Page 9 of Of Wind and Terror

“I suppose story time is over for now,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Which is a bloody shame, because I’ve been told I’m very good at telling erotica. Next time, cherub. But for now, we need to get moving before it gets dark.”

I immediately shake my head.

No!

I still have so much more I want to know.

He claimed the king asked him to grab me… Why? Because of my powers?

And what did he mean when he said he was the Hunter of Amorite? Is that an official title or one he gave himself? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter, but my instincts are telling me that Aleksander is not what he seems.

How did he even find me?

Where are we going?

How in Gaia’s name can I get myself out of this mess?

I slide my gaze to Patric, who lies unconscious on the ground at my feet. The old priest did nothing except try to help me escape after Gaia’s temple was attacked.

The temple…

In my terror over Aleksander’s revelation, I hadn’t allowed myself to think about the place I left behind.

Before I ran through the underground tunnel, I’d been at the temple with Calan, the Winter Prince. Is he okay? Is he hurt?

Who’s attacking in the first place?

Gaia’s temples have always been neutral ground. No one would dare attack such a sacred space, especially in broad daylight.

Fear for Calan, combined with terror for myself, nearly makes me weak in the knees.

“You’ll receive more of an explanation when we arrive. I promise,” Aleksander says with a gentleness I’ve never heard from him before. He’s usually always joking or singing or spewing off some sarcastic quip.

Then again, that was San, a fae I befriended at the marketplace.

I don’t know who this male before me is. Not really.

“Where are we even going?” I sign, not caring that he’s unable to understand me. I just want to get those words out into the universe, to breathe life into them instead of allowing them to fester away inside of me.

But even though Aleksander doesn’t know Falkan, the language of the hands, he understands what I’m trying to ask.

“Where are we heading, cherub?” His eyes glimmer. “Why, we’re going home, of course. Your home. The Amorite castle.”

4

KASSANDRA

Home.

The Amorite castle.

Cold, insidious terror sweeps through meas I attempt to take another step away from the elf, momentarily forgetting I’m already flush against the wall. No. No way am I going to allow someone to kidnap me again. Not happening.

Aleksander’s eyes glimmer with whatappears to be amusement. Itmakes him look…younger, somehow. Softer. A tiny smile curves up the corners of his lips.

“Kassandra…” He gives me a pointed look, almost as if I’m a misbehaving animal barking and snapping at him.

When hetakes another step closer, I do the only thing I can think of—dive for the dagger I noticed Patric carrying before he collapsed. My hand closes around thecopper handle, and I jerk the weapon up, brandishingit in front of Aleksander’s face.

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