I Am Not Your Chosen One by Evelyn Benvie

I Am Not Your Chosen One by Evelyn Benvie

Author:Evelyn Benvie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mischief Corner Books


CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

CAN'T SEE THE FOREST FOR THE WOODS

It's commonly said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Kell knew this to be false. If there was a hell, and if there was a road to it, it wouldn't be paved with good intentions.

Oh, no.

It would be paved with fucking cobblestones.

Who the hell laid cobblestones in the middle of a forest? Who was it for? What was the point? Who had paid for it?

Kell tripped over another poorly laid stone and swore vividly. He was beginning to regret suggesting they go to the Fracken Woods. And not just because of the cobblestones.

(But still largely because of the cobblestones.)

He was a—well, not a city boy, exactly, and he didn't mind the dirt and gravel roads, and he actually liked the woods and—the point was that cobblestones had no place in any of that. They were the devil's paving stones, and no one could convince him otherwise.

It was a pity too, because otherwise the way to the Fracken Woods had been beautiful. It was the first true forest he'd seen since arriving in this world. Not a little copse of trees or sparsely wooded area between one hill and the next, but a true roll of green and brown as far as the eye could see. The barmaid had said it would be "unmissable," and he got what she meant. It covered the land from north to south, blanketing the horizon in deep emerald. The road had disappeared under the eaves of hanging branches, fading away in the dim greenery beneath them.

It had been beautiful and promising, and Kell honestly would have come here even without the rumors. It was the kind of forest where children got lost and never returned. Where heroes were born and princesses lay sleeping. It felt like a real fantasy forest, and Kell appreciated that.

He didn't appreciate the thrice-damned cobblestone road through it. There was such a thing as taking aesthetics too far.

That was the first problem.

The second problem—

Kell tripped again. Ansel caught his arm before he could overbalance too far but dropped it immediately as if burned.

—was that.

Things had been awkward ever since the inn. Well, not the inn. But it was easier to think about the inn, where the most annoying things had been Lute and the stars and the overly judgmental innkeeper. Nothing bad had happened at the inn.

Except Ansel hadn't wanted to talk to him when he'd woken up. Fre hadn't remembered what happened the day before, and Ansel had stayed quiet and nodded when Kell asked if he didn't either. There was something in the way he held himself back—too far back—that made Kell think there was more lie than truth in that statement.

For the last two days, things had been … awkward. Ansel avoiding his eyes, avoiding his touch, avoiding him, all the while trying to act like he wasn't. It was becoming exhausting. Kell wanted to say something, to just ask, but Ansel kept ducking out of every conversation he tried to start that might lead to talking about it.



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