Blossom and the Beast (The Alder Tales Book 1) Read online

  It was all too horrible to imagine. Blossom looked at the bronze cup in her hand, full to the brim with amberwine, and tipped her head back, sucking it down in a series of rough gulps.

  “Whoa, there,” Hale fussed too late, pulling her cup from her hands when there were mere drops left.

  Blossom ran her hand across her mouth, wiping at the drips that had escaped down her chin.

  “Come on. Let’s get you to bed before I have to carry you.” Hale made it sound as if he couldn’t carry her, but she knew better.

  He handed off their cups and pulled her to her feet, helping her navigate through the camp. The ground seemed to change and pitch with each step, causing her to stumble a few times, and only Hale’s hand on her arm kept her from collapsing straight into the dirt.

  When they reached the entrance of her tent, Blossom’s legs locked up. “Can I sleep in your tent tonight?”

  “Sure you can make it that far?”

  Blossom nodded and was all too aware of the big, sloppy grin on her face. Hale wanted her to sleep over, too, like they often had as children but had done less frequently of late. He, too, recognized their time was running out.

  When at last they reached Hale’s tent on the far side of the camp, he lowered her to the wide pallet of blankets and pillows—some fabric, some animal furs—and let her pick a spot before he collapsed next to her.

  A series of small squeaks filled her ear, and a moment later, Fig appeared and nestled behind Blossom’s neck—his favorite spot. At least when she was gone with a new clan and married to a stranger, she could take Fig with her, a tether to this life, this family.

  She would have to work to take good care of him. No more forgetting him in Hale’s tent while she went to a celebration at the fire pit. The sting of guilt crept up into her chest.

  “I’m sorry I always get you in so much trouble,” she said to Hale, her eyes closed though the tent continued to spin.

  Hale chuckled. “I don’t mind. He just wants to keep you happy while he can.”

  Blossom’s eyes filled with tears that overflowed before she could stop them. Da had let her roam and climb and explore because he knew, once she was traded and married, she would never get the chance again. He wanted her to be happy while it was within his power to make it so.

  Hale’s wiry arm appeared across her shoulder, his fingertips grazing her back. A comforting move, as he well knew. Their mother had done it for her brothers when they were boys, and after her death, Hale had done it for Blossom.

  She tilted her head up and kissed his cheek, a silent thanks for being a good brother. Hale pulled her against his chest and whispered, “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  The Stranger

  HALE WAS GONE by the time she woke. Blossom recalled something about a trade with Hydra this morning, but she couldn’t muster up any interest in tagging along. The water barrels and food crates had dwindled over the last year, so they had to meet with Hydra clans to trade for alder wood more often. But Blossom had no interest in aquaculture farmers.

  She had other plans today.

  Blossom unwrapped her injured hand and revealed nothing more than a pink line. Hale’s ointment had done its work. She smiled that she would have full use of it today.

  Draped over her neck, Fig lay with his belly up and his paws flinching with some tiny dream, a dream only a ferret could have.

  Blossom stroked his exposed torso. Fig’s feet quieted, and like a snake, he slithered down her shoulder and landed on his hind paws. His black, bead-like eyes watched her as he curled up against her chest.

  “No, we can’t sleep all day,” she told him. “We have things to do.”

  Beside the tent flap, Blossom found her boots, a fresh tunic, and pants. Hale must have woken early to fetch them from her tent. She made a mental note to remind herself to thank him later, but right now she had a remnant to climb.

  Stealing away from camp was much easier from Hale’s tent than her own. Situated on the edge of camp and well away from his neighbors, she could get away without a soul seeing her.

  Blossom peeked around the flap. Once she was sure the vicinity was clear, she darted out and followed the tent’s perimeter until she was deep within the forest, hidden by massive alder trees and morning shadows.

  A half-hour into the woods, she was far enough from camp to start scouting the nearby trees. The blooms from the alder trees were still too premature to offer any fruit. Had she found any, eating them would earn her a swift conviction for crimes against the Sacred Mother and a trip to Terrana to be hanged in the criminal grove. But for a clan that made their way in the world by harvesting the sacred trees and selling the prized alder wood for profit, the threat of death by hanging was tired, no longer scaring anyone but children.

  Blossom soon found a peach tree nestled between the alders. Its fruit was small, maybe half the size of the full-grown orb, but they would do. With a running start, she vaulted up the trunk. Bracing with her boots, she grabbed the lowest branch with both hands and swung her legs around to the next. Within minutes, she had a handful of small peaches pressed against her shirt. Satisfied with her spoils, she found a wide branch and sat.

  Fig crawled out of her tunic and selected one of the peaches from her gatherings, clutching it in his tiny hands. Blossom ate the fruit, only stopping to spit out the pits and pluck off the leaves still clinging to the peach’s skin.

  Maybe the forest wasn’t all that bad. It was hard to hate what had been her home for so long. It was the only place she’d ever known, the only place she’d ever lived, and while she wanted to go out and experience the world, the forest would always be her home.

  From her pocket, she produced a worn, leather-bound book, The Spirits of the Alder—a classic which told of the thirteen spirits that descended from the Alder Mother. Blossom had read it so many times she couldn’t count anymore, but it was one of the few remaining books in the clan and had belonged to her mother. Blossom always felt a kindred energy within its pages. Though it was probably only her imagination, the words still brought her comfort.

  Blossom read the familiar chapter about the peach tree—the spirit for which the fourth month, her birth month, was named. It was the story of how the spirit had lusted after a young girl and was cursed to forever bear soft, sweet fruit in her memory.

  When she’d finished, Blossom pushed the book, along with the rest of her peaches, into her pocket for later and held out her hand for Fig. With one paw clutched around his fruit, he gimped along the top of her arm until he settled onto her shoulder.

  She swung her feet off the branch and climbed down to the ground in a few seconds. Excitement hummed in her blood as she set off toward the remnant, the tallest metal structure she’d ever seen—maybe the tallest ever. Even half fallen over, it stood well above the canopies.

  The remnant was unlike the forest, different and foreign, cold and angular when the forest was so full of life. Blossom was drawn to its strangeness.

  Most of the morning passed as she tried to find it again. The day before she’d stumbled across it, so hidden by the height of the alders and their full spring branches. Today she knew to follow her feet to the east, but didn’t know how far away or if she needed to venture a bit to the north or south.

  By midday, her stash of peaches was gone and her stomach began to growl again. She bounded up the nearest tree, clambering for purchase until her feet landed on a low branch. She ascended a little farther until the new peaches were well within reach.

  These were a little larger than the last, and upon tasting one, she found they were sweeter, too. The fuzz of the peach skin tickled her tongue as she ate. With her pockets full and a peach gripped between her teeth, Blossom dropped down to the next branch, then another, until at last, she dropped a good ten steps to the ground.

  Juice dripped down her chin as she took another bite, but her mouth froze mid-chew when she looked up.

  Not fifty paces away stood a trio of men
. One of them wore a long, black cloak, and while the collar hid his totem tattoo, there was no mistaking the red color of it. He was a Pyro—the first she’d ever seen. Black hair with a bit of wave hung long enough to skim his shoulders, and a strong jaw was nearly hidden behind a thick, dark beard.

  Based on the finery of his cloak and the more functional clothes of the other two men, Blossom guessed he was someone of great importance. He might have had a wolf or tiger or snake totem. He could be harmless or he could be dangerous. Only one thing was certain—she wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

  Blossom dropped the peach and bolted between the trees. Her feet slammed on the ground and strong runner’s legs propelled her forward with considerable speed. Behind her, shouts rang out, though she couldn’t hear any words over the throbbing in her ears. Fig bounced on her shoulder for only a moment before climbing safely inside her tunic.

  What a fool she’d been. She should have stayed in camp like she promised Hale. Instead, she was out in the forest, far out in the Alderwood, being pursued by three strangers. Her breath raced in and out of her lungs, hotter and harder than she would have liked.

  Within minutes she’d lost them. Their footsteps and shouts were no longer audible in the quiet of the wood, but still she ran back home, back to safety. She would tell Hale she wanted to go to the remnant when he could go with her—when the strangers were gone.

  Blossom’s curls began to stick to her face with sweat and her tunic clung to the skin of her back and chest, but she didn’t stop. The run back to camp seemed infinite; she passed trees one after another for what seemed like an hour, though it could have been longer.

  The first of the camp’s tents came into view at last. She was on the southeastern side, rather than the eastern side from where she departed. Somehow she’d drifted off her course, though considering her panic, she’d done pretty well.

  At the first tent stood a middle-aged woman named Cresta, who looked as if she had once been lovely before age claimed her beauty. Blossom tried to force a smile and pretend as if she hadn’t just run through the Alderwood chased by strangers, but she was sure her sweat and ragged breaths gave her away.

  Cresta froze in the midst of her washing and openly stared at Blossom as she passed.

  Maybe she had dirt on her face, she thought. Blossom used the sleeve of her tunic to wipe at her cheeks as she walked. She worked to smooth over her appearance until she saw Parson running toward her.

  “There you are,” he said in that angry tone of his. He slowed his steps as he reached her and put his hand on her back to urge her forward.

  Blossom cursed under her breath. Of course it was Parson, the brother so quick-tempered, to find her gone. Hale would have been so much kinder about it. Then again, she had that temper, too. She, of all people, could hardly fault him for it.

  “We’ve been looking for you. Da wants to see you.” He kept his eyes straight forward.

  “Another offer?” Two offers in two days? What were the odds?

  Thanks to Da’s swift refusal yesterday, Blossom couldn’t find it in herself to be overly worried. Sure she had that pang of fear that would probably never go away, at least not until she had laid eyes on her new husband. But for now, she enjoyed the comforting safety her father provided.

  Then she stepped into the tent. There, standing in the center of the space with her da, was none other than the cloaked man. In the tent’s shadows, his features were even more severe. He wasn’t old, maybe as young as Hale, but there was a power and energy there that scared her.

  For the second time, Blossom wanted to run from him.

  But when she turned to flee, she found Parson’s wide chest blocking the exit from the tent.

  “Thank you, son. You may go. Please close the flap,” Da said, ignoring her presence. Blossom wondered if she might slip out behind Parson unnoticed, but of course not. Da had asked for her.

  “Blossom, may I present Kaide Landel, the Vice Syndicate of the Pyro branch.” Da put extra emphasis on his title, Vice Syndicate. Blossom could have guessed as much. Second only to the Syndicate, this Kaide Landel was one of the most powerful people in his branch. One day he might even claim the esteemed title of full Syndicate if he could do away with the other two candidates.

  As Blossom gaped, soaking in the dark depths of his eyes and his casual confidence, Da spoke for her. “Mr. Landel, this is my daughter, Blossom Frane, of the Bear Clan of the Alderwood.”

  Her full title. That was a very bad sign. Blossom swallowed down her nerves and wrung her hands together in front of her, anything to keep from embarrassing her father.

  Da took several steps to separate himself from the Vice Syndicate, his eyes cast low and his shoulders drooped. When he was near enough, he said in a voice just above a whisper, “Mr. Landel has made an offer for your hand.”

  “What?” The word flew from her lips before she could call it back. Over Da’s shoulder she saw the stranger standing tall, his hands clasped behind his back and his chest puffed out like a proud peacock. Still, she could be sure something flickered in those dark eyes.

  Was he angry?

  “He’s not a Terra,” Blossom protested when her thoughts returned to her.

  The stranger replied, “I’d like a moment to speak to the young Ms. Frane alone.” It was Da’s turn to spin and stare at the Vice Syndicate, shocked at the breach of protocol. Even Blossom knew it was out of the question to leave a daughter in the presence of a suitor without her father.

  “That’s not—”

  Blossom breathed a tiny sigh of relief when her father began to protest. But that relief dissipated in an instant when the Vice Syndicate interrupted, “Thank you for your cooperation, Master Frane. We’ll only be a moment.”

  She watched in shock as her da bowed his head in respect and retreated beyond the tent flap. The space filled with light for the brief moment it took him to leave, and then she was plunged back into the candlelit darkness.

  With him.

  Blossom crossed her arms, waiting for whatever it was he was going to say. She already knew she’d reject it. She didn’t like him. She didn’t want him. She certainly wasn’t going to marry him. There was nothing to talk about.

  But rather than speak, the Vice Syndicate circled around her. She felt his fingers tug on one of her curls, but he didn’t touch her otherwise. When he rounded her other side, he was close enough to see his eyes were a deep-blue color rather than pure black. For some reason, that made her feel better, though she didn’t know why.

  Blossom steeled herself against any advances he might try to make. She moved her gaze to the far side of the tent, tightened her arms across her chest, and counted the seconds with her breath. This would be over soon enough.

  “Did you run all the way here?” His voice was quiet and low, so unlike it had been just moments before. His question was nothing like she’d expected, and despite her efforts, Blossom found her eyes lingering on him once more.

  “Yes, I thought my life to be in danger.” For once, she was glad of her soiled appearance—anything but a delicate flower. It might serve her well today.

  He let out a stern breath. “I mean you no harm. In fact, I made your father a very generous offer, one I’m inclined to think he will accept.”

  “I’m sure you’re very rich, but my father values more than money. He would never trade me to a Pyro, not for all the money in the world.” Blossom filled her words with as much hatred and venom she could manage, hoping they were true.

  “You see, I’m on my way back to Pyrona from visiting the Terra Vice Syndicate. As Lord Castor’s compatriot, I’m pressed to notify him of any illegal activity I might be aware of. Activities such as illegal alder-cutting operations, even ones as cunning and developed as this one.”

  Blossom’s jaw fell open in horror. “You threatened him?” In that moment, Blossom wished to be a bear, wished she could shed this fragile, human exterior and become the fiery, capable creature that could rip him to
shreds.

  How dare he threaten her family. Trading for her was one thing, but this? It was so, so wrong.

  Blossom blinked away the unshed tears in her eyes, refusing to cry in front of him. He was awful, and if she didn’t figure something out soon, she’d leave with him. She’d marry him.

  “Why?” It was the only question left to ask.

  Vice Syndicate Kaide Landel took in several breaths as he considered his answer. At last, he looked up at her with those deep-blue eyes and answered, “I saw you in the wood, and I wanted you. And, Ms. Frane, don’t misunderstand me. I always get what I want.”

  “And what about what I want?” Blossom shot him a scathing glare.

  He curled his lips up in a half-smile. “Do you even know what you want?” The question hit her square in the chest, a damaging blow.

  “I know I don’t want to marry a man who would threaten my family. Of that, I’m completely certain.” It was hard to look intimidating when he towered over her so, but she did her best to stand firm. Blossom clenched her hands into fists and jutted her chin high into the air, as if that could convince him of her seriousness.

  “Well, then. I suppose you should agree to marry me of your own accord. Would that suit you?”

  “No.” She hated this, hated playing this game. He had the power to do as he pleased and the money to buy everything else. Even Da couldn’t resist his pressure and influence. To corner her in the tent and pretend like this might be her choice was the most insulting ruse imaginable.

  “What would it take to make you happy?” Caught off-guard by such a question, she looked up at him. His previous confidence had lessened, and it was possible he really wanted to know the answer.

  But Blossom knew this was just another turn in the game. “I want you to leave.”

  “That is my intention. As soon as our arrangements are finalized, you will accompany me back to Pyrona.” He reclasped his hands behind his back and stood taller, that brief moment gone.