweat runs down her neck and she grips the sides of the bed because she is pushing and she is completely alone.

An old man with a black crown stands by the door, his face hard and unreadable because he is a king who has never needed to show what he feels. He watches and he does not help and he does not move. Guards stand in a line behind him because they are waiting for his orders.

The midwife lifts something up and then lifts a second something and the old King's face changes. “Two,” he shouts, his voice cracking the room because he is furious. “The prophecy said one,” he says, because twins are cursed in the North. “Kill the weak one,” because he only wants one heir and will not share his crown.

My mother screams and it is not from pain. She grabs both babies and pulls them to her chest because she will not choose and she will not let him choose either. She curls around them because they are small and wet and crying. The king steps forward but he is slow because he did not think she would run and that one second is all she needs.

She does not wait. She rolls off the bed and her feet hit the floor before anyone can reach her. She runs barefoot and bleeding through a side door she knows because she has lived in this castle long enough to memorise every exit. She bursts into the snow and the cold bites her bare feet because the night is deep winter.

She is crying and whispering, “I will save you both,” over and over because the babies have gone quiet and she does not know if that is good or if the cold has already reached them. She holds one to each side of her chest and presses them close because she will not let go. The snow turns red in her footprints behind her because she is still bleeding and she does not look back.

The picture freezes on her face and I cannot look away. She is young and terrified, holding two babies with black hair, one wrapped in blue and one wrapped in grey. Both have our eyes and she is looking down at them like they are the only thing worth saving in the world.

Cael's hand crushes mine because he sees it too.