Morte gave a nervous whinny from outside and pounded the ground with his heavy, spiked hooves. The dishes inside rattled. Dinah took one last glimpse around the kitchen before ducking out of the round house. She said a silent thanks to whoever baked this bread and grew these onions as she made her way behind the house, back into the woods. Morte shortly followed behind her before they both stopped short. There was a long field that stretched hundreds of feet behind the garden, and the body was there, lying face down in the dirt. He had been quite large but obviously strong—huge muscles, still as stone, that looked as though they had been carved out of his back. He wore a floppy hat and a lavender linen tunic, his feet bare and dirty. A farmer, Dinah thought, pressing her fingers across her trembling lips. Broken jars of the amber tree syrup littered the ground around him. Dinah felt all the air rush out of her lungs as she comprehended what she was seeing. Out of the man’s back arched a long arrow. It nestled between his great shoulder blades, a small blotch of blood surrounding the entry point. He had bled out from the front, the ground stained a deep red all around him. The blood was still wet, but it was cooling quickly and becoming one with the sticky syrup, a sickening swirling mixture of red and amber.
The fact that this hadn’t happened long ago alarmed Dinah, but not as much as the blown red glass heart that topped the end of the arrow. She had seen these arrows before, adorning the backs of many Heart Cards that guarded the outer gates of the palace. She stood, the world spinning around her. It wasn’t the Yurkei that had been here. The Cards had found her. Dinah swung the bag around her back and ran straight toward Morte. “Up!” she barked. Her panic was evident and for this he didn’t hesitate, lifting his leg as she neared him. Dinah stepped without fear onto his spikes and vaulted herself onto his back, her legs curling around his massive neck.
From what she could tell, the tracks of the Cards (huge, impossible not to notice once she was looking) were heading north, and so she turned Morte east, not veering away from their previous path. From there, Morte ran. Her heart thudded in her ears as Morte raced through the ever-blackening woods. Farther and farther in they dashed, making an incredible noise, yet what chance did they have not to? Dinah could barely see, but Morte seemed to have perfect night vision—he easily navigated branches and deep holes in the earth without trouble. Every few seconds, she would glance back, praying that she wouldn’t see a white Hornhoov emerging from the darkness. They had made it a few miles from the house when she heard the first faint shouts and clinking of armor. Fear surrounded her and made it hard to think. The sounds seemed to be coming over a dark ridge in the distance.
Tears welled up in her eyes and her hands shook as she clutched Morte’s mane, turning him around, racing away. I’ve come so far, so very far—it couldn’t happen here. Not now… . As they raced away, the sun disappeared over the Yurkei Mountains and all was black. The Twisted Wood became nothing more than shadows, an inky shade of trees and branches. Dinah could barely see Morte’s head in front of her as he dove through the trees, straining to outpace the growing sounds of horses and men. The cacophony was coming from all sides now, so foreign and abrasive to her ears after so much silence. Their arrival raped the quiet wood, violating the peace of the trees. It was a violent commotion. They were so loud and they seemed to be everywhere, all around her, pouring down from every side. She couldn’t see where they were, but they were getting closer—and there was nowhere to run where they wouldn’t hear Morte crashing through the brush.
Dinah drew her sword and the thin swoosh of metal echoed through the trees. She wouldn’t be able to fight through many of them—any of them, maybe—but she would not be taken to the Black Towers. She would force them to kill her, and she would try her best to kill her father. That was her only purpose on this black night; if this was going to be the way it ended, so be it. She would avenge her brother, his keepers, and her mother, killed by her father’s neglect and cruelty. Dinah stood still and held her breath for a moment. Then her father’s voice carried out through the darkness, commanding his troops, the sound of him sending a dagger of fear straight through her.
“She’s here! Bring her to me, dead or alive. A lifetime’s worth of wages and a position in the court will be given to the Card who can bring me either. Listen to me, men, do your duty and avenge your innocent prince! His blood will not be in vain!”
The voice stopped Dinah cold; Morte as well. They stood perfectly still as the roar of soldiers echoed all around them in the darkness. They were surrounded. A leaf crackled directly behind Dinah and she heard deep breathing.
“Hide,” hissed a voice in the darkness. “If you want to live, hide; don’t fight. Hide.”