#second chances wip

“It feels like it’s been half an hour,” Talea said petulantly. They were on the back lawn of Wychwood Manor. Not that it was much of a lawn at the moment—wild flowers and tall grasses were plentiful, as the sheep that usually kept the field manicured were grazing somewhere safer.

“You’re being a baby. How hard can it be to shoot lightning out of your hand and hit a piece of firewood that’s ten paces away?”

Talea scowled. “Don’t tease me.”

“Who else will?” Edith looked back at the page, the corners of her mouth pinching as she tried not to laugh. “I could invite Gideon to join us.”

“Don’t you—” She spluttered, hating the warmth that flooded her face.. “Shut up.”

“If I’m not allowed to tease you, am I allowed to make observations about your romantic situation?”

“No! There is no romantic situation! Stop talking so loud.” Talea looked around them, confirming that Edith hadn’t summoned him.

Edith scoffed. “Please, you two are the most ridiculous pair I’ve ever seen, and I watched Lord Winfield pine over Lady Camden for a year before asking her to dance.”

“That’s an unfair comparison.”

“His poetry was so bad,” she said with a grimace before continuing. “You and Gideon act like there’s some tragic circumstances keeping you apart when the truth is that you’re both too cowardly to address some poor decisions you both made years ago. It’s painfully obvious to everyone around you that you still have feelings for each other and are dancing around them instead of having a simple conversation. You’re acting like children, indulging in the easy lie that you hate each other instead of talking about what happened.”

Talea blinked several times, staring at her sister. “That was quite a speech.”

“Thank you, I’ve been working on it for a few days now.”

“The situation isn’t as simple as you’ve painted it.”

“I know there’s complications regarding the wolf and witch thing, but wouldn’t it be nice if that was the only thing keeping you apart?”

“Edith.”

“At least then you two could hop into bed together and get rid of the tension that suffocates every room you’re in together.”

“Gods and saints, Edith,” Talea hissed. “You’ve been spending too much time with Quincy.”

“Perhaps, but I’m not discussing you and Gideon with him,” she replied.

Talea frowned. She didn’t want to imagine what they did when they were alone together—Quincy was still an asshole as far as she was concerned, and she didn’t want him anywhere near her sister.

“I just think you two would make beautiful babies together,” Edith teased.

“I’m walking away now. Not coming back,” she declared as she got to her feet. She walked backwards towards the manor. “I hope you get rained on.”

“You know I’m right!” Edith called after her. 

Using whatever self control she had left under the panic and fear, she made herself stop moving. Fighting it would make it pull tighter, and make the glass shards dig deeper into her flesh. She needed to loosen the knot.

Talea hissed in pain as she extricated the glass from her ankle. Fuck, she would have to visit Wren again. A bandage would mean even more questions from Gideon and the others. Eventually her lies would unravel. Maybe she could treat it herself if she—

Someone grabbed her hair and jerked her head back so she was looking into the canopy of leaves. Familiar silver eyes hovered above her; eyes that haunted her unconscious dreams after she’d been poisoned by one of the shadow creatures. Eyes she hadn’t seen since regaining consciousness at Wychwood Manor. In the light of day she could see the owner’s features; her straight nose, bow-shaped lips, and high cheekbones were oddly familiar considering Talea had never seen the woman before in her life.

The woman’s lip curled into a snarl and she pressed a cold blade to Talea’s throat. “Another Grand Duchess of Kiathet.”

“Former,” Talea corrected, as though it mattered.

“So King Maximillian chose his heir?” She managed to make the title of ‘king’ sound like an insult.

“My half-brother, Miles, was chosen.”

“Of course he chose the only male,” the woman said with disgust. “They always do. Even when the sons are bumbling idiots, they’re still seen as better options.”

“It sounds like you’re familiar with the process,” Talea said. She needed to keep the woman talking long enough to figure out a plan.

“Unfortunately.” Her expression shifted to be calculating. “You’ll understand, then. I’m not the horrible person that people paint me as. I long for life, nothing else, but I have been hunted for so many years. I was pushed deeper and deeper into these woods until I found the edge, and over the edge I found the power that I deserved. Little Max may have the crown, but I am the one with true power.”

“You mean the shadow creatures that keep attacking innocent people in the Wychwood?”

“I don’t want to hurt the innocent, but I need to destroy Max and every symbol of his reach until he understands the pain and suffering he caused me. Even if there’s collateral damage along the way.”

Talea swallowed her argument. There was the knife to her throat to consider, after all.

The woman’s attention snapped back the way Talea had come and she bared her teeth. “Here come more of them now. The king’s wolves. Be careful with them; they lie with ease and will betray you for scraps of favour.”

“The Blackbriars?”

“Be wary, little one. And remember me when they turn on you.”

“How do you know—?”

“They turn on everyone outside of the pack eventually,” she interrupted. She withdrew the knife and sheathed it. “I’m going to let you go now, and then you’re going to count to ten before moving or making a noise or I’ll kill you before you can escape that snare. Do you understand?”

Talea nodded slowly. Her movements were limited by the tight grasp the woman had on her hair. In the distance, she could hear Edith and Quincy calling her name.

“Good girl.” She released Talea and disappeared into the trees. 

Talea counted as instructed, counting to fifteen for good measure, before shouting back to Edith and resuming her attempts to remove the snare. 

“Edith! I’m over—” She looked up. Gideon stood just a few metres away, regarding her with his arms crossed. The heat of embarrassment burned in her cheeks. “You’re not Edith.”

“No,” he agreed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He crouched beside her and produced a knife that he used to cut the snare. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing,” she said. It hurt like a bitch, but she wasn’t going to admit that. “I think I just met the mysterious Morgwyn.”

“Doubtful if you’re still alive,” he said. 

Talea got to her feet, half annoyed that Gideon didn’t offer a hand to help her but also knowing that she would’ve refused his help anyways. “Gideon, listen to me. There is more to this than we’ve been told. More to her.”

He regarded her doubtfully.

She wanted to say more to convince him, but at that moment, Edith and Quincy emerged from the forest. As Edith worried over her, and as she assured her sister that she was fine, she kept stealing glances at Gideon. She hated that her instinct was to trust him even after all this time. She’d just been told that the Blackbriars would betray her, and the first person she’d tried to tell was a Blackbriar. What kind of a fool was she?

She caught Gideon’s gaze and quickly looked away. She wanted to drown the butterflies in her stomach in acid. 

She slipped outside and dropped her haughty facade as she entered the Wychwood. She was good at putting on her act, of living the lie, and was certain she’d pissed everyone off enough that they wouldn’t notice she was missing for at least a few hours. All she needed was to get as deep into the Wychwood as she could before anyone realized what she was doing, and the lie would have been worth it. They would all live.

A familiar figure melted out of the shadows to walk with her. The other woman’s face was too alike her own, with the exception of her silver eyes. “Where are you headed with such determination, little one?”

“Nowhere that concerns you,” Talea replied. 

Morgwyn laughed. “Everything that happens in my forest concerns me.”

“Go away,” she said irritably. “You’re not even really here.”

Morgwyn’s laugh echoed through the trees, a disorienting thing when she still walked next to Talea. “You’re getting better at knowing.”

She didn’t reply, but instead picked up her pace. Morgwyn faded in and out, sometimes walking with her and sometimes watching from farther away, but never leaving her alone.

Finally, Talea stopped at the vast wall of vines that cut between the two sides of the Wychwood. Thorny brown spines formed a solid barrier, full of knots and gnarls. It rose out of sight until it seemed to meet the sky.

“Is this your play? You’re risking it all without anyone else knowing?” Morgwyn asked. She had her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall.

“How do you know no one knows I’m here?”

“Because I’ve seen how Gideon looks at you. Only a fool would believe he’d let you come out here alone.” She tilted her head. “Which either means you think you can do this alone, or whatever you’re doing is so idiotic you don’t want any of your friends involved.”

“Are you going to let me in?”

“Will you tell me what you’re planning to do once you’re in my lands?” Morgwyn countered. 

Talea smiled blandly. “There’s some chances you just have to take.”

Several long seconds of silence stretched between them before Morgwyn waved her hand. The vines trembled then creaked apart to form an arch. 

“Very well. Let’s see what you have planned.”

Talea exhaled. That had been the easy part. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she would be beyond the help of her allies and surrounded by creatures that could kill her with ease. But it was where she needed to go if she was to heal the rift—no matter how harshly that healing burned.

“Stop this,” the assassin—male, based on the voice—commanded, his hand slipping away from her mouth as she finally fell to the floor.

She wailed even louder, interspersing sobs with pleas for her life, as she scrambled away from him. Her back bumped into the leg of her desk and she cowered there, covering her head with her arms.

“Shut up!” He stalked after her. Definitely new to this—a proper assassin would’ve killed her the moment she’d walked through the door instead of reveling in her fear. She was almost insulted that Scarlett would send such an amateur.

The door burst open, the deadbolt holding but the wood splintering apart, and Gideon stood in the threshold. His eyes shone gold in the dark and his lip was curled into a snarl. Quincy was a step behind him with a sword at the ready. 

“Get away from her,” Gideon ordered coldly.

The assassin whirled to face him, raising his knife.

“Who sent you?” Quincy demanded. 

Talea shot to her feet, her tears drying in an instant, and grabbed the letter opener off of her desk.

“Miles Rothchester, future King of Kiathet,” the assassin responded proudly.

Ah, that would explain why an amateur had been sent. He’d probably hired whoever was willing to do it for cheap.

“And who are you here for?” Quincy pressed.

“Anyone I can find,” he said. He feinted forward with the blade in his hand and threw a smaller knife from his belt, catching Gideon in the shoulder. 

He hissed, seemingly surprised, and stumbled back a half-step.

Talea jammed the letter opener into the assassin’s neck, dragging it through the skin until she was sure she’d severed one of the major blood vessels. He gurgled, and she yanked the makeshift weapon out of his flesh. Blood poured down his chest and sprayed across the room. He staggered sideways then collapsed into a heap, where he continued to make pitiful noises for a few more seconds before finally falling silent.

“What the fuck?” Quincy found his voice first, though he and Gideon both stared at her from the doorway. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“This is hardly the first person to try to kill me,” she said. She picked up the towel from the empty washing basin and wiped her face of blood as best she could. They didn’t need to see how badly her hands were shaking.

Talea is so done with her family's shit it's not even funny. And this is a fun glimpse for Gideon and Quincy into what she and her sister are used to dealing with!

BURN

She lurched upright with a strangled gasp, hands going to her throat. There was nothing there. No hands but her own, no massive clawed paws, nothing but warm flesh. The burning in her veins subsided as she caught her breath.

DUST

The wind tugged at her hair and the chilled air pulled tears from her eyes as it whipped across her face. Faster, faster. Voyager galloped along the dirt road, kicking up dust with every pound of his hooves.

Talea had noticed that she was being followed about two hours after she’d left the castle. Three figures on horseback who kept far enough behind her that she couldn’t make out any details about them, but close enough that she couldn’t ignore them. It was like they’d been taunting her. A constant reminder of what was going to happen to her the moment the sun set while she was still in Kiathet.

DEAD

“No, no, you can’t—what did you just do?” Talea demanded, shaking the woman. She’d left a glowing mark on her left forearm that looked like thorny vines braided into a compass rose.

It was no use: the woman was dead. The chill of the night seeped back into her bones, the wet dirt under her knees and the familiar forest noises sharpened around her. She looked at her arm. The glow was fading, but the mark remained as a faint white outline smeared with a mix of blood and a strange black substance.

I haven't done one of these in forever, but I'm hoping that filling a few games will help me get through this period of... whatever is stopping me from writing.