Page 47 of The Forbidden Fae King

My mind roars with anticipation of discovery, every sense heightened, as the calm voices of the guards float to me. I spare them a single glance as they change shifts, then make for the thick forest cover nearby.

Every slight crunch of twigs under my careful footfalls makes me cringe. My instincts scream at me to run, but I can’t draw attention to myself. I jolt at every sound, mistaking the breeze moving branches to be a sentry coming for me. The cries of animals to be the raising of the alarm.

I creep with painstaking caution through the shadows from the camp to the thick woods, darting between trunks or stones, and constantly checking the position of the sentries to ensure they won’t notice my movement.

Minutes last a lifetime, and though I have mastered the patience of a huntress, I have never been the prey.

I reach the dense foliage of the ancient woods, out of earshot and sight of the sentries, and I run like the wild hunt itself is on my tail. I thrust out my wind magic to ruffle behind me to the tracks I leave.

Branches whip by, and I duck and leap as I move to avoid their lashing needles. My chest heaves and my muscles burn with the exertion, and still I don’t stop running. The fear that rushes through me chases away all thought but the need to escape. To be free.

The darkness of the night is so thick I stumble and trip, landing face first in the leaf litter and mud, throwing out my hands to catch myself at the last moment. I am forced to light an orb to illuminate my way, or slow my pace right down. I choose the orb, uncaring of what I might disturb.

The landscape all looks the same to me, and I don’t know if I have been running for minutes or hours. All I can hear is my heavy breaths, the swishing of foliage and my boots hitting the ground. I pray to the gods that there are no predators nearby.

The pull of the moonstone bracelet becomes stronger as I move in the right direction.

I could be at the portal before Aldrin knows I have left his little war party. I hope he has too much to drink and stumbles to bed half blind. That he wakes up in the morning bleary-eyed, and doesn’t notice until noon his pet, his intended plaything, has disappeared. Maybe he’ll be too hungover to think I am worth the effort of a chase.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem the type.

Fatigue builds in my muscles until pain laces through them and I can hardly breathe. I stop and brace my arms on my knees, almost doubled over, and pant.

The space between trees has widened, and the underbrush is minimal. This is probably the way we fled from the battlefield, not that I could think straight ‌strapped to the back of that insane kelpie.

I jog at a steady pace. When I get home, I am going to kiss Gwyneth for all the endurance training she drilled into me.

Two moons hang in the sky above me, one full and the other waning, casting the world in shades of indigo and deep green. Tree trunks resolve out of the gloom as shadowy pillars covered in spongy moss, and their girth could almost be mistaken for the silhouette of a man, if not for the broad branches heavily ladened with foliage. My pace quickens to a run as I regain some of my energy.

That portal is enticingly close now, maybe a third of the distance I have already covered.

A chittering sound rushes above me from those branch tops. It turns my blood to ice. I stop and swivel, looking for the source, but see nothing. It’s the wind. Nothing to be afraid of.

But Iknowthat sound.

I flee with all the power I have left.

Pairs of glowing emerald lights blink at me from the darkness, then disappear. The short blades at my belt are in my hands in aninstant, and I grasp my magic at the ready. I will not be undone by wild beasts, not when I have come this far.

I skid to a stop as a huge Cú Sídhe lands a handful of paces in front of me. The beast is majestic, with rippling mossy fur and vines trailing away from a skeletal face that is stark white in the dark night. It snarls, saliva dripping from sharp fangs.

Another runs along the branches above my head, chittering again. A scratching in the canopy on the opposite side alerts me to a third beast. The Cú Sídhe in front of me howls, then snaps its jaw, feigning an attack toward me, then curving away.

I know this game. They hunt in a pack.

Both Cú Sídhe in the trees lunge down at me, their graceful bodies outstretched as they arch through the air with those huge, clawed paws aimed at me. I throw out my arms, a hand pointed at each creature, and thrust blades propelled by air magic into their chests. Each Cú Sídhe flies away from me, curled up and spinning through the air, until their backs strike tree trunks.

I am left shaking by the sheer amount of magic I burnt through, but my fight isn’t done yet.

The beasts slide to the ground, shake their heads, then slowly approach me. In my realm, such a blow would have killed them, but the fae are so much more powerful in their own lands. My blades were too short to do enough damage. If I had a bow and quiver full of arrows, all three would be dead by now.

The third leaps to the ground, and they surround me on all sides

The Cú Sídhe circle around me slowly, yowling and toying with me. I form a lasso of air around each of their throats, then pull it taut. The beasts whip backward by the neck and claw desperately at my tether of magic, scratching rents into their own flesh. They gasp and pant for air that isn’t coming.

My heart breaks at the sound, at the brutality of what I have to do. Silent tears run down my face. I don’t want them to die, but I need to live.

A blast of magic smashes into my chest. Air propels me up and over. The entire world tips on its side and the ground rushes up to hitmy face. I instinctually drop my grip on my attack and use my magic to catch my fall instead. To my surprise, I land on a soft bed of moss that I swear wasn’t there a moment ago.

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