Page 63 of Of Wind and Terror

“I don’t know what you said at the end there, but I believe it’s something like, ‘That’s a sexy name for a sexy elf.’ Am I right?”

I nod exaggeratedly and offer him a thumbs-up.

Before he can respond, Runt releases a high-pitched, keening cry. My pet launches himself off of the windowsill and races towards me. He begins to knead at my chest, a strange sort of desperation fueling his movements. Ominous noises emanate from him.

What is he trying to tell me?

“Does he have to take”—Aleks lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper—“a poo-poo?”

Never in my life did I expect to hear a terrifying, grown elf say the word “poo-poo” with a straight face.

I shake my head and focus on Runt, who continues to tremble and whine in my arms.

He’s trying to tell me something.

But what?

I know the Forest of the Damned is a dangerous and terrifying place, but this seems…different. Runt had been perfectly fine until only a short while ago.

So what exactly did the pacon see that scared him so much?

23

BLAZE

Something moves in the distance.

I squint and stealthily shift one of my hands to grab the pommel of my sword.

Treyton remains by the fire, oblivious, his eyes intent on a piece of meat he’s attempting to cook. I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s already burnt beyond anything edible. It’s now nothing but a charred lump.

Still, a twisted part of me can’t help but hope he serves it to Kassandra, and then I’ll waltz in with fresh fruit and save the fucking day.

A twig snaps.

This time, even Treyton’s head twists towards the sound.

The two of us are directly outside the outpost, guarding the only entrance and exit. Kassandra is safe inside with that idiotic elf. I wanted to keep an eye on the Forest—even knowing it’s rare for any creature to leave the safety it provides—and Treyton offered to make Kassandra dinner.

But the noise, however, isn’t coming from the Forest but the road we just traveled down a few orbits earlier.

“Treyton,” I hiss out of the corner of my mouth, stalking closer to the threat. “Go inside.”

The Spring Prince looks at me in obvious disbelief. “What?” His tone is incredulous.

“Go inside and guard Kassandra.” If the elf fuck is still unconscious—and if there’s more than one threat for me to dispatch—my little beast would be left unprotected. Vulnerable.

I don’t trust Treyton’s prowess on the battlefield, but even I can admit, albeit reluctantly, that he’ll protect Kassandra as if his life depends on it.

And if I’m to believe Aleksander about all of us being her mates, it sort of does. I doubt any of us would be able to survive if anything were to happen to her.

Treyton scrambles to his feet, somehow looking both graceful and clumsy at the same time, and makes a beeline towards the entrance. At the same moment, our stalker steps out from behind a building and into a sliver of moonlight writhing across the ground.

I take quick note of her blonde hair, tall frame, and hard eyes. Some of the tension eases, though I don’t take my hand off my sword pommel.

Treyton blinks. “Cayetana?”

His guard steps forward, holding the reins of her mulino. The creature seems to be hobbling slightly, and I spot a trickle of blood on its calf.

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