Chapter 13: The Yellow Rose
"This is where we leave you," one of the soldiers said at the edge of the prince's lands. "You're on your own now."
He pointed behind us.
"Remember, you can't leave the country without the prince's ships."
Half a mile away, the forest waited.
Beautiful. Untouched. Too peaceful to trust.
Birds flew freely. No smoke. No human sound.
I hated myself for how badly I wanted to spend the rest of my life in that quiet.
"No wonder the princess ran away," I muttered.
Then I noticed the river.
Fast. Deep. Wide enough to swallow a horse.
"So," I said, turning to the guards. "How do we cross this river?"
One guard smirked. "You won't be needing your horses."
Rowanda's eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"
"You swim," the guard said.
I hadn't swum in four years. Not in anything that moved this fast.
"Can't your prince lend us a boat?" I asked.
"No time," Rowanda said, already pulling off her heavier pieces. "We swim."
So we swam.
I didn't drown.
But I came out a hundred feet away from Rowanda and Obara, coughing like my lungs were trying to leave me.
We entered the forest.
It felt empty.
Too empty.
Then I heard a raven.
One call.
Two.
Three.
Then silence.
No wings. No reply.
That was wrong.
There should've been an answer.
Another raven.
Something.
"What's wrong?" Obara asked, stopping.
"Listen," I said. "Do you hear any ravens?"
Then we heard another call from farther in.
Not raven.
Something else.
Three times.
Obara's eyes narrowed. "That's not a raven."
"I know," I said. "But the raven came first."
My grandfather's words surfaced like a knife edge.
People who live in forests use animal sounds to talk.
I heard another call.
Monkey this time.
Three times.
No monkeys in sight.
I looked at Rowanda. "We're being watched."
"Don't be crazy," Rowanda said, walking. "Keep moving."
I grabbed a stone and threw it at a branch cluster heavy with yellow leaves.
A muffled scream came from the leaves.
Rowanda froze.
Obara swore under her breath.
"Still think I'm crazy?" I hissed, scanning for archers. "We turn back. Find another way."
We turned.
And three archers stepped from the trees, bows drawn.
"You're smart for a boy," one said. "But that raven signal wasn't the first one we sent."
He smiled like he'd already decided what we were.
"Drop your weapons and lie down. Slowly."
****
They tied us to a tree.
They sat farther away, complaining about human scent like we were rotten meat.
"Rowanda," I whispered. "Do you have a plan?"
"If I did," she whispered back, "I wouldn't talk about it openly. And no, I don't."
I turned my head the other way.
"Obara?"
"I never get caught," Obara whispered. "Why don't you come up with a plan for a change?"
"I always come up with a plan," I whispered back. "You two always dismiss them."
Rowanda's voice went low. "If you have a plan, talk."
I swallowed.
"I say we charm them."
"What?" Rowanda whispered.
"We charm them. By singing in their language."
Rowanda stared at me like I'd finally lost my mind.
"None of us speak Elven tongue, Leno. And how is that supposed to help?"
"I do," I whispered.
Obara made a choking sound. "Of course you do."
Rowanda's whisper sharpened. "Elves hate humans. They'd rather die than marry any of us. Especially you."
"Is the princess we're looking for an elf?" I whispered back.
Rowanda didn't answer fast enough.
Obara leaned closer. "Sing then, Leno. Make it beautiful. Something about trees or flowers."
"Why me?"
"It's your idea," Rowanda hissed. "Lead."
So I sang.
A song my grandfather used to sing on his happy days, when he watered his flowers and pretended the world was gentle.
It was about yellow roses.
Roses that endured harsh seasons. That survived without water. That lived stubbornly, as if love could be grown into permanence.
Yellow was the color of undying love where I came from.
At first my voice was low.
Then the memory of my grandfather's voice filled my chest, and my song rose higher.
The elves stopped what they were doing.
When I finished, footsteps approached.
"Who taught you our northern sister tribe's language?" a man's voice asked.
He spoke to me in the tongue I'd been singing.
A tall elf stepped into view. Long grey hair. Green silk. Eyes like old knives.
I hadn't even noticed him before.
"What do you mean northern sister tribe?" I asked. "Didn't I sing Elven tongue?"
The tall elf stepped closer.
"You sang in the northern Elven tongue," he said. "Only the older elves of that tribe still speak it."
His gaze pinned me.
"Who are you?"
Before I could answer, Obara muttered, "How's your plan going now, Leno? Does he want to marry you?"
The elf frowned.
Then his eyes flicked back to me.
"You sang of yellow roses," he said slowly. "That means you are here because of love. Yes?"
"Yes," I said. "But not my love."
"Explain."
"The prince wants his daughter back," I said. "He wants to kill the elf she loves."
I kept my voice steady.
"We came to stop that."
The elf's expression shifted like a door opening a crack.
"Humans are not welcome in our forest."
"Not true," I said. "The princess is human, isn't she?"
The tall elf turned and spoke rapidly to his comrades in a different Elven tongue—one I didn't understand at all.
After a tense moment, they untied us.
The tall elf faced me again.
"Come," he said. "If we want to reach the fortress before sunset, we must move."
He paused.
"I am Commander Qirrym."
"I'm Leno of Ennox," I said. "This is Rowanda of Ilana, and Obara of… nowhere."
Rowanda rubbed her wrists, eyeing the elves like they might change their minds.
"Leno," she hissed in the common tongue. "What's going on? Are they going to kill us?"
"Nope," I said, also in the common tongue.
"Change of plans."
"We're here to protect the love of the princess… and the elf who stole her heart."
Rowanda stared at me like I'd slapped her.
"Why are you speaking that language?" she demanded.
I kept my eyes forward and answered quietly.
"They're using animal calls to communicate."
"So we'll use a language they don't understand."