the tendrils fade away from my body, beginning with my face and neck, until there is little more than a puddle at my feet. Casimir forces his lips open and manages to turn his head to me.
“Y-you did it,” he says.
I nod. “I really did.”
The effort and the strain on my muscles cause me to collapse to the floor. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. It was bizarre and terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
Gwen nuzzles Casimir’s neck with her muzzle and the prince laughs. “It felt so good for a minute there.” His laughter stops and he sighs. As his body thaws the blue shimmer leaves his skin. “I... I almost gave up.”
A pregnant pause lies between us. If it hadn’t been for Anta, I may have given up as well. Have I lost the will to live? My fingers rise to the locket around my throat. The image of Father in the tavern comes flooding back, and it ignites some fire in my veins. I can never feel like that again. I will never let anything weaken me. My purpose is to find the Wanderers.
“We should build a fire,” Casimir says. “We need to warm up.”
I blink to remove the mist from my eyes. Of course, we need to heat our bodies, I had forgotten because of my anger. When my hand drops from the necklace I find Casimir observing me with an odd look on his face. His mouth opens, and I think he is about to say something, but then he thinks better of it and collects a handful of sticks from the forest path.
I crouch down to place my hand over the embers of our fire. They are as stone cold as I expected. We have work to do.
We crouch down together, arranging the fire and creating a spark. Casimir may be a pampered prince, but he is also a quick worker who never once complains of aching knees, even when mine begin to throb. When the fire lights, I could swear a glint of something shines in his eyes. Hope, maybe?
*
O ur first night in the forest is a tense one. Neither of us says it, but we are both afraid that the fog will return. I’m not sure we have the strength to fight it away twice in one night. Even as I lay on my bedroll, the tang of sore muscles works its way through my arms and legs. I finally manage to close my eyes and drift away, but I’m all too aware of the fact Casimir is standing watch, and I’m not sure how much I trust him to keep us safe. He has shown that he is more capable than I thought, but even the best men are taken by the Waerg Woods. I’m not sure I trust myself anymore.
I wake at intervals, and even though I’d rather it didn’t, my mind wanders back to the night my father died. Sometimes I imagine the fight in the Fallen Oak. I picture shadows attacking Father and dragging Ellen away. They are never people. Those monsters could never be people to me. My fingers grip the locket around my neck.
There are a few things that don’t add up. If the Wanderers were looking for the prince, why didn’t they follow us into the woods? Someone was watching us that night. Surely that wasn’t a coincidence. Could it be possible that the watchers and the attackers were different groups? No, that wouldn’t make sense. So why aren’t they interested in the prince? He’s the most valuable person in the realm, well, except... except for the craft-born.
Unless their motive is the craft alone. Word of Ellen’s abilities has spread far and wide. The prince coming to marry her is big news. It will be the talk of the realm, whispered about in taverns and markets from the Haedalands to Cyne, maybe even the Benothalands. Through the realm, excitable peacekeepers will toast to their health and fat future children. Ellen will be transformed into a gifted young woman with indescribable power. They will say how she can heal the sick and mend the broken. That’s why they took her. They need her for something. The thought makes me queasy. They don’t know she’s lying. Whatever they need, I’m the only one who can give it to them, but I never will, not now. Now I go to deliver
“Y-you did it,” he says.
I nod. “I really did.”
The effort and the strain on my muscles cause me to collapse to the floor. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. It was bizarre and terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
Gwen nuzzles Casimir’s neck with her muzzle and the prince laughs. “It felt so good for a minute there.” His laughter stops and he sighs. As his body thaws the blue shimmer leaves his skin. “I... I almost gave up.”
A pregnant pause lies between us. If it hadn’t been for Anta, I may have given up as well. Have I lost the will to live? My fingers rise to the locket around my throat. The image of Father in the tavern comes flooding back, and it ignites some fire in my veins. I can never feel like that again. I will never let anything weaken me. My purpose is to find the Wanderers.
“We should build a fire,” Casimir says. “We need to warm up.”
I blink to remove the mist from my eyes. Of course, we need to heat our bodies, I had forgotten because of my anger. When my hand drops from the necklace I find Casimir observing me with an odd look on his face. His mouth opens, and I think he is about to say something, but then he thinks better of it and collects a handful of sticks from the forest path.
I crouch down to place my hand over the embers of our fire. They are as stone cold as I expected. We have work to do.
We crouch down together, arranging the fire and creating a spark. Casimir may be a pampered prince, but he is also a quick worker who never once complains of aching knees, even when mine begin to throb. When the fire lights, I could swear a glint of something shines in his eyes. Hope, maybe?
*
O ur first night in the forest is a tense one. Neither of us says it, but we are both afraid that the fog will return. I’m not sure we have the strength to fight it away twice in one night. Even as I lay on my bedroll, the tang of sore muscles works its way through my arms and legs. I finally manage to close my eyes and drift away, but I’m all too aware of the fact Casimir is standing watch, and I’m not sure how much I trust him to keep us safe. He has shown that he is more capable than I thought, but even the best men are taken by the Waerg Woods. I’m not sure I trust myself anymore.
I wake at intervals, and even though I’d rather it didn’t, my mind wanders back to the night my father died. Sometimes I imagine the fight in the Fallen Oak. I picture shadows attacking Father and dragging Ellen away. They are never people. Those monsters could never be people to me. My fingers grip the locket around my neck.
There are a few things that don’t add up. If the Wanderers were looking for the prince, why didn’t they follow us into the woods? Someone was watching us that night. Surely that wasn’t a coincidence. Could it be possible that the watchers and the attackers were different groups? No, that wouldn’t make sense. So why aren’t they interested in the prince? He’s the most valuable person in the realm, well, except... except for the craft-born.
Unless their motive is the craft alone. Word of Ellen’s abilities has spread far and wide. The prince coming to marry her is big news. It will be the talk of the realm, whispered about in taverns and markets from the Haedalands to Cyne, maybe even the Benothalands. Through the realm, excitable peacekeepers will toast to their health and fat future children. Ellen will be transformed into a gifted young woman with indescribable power. They will say how she can heal the sick and mend the broken. That’s why they took her. They need her for something. The thought makes me queasy. They don’t know she’s lying. Whatever they need, I’m the only one who can give it to them, but I never will, not now. Now I go to deliver
Similar Books
