The Guardians of the Forest: Book Two by Kelly Napoli

CHAPTER 44

  FORGIVEN

  Kiethara collapsed into the soft flowers, the bow slipping out of her hands and tumbling down into the grass next to her. Her breathing came in sharp gasps that tore at every wound. Her leg throbbed repulsively, but Kiethara did not have the strength to see if it was still bleeding. Every inch of her body ached and every beat of her heart brought on a new wave of exhaustion and agony.

  Along with the pain came a wave of relief. Relief that she had been able to endure the battle against her father. She had expected a visit from him alone, with herself alone. But he had brought another man of equal power, and Navadar had decided to come and pay a visit too, towing along Trinnia, of all people. Everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong, and everything that she had expected and not expected had come on in a single wave of misfortune and bad timing. In more ways than she could have possibly imagined, she had become a victim of circumstance.

  But the forest was safe. Navadar was safe. For the time being, Gandador was gone.

  But for how long?

  How much had Gandador taken in when he had been toying with her arms? How much information had he been able to glean from his observations? Even though Aaron hid it well, his doubts on whether or not Gandador’s mission was possible made her uneasy.

  In her head, her connection told her that Navadar was headed her way. His presence was so faint she could barely feel it; he had no magic.

  “Kiethara!” he cried hoarsely, his boots thudding heavily.

  She tried to reply, but all that came out was a soft moan.

  “Kiethara,” he said in relief, and she felt him kneel down next to her. His warm hand felt nice as he brushed the hair out of her face.

  A sudden light filled the meadow, lighting up against her eyelids.

  “Kiethara,” Aaron said. “Open your eyes.”

  She cracked them open only to be blinded by the intense glow. Another wave of relief washed over her. Aaron was here, and that slowed the pounding of her heart with a magnificent sense of security.

  “I want to go to sleep,” she mumbled, closing her eyes again. Aaron chuckled and Navadar sighed in weak relief.

  “Navadar,” she said a bit louder. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m…fine,” he said, struggling with the last word. The pain in his voice revealed the reason why. What were they going to do?

  “Navadar, hand me her vine belt,” Aaron instructed. She heard the familiar clink of bottles.

  “That bad, huh?” she asked, cracking an eye open.

  “Not nearly as bad as it must feel,” Aaron reasoned.

  “Not nearly as bad as it must look,” she corrected, already imagining the ugly scar. “Now, tell me really. How bad is it?”

  Aaron sighed. “Your cheek is bruised, your scalp is bleeding, you have a gash in your leg, and most of your left leg is bruised, along with a decent amount of your right. That’s only what is visible.”

  All of a sudden, pain shot down her leg. Kiethara hissed and bolted upright. Aaron was pouring the sparkling silver liquid over the open flesh, the sharp pain paralyzing her as the wound came together. Finally, after several excruciating moments, the agony ended, leaving a bright pink scar in its place.

  She fingered it with a pang of regret. The scar on her right arm had faded slightly, but the ugly thing would be there for the rest of her life. How long would this new scar haunt her now?

  Kiethara looked up and began to say something, but she froze in the middle of a word when she saw Navadar’s face.

  Half of it was bruised and on his cheek was a small cut. He, too, had to be bruised underneath his clothes from their fall. The only part she could guarantee was untouched was the side of his face Tryke had not bothered to hit.

  She reached up with her mouth still open and lightly touched two fingers to the black and blue marks that stained his handsome face.“Navadar…”

  He grabbed her fingers and grinned. “What? Am I not pretty anymore?”

  Kiethara tried to grin back, but she was disgusted with herself for allowing it to happen. She could hear that beneath his joking tone was a very shaky countenance, almost to the point of hysteria. The image of Trinnia’s head rolling off of her neck flashed before her eyes…

  “You two should get some rest,” Aaron suggested, interrupting the silent moment.

  “Not yet.”

  All joking in Navadar’s tone had vanished. His tone was now rough, a low monotone that seemed to mature him by several years.

  “Navadar,” Aaron began in the patronizing tone he used on her. For some reason, she felt a pang of jealousy.

  “I have to bury her,” he said in a dead voice.

  “You’re hurt,” Kiethara whispered.

  “She’s dead.”

  Kiethara opened her mouth only to shut it again. The expression on Navadar’s face was intimidating; it pushed all words of comfort out of her head. Finally, she nodded.

  “I’ll help you.”

  Something dangerous sparked in his eyes. “Absolutely not.”

  Kiethara flinched back in surprise. “Why not?”

  “Friends and family bury the dead,” he said harshly. “You didn’t know her.”

  Wounded pride sent her crystals glowing brightly. “And where exactly do you plan on burying her? Do you forget you need my permission to bury her here? I am fairly certain it works the same way in your kingdoms. One does not bury their deceased in some else’s backyard!”

  Navadar looked at her with anger. “You would make me carry her out of the forest?”

  “I am only advising you not to scorn my help when you require my grace!” she said coolly. With a confined moan she stood up, Navadar and Aaron doing the same.

  “She died and this is all your worried about?!” he roared. “I don’t need your grace!”

  “Do not forget,” Aaron interrupted in a strong voice. “That you need my permission as well, and under no circumstances will I allow it if you insult my own kin.”

  Navadar clenched his jaw for a moment and then let out an angry breath. “May I bury her here?”

  “Of course,” Kiethara said in a small voice. She looked up at him with sincerity, but he looked away. Anger and grief shadowed his features.

  “Yes, Navadar,” Aaron said. “But you knew the risks of coming here. Remember that.”

  Navadar walked off without a word. He was headed back towards the meadow.

  Kiethara turned away from his retreating figure.

  “Aaron…” she said, an audible lump in her throat.

  “Shh, Kiethara, none of this is your fault,” he said softly. “Navadar turns his raw emotions into anger. Let him deal with his grief.”

  “Gandador—”

  “We will discuss that later, Kiethara. I do not expect him to return. Go now, and take care not to over do it. You are still weak.”

  Kiethara did not particularly enjoy the fact that he had called her weak, but she could feel the truth of his words in her bones. She even felt dizzy.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  She turned away from him as he disappeared. Taking a long, deep breath, she walked into the meadow.

  Navadar was standing not too far off, his face tilted towards the sky. He had not reached Trinnia yet. She paused, bouncing on the balls of her feet, allowing her bruises to throb. The pain, ironically, helped clear her head.

  “Navadar?” Her quiet voice was carried on a new breeze that had been aroused by her fear.

  He did not respond, not at first. She could not see his expression, only his blond hair flipping and tossing in the wind.

  “I want to bury her here,” he said.

  Kiethara walked forward and tentatively placed a hand on his back. “Why not under the tree, in the shade?”

  He pulled away from her hand. “Why?”

  “No one will walk over…her. The tree will mark her grave.” The words came out awkward. Her empty hand stung.

  Navadar’s anger faded for a mome
nt, but his eyes were dead. Finally, he nodded.

  “I’ll start the grave,” he said in a gruff voice.

  “No,” Kiethara said quickly. “Let me.”

  “No!” he growled, clenching his fists. Kiethara shrank back. She felt like one more wrong word would break him into pieces.

  “But what will you dig with?” she asked softly.

  Kiethara knew she shouldn’t have said anything else. Her logic was wearing on him, and now she had run him too thin.

  “Fine!” he hissed loudly. “You dig the grave! I don’t CARE!”

  Kiethara took a step back and pressed her lips together. She felt like she was going to cry, and that only made her angry. If it were not for Aaron’s words resounding in her head, she would have set the flowers around them on fire.

  “Okay, then,” she said, kicking off into the air, making sure to keep her eyes firmly on the tree.

  She landed lightly in the grass, overcoming a new wave of dizziness. In the shade, the flowers looked richer in color and, despite their lack of sun, they continued to grow in bulk. A beautiful place for a beautiful girl.

  With a deep breath, Kiethara tried to focus on her powers. Never before had she found it so difficult to use the element of earth. It had always come to her so naturally. It took much effort to draw forth the small bit of happiness that she needed.

  The forest still stands, she reminded herself.

  Finally her crystals went bright and her connection surged through her.

  The cherry blossom tree groaned as Kiethara pulled its roots out and let them tear at the soil. Regretfully, she let them rip up her mother’s beautiful flowers and scoop up mounds of dirt until there was a gaping hole in the lovely meadow, drenched in the shade of her mother’s tree. It was deep, almost seven feet long and three feet wide. Perfect for her delicate and slender frame.

  Still, the grave did not seem right for some reason. Kiethara did not like the idea of having Trinnia—she winced as she thought the name—lying in the dirt. She knew that if the girl could say anything, it would be an objection against having her silk frock sullied. Kiethara had an idea.

  Sunflowers, tulips, lilies. All those flowers bloomed inside the grave, blossoming at an unnatural speed. The colors swirled together, but somehow the bright colors still appeared to be mournful, the petals drooping just slightly. They reflected her mood perfectly, although there was one feeling the petals could not represent.

  Guilt.

  It ripped through Kiethara so suddenly that she almost doubled over. She gasped and clutched her stomach. The pain came with such force. She had not known Trinnia, she had not loved her, but…

  She had killed her.

  Kiethara felt as though the word “murderer” should be written across her forehead. The same word was burned into her heart; why shouldn’t everyone else see it? If Trinnia had not come here, she would not be dead. If she had not felt the need to apologize, she would have been enjoying a quiet lunch in Redawn right now, sipping tea with her numerous suitors and dotting friends. If Kiethara had never been dragged to Redawn, this girl would still be breathing.

  Her own father had manipulated the poor girl just so he could get to Kiethara. He had forced Trinnia to bow to his will just so he could catch her by surprise, catch her unguarded. Kiethara knew that if she had not been so engrossed in Trinnia’s fable she would have sensed it sooner. She should have sensed it sooner.

  The sound of thudding boots stopped her thoughts from continuing down their spiral of despair. She sucked in a deep breath, locking in the guilt that threatened to burst. For some reason, Kiethara knew Navadar should not see that.

  For some reason…

  Everything happened for a reason…Why did Trinnia die? Navadar did not deserve this. This grief, this pain…It should not be his. It shouldn’t even be hers! Trinnia should still be here. There was no reason. For the first time in her life, there was no reason. Kiethara could not justify it.

  Finally, the boots behind her got too close to ignore. She turned around.

  And choked back a scream.

  Navadar was cradling Trinnia’s body in his arms. The chocolate lace of her dress was still elegant, even soaked in blood. And on her lap, leaning against his stomach, was her head, her hair still up in a tight bun.

  Kiethara turned her head, fighting with all her might not to let the bile rise from her stomach. Her eyes stung, but she let no tears come.

  He stopped across from her, looking down at the grave. His pale, slightly green expression did not change. His eyes looked the same, twisted with such pain that she was surprised he was still standing. She doubted he saw a grave, only a hole he would have to lay her in.

  Carefully, he kneeled down slowly. He hesitated then, his grief ripping through his features. It came fiercely after trying to be controlled, and it was unrelenting. Kiethara’s own guilt redoubled like a punch in her stomach. She had caused him this pain. The pain of her wounds felt like nothing compared to watching him burn alive in front of her.

  He lowered her body and laid it gently on the flowers, rearranging her head so it looked to be a whole, single unit again. He took her hands and folded them flat against her stomach.

  Navadar stood up. A strange noise came out of the back of his throat.

  Kiethara opened her mouth, but her throat was tight. Could she get any words out? Well, were there really any words of comfort that she could give him?

  She looked down at Trinnia. She had come here for forgiveness; she deserved it.

  “I…” Kiethara said in an abnormally high pitched voice. She stumbled through the rest of her words. “I-I forgive y-you…”

  Navadar looked up at her, a little bit of shock mingling with his misery. His eyes burned with tears, his face flaming red, but he still managed to nod at her. She took it as a signal.

  Gently this time, Kiethara lifted the exposed roots of the tree. Creaking and groaning, they picked up the piles of soil and dumped them into the grave. Kiethara did not watch, using her connection to guide her movements. Finally, when the soil was back in its previous position, she grew grass—emerald green, luscious blades—and they quickly spread over the bare ground.

  Was such silence normal when you buried the dead? It burned with unspoken emotions. She looked up at him.

  Navadar was staring at the grave with bright eyes. His fists were clenched along with his teeth, the veins in his neck pulsing. He seemed not to be breathing at all.

  “Navadar…” she finally whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why?!” he roared suddenly, causing her to stumble back. “You didn’t know her! You didn’t even like her! If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t be here!”

  Every word was a stab to many places in her body. And every painful, piercing word was true. A broken sob escaped her lips. She deserved to be yelled at.

  “Your own father killed her! And you didn’t STOP HIM! YOU COULD HAVE! It’s your fault!”

  “I didn’t—” she sobbed, chocking over her words. “I don’t…I’m sorry…”

  “WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP HIM?!” he roared, throwing his arms up and taking a step forward. “WHY DIDN’T YOU?”

  “Stop it! Stop it!” she cried, covering her ears. “Please!”

  “You could have,” he said hoarsely, a sob escaping his lips. “You let her die.”

  “Please,” she moaned pathetically, backing up. “Please stop!”

  Above her, thunder rumbled.

  Navadar took a shaky breath, tears running out of his eyes. “She would still be here.”

  Her crystals glowed brightly as lightening flashed. She sobbed so hard her frame shuddered.

  “Please,” she moaned again. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

  This time, Navadar just let out a wordless cry and struck his fist through the air. Even yards away, she could still feel its impact. He could not keep blaming her! But he was in so much pain.

  “Navadar—” she tried again, but he interrupted her.


  “Don’t you care about anything else besides this forsaken forest?! Don’t you realize that you’re responsible?!” he screamed. The words slapped her in the face.

  “Your right!” she said. “You’re right! I killed her! It was my fault!

  Every word was drenched in her guilt. She turned away from Navadar, embarrassed by the tears streaming from her eyes. Why had he come back to her? Why had she let him? All she did was bring hardship and strife onto his life, entangling it with her own and weaving it into something far more complicated than it needed to be.

  Behind her, Navadar was silent. She took that as her saving grace and, before he could pierce her with another word, she took off. Her feet were silent against the grass. She couldn’t find the power to fly.

  After a few minutes, she arrived in her clearing, clutching her stomach. She gasped, but from what, she did not know. Dragging her body to one of the two trees that supported her hammock, she closed her eyes and laid her forehead on it. She let go of time, and it melted away…

  At first, her head was void of thought. Only emotion surged through her, but it was unrecognizable, one big mass that overwhelmed her. She felt, of course, the guilt at first. Out of everything she had felt that day—fear anger, and pain—it blew her away. Like dry kindle, Navadar’s words had fueled the burning grief inside her that no amount of tears would douse any time soon.

  She rolled her forehead over the wood of the bark, letting it scratch against her forehead. Above her, the thunder boomed once and rain began to fall.

  Something clicked inside her.

  Inside her was a swirling mass of sorrow, anger, and fear. Above her was a swirling mass of rain, lightening, and winds. Could the storm be a result of her? She remembered back to when she had been running through those hideous plains and Navadar had caught up with her. The same thing had occurred there, and—

  Her train of thought was interrupted by a wolf. It trotted through her clearing, nose to the ground, paying no heed to her at all, and thankfully not going near Navadar’s horse. Kiethara knew why. It smelled blood. The rest of the pack would not be far behind.

  Did this mean Navadar was in trouble? Kiethara doubted that he would attract their attention any more than she had, but what if he got surprised, and decided to attack? How many could he kill? One? They would eat him alive, and it would be all her fault. Again.

  She quickly discovered, however, that her worry was not necessary. She wondered if this was unfortunate or not.

  The thudding boots behind her sounded so sad that she almost burst into tears again.

  But still, the wind picked up. Was he here to scream at her again? She understood why he was frustrated, but she did not know if she could take it. It had only stopped raining, and next time, water might not be the only element she could not control.

  Kiethara did not turn around when the boots stopped behind her. She stood there, her forehead leaning against the tree, every muscle tensed and ready to flee again. She realized that she was holding her breath.

  His gentle hands surprised her.

  His arms wrapped around her waist and he buried his face in her long hair. She stood, frozen in his embrace, but after a moment, she leaned into it.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said in a broken whisper. Her eyes stung.

  He did not respond. She felt him press his face harder into her hair. His cheeks were wet.

  Kiethara turned her head and laid her forehead on his. He hugged her tighter, as though afraid she would run away again.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. “It just…just can’t…” he paused and shuddered. “It just can’t be you. It can’t.”

  Kiethara opened her mouth in shock. What was he saying? All this time she had never bothered to imagine what would have happened if Gandador’s sword had been aimed somewhere different.

  She twisted in his embrace and lifted his chin up. She gazed at his bruised features for a moment. No, if it had been him…she shuddered and then brought her lips to his.

  Navadar ran his hands up and down her arms and she shivered. She had not realized how cold the rain had made her.

  “Don’t leave,” she whispered when they broke apart. “Not today, please.”

  “I have to go back,” he whispered back. “I have to tell them.”

  She had no reply—guilt held her tongue. What had Navadar gone through for Trinnia’s parents to allow him to take their daughter from Redawn? What had he told them? She shuddered internally.

  She turned her head away, not wanting him to see the pain in her eyes. He had his own to deal with.

  Navadar was the one to take her chin this time. He forced her face forward and she flinched at the burning, raw emotion in his eyes.

  “I’m coming back,” he said. “Soon. I promise.”

  She only nodded, doubt etched into her features. It had taken him so long to come this time and, after what happened today, how in the world would Navadar’s father allow him to come back? Kiethara knew it would be a while before she saw him again, no matter what he said. Her gut twisted in her stomach.

  Navadar shut his eyes as though he could hear every thought running through her mind. “Somehow, I’ll make it back. I can’t…” he swallowed. “I won’t leave you here alone.”

  “I can take care of myself. I always have.”

  “No, that’s not—” he paused, and then took a deep breath. “Just…stay safe.”

  He kissed her lips gently, so tenderly. With that he turned around, untied his horse, and left.

  Kiethara took a deep breath. He had a daunting task ahead of him.

  May they all be forgiven.