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Chapter Eleven
Willow
Iwake with the sun warm on my face and the smell of sourdough toast and bacon drifting through the air.
It’s so cozy under the heavy covers, breakfast smells so good, and the birds are chirping so happily outside that for a moment I can’t imagine why my sleep was full of nightmares.
And then I open my eyes and see the bare log walls of the tiny cabin and it all comes rushing back—being taken captive, getting an earful of crazy from my long-lost sister, whispering over tea by the fire late into the night, and eventually being tucked into bed on an air mattress in the corner like a child with Diana already out like a light beside me.
Diana did a good job staying awake for most of the plotting and planning, but the stress of the previous twenty-four hours got the better of her around midnight.
I turn my head to her side of the bed, flinching when I find her already watching me.
She puts a finger to her lips then mouths, “Go pee with me? And we can talk in private?”
I nod and glance over to the fire, where Kelley is alone by the hearth with her back to us, moving pots and skillets around on archaic wrought iron cooking shelves that can be shifted in and out of the flames with iron tongs. Elsbeth is nowhere to be seen, which means Kelley likely won’t be able to abandon her work to escort us to the outhouses the way she did yesterday.
I stretch, making a sleepy yawning noise. “Oh man, that’s smells amazing. Good morning.”
Kelley smiles at me over her shoulder. “Good morning. Food should be ready in about ten minutes. Still like your eggs scrambled with a little cheese on top?”
“You know it,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “But I need to run to the ladies’ first and wash up.”
“Me, too,” Diana says, stretching beside me before sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the unusually firm inflatable bed. “I actually slept pretty well.”
“Good. You had a big day yesterday,” Kelley says. “You needed rest. If you can wait a few minutes, I can walk you both over. The bacon’s nearly ready to come out of the pan.”
I stand, waving a dismissive hand before straightening the dress I slept in. “It’s fine. We know the way by now. We’ll be back before the cheese is melty.”
“But no cheese for me, please,” Diana says, pulling on the cardigan she was given over her own brown linen dress while I fetch mine from the floor beside the bed. “I like my eggs pure, just salt, no pepper.”
Kelley hesitates a moment, but then nods. “Got it. But be careful out there, okay? Don’t talk to anyone if you can help it. The more we keep to ourselves until the ritual tomorrow night, the better.”
Diana and I both murmur our promises to keep our lips zipped, step into matching, over-sized clogs by the door, and step into the crisp early morning air.
Outside, the forest smells incredible. My inner wolf lifts her nose and inhales deeply, eager to shift and explore all the captivating new scents, to run free through the woods for the first time since she wasn’t much more than a pup.
But sadly, this isn’t the time for unbridled joy. Diana and I only have a few minutes alone before we’ll be expected back in the cabin.
“I’m inclined to believe everything they said last night,” she whispers as we set off through the open glen toward the row of portable toilets set up at the tree line a good distance from the main camp. “I think they really want you to be queen, but something still feels…off.”
“Agreed,” I say. “There’s something they’re not telling us.”
“Because whatever it is would be a dealbreaker for you?” Diana muses, glancing over her shoulder before turning back to me. “Or because it’s just…scary maybe?”
My brows lift. “I was assuming option one, but you could be right.”
“I’ve been racking my brain, trying to remember everything I know about ancient rituals like this,” she says, dragging a hand through her still miraculously untangled hair.
If only I emerged from sleep so unrumpled. Personally, I’m dying for a hot shower and a hair dryer, but the camp is far too primitive for either. Last night, Kelley offered to take me to bathe in the river later today, but I’m not looking forward to that plunge.
I’m sure the water temperature around here in late October is flat out icy.
“But I didn’t pay attention the way I should have when Dad talked about that kind of stuff,” she continues with a sigh. “I thought it was boring and so far in the past that it had nothing to do with me. So fucking stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” I say. “You were a kid. Kids are all about the present and the future. That’s their job, to move society forward, no matter how hard it tries to stay stuck in the past.”
She stops several yards from the line of toilets to add in a softer voice, “But one thing I do remember is that they all involved blood in some way. Either the sacrifice of an animal or blood from the person working the ritual or both. So maybe they’re just trying to protect you from realizing how gross and painful it’s going to be until it’s too late. Like my friend Cassie. She had a baby last year, but she refuses to talk to any of her younger friends about it. Says she doesn’t want to scare us into celibacy.” She cringes. “Apparently childbirth is no fucking joke.”
