The Dryad Read online

  It took him a few moments to remember how to get to the dryad’s oak, but he found his way and stealthily approached the circle of trees. He peered in, searching for the dancing dryad, but all was quiet. Julian carefully stepped around the outside of the copse, making sure not to break any twigs this time. When a full circuit revealed nothing, he paused.

  I hope she didn’t run away.

  A loud snap startled Julian out of his skin. He spun. A rabbit was caught in a snare just outside of the copse. The furry, brown creature hung by a hind leg, pumping its little feet in a desperate but futile attempt to break free.

  Julian looked around the woods for a nearby trapper, but he only found a few fluttering birds that watched him from an ash tree at the edge of the copse. With a shrug, he went to the flailing rabbit and knelt beside it, pulling the cord toward the ground so the animal no longer dangled. It calmed when it touched the grass but continued to watch him warily. Using his free hand, he pulled a knife from his pack and inched toward the snare.

  The cord was worn and easy to cut. In a matter of moments, Julian severed it. He barely managed to unhook the rabbit’s foot from the loop before the fortunate creature bounded off. He stood and smiled as the rabbit hopped between trees and shrubs. At least the journey into the woods hadn’t been a complete loss. He turned to pass the copse one last time and saw the dryad standing within.

  Julian froze. His breath shallowed, and his heart skipped. She was only a few paces away. Now that he was so close to her, he could see just how beautiful she was. Her green eyes, lined with dark lashes, watched him with caution and curiosity. Wavy green hair fell to her waist around a supple bark that covered her like clothing. She stepped out of the copse and drifted toward him.

  The dryad stopped just a pace away. Julian was entranced. A soft mix of earthy and floral scents filled his senses. Was his mind playing tricks on him, or was she really there, her gaze fixed solely on him? He reached out a tentative hand that wavered in the space between them. Tilting her head, she let out a soft hum. The sound breathed movement into his body, and he brushed his fingers across her cheek. She flushed, vanishing.

  Julian jolted and glanced about dumbly as if he might find her nearby. “Wait! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Let me make it up to you.”

  The space before him remained empty, as did the copse. She had been so close, but he hadn’t meant to frighten her. That’s twice now. Still, Julian couldn’t keep from smiling. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Hands fumbling, he checked his coin pouch and nodded. If he broke up the payments to Father and kept quiet, no one would notice if he skipped work in the afternoons to visit the dryad. He’d managed to get close to her, but he still knew nothing about her. He wanted to change that.

  With a full smile and a swollen heart, Julian pulled his lyre out of his pack and started toward home.

  WHEN Julian finished his first job the next morning, he didn’t search for another. Instead, he went straight to the woods. He hadn’t earned much coin, but he still had about three-fourths of the payment Syrus had given him the day before. Nothing was going to stop him from visiting the copse, and he desperately hoped the dryad would be there again. She’d been singing the first time he saw her. Perhaps she’d like it if he played his lyre. Mother said Julian’s grandfather could sooth people with his music and had even crafted the family lyre himself. Maybe the old instrument still had a bit of magic left in it.

  As Julian made his way to the edge of the woods, he paused. White wildflowers dotted the lush grass. Without another thought, he stooped to pick a few before continuing on his way. She loved trees, so maybe she would love flowers too. Part of him hoped she would blush again when he gave them to her.

  When he found the vibrant trees of the copse, his breath caught. She was there, circling the center oak, trailing her hand across its bark. Julian couldn’t form words, didn’t want to interrupt her amble over the thick roots. Instead, he walked to the edge of the copse and waited for her to notice him.

  She rounded the oak and met his eyes. His heart sped as she ducked behind the tree. Spreading his arms wide in what he hoped was a peaceful offering, he held his breath and waited. Her head poked out from hiding, and she eyed his stance. He smiled and was astonished when she returned it, if shyly. She gasped, cupping her hands over her mouth. Confused, Julian followed her gaze but didn’t see anything alarming. The dryad rushed forward and grabbed Julian’s hand, pulling it to the earth. He stumbled and fell to one knee as she placed a hand over the picked flowers. Their thin, green stalks glowed for a brief moment. The magic—that had to be what it was—faded, and he released the flowers. Embarrassment burned in his cheeks when he found them rooted in the ground.

  “I’m sorry,” Julian said. “I won’t do that again.”

  The dryad’s face softened even as she scooted across the grass to create generous distance between them. When she reached the oak’s roots, she sat back on her calves and considered him. Julian spread his arms once again. She said something to him in a fluid, unfamiliar language, and he strained his ears as if that might help decipher the lovely words. “I don’t understand. Do you speak the common tongue?”

  Without a response, her eyes went to her lap. Julian’s head drooped, and he noticed a stick nestled between blades of grass. Of course! He picked up the stick and held it out to her. The dryad brightened and crawled forward to snatch it from his grasp. She moved to a patch of dirt, curled her legs beneath her, and scratched symbols in the soft earth. She pointed to them and tilted her head. Crouching next to her and studying the symbols, he could tell they formed a word but couldn’t begin to guess what sounds they made. He shrugged.

  Crossing her arms, the dryad looked down in thought. She was cute when she did that. He raised his hand and pressed it against her arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Her green eyes met his, and she lit up again. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in.

  Heat spread across his cheeks and neck. He couldn’t move, afraid the slightest shift might send her running. Her warm breath tickled his nose as she pressed her forehead to his. The mixed scent of loamy earth and sweet flowers surrounded him, and his skin tingled where her hair brushed him. She pulled back and nodded. He echoed the gesture. He had no idea what she was trying to say, but he would agree to anything that might help them communicate.

  Touching the wildflowers, the dryad slipped her free hand into his. A vision of meadows dotted with flowers filled his mind, and though the images fled after a moment, he understood. This is how we can talk, by showing each other our thoughts.

  The vision of flowered meadows returned, but this time her care and love for them brushed through his mind. He felt her need to tend them and her appreciation for their every aspect. As the vision faded, so did the intensity of the feelings, though he could still recall them. Not just thoughts, then.

  She drew her fingertips away from the flowers and placed them on Julian's chest, making his heart skip. She was so close, and her fingers so warm. The next vision was of him releasing the rabbit. Her surprise and happiness at his actions filled him.

  The experience was unlike anything Julian had encountered before. Magic was new, and so was this encompassing warmth. She lowered her hands and considered him. There was so much he wanted to ask her, to share with her, but where to start?

  He shrugged off his pack and pulled out his mother’s lyre. The dryad narrowed her eyes. Holding out the instrument, Julian pet it like one might a docile wolf. She leaned forward and sniffed the curved, wooden frame. She ran a curious finger over one of the strings and gasped when it vibrated with sound. He laughed and motioned for them to sit on a patch of grass near the oak.

  She sat cross-legged beside him, looking between his face and the lyre. Nervous excitement ran through him and left his fingers tingling. He never played the lyre for anyone except Mother. Now the dryad smiled at him, waiting for him to do something, and he didn’t want to disappoint her.

 
The first string Julian plucked felt shaky and awkward. He laughed to hide his mistake, but she only tilted her head. I can’t stop now. Julian locked his eyes on the strings and began to play. Soon his mind was busy making the plectrum jump from one string to the next. The first few measures wavered with sharp notes, but he pressed on until habit took over and a melodious tune filled the copse.

  When the last notes fell away, Julian took a deep breath before looking up at the dryad. Her wide green eyes were closer than he remembered, causing heat to return to his face. She placed a hand over her heart. “Unharud.”

  “Unharud.” He whispered her name, letting it roll over his tongue like an endearment. He put his hand over his own heart. “Julian.”

  She touched his wrist, her thoughts and feelings taking on meaning in his head. “Your music is beautiful.”

  He focused his appreciation at her compliment, trying to share it with her. The words came easily. “Thank you.” He shifted his thoughts to the memory of spotting Unharud singing and dancing in the copse. “I haven’t stopped thinking of your song since I first heard it.”

  “I’ve tried to keep my singing quiet since then.” She flushed. “It’s just...I’ve never met a human before.”

  “That’s all right. I’ve never met a dryad before.” He looked at the springy wildflowers. “I should’ve known picking those flowers wasn’t a good idea.”

  “I like them.” Unharud spoke in her own language as she motioned to the flowers, causing a dozen more to sprout and bloom. “But next time, bring seeds instead.”

  Julian laughed. “Don’t worry, I will.” He rested the lyre against his leg. “So you won’t mind if I visit again?”

  “That depends. Can you make a promise?”

  The solemnity of her request flowed through him, and he paused to choose his words. “If I can, I will.”

  She pressed a palm to the grass between them. “You can’t tell anyone about this place or bring them here. I won’t be able to stay if you do.”

  “I promise.” He placed his hand over hers. “I’ve waited two days to talk with you. The last thing I want to do is make you leave.”

  Unharud’s eyebrows rose. “You make promises with haste.”

  “It seems simple to me. If I want to see you, I agree to keep this promise. Even if you hadn’t asked, I still wouldn’t have told anyone about you or your copse. This is where I come to practice my lyre. Most people in Cloma don’t understand why that’s important, but I think you do.”

  “I do.” She shifted on the grass but didn’t remove her hand from his. “I couldn’t sing or dance in my home either.”

  Butterflies fluttered about Julian’s stomach. Did she notice the clamminess of his hand? “Will you...that is, if I can play your song, would you dance to it?”

  She flushed and glanced away from him with a nervous giggle. Had he been too forward? Sure, he’d strummed her a tune, but his knowledge of social protocol with dryads was lacking.

  Without looking back at him, Unharud nodded, her cheeks still rosy. “Julian, play me that song again tomorrow, and I’ll dance to it.”

  “ARE you done yet?”

  Julian started at the loud voice on the other side of the washroom door. Any other day he would have been out before his brothers woke up, but he’d bathed and shaved this morning. He dabbed his chin one last time with a cloth then threw it over the edge of the washbasin. Bracing himself, he opened the door.

  Elias sighed impatiently, wearing only a long tunic. He ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “I was beginning to wonder if... Why do you look like that?”

  “Like what?” Julian stepped back as Elias filled the doorway. “This is how I always look.”

  “You’re in your nice things. The festival isn’t today.”

  “No, it’s not.” When his brother didn’t move, Julian crossed his arms. “I need to finish getting ready.”

  “I hope you’re going to change before going to work,” Elias said. “If you ruin those clothes, you’ll never hear the end of it, and I won’t either.”

  “I can’t do anything unless you move.”

  A light dawned in Elias’s eyes, and he scrubbed the sleep from them. “There’s a girl, isn’t there?”

  “No,” Julian blurted. He didn’t like the certainty in his brother’s voice. “Don’t you need to get ready?”

  “I do, but you’re in the way. Is it Iris? Zacharai’s had his eye on her for a while. He doesn’t think anyone’s noticed, but I can tell.”

  “It’s not Iris,” Julian hissed. “Don’t talk so loud or he’ll hear you.”

  A quiet beat passed as they listened down the hall. When it remained empty, Elias smirked. “At least give me a hint.”

  “I can’t. I don’t want Father to know.”

  “I won’t tell him,” Elias said, his brows knitting. “If we want any chance to get married and out of this house, then we can’t tell Father which girls we’ve chosen until we’re promised.”

  “Promised?” Julian said. “She could still change her mind if she’s promised. You’d better wait until the marriage bonds are tied. It’s safer that way.”

  They shared grins and a stifled laugh. The creak of wood interrupted them as Zacharai slipped out of his room, already dressed in work clothes. Pinning them with a hard stare, he resembled Father. “Are you two done?”

  Julian slipped around Elias and darted to the kitchen. The room lay empty, but it wouldn’t for long. Deciding to skirt breakfast and more awkward questions, he grabbed bread and cheese and took to the road, eating while he walked to that morning’s work.

  By noon, he left town for the woods. Julian pushed his hair out of his face as he breathed in the welcoming, fresh scent. Sweat dampened his tunic, but the material was otherwise free of stains and tears.

  A dulcet hum greeted him when he stepped into the copse. Unharud sat bent over the white flowers, brushing their leaves with the backs of her fingers in a trail of sparkling dewdrops. Julian set his pack down and kneeled across from her, mesmerized. The tune finished, and Unharud turned her attention from the flowers to greet him with a touch to his hand. “You came back.”

  Julian flipped his hand over so their palms rested against one another. “Are you surprised?”

  She shook her head. “I wondered if you would really keep your promise.”

  “I have, and I will.” Her hesitance still filled him, but not as much as the previous day. “Why did you decide to live near Cloma? There are so many exciting places in the world, so why here?”

  “It’s where the gateway led me.”

  The image of a huge tree came into his mind, making Unharud’s oak appear no larger than a sapling. The tree drew him closer with its magnetizing pull until it sucked him through the bark. A waterfall of light rushed past him and cast a glinting kaleidoscope of color in all directions. With an abrupt stop, he was back in the copse. Julian took a heaving breath. “What was that place? How...?”

  Without breaking their connection, Unharud scooted around the flowers to rest beside him. “It’s where I used to live, in the wilderness between the Spring and Summer realms. I managed to sneak past a gatekeeper to come here.”

  “Wait.” Julian’s mind whirled. “But those realms are mentioned in old songs about the kings and queens of the seasons. If you come from there, that would mean you’re fey.”

  She smiled.

  Julian wanted to smack himself for not realizing sooner. Of course she was fey. If her resemblance to elves and her magic hadn’t been enough to make him understand, his realization that she was a dryad should have. The traveler who had spoken of dryads said they were “fey creatures,” but Julian hadn’t registered she was actually fey. Unharud wasn’t just magical, she came from an entirely different world. “Why did you leave?”

  “I was afraid.” Her shoulders drooped. “My home was always a place of conflict between the two realms, but it got worse. Some fey saw themselves as Spring and others as Summer. Their fights wer
e brutal, but they always remained contained, until they didn’t. To stay safe, the other dryads said we had to uproot ourselves and move, but there was no safe place to go.”

  “That must have been hard.” Julian squeezed her knee. “But instead of finding another place in your home, you came here?”

  “Yes. I was hiding when I saw the gatekeeper leave his tree. If he knew I wanted to pass through, he would have made me pay a high price. Most fey can never use a gate for that reason, but when he walked away, I knew it was my one chance. That was a month ago.”

  “But that means you left everything behind.”

  Unharud sighed. “It’s hard knowing I might never see the others again, but I’ve always wanted to travel someplace peaceful where I could sing and dance without conflict around me.”

  “You can, and I’ll be here to visit so you’re not alone all the time.” He took his hand from her knee and placed it on her bare shoulder. “Honestly, you’re braver than I am. I’ve always wanted to leave Cloma and see the world, but I haven’t.”

  She met his gaze with shining eyes. “You think I’m brave?”

  “I know you’re brave, going through a portal and not knowing where it would lead you, talking to me even though I’m human and a stranger. It’s scary doing that all on your own.” He thought a moment. “Maybe we could help each other.”

  “How?”

  Unable to help himself, Julian pressed his fingers into her skin. “I love music and want to travel, you love music and want to travel, and neither of us want to do so alone...”

  Excitement crackled from her skin to his, but with undertones of something else he couldn’t place. “Where would we go?”