Meadow's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

Meadow woke in a soft bed. Warm light fell across white sheets. The last thing she remembered was the reeking hollow, the wolves, the cold rushing up her arms. Now she smelled clean linen and bread. She sat up too fast and the room spun. A pumpkin face turned toward her from the corner. "Vesper," she breathed. He crossed to her in three quick steps. His root hands hovered over hers, not quite touching, as if afraid she might break. His carved face glowed steady. He said nothing, but his shoulders dropped. She had never seen him look so relieved. "Where are we?" she asked. Before he could rasp an answer, a voice came from beyond the door. Soft. Careful. "You've awoken." The door opened. A man stepped in. He wore a green tunic and a cape stitched with gold thread. A thin crown sat in his blond curls. "My guards found you and your friend deep in the forest. You were half dead. We let you heal." Meadow gripped the sheets. She did not know this man. She did not know this castle. Her ward, her talisman, her boots — she looked for them and found her gown folded on a chair. "How long?" she asked. "Three days," the king said. He kept his distance, hands open at his sides. "I am Silas. This is my castle." He nodded toward the tall window. Red-roofed turrets rose beyond the glass, wrapped in green gardens. "You spoke in your sleep. You spoke of the rot." Meadow's chest tightened. "You know of it." "It creeps toward my walls," Silas said. His jaw set. "My healers cannot stop it. Trees blacken. Deer fall sick and turn. I have lost two farms already." He studied her. "Your friend would not leave your side. He would not eat. He only watched the door." Meadow looked at Vesper. The scarecrow tilted his head, then reached out and closed one root hand gently around her wrist. The touch steadied her. "You pulled him from the hollow," she said to Silas. It was not a question. "My guards did. He fought them until they showed they meant no harm." A small smile crossed the king's face. "He is loyal." Meadow swung her legs from the bed. Her knees held this time. Strength had come back into her, slow but real. She had gone into the forest alone and woken in a stranger's care. That could have killed her. Instead it had bought her days to mend. She met the king's blue eyes. "The rot has a source," she said. "I found the path to it before I fell. It waits below the hollow. I mean to reach it." Silas was quiet a moment. Then he nodded. "Then you will not go alone," he said. "Rest tonight. In the morning, I will help you."