Page 25 of Dryad’s Treasure

“No!” The word screamed through my lips as I lunged for him. Grabbing onto Grayson’s thin arms, I wrapped my hands around him and pulled Grayson into my lap. “No,” I said, calming my frantic voice. “I will not fail you.” I had no idea why that was so important. I only knew it was. “I can do this. I will do this.” Given I had absolutely nothing to base that confidence on, I had no idea where it came from.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“I already did,” Grayson answered, words barely audible.

I didn’t know what to say. All I could do was sit there, cradling Grayson’s body to me, wishing my strong arms were enough. They weren’t. Not now and not when Tenzen had murdered my friends and family.

Eleven

Grayson

What went wrong? Martin was meant to anchor me, not the other way around. Thankfully, I hadn’t been in my full wisp form and had been able to bank my flame, immediately erasing the songs plaguing Martin’s mind. If I hadn’t…I hated to think what might have happened. All along, I’d been worried if Martin failed that I would be the one paying the price. I hadn’t considered what it might do to my dryad anchor.

When I was only risking myself, that had been acceptable. Risking Martin as well…not so much.

Resting in Martin’s lap, I hardly knew what to do with myself or the comfort easing through my body. It shouldn’t have felt this good—being held. I barely registered when Martin moved, scooting both of us so he could lean against the bed. I should have pushed him away. I should have tried to get up, and… I had no idea how to finish that thought. Maybe that’s why I stayed.

Seconds turned into minutes. I halfway expected Henry to dart out of the wall, scramble up my leg, and offer some bit of infinite wisdom. Whether Henry was around or not remained a mystery as he did not reveal himself. Looked like Martin and I were alone in our combined confusion. There was no great and wise guru to pull us out of the pit.

“It was overwhelming.” Martin finally broke the silence. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I’m not certain you should have.”

“It’s what you described. I should have been more prepared, although, admittedly, I’m not certain what that preparedness would look like.” Confusion colored Martin’s words. “Now that I know what to expect, I’d like to try again.”

I shook my head, finally pulling away so I could look into Martin’s determined eyes. “No, I⁠—”

“Listen.” Martin grabbed my face, cradling my chin much as I’d done earlier with him. “I’ve been sitting here, thinking about what happened, and I may have an idea. I wouldn’t recommend trying again if I didn’t have a plan.”

I was still skeptical. “I’m not sure. I⁠—”

“I’ll be sure enough for both of us.” Martin leaned in, doing the most surprising thing and pressing his lips against my forehead. “Trust me.”

There wasn’t really a reason I should, and yet I found logical reason was highly overrated. Sometimes, you had to go with your gut and tell your brain to take a hike. That wasn’t always the smartest path, but sometimes it was the only one available.

Giving in, I tried to scoot out of Martin’s hold, only for his arms to tighten. When I gave him a questioning look, he said, “I like you here better.” His cheeks were stained pink and his eyes had a difficult time meeting mine. Spreading his legs. Martin moved me until I was wedged on the floor, my back to his front and his arms wrapped around my middle. “Is there a way for you to go a bit slower?”

My fingertips lit with the barest flame. “Can you hear the music?”

“I can,” Martin answered, humming a tune. “Do you think it’s safe to say that the song I currently hear is the strongest?”

“I… Yes, that’s fair. The others come along later, but the first generally has the greatest pull, the greatest desire to be found.” That’s what happened with Hikaru’s tail. Its song was so far and above the others, I’d been able to focus on it. Now that the tail had been found, the other songs were more similar in strength. Still, there were differences.

“Got it. I didn’t realize what was happening before. Now that I know it’s treasure’s song I’m hearing, then I can focus on this one. The first one. I want to try that as you add more on.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t truly okay with the thought. Focusing on that first song was something I’d already tried and had been nearly ripped apart for the effort. Growing my flame, I gave more of my body over to my wisp form. Treasures’ songs filled my mind, pulsing through my head as different notes competed with each other. I expected Martin to cry out any moment. Instead, those added songs receded. They didn’t go away completely, but they quieted, allowing the first, neediest song space to be heard.

The song was insistent, its tune full of anger. It wasn’t pleasant. The furious cords scratched at my mind, demanding justice.

Before I knew it, my body dissipated, fully falling into my wisp form. I was little more than a blue flame of instinct as I followed that furious song. I slipped through doorways and corridors. Walls were nothing to me as I made my way closer and closer to that sound, its chorus rising in tempo and pitch until it was like someone had turned the volume up as high as it would go.

Instinct told me I’d found what I was looking for, and my body reformed. I found myself alone. Most likely my path had taken me through places Martin could not possibly follow. The room was dark and a little musty, but there was a hint of lavender that tickled my nose. My hands blindly reached out in the darkness, my palms meeting rough stone. A wooden mantle came next, indicating I was standing in front of a fireplace.

Shuffling around, I kept my hands on the wall, intent on following it around until I found a light switch. Unfortunately, there was furniture settled against the wall. I’d just slammed my hip into something solid, letting loose a litany of curse words when the door flew open, a wedge of hallway light filtering in and giving me enough light to see. I would have had more light if not for the hulking figure blocking the doorway.

Fear momentarily gripped my heart until my mind recognized that form. “Martin.” His name passed my lips in a whispered prayer of relief.