Terror wells up in me, the fear so tangible that my vision darkens and black spots swim in front of me. I take a deep breath and strike at him with the blade.
He roars and shakes me. “Filthy wench. I’m going to—” His grip on my hair slackens. “What did you …” He lets me go entirely and stumbles back.
My vision clears, and I watch as he presses a hand to his chest, his eyes going wide.
“Taylor.” Lenetia stirs and tries to stand.
I rush to her and examine her head.
“It’s fine,” she slurs.
Blood seeps from a cut along her hairline, but it’s not too deep. At least, I think it’s not.
“What?” She points at the fae who’s still clutching his chest. Spidery black veins shoot from under his shirt and crawl up his neck. “What happened? Why is it black?”
“I don’t know.” I look at the knife in my hand. “There must have been something on the blade. Some sort of poison?”
“These northern realm fae aren’t playing around,” she says appreciatively.
The fae staggers toward us, then drops to his knees, the blackness spreading up to his chin.
“Get away from him.” Lenetia shrinks back against me.
Another whinny brings my attention to the horses in the stalls along the back wall. Two large black stallions watch us, their eyes like liquid midnight. I have no doubt who they belong to.
“Come on.” I help Lenetia up and half carry her down the row, the scents of manure, leather, and hay tickling my nose.
When we reach the large horses, they don’t move, just look at us with what seems like a superior expression.
“Hi?” I’ve never ridden a horse, and these don’t seem particularly friendly.
“Uppity horses. Typical fae rudeness.” Lenetia laughs, but the sound is weak.
“Will they let us ride them?”
“Only one way to find out.” She lifts the latch on the nearest stall and swings the door open.
The great beast doesn’t move, just gives us that same stare. I glance at the fae. He’s fallen onto his back, his eyes closed, but the blackness seems to have stopped spreading. I handle the blade gently as I slide it back into my pocket.
Lenetia speaks to the horse in fae. The horse breathes out hard and lifts its head, ignoring us. She grabs its bridle and pulls. It doesn’t move, and she gives up, sagging against me.
“Stuck up bastard of a horse,” she grouses.
“You need to use a gentle touch.” Gareth strides up.
I jump and turn to find Leander behind me. He reaches for me, and I fall into his arms with an ease that should give me pause. Instead, I take his warmth and let him hold me.
“Is that blood?” I lean back and stare at his shoulder.
He makes an unconcerned face and shrugs, then casts a glance at the stable fae and raises his eyebrows in question. I hold up the blade. He grins, pride in his eyes. Heat bursts along my skin, and I’m certain my cheeks turn rosy under his adoring stare.
Gareth speaks to the two black horses. They huff, but walk out of their stalls. They tower over me, and Leander gives the haughtiest one a familiar pat on the nose. Not wasting a second, Leander lifts me onto the beast and then climbs up behind me.
“She’s hurt.” I reach for Lenetia, but Gareth scoops her up and onto his horse.
“I’m fine.” Her eyelids flutter.
“Don’t let her fall asleep,” I warn, then yelp as the horse takes off toward the stable door.
Leander speaks to it in fae, and the beast jets out onto the cobblestone street and starts a thundering pace, scattering everyone in its path. The warm wind rushes by, creating a humming in my ears as the furious clip-clop of hooves echoes along the buildings ahead of us. The city is beautiful, flowering vines growing along the buildings and towering trees on every street corner. The buildings are made of the same pale stone as the castle. After a long while, we pass over a wide bay, its waters a bright Caribbean blue, and fly across the bridge and up the slight hill on the other side. The city is on an island, the water surrounding it like a vibrant, sparkling moat. But I’m not fooled by the beauty. Not after Tyrios and the fae in the stables.
Leander keeps one arm firmly around my waist as we hurtle down the road. The buildings eventually thin out, giving way to fields of unfamiliar crops and rows upon rows of flowers. Heat reflects from the blades of grass and hard dirt beneath the horses’ hooves. Everything is too warm, too beautiful. I let Leander hold me closer, his chest a comfortable wall at my back. The miles fly away under the horses’ steady gait. Deeper into the countryside we roam, the sun finally beginning to fade into a dusky twilight. I wonder again and again if this is just part of the odd dream that I must be having as I lie in the twin bed of my dorm room. But the jostling of the horse, the ache in my butt from the hard saddle, and the frequent kisses on the crown of my head from Leander tell me it’s all real.
“Is she okay?” I peek over at Lenetia.
“She’s awake.” Gareth frowns. “She’s been telling stories that would make a siren blush.”
“You love them.” Lenetia winks at me, though her face is pale. How long had she been in the dungeon when I landed there?
The horses slow somewhat as we crest a hill far outside the city that sparkles like a mirage. A deep wood sprouts up before us, the huge trees dappling the greenery beneath them with emerald light. It’s a forest from a fairy story, but does that mean there’s a wolf or worse inside?
Leander and Gareth kick off a long conversation as my eyelids finally begin to droop, the adrenaline of our escape wearing off. Leander rubs his thumb along my side in a circle. Round and round he’s been going for a few moments, the touch soft and sweet. I inhale his winter snow and roaring fires and relax against him as his voice rumbles in that oddly beautiful tongue. I’m in a strange land with an even stranger man—fae—who’s staked a claim on me.
We resume a gentler pace, heading for the forest.
“We’ll make camp in the Greenvelde Wood for the night,” Gareth says. “Then we’ll ride at dawn. It will be three weeks before we reach the border of the winter realm. Then another three to reach the High Mountain, our home.”
“Six weeks?” I clamp my eyes shut when the bridge of my nose begins to sting. “I have classes, and an exam, and my mom will eventually start looking for me and—” My breath catches in my chest as my voice rises. “And I don’t belong here.”
Leander wraps both arms around me and pulls me tight to him, his lips in my hair as he speaks low, foreign words. A tear slips down my cheek. I don’t know how he sees it, but he does, because he wipes it away.
The horses move forward again, carrying me toward the darkening forest and an uncertain fate.
12
Leander
Claim her, claim her, claim her, CLAIM HER. My blood thrums insistently as I settle down on my bedroll and pat the furs beside me.
Taylor has spent the past hour fretting over the other changeling, seeing to her wound, and going over a few basic fae words. I’ve been grilling Gareth for more phrases from the changeling language. More of it’s coming back to me, but I’m far from proficient.
I peer into the shadowy woods. Tiny fairies fly between the trees, chasing each other and stopping only to give us curious glances. They are far fairer than their winter realm brethren, but seem to be imbued with the same amount of mischief. We’ve already discovered some of our apples and briarberries are missing. We still managed a decent meal, though Taylor seemed unsure as I served her only the finest items from our provisions.
Gareth had laughed. “She says she can feed herself just fine.”
I’d kept on, ensuring she ate until she was full, and then tried to give her a little more. My mate would be well cared for, spoiled even. I smile at the thought and pat the furs again as Taylor rises from her spot next to the fire.
“Sleep,” I say in her language.