Holly Black - The Darkest Part of the Forest

Jack shrugged. “I think both of you always want a little bite of whatever the other person’s got, that’s all.”

It unnerved her, how not wrong he was. “So why didn’t you, then? Why not kiss me?”

His laugh was a soft huff of breath. “The last thing I need is another thing to pretend about. I didn’t want to act like I didn’t have feelings for you when I did. But, I mean, I’ve liked you for a long while. My mother once—she showed me a girl wearing your face.”

Hazel shifted away from Jack, so she could concentrate on what he was saying without the heat of his body clouding her thoughts. “Wearing my face?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, you know that my people can glamour themselves to appear in different forms. They were messing with me.” He frowned. “Hazel? What’s going on.”

Nausea twisted her stomach.

“Hazel?” Jack repeated, louder this time. He waved his hand in front of her face. “Look, I didn’t mean to completely freak you out. We can forget about what I said.”

“It’s not that,” she told him softly, putting her clothes back together. “I have something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you before.”

He waited, shifting so she could sit upright.

He’d guessed enough about her that she hoped he’d understand why she’d hidden the rest. Before she could think better of it, Hazel started talking.

She told him everything. From hunting with her brother, to her bargain, to waking up with mud on her feet and shards of crystal in her palm, from the riddles to the monster to the whole of what the Alderking said that night.

Jack was looking at her in amazement. “So he told you that you’ve been serving him this whole time? As a knight?”

She sighed. “I guess it sounds stupid when you—”

That was when Jack grabbed a long stick from the ground. With a howl, he leaped up and swung it at her.

Startled, she reacted without thinking. She kicked him in the stomach and wrenched the branch out of his hand in a move so fluid that it felt as though it was happening all at once. He went down in the dirt and leaves and pine needles with a groan. She took a step forward, turning the stick unconsciously, stopping herself just before she stabbed down at him with it.

Rolling onto his back, astonished, he started to laugh.

“Are you crazy?” Hazel yelled at him. “What were you doing? Why are you laughing?”

He shook his head, one hand on his stomach, the other propping him halfway up. “I don’t know. I thought we’d figure out if maybe—ow, that really hurt. Obviously he was telling the truth. You’ve had some training.”

She stuck out her hand to pull him to his feet. “Are you okay?”

“Bruised, but I deserved it,” he said, staggering up. “What a brilliant plan that was, huh?”

“So you had no idea that I was his knight? That wasn’t one of the things you were forbidden from warning me about?”

Jack shook his head. “If I’d known, I’d have told you. I’d have found a way. Hazel, I swear it. ”

Hazel smiled, despite herself. “I just—I’m afraid I ruined everything,”

“That’s not possible,” he told her, squeezing her fingers. “Not everything’s ruined, so you must not have ruined everything.”

For a moment Jack looked like he was going to say something more, and she could see the moment he decided to say something else instead. “Come on, what we both need is some sleep. And if we don’t go now, we’re not going to be able to sneak into our houses.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Hazel had so much to puzzle through that sleep sounded enormous and good. Just turning everything off for a while was the best thing she could imagine.

They walked together until they got to the edge of the woods near Jack’s house and crossed the lawn. Pale, buttery light was just beginning to filter through the trees in the east.

“You okay to get home?” Jack asked. The memory of touching him haunted her. The scent of him was in her lungs, and her fingers itched to brush over his skin again, to reassure herself that he’d still smile, that he still liked her. “I can walk you back.”

Hazel shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

He stepped away from her, hands in his pockets, with a final vague smile. “See you in a couple of hours.”

Then the back door of the Gordon house opened and his mother stepped out in a blue fuzzy robe. She was barefoot and had a silk scarf tied over her hair. “Carter! Get in here right— Jack ?”

They both looked at her, too shocked to move, no less answer.

“Jack!” she said, walking across the lawn toward them. “I would have believed this of your brother, but not you. And Hazel Evans . What would your mother say about you spending all night out with a boy…” Her words trailed off as she got a better look at them.

Hazel’s face heated.

“Where were you?” Ms. Gordon demanded.

“You know,” Hazel said, quickly. “Like you said. Spending the night.”

“In the woods? With a full moon in the sky?” She said the words more softly, as if speaking more to herself than them. Then she turned fully toward Jack. “You brought her to them? How could you?”

Jack took a step back, as though her words were a physical blow.

“Do you know what they’re saying about you in town? That all this is happening because of you.”

“But that doesn’t make—” Hazel began.

Ms. Gordon held up her hand, cutting off Hazel’s words. “Enough, both of you. Jack, you get on out of here. You can’t come inside right now. You’re going to go off to the Evanses or someplace you think you can stay for a while. And you’re not to come back until I say so. Do you understand?”

Hazel never thought Ms. Gordon would ever kick Jack out, not for anything. Ground him, sure. Make him do extra chores or take away his cell phone or dock his allowance, but not this. Not throw him out of her house like he’d never been her son.

There was a muscle moving in Jack’s jaw and his eyes shone too brightly, but he didn’t protest, didn’t beg. He didn’t even explain himself. He just nodded, once. Then he turned away and started walking, leaving Hazel to run after him.

“We’ll go to my house,” she said.

He nodded.

Together, without speaking, they walked, keeping to the edge of the road. The early-morning air felt good in Hazel’s lungs, and although her legs still ached from dancing, it was reassuring to put one foot in front of the other on the asphalt. The sun was rising fast, hot on her back, but it was still too early for many cars to be out, so she veered to walk on the center line of the street. Jack kept pace with her, striding along as if they were gunfighters heading into a strange new town, looking for trouble.

CHAPTER 17

Ben sat at his desk, watching Severin sleep. He just couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that the boy he’d whispered to through glass was lying on his bed, head pressed against his pillow, one horn making a deep indentation in it—a pillow Ben had drooled on and cried into and shed skin on, which seemed kind of disgusting the more he thought about it. But that was part of what made Severin’s being there so impossible. His room was such an ordinary place, filled with junk he’d amassed over seventeen years of life, and Severin wasn’t ordinary at all.

They’d talked for hours in the dark. Severin had wound up on the floor, head tipped back, showing the long column of his throat, eyes drifting closed as it got closer to dawn.

“You’re welcome to take the bed,” Ben had said, shifting to the edge of it, rumpling the comforter. “I mean, if you want to rest.”