Chapter 20 Where the Forest Learns a New Lie
674 Words
The ground shined beneath Amihan’s feet.
Not opening.
Not breaking.
Just… forgetting how to hold her.
Silawán felt it before she did.
He moved without thinking.
His hand closed around her wrist.
The forest screamed.
Not aloud. Internally. A sharp recoil, like a rule snapping under strain.
Amihan gasped as warmth surged through her arm, grounding her, anchoring her back into her body. She stumbled forward, colliding lightly with Silawán’s chest.
His other hand came up instinctively, steadying her at the small of her back.
Too intimate.
Too immediate.
Too late.
Liraya hissed. “Silawán.”
Kisê clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh that was a mistake. That was a beautiful mistake.”
Silawán did not let go.
“I warned you,” he said calmly to the air itself. “She will not fall.”
The grove shuddered.
Roots erupted from the soil, coiling sharply, halting just short of his boots. Leaves rattled violently overhead.
The forest was furious.
Amihan’s heart hammered. She could feel his hand. Solid. Certain. Protective without asking.
Something inside her shifted.
Not desire alone.
Recognition.
She pulled back slightly, enough to look up at him. “You touch me.”
“I did,” he said. No apology. No justification.
“That breaks the rule.”
“Yes.”
Her throat tightened. “Why?”
His gaze held hers, steady and unreadable. “Because you were about to disappear.”
That should have been enough.
It wasn’t.
The forest recoiled again, then stilled, recalculating.
Liraya stepped forward slowly, eyes bright with something sharp. “Interesting.”
Tala started toward them, but Liraya lifted a hand. “No. Let it see.”
Kisê leaned toward Tala and whispered loudly, “If this turns into a duel between the forest and a king, I am hiding behind you.”
Tala muttered, “Wise.”
Amihan gently extricated her wrist from Silawán’s grip. The absence of his touch was immediate. Painfully so.
She stepped back.
Silawán let her.
That hurt worse.
Her chest felt too full, too tight, emotions pressing without names. She didn’t want to look at him anymore.
Because she knew now.
Not love. Not yet.
But something unmistakably leaning toward him.
And that terrified her.
She turned away just as Maharlika emerged from the far path.
Of course she did.
Maharlika’s gaze flicked immediately to Silawán, sharp and assessing. “You shouldn’t interfere,” she said.
“I already have,” he replied.
Maharlika’s eyes softened. “Still reckless, then.”
She stepped closer to him. Close enough that Amihan’s stomach twisted.
Maharlika’s fingers brushed Silawán’s sleeve. Casual. Familiar.
“You look tired,” Maharlika murmured. “You should let someone else hold the weight for once.”
Silawán did not pull away.
He did not lean in either.
But he didn’t step back.
Amihan’s breath stuttered.
Of course, she thought bitterly. That’s where his wanting used to live.
She folded her arms around herself, forcing her expression into calm.
This means nothing, she told herself.
He is not mine.
He never was.
Kisê noticed everything.
She sidled up to Amihan and stage-whispered, “If it helps, I hate this for you.”
Amihan shot her a look. “There is nothing to hate.”
“Mm,” Kisê said. “That’s what people say right before it becomes unbearable.”
Liraya watched the exchange with quiet satisfaction.
“You see,” she said to Tala, “proximity clarifies.”
Tala’s jaw tightened. “Or wounds.”
“Both,” Liraya said pleasantly.
The ground pulsed again.
Not anger this time.
Interest.
Silawán straightened abruptly. “It’s learning.”
Liraya’s smile widened. “Yes. And now it knows what breaks you.”
Amihan’s knees weakened.
Not because she was falling.
But because she realized the truth she could not say aloud.
She liked Silawán.
And the forest had noticed.
The grove darkened.
The paths began to rearrange themselves once more.
And this time, they did not pull her toward him.
They pulled her away.
- Writer
