As they moved closer to her family’s house she could make out her stepmother waiting at the gates, a sense of dread built inside Yesleign. She knew she was in trouble for not being in attendance when the procession from the Capital had arrived. She knew her stepmother would have strong words for her, most of them regarding the appropriate behavior for a young woman. She would inevitably deal with that, but she had something more pressing to deal with first.

“Take me around to the back, where the boys are all training,” she told Tristan softly, not taking her eyes off her stepmother.

“You’re not supposed to go anywhere near the pavilion while the king is here Leign.”

“I know.” Her tone was resolute. He didn’t argue.

Tristan pulled the reins up, signaling the horse to turn left, around the side of the house, towards the yard. Their house was large, not quite a castle like at the Capital, but a manor worthy of the Warden of the North. In the front was the main house, containing the major shared spaces - main hall, dining hall, kitchens, library, etc. Off to the right was the children’s section of the house containing all of their rooms. The left wing was her fathers, and stepmothers now, area of the house with their rooms. Along the back, a bridge, open on both sides but covered with a roof, connected the two wings of the house. Either side of the bridge contained a staircase, a mirror image of one another, that led down to the gardens. The gardens behind the main area of their house were expansive, formal in the front closest to the house, with a wild and largely unkempt arbory in the back. Behind the gardens and running along the right side of the house were rows and rows of thick trees - the entrance to the Shadow Woods.

Along the left side of the house was a large oval pavilion, used for military training and tournaments. On the far edge, past the pavilion were the stables and armory. Their dungeons, if you could even call them that, were located below the armory, which seemed like a major design flaw to Yesleign. They circled around the left side of the house and headed out towards the pavilion.

“You sure you’re okay?” Tristan sounded worried behind her. He squeezed her against his chest, pulling her towards his warmth and strength. She pulled away. She prayed he hadn’t noticed the way the woods had seemed to bend to her will back there. If he knew, if anyone knew, what she truly was, it would be the end of her.

Yesleign looked down at herself, realizing she looked feral. Her dress was covered in mud, ripped along the bottom seams. Dark bruises were already forming around her arms where he’d held her down, giving the impression of darkness seeping out of her wrists from within. Her hair was a mess, twigs and leaves tangled within. Her eyes were wild.

“I’ll be fine.” She tried to sound more sure than she actually was.

As they entered the pavilion, she slid from the horse, feet landing on the ground before the horse had even slowed. Tristan yelled after her but she was already running, feet bouncing lightly off the firm ground beneath her. She ran off to the right side of the pavilion, towards the stairs of the stands. As she reached the perimeter, she grabbed one of the bows that had been leaned up against the wall and a quiver of arrows, flinging the strap of the quiver across her shoulder as she leaped onto the steps. She could hear Tristan cursing and attempting a pursuit but she was lighter, quicker, and had a head start. She bounded the steps until she reached the height she would need for a correct angle and ran within the row of benches. With each footstep she could feel a pulsing from within. Anger and rage and power within radiated from her center and through the rest of her body. She could feel her veins pulling it through her entire being.

When she reached the center of the row she pulled out an arrow and aimed directly at her second eldest brother. A darkness within her fed with the pain of what just happened coursed through her, steadying her hand, focusing her aim.

“REGALD!” She screamed as loudly as she could. The anger within her made her voice scratch and pull against her throat as the words left her. Most of the men there turned to look at her, some with a smirk across their face, thinking her foolish, but those who knew her, their faces were filled with horror. Her eyes were trained solely on her mark, lined up perfectly with the thin body of the arrow. Out of her periphery she saw Tristan begin to climb the stairs. She’d be damned if she was going to let him stop her, even if that meant turning the bow on him.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Her brother then slowly spun and faced her. As he took in the sight before him, her wild anger, black curls billowing across her face, arrow pointed directly at him; an arrogant interest curled itself into his features. She released the arrow.

“Leign!” She heard Tristan yell, bounding quicker up the stairs. Her oldest brother, Elm, now too was moving towards her, up the steps on the opposite side from Tristan.

The arrow hit its mark, landing in the earth squarely between the feet of her brother. He jumped back reflexively, looking first at the arrow in the ground where his foot had been a moment before, then up to meet her eyes. Anger spread across his face, a cold sneer rising in his lips.

Another arrow pulled from the quiver, aimed at the man below. “Brother,” she was yelling still, making sure her words reached their mark as swiftly as the arrow just had, “when you sent your friend to retrieve me did you know he planned to try to assault me in the Shadow Woods?”

She waited half a beat for his answer, but when none came she released the next arrow, this one flying past his right arm, grazing the top of his bicep, before planting itself within the wood of the perimeter behind. The sound of the arrow striking the wood reverberated through the silent pavilion. No one below dared move a muscle, all eyes were focused on her with fearful intensity. A thin string of red bloomed across her brother’s arm. He winced and instinctively grabbed at it.

“Yesleign what the hell are you doing?!” This time it was Elm yelling, bounding up the stairs two at a time. She didn’t take her eyes off her mark.

She pulled another arrow, aiming it directly at him, eyes narrowed to meet his. “Did you?” She repeated in a voice of pure cold fury.

Her brother answered through gritted teeth, anger seeped through every word, “are you sure you weren’t just confused? Or ashamed that you tried something on an older boy and he turned you down?”

Tristan had almost reached her but when he heard these words he froze, spinning to also face the man below. Yesleign was not looking directly at him but could sense the shift in his mood, heard it in the tone of his voice.

He spat down at her brother, “no Regald she was not confused! I came across him, pinning her to the ground, pawing and biting at her, hitting her as she screamed for help. Had I not been there she might not have made it back here in one piece. And the fact that you’d think so little of your own sister should alarm you.” Regald’s face blanched slightly at the accusation. His eyes narrowed at the words which had been slung at him.

Tristan’s words annoyed her. She didn’t need him to speak up for her. Her words, her truth should have been enough. Why should it take another man’s verification of her story for her brother to believe her? She didn’t need him to be her savior. Plus, he didn’t know it, but had he not arrived she would have been fully capable of saving herself had she released the darkness begging to escape from deep within her.

Elm had now reached the row where she stood and begun to approach, but next to her a white shadow lurked, slinking around the back of her legs, placing himself between Yesleign and her brother. As Elm took another step the wolf growled low. Elm held up his hands in submission. “Sister please, put down the bow, call off the wolf, and we can all sit down and discuss this calmly. I know you’re upset but please.”

Yesleign realigned the arrow, the darkness within her pulling so fiercely through her veins she thought she might lose control, release all of it. Her bruised wrists ached with each pulsing beat, her heartbeat thummed within her quickly. She let the arrow lose again.

This time it went flying past her brother’s right cheek, close enough that she was sure he could feel it. Again it planted squarely in the wood behind him, the sound echoing. When she spoke her voice was a low growl, “if you EVER send anyone after me again, or any of your friends ever try anything like that again, I will aim three inches to the left, squarely between your eyes.”

For a moment they stared at each other. His jaw was clenched tight in anger.

“Daughter!” Her father’s voice boomed through the grounds. “Put down the bow now.” It was an order, not a request.

She looked to the side of the pavilion, past where Elm stood. There stood the king, his blonde hair slicked back, a circlet of gold placed on his head. He looked amused at the spectacle in front of him. Next to the king stood a younger man, probably the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was tall and muscular but in a lean way, he was clearly a noble and not a warrior. He also had blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. A smaller gold circlet on his head told her he must be the High Prince. The Prince was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Next to them stood her father. His eyes were aflame with anger.

She dropped the bow on the ground. It clattered as it hit the bench below. She let the quiver with the remaining few arrows fall.

She made her way down the row of benches towards Tristan. When she got close he held out his hand. “Leign,” he almost whispered, like he was pleading with her. She didn’t look at him, didn’t take his hand. She climbed the bench in front of her, jumped down to the row below, and walked out of the pavilion towards the house. No one dared to follow her.