“It’s her,” Phae breathed, feeling the familiar presence of her kindred. She tightened her grip on Shion’s arm. “I can feel her presence.” It reminded her of the Dryad tree in Stonehollow she had fled. There was no Druidecht here now to frighten her. Biting her lip, Phae let go of Shion’s arm and hesitantly approached. Her boots disturbed the soot and ashes, bringing up an earthy smell that was not unpleasant. It was like smelling a candle wick after it had been snuffed out.
Phae stared at the ancient tree, mesmerized with its beauty as well as its savage scar. The wound was already beginning to heal, covered over with a layer of dark sap. Amidst the crooked branches were clumps of mistletoe. Phae closed the distance, hands wringing in front of her nervously. She had the sudden sensation—an impression, really—that the Dryad would not appear with Shion standing near.
She glanced back at him. “Will you wait for me?” she asked. “I need to speak with her alone.”
He looked from her to the tree, his expression suddenly wary. She wondered what he was thinking.
“I’ll be all right,” she said simply. “She won’t…hurt me.”
The look of resistance in his eyes lingered and she said nothing, waiting for him to get used to the idea. She inhaled the smell of the woods, listening to every chirp and tick coming from the forest. The wind rustled the massive branches. Then Shion nodded to her and stepped away from the glen, vanishing into the shadows. She knew he was still there, nearby. But she could not see him.
Phae took a deep breath and turned to face the Dryad tree. She found herself peering into the green eyes of a girl no older than herself, a girl peeking from behind the tree.
“Hello,” the girl said in Aeduan.
Phae bit her lip again. The connection between them was strong, as if they each shared a single heart. Phae blinked rapidly. “I am…one of you,” Phae said in a small voice.
“I know,” the girl said, stepping cautiously around the tree. She wore a pretty dress that matched the color of her eyes. Her hair was long and blond and as straight as wheat sheaves. She had an unearthly beauty that made Phae suddenly self-conscious. The girl looked over Phae’s shoulder, her expression crinkling with worry. “He is near. Are you in danger? You will be safe with me. I can make him go away.”
Phae held up her hands. “Please no,” she begged. “His memories have already been stolen. Do you have a way…of restoring his memories? Could you help him to remember?”
The girl made a frown, her lips pouting. “Yes, there is a way, but the idea is loathsome to me.” She stepped away from the tree, but never lost touch of it. She stared again over Phae’s shoulder. “A Dryad’s kiss would make him remember. But it is a gift we rarely give for it binds us to that person. We only do it if someone saves our tree from destruction and lingers to claim the boon.” She looked at Phae and smiled prettily but with confusion. “Who are you? Where is your mother?”
Phae wanted to reach out and stroke the bark of the tree, but she dared not, unsure whether it would be offensive to the other girl to do so.
“It’s all right,” the girl said encouragingly. “You may touch my tree.”
Phae looked startled. “Did you…did you know my thoughts?”
“No, I read your expression. The eyes say much. I made the choice to become a Dryad a long time ago. I know the nature of you mortals. Especially the unspoken ways you communicate with each other. That man you came with. You clutched him as if he were a…brother…or a protector. But he has a dark cast to him. A blight in his soul. I smell blood from his hands.”
Phae nodded seriously. “It is true. But he is starting to change. His mind was stolen away and he was persuaded by his ignorance to do savage things.”
The girl frowned and shook her head. “I pity him. He is your protector then?”
“Yes.”
“Who is your mother? I cannot place you by your smell. You have been to many lands in a short time. They each cling to your skin. Each land has its own scent. You are from…?”
“Stonehollow,” Phae answered. “But my mother was not. She is a Dryad from a tree in Kenatos. The Paracelsus Towers. My father is Tyrus Paracelsus.”
The look on the girl’s face gave away much. She stared at Phae with open astonishment, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as well. “I sensed the presence of kindred magic in the woods. I summoned the stag to lead you here, but I did not realize who it would be. You are…Tyrus’s daughter?”
“I am.” Phae bowed her head.
The girl stiffened. “Who is it that is with you? Speak his name?”
Phae looked startled. “He has no name.”
“The Kishion,” the girl hissed.
Phae held up her hands placatingly. “He no longer serves the Arch-Rike.”
The girl had a panic-stricken look on her face. “And I helped lead him to my tree? Call for him. I must take his memories. He cannot remember this place. All would be at risk.”
“No, please!” Phae implored. “He is no threat.”
“His presence is a threat,” the girl answered, looking fearful. “The ring he wears—”