Chapter Eight
We reach the council building just as the sun begins to fall behind the western edge of the forest. Already, we’ve attracted a crowd. Jared walks in front of me. I keep my knife aimed at his back while my mind races. The elders will hear about the stranger in our midst any moment now and will converge upon the building.
Dad won’t be far behind them once he wakes up, and he’ll be furious.
“Stop here.” I point toward the council door with its tiny windows and smooth planes of blueberry-stained maple planks. Two large barrels, as tall as my waist, stand sentry on either side of the door. In spring, summer, and fall, the barrels are overflowing with flowers, but now there’s nothing but dried-up husks wilting against the dirt inside the planters.
“Keep your back to the door. You’ll want to be able to see anyone who’s coming for you.”
Jared raises a brow. “Like the man who tried to stop us on the way into the village?”
“Yes.” I study Jared for a second. He stands loose and ready with the confidence of a man who’s spent years training himself for a fight.
It won’t be enough to save him from my father, but I’ll be here. I won’t let anything happen to Jared, the man who chose to trust me. The echoes I leave behind with him won’t come back to haunt me in my nightmares.
“Quinn Runningbrook, what is this?” Elder Toilspun arrives first, his lined face folded in on itself like a piece of crumpled paper. His dark eyes are shrewd as he looks from me to Jared. Behind him, I see three more elders hurrying toward us. The crowd of village dwellers parts to let them through.
Four elders out of seven. Enough to make a decision on Jared’s fate. Enough to make a decision about Dad, too.
My palms are suddenly slick with sweat as the weight of what I’m doing hits me. If the elders don’t help me, then my entire plan will crumble, and I’ll be left trapped in a life that I can no longer stand to lead.
I wait in respectful silence for the other three elders to reach us, and then I say, “I was scouting to the south when I encountered this man. His name is Jared Adams, he’s a courier from Baalboden, and he was unintentionally trespassing too close to our village.”
The elders exchange confused glances. In all the years that our family has been in charge of the village’s protection, they’ve never once had to deal with a trespasser. At least not while that trespasser was still alive.
“But why did you bring him here?” Elder Toilspun asks.
“Because it has come to my attention that this man has been accused of stealing something from Rowansmark. My father and Willow cleared out a group of bounty hunters who were looking for him. Jared tells me he’s been wrongly accused, but that’s something for the elders to decide. If you feel he is innocent, he will need an escort out of the forest to stay safe from the bounty hunters. If he is found guilty, we can take him back to Rowansmark and claim the reward for our village.”
Beside me, Jared stiffens, and I wonder if he’s questioning his decision not to fight me for his freedom.
All I can do is pray that my plan works. That Dad, furious at my disobedience and eager to benefit from what Jared Adams took from Rowansmark, will forget to fake respect for the council’s wishes. That the council, faced with the truth of Dad’s violent rage toward a prisoner, in direct violation of the council’s wishes, will be forced to put him in the jail cell instead of Jared.
That Willow and I will finally be free.
“This is a very unusual situation,” Elder Saintcrow says. Her white hair flows freely, and the red beads she ties throughout her locks clatter together in the wind.
“We need to meet as a full council to discuss our options, and of course we’ll need to interview the man to hear his side of the story,” Elder Toilspun says.
I take a deep breath and force myself to sound like the answer doesn’t mean anything to me as I ask, “What should I do with the prisoner?”
“We’ll have to put him in the cell—”
“Give him to me.” Dad’s voice rings out, and my knees weaken even as my body tenses, ready for a fight.
We turn to see my father—muscled and scarred—push through the crowd toward us. Villagers scramble to get out of his way. His dark eyes are locked on mine, and the rage inside of me shivers at the expression on his face.
I’ve done it. I’ve defied his direct orders. I’ve attacked him. I’ve pushed him past his breaking point. Now Willow and I just have to survive the consequences.
Elder Saintcrow sounds wary. “This is an unusual circumstance—”
“Anyone who trespasses near the village border is my responsibility.” Dad’s gaze never leaves mine. A red lump rises from his temple. “The council doesn’t need to discuss it any further. Give him to me, and I’ll do what my sad excuse for a son should’ve done in the first place.”
Jared draws in a small breath as if surprised to learn that the man who ordered me to kill him is my father.
“You mean you’ll kill him,” I say quietly. Instantly a hush falls across the crowd as people wait for Dad’s response.
Dad’s shoulders bunch as he steps closer to me. “We don’t take prisoners.”
“That isn’t a council rule,” Elder Toilspun says. Of the four assembled elders, he’s the only one who hasn’t edged away from Dad.
“It’s my rule. A rule my son understands, don’t you, boy?” Dad crosses the remaining yards between us, his leather boots making quiet shush-shush sounds against the walkway.
We reach the council building just as the sun begins to fall behind the western edge of the forest. Already, we’ve attracted a crowd. Jared walks in front of me. I keep my knife aimed at his back while my mind races. The elders will hear about the stranger in our midst any moment now and will converge upon the building.
Dad won’t be far behind them once he wakes up, and he’ll be furious.
“Stop here.” I point toward the council door with its tiny windows and smooth planes of blueberry-stained maple planks. Two large barrels, as tall as my waist, stand sentry on either side of the door. In spring, summer, and fall, the barrels are overflowing with flowers, but now there’s nothing but dried-up husks wilting against the dirt inside the planters.
“Keep your back to the door. You’ll want to be able to see anyone who’s coming for you.”
Jared raises a brow. “Like the man who tried to stop us on the way into the village?”
“Yes.” I study Jared for a second. He stands loose and ready with the confidence of a man who’s spent years training himself for a fight.
It won’t be enough to save him from my father, but I’ll be here. I won’t let anything happen to Jared, the man who chose to trust me. The echoes I leave behind with him won’t come back to haunt me in my nightmares.
“Quinn Runningbrook, what is this?” Elder Toilspun arrives first, his lined face folded in on itself like a piece of crumpled paper. His dark eyes are shrewd as he looks from me to Jared. Behind him, I see three more elders hurrying toward us. The crowd of village dwellers parts to let them through.
Four elders out of seven. Enough to make a decision on Jared’s fate. Enough to make a decision about Dad, too.
My palms are suddenly slick with sweat as the weight of what I’m doing hits me. If the elders don’t help me, then my entire plan will crumble, and I’ll be left trapped in a life that I can no longer stand to lead.
I wait in respectful silence for the other three elders to reach us, and then I say, “I was scouting to the south when I encountered this man. His name is Jared Adams, he’s a courier from Baalboden, and he was unintentionally trespassing too close to our village.”
The elders exchange confused glances. In all the years that our family has been in charge of the village’s protection, they’ve never once had to deal with a trespasser. At least not while that trespasser was still alive.
“But why did you bring him here?” Elder Toilspun asks.
“Because it has come to my attention that this man has been accused of stealing something from Rowansmark. My father and Willow cleared out a group of bounty hunters who were looking for him. Jared tells me he’s been wrongly accused, but that’s something for the elders to decide. If you feel he is innocent, he will need an escort out of the forest to stay safe from the bounty hunters. If he is found guilty, we can take him back to Rowansmark and claim the reward for our village.”
Beside me, Jared stiffens, and I wonder if he’s questioning his decision not to fight me for his freedom.
All I can do is pray that my plan works. That Dad, furious at my disobedience and eager to benefit from what Jared Adams took from Rowansmark, will forget to fake respect for the council’s wishes. That the council, faced with the truth of Dad’s violent rage toward a prisoner, in direct violation of the council’s wishes, will be forced to put him in the jail cell instead of Jared.
That Willow and I will finally be free.
“This is a very unusual situation,” Elder Saintcrow says. Her white hair flows freely, and the red beads she ties throughout her locks clatter together in the wind.
“We need to meet as a full council to discuss our options, and of course we’ll need to interview the man to hear his side of the story,” Elder Toilspun says.
I take a deep breath and force myself to sound like the answer doesn’t mean anything to me as I ask, “What should I do with the prisoner?”
“We’ll have to put him in the cell—”
“Give him to me.” Dad’s voice rings out, and my knees weaken even as my body tenses, ready for a fight.
We turn to see my father—muscled and scarred—push through the crowd toward us. Villagers scramble to get out of his way. His dark eyes are locked on mine, and the rage inside of me shivers at the expression on his face.
I’ve done it. I’ve defied his direct orders. I’ve attacked him. I’ve pushed him past his breaking point. Now Willow and I just have to survive the consequences.
Elder Saintcrow sounds wary. “This is an unusual circumstance—”
“Anyone who trespasses near the village border is my responsibility.” Dad’s gaze never leaves mine. A red lump rises from his temple. “The council doesn’t need to discuss it any further. Give him to me, and I’ll do what my sad excuse for a son should’ve done in the first place.”
Jared draws in a small breath as if surprised to learn that the man who ordered me to kill him is my father.
“You mean you’ll kill him,” I say quietly. Instantly a hush falls across the crowd as people wait for Dad’s response.
Dad’s shoulders bunch as he steps closer to me. “We don’t take prisoners.”
“That isn’t a council rule,” Elder Toilspun says. Of the four assembled elders, he’s the only one who hasn’t edged away from Dad.
“It’s my rule. A rule my son understands, don’t you, boy?” Dad crosses the remaining yards between us, his leather boots making quiet shush-shush sounds against the walkway.
