Page 58 of Into the Heartless Wood
“I—”
He punches the doorframe and the wood splinters. “HOW MANY NIGHTS?”
Shouting isnotbetter. I gulp and stare at him, clenching my hands into fists. “I—”
He takes a breath. Swipes his hand across his forehead. There’s blood on his knuckles and moisture in his eyes.
“All of them, sir,” I say.
“You’ve been climbing out of your window.”
“Yes, sir.”
He sags against the doorframe. “The woodtookher. Ittook her away from us.And you—why? Why do you go there every night, Owen? What could possibly be worth lying to me? What could be worth spitting on your mother’s memory and endangering yourself, over and over again?” His voice is raw and wild.
“I’m not spitting on Mother’s memory. I wouldnever—”
“TELL ME WHY!” Father roars.
I suck in a jagged breath. “There’s a—there’s a—” How can I tell him? How can I tell him I danced with a tree siren until dawn, when Mother was slaughtered by one? I’ve spoken about my mother to Seren many times, but I’ve neveraskedher if she had anything to do with my mother’s death. I’ve never dared.
“Tell me,” Father repeats, quiet again.
“There’s a girl. In the wood. She—she can’t leave or the Gwydden will kill her and—and she’s the one who found Awela. She protected her. Protected both of us.”
He studies me. I wonder if he’s parsing the truth from my lies.
“Do you fancy yourself in love with this girl?”
The question is like a punch to the gut. “What? No. No. She’s a—” I clamp my lips shut on the word ‘monster’. “She’s just a friend.” I blink and see her smiling in the starlight, feel her smooth-rough hand in mine, smell the sweet, strong scent of her. Fear of a different kind wakes up inside of me. Makes me shake. Because she’snotjust a friend. She’s—I don’t know what she is.
Father’s jaw works. “Then she isn’t worth risking everything for.”
There’s a clatter from downstairs that makes both of us jump—Awela has been left to her own devices for far too long. I make a move to the door but Father bars my way. “You’re staying up here until I decide what to do with you.”
The disappointment in his voice hurts. “I’m sorry, Father.”
“If you climb out that window again, you will be.” He shuts the door in my face and drags something heavy against it to block me in. His chest of books from his university days, probably.
I sag onto my bed, my traitorous eyes looking out the window, down to the wood. Wind stirs through the verdant leaves, and I wonder, as I have very often, where Seren goes during the day. She’s never told me. For half a moment, I entertain the notion of climbing out the window and going to find her, but I dismiss it at once. That wouldn’t help anything, and I’m not about to abandon Awela.
I’m exhausted. Without my meaning it to, my head finds my pillow. I sleep.
It’s late afternoon when I wake again. Father has left me a plate of food on my nightstand: a slab of cold ham and a slice of bara brith. I inhale both and step over to my window, where I find Father has been busy while I was sleeping: He’s cut away the ivy that used to wind up the stone, successfully eliminating my path down to the garden. My stomach clenches: He really means to keep me from the wood. From Seren.
I pace the length of my room, three strides between the window and the door and back again. I could probably batter my way through the door—I suspect I’m stronger than Father gives me credit for—but that wouldn’t accomplish anything. Better to wait until he forgives me, or at least relents enough to let me out.
I dig a few dusty books out from under my bed: one of Father’s scientific journals, and a collection of poems Mother loved. I started reading the poems a while back, planning to memorize a few to impress Mairwen Griffith.
Do you fancy yourself in love with this girl?
Father’s question sparks unbidden in my mind. I’ve been trying not to think about it. Becauseof courseI’m not in love with Seren.Of course.
But then what exactly am I doing? WhyhaveI risked so much for her?
She’s lonely,I tell myself.I feel sorry for her. And I’m just trying to repay my debt.
But that’s not it at all.
