The stranger in the woods.

I don't believe in God.

I know that sounds odd to a lot of people, but I really don't. What kind of God puts people on this realm just to suffer a miserable existence? What deity would do something so cruel as to invent self-righteous, pretentious, snot-nosed people of power? I look in the mirror and ask myself: Why them? Why not me?

I don't believe in a higher power. A higher power would've come to save its people from this tormented war long ago. No help has come, and the frost rolls over the slaughtered bodies of my race in shallow graves. More bloodshed comes, with no relief and no gods. It's been five frosts since this cursed war between two selfish kings began, all over barren land that holds no prosperity.

In my opinion, it's nothing worth fighting for.

But who am I to say what's worth fighting for?

I'm nothing more than an orphan, my parents taken from me long before the war. Now I'm forced into a never-ending battle I want no part in by a kingdom I was born into, a kingdom that expects loyalty from someone whose parents aren't even here anymore.

What more is there to say?

My horse's sudden stop breaks me from my train of thought. Her skin shudders with fright, and she's dripping with sweat. The perspiration evaporates from her hot skin in the winter air as I urge her forward. I must get this correspondence from the western front of the kingdom to my commander.

My war horse takes a cautious step forward, her ears swiveling toward every sound around us. "Forward," I call once more, clicking my heel against her side. She huffs and stomps her foot, shifting uneasily beneath me. She's trying to turn around.

A twig snaps somewhere in the tree line, and the large horse calls out in shock. She rears back, nearly knocking me from the saddle, and I cling tightly to the reins as a voice calls my steed's name through the chaos. Laughter encircles us from what sounds like all sides.

I should not have accepted this mission.

The Neverfree Forest is known for taking its visitors as tenants. It's even in the name, so how could I have been so foolish as to accept what is practically a death sentence? And if there aren't any gods, then there surely isn't an afterlife. My soul will be lost, my consciousness along with it.

A voice calls my name, slithering through the trees with an airless quality that makes my skin crawl.

"Ave..."

The name drags out before disappearing into the forest.

I shudder and grip the sword belted around me. I wait for something to emerge from the tree line, but nothing does. My horse grows increasingly anxious as the voice calls my name once more, this time from a different angle. As it slinks along just out of sight, I draw my sword.

It's a travel sword, small enough to carry for long distances, and I hope whatever is hiding in these trees isn't larger than my strength or my grip on the weapon. If whatever is stalking me wants me, it'll have to take me dead.

It's nearly silent, and I have to wonder if the broken twig was intentional. My heart races like a hare before being snapped into the jaws of a wolf. I want to run, but I'm frozen in place, gripping my sword atop my terrified war horse in the permafrost of the forest.

A bush rustles, and a man steps from the tree line.

I inhale sharply.

My first thought surprises me: he is impossibly and uncannily perfect.

The urge to run strikes me harder this time, and my heart pounds against my ribcage as I force myself to remain in the saddle. I lock my knees against my steed and grip my ever-seemingly inadequate sword.

"What are you?" I manage to say, my shoulders rolling forward as I point the weapon toward the stranger.

He smiles and raises his hands in a non-threatening manner.

"That's not the first question travelers usually ask me." He chuckles, tilting his head down until he's peering up at me through the long front pieces of his mousey brown hair. I wait for him to continue talking, yet he remains still and unmoving.

Unsettlingly still.

My horse whinnies anxiously and huffs, and my eyes dart along the tree line. There must be others. This must be a trap.

"I can assure you I mean no harm," he finally says, taking a small step forward.

I readjust my grip quickly, shoving the pointed tip of my weapon toward him. It's a threatening gesture, aggressive even, but I have to make a statement. He laughs, seeming genuinely bemused by my behavior.

It pisses me off.

He tilts his head and drops his hands, brushing his hair out of his face as they fall to his sides. Then he charges with sickening speed, crossing the distance between us in an instant.

My yelp catches in my throat and comes out as a choked gasp. He grabs my horse's lead and slings it over her head. I attempt to move, but I'm unable to. My muscles scream against the invisible force holding me in place, and I realize with growing horror that I am bewitched.

"Really, I promise you, Ave. I'm a friend."

His reassurance falls upon deaf ears as I spiral into the cavern of my own mind. He must want the letter from the king. He must be a super-soldier from the enemy kingdom, or worse—a forest guard who drank an elixir that gave him speed and strength.

I'd heard horror stories from the front lines about monsters, then chalked them up to shell shock and tall tales. Until now.

Until the monster had its grip on my mare and I was frozen into a statue.

The cold winter wind nips at my skin with ferocity as he guides my horse deeper into the forest. He glances back with nothing but glee on his face, and my mind rattles inside its own box of flesh as I wonder how he knows me, or even knows of me.

The trees eventually give way to a stream, and the stream gives way to a packed dirt road. An estate reveals itself beyond large cobbled walls, filthy with thorned green vines. My arm screams as it remains locked and frozen in place, but I can't do anything to stop him as he guides us beyond the walls and toward an empty stable.

My body suddenly goes limp and slides from my mare. The stranger catches my dead weight before I hit the ground, while my sword falls from my hand and clatters against the floor. My breathing becomes rapid, and he shushes me. It's only then that I realize I've been making frightened sounds.

The stranger cradles my limp body and carries me toward the run-down estate. A command slips past his lips, and I fall into a sleep unlike any other.

⸻

I don't know how long has passed when sunlight seeps through a barred window and my crusted eyes crack open. I take in the room, finding it well furnished and surprisingly clean. The stranger is across the room, eyes closed and sitting upright while sleeping.

I shift beneath the duvet and scan the furniture, looking for a weapon or anything that could be used in place of one. I silently sift through drawers in a panic, desperately searching as quietly as I humanly can. I have to make it out of here. The missing correspondence is the least of my worries.

A breeze brushes past me, and I freeze.

"You slept for eighteen hours."

The voice comes from across the room.

I attempt to move, but I'm once more bewitched. My breath turns ragged as I wonder what this man could possibly want. The spell releases only after he's sure I haven't found a weapon, and I turn quickly from the nightstand I'd been rummaging through.

"Who are you?"

I repeat my question from earlier.

He laughs. "I told you. I'm a friend."

I tighten my face and glare at him, waiting for him to continue explaining himself. He smiles blankly before sighing, his shoulders relaxing.

"Fine. You win."

He looks directly at me.

"I'm the king's royal pet."

He snarls the words, and for the first time since I saw him, there's something other than glee in his eyes.

Confusion flashes across my face as he reaches toward my reddish braid. I flinch at the stranger's touch, watching cautiously as his fingers brush through my hair without permission.

"That isn't an answer."

In an instant, the disdain disappears from his face.

"If you're looking for a name, I don't have one, princess." The stranger grins, dropping my hair and stepping back to look at me. "Are you an enemy of the kingdom?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

"Not technically," he says. I continue to eye him suspiciously as he paces. I don't buy his story one bit. "If you aren't an enemy of the kingdom, why did you take the letter?" I pointedly ask, taking a cautious step closer to him.

He looks taken aback for a moment, then collects himself.

The letter remains loosely held between his fingers, its broken wax seal catching the pale light spilling through the barred window.

His eyes drop to the correspondence before returning to mine. For a moment, he seems to be considering how much he wants to tell me. I recognize the hesitation immediately; I've seen it on officers' faces when they know something they aren't supposed to share. "I was curious."

I stare at him. Utterly dumbfounded. Like that moment when a toddler is caught stealing and can't think of a better lie than the truth."Curious?" The word falls out of my mouth in shock, tumbling to the floor and bouncing away with the breath I used to utter it.

"You took an important military document because you were curious?"

I can't fathom it. In the dire stakes of our land and our people— My people. My kingdom. This buffoon has the gall to be curious?

A faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. "When you put it that way, it sounds rather unreasonable."

"It is unreasonable. I could be executed. Opening a private document is grounds for imprisonment. Are you from the neighboring kingdom or another world entirely?"

"Perhaps."

My jaw opens slack in shock, then my emotions cycle rapidly through the ninety stages of grief as I grapple with my new reality. I face banishment, imprisonment, or death. As this realization dawns on me, I finally understand the phrase 'curiosity killed the cat.'

He turns away from me and walks toward the window, his footsteps barely making a sound against the worn wooden floorboards. I watch him carefully as he moves. Everything about him is unnerving. Even when he's doing something as simple as walking across a room, there is something too deliberate about his movements, as if he is always aware of exactly where his body is in relation to everything around him.

I glance toward the door. It's still closed. The room suddenly feels smaller. My mouth moves faster than my sense of safety and my next sentence tumbles out of me before I can hold my tongue. I only wish I understood the phrase 'cat got your tongue.'

"You didn't take it because you were curious. You took it because you were looking for something."

His shoulders rise with a quiet breath before falling again.

"You really don't give up, do you?" He says, and my words get caught in my lungs— if only they had gotten caught sooner.

There is something almost fond in his voice, and I immediately dislike it. I force myself to speak.

"I've spent my entire life being ignored by people who were supposed to protect me. I'm not about to start accepting half-answers from a stranger who dragged me into a forest."

His expression shifts. Only slightly, but I see it "Who told you no one was protecting you?"

The question makes my stomach tighten.

"The proof is everywhere." I gesture toward the room around us, though I don't know what I'm trying to prove. "We're in a war no one wants to fight, living in a kingdom no one wants to die for, surrounded by people who are constantly dying. You either fight in the military for a cause you don't believe in, or you starve in the streets because Mommy and Daddy died while you were too young to even say their names."

The bitterness comes out sharper than I intend "That's the reality of it." I stare at him.

He looks away first.

The room falls quiet except for the faint whistle of wind pressing against the window. Somewhere beyond the walls, I hear a horse shift in its stall, followed by the dull scrape of a hoof against wood. My mare.

The thought pulls my attention away from him.

"Where is my horse?"

"In the stable."

"Is she hurt?"

"No."

The answer comes immediately this time. I release a breath and realize I'd been holding it.

"Can I see her?"

He looks toward the door. "You should eat first, you're starving."

"I'll survive." He gives me a look that suggests he isn't convinced. I cross my arms. "I'm not staying in this room."

"I wasn't asking you to."

"Then let me see her."

For a moment, he simply watches me. Then he walks toward the door and gestures for me to follow.

I hesitate.

Every sensible part of me tells me not to follow a man who has already proven he can take control of my body with nothing more than a word. But my horse is somewhere beyond that door, and the need to see her outweighs the warning bells screaming in my head.

I follow.

The hallway is colder than the bedroom, and I pull my arms closer to my body as we walk. The estate is much larger than I first realized. High ceilings disappear into shadows above us, and narrow windows let in thin strips of winter light. Dust hangs in the air, illuminated whenever we pass one of them.

There are paintings along the walls, most of them faded with age. Some have been damaged by water, their frames warped and darkened. Others are covered in a thick layer of dust, making the faces of the people inside them difficult to see.

There are no servants. No guards. No voices.

The house feels abandoned.

Yet the stranger walks through it as though every hallway belongs to him.

"Do you live here alone?"

"Mostly." He glances at me. "Sometimes the king visits." I stop walking.

He takes another few steps before realizing I'm no longer beside him. Slowly, he turns back.

"You mean the enemy?" I ask. "The king that started the very war I'm fighting in?"

"Occasionally." He says it like it's just another sentence, and not something that should make the entire world tilt beneath my feet. "That king comes here?" I say again, like if I say it enough the answer will change and he'll play it off like it's the worst prank in history.

Instead, he shrugs. "Perhaps he likes the quiet."

I almost laugh, though there's nothing funny about the information I've just been given. The enemy king is walking through our kingdom as though he owns it, visiting a secluded estate in the middle of our territory while our soldiers freeze and bleed at the borders.

If the king of the other side of this war can waltz through our land without consequence, what else have we been kept from knowing?

I look at the stranger again, then I look around the empty corridor. "Why do you live here?"

He considers the question for longer than I expect."Because he told me to."

The answer is simple, but something about it makes my skin prickle. I look at him more carefully. "You just do as you're told?"

His mouth curves into a humorless smile.

"Says the solider."

I scoff, this stranger and enemy of the state, sure has some nerve. As we round the corner, I notice a large portrait hanging above a stone fireplace. The man in it is younger than I expected, though there is no mistaking the crown resting upon his dark hair.

He stands in formal military clothing, one hand resting against the hilt of a ceremonial sword. Beside him is a man dressed in an elaborate white dashing outfit, his dark hair pinned back from his face.

"Who is he?" His gaze follows mine to the portrait. For several seconds, he says nothing. Then, quietly, "Someone important."

The answer is strange enough that I look at him.

"That's not an answer." He laughs softly, amused by my response. I follow, but I glance back at the portrait one last time. Something about the man in the picture bothers me. I don't know him. I've never seen him before.

At least, I don't think I have.

The stable doors appear at the end of the corridor, and the moment they open, cold air rushes inside. The smell of hay and damp wood fills my lungs, and the familiar sound of my mare's impatient snort makes my chest loosen for the first time since entering the forest.

"There she is." I hurry toward her.

She lifts her head at the sound of my footsteps, ears flicking toward me. When I reach her stall, she pushes her nose against my shoulder, and I bury my face against the warm side of her neck.

"Easy, girl."

Her coat is still warm beneath my hands. There are no wounds, only a few damp patches where the sweat from our journey has dried.

I run my fingers along her neck, checking her legs and shoulders the way I've been taught. She stands quietly for me, though her ears remain fixed on the stranger behind me.

"You took care of her." It isn't a question. He leans against the stable door, arms folded loosely across his chest. "She was frightened when I brought her here."

"Of course she was."

"So were you."

I turn toward him.

"I had considerably more reason to be."

"I know." Again, that strange seriousness slips into his voice.

I study him for a moment before turning back to my mare. "What's her name?" He smiles faintly. "You haven't told me." I pause. I realize he's right.

I haven't told him anything.

Not her name. Not my commander's name. Not where I was headed. Not anything that could help him understand who I am. Yet he knew my name before I ever introduced myself. I look at him through the strands of hair that have fallen across my face.

"How did you know my name?" The question hangs between us.

His expression doesn't change, but his eyes do. He's good at doing that, I've noticed. For the briefest moment, something flickers behind them.

Recognition.

Fear.

Perhaps both.

Then it disappears.

"You told me."

"I did not."

He looks away.

"Perhaps you did."

"I would remember."

"I wouldn't be so certain."

My fingers tighten in my mare's mane.

He is lying.

I don't know how I know it, but I do.

The stranger pushes himself away from the stable door and reaches for the handle."Get some rest. We'll leave in the morning."

My stomach drops.

"Leave for where?"

He looks back at me.

"Somewhere you can't be found."

"By who?"

His expression becomes unreadable once more.

Before I can demand an explanation, he closes the stable door behind him. I stand beside my mare, listening to his footsteps disappear into the estate.

Since waking in that strange bedroom, I realize something far more frightening than the possibility that I have been captured. He's protecting me.

And I have no idea why.