Page 24 of Enslaved

I grip the strap of my satchel. “Lead on then.”

He flashes me a look. For a moment I fear he will try to talk me out of it. To my intense relief, however, he simply sets out into the forbidding landscape, tossing over his shoulder as he goes, “Stay away from thevirroratrees. They’ll eat you alive if you let them get close.”

I glance warily at the dark trees dotting the countryside at intervals. Their twisted branches and enormous, waxy-looking leaves give off a faintly menacing air. I shudder and stick close to the Prince’s heels as he leads me under the star-strewn sky. Somehow, by some fae magic or sorcery, he finds a road that was invisible before. A road I’d certainly not seen the last time I ventured this way. The starlight is brighter now. Or perhaps my eyes have simply adjusted. There isn’t much to be seen in any case. Just the road leading across the open land. Occasionally, a small scurrying form shuffles across our path. Otherwise, we might be the only two living souls in this whole dark, lonely world.

I’m not sure how many miles we cover before I become aware of the shadow-figures. One moment I think we’re alone; the next, we’re surrounded. I turn this way and that, never quite able to catch a full sight. A glimpse of horns, a glance of ugly masks. A gleam of weapons. They march in silent formation on either flank, just on the edge of my peripheral vision.

The Wild Hunt has come for us.

My heartrate quickens. I pick up my pace, hurrying to match the Prince’s long stride. “Do you see—”

“Yes.”

“How long have they been there?”

“Since the beach.” He looks down at me. “Why? Have you had enough of this little adventure already?”

I shoot him a quick glare. Then, swallowing hard, I quicken my pace, progressing a few strides ahead of him. Movement lunges at my left. Immediately, the Prince springs forward, wraps an arm around me, and pulls me to him. “Don’t be foolish, Darling,” he growls close to my ear. “Stay close. These people have not forgotten what you brought to their shore a month ago. They will kill you in a heartbeat if they see an opening.”

My blood thrills in my veins. I feel the perilousness of our position, yes. But suddenly, I am also aware of the Prince’s power in a way I had not before noticed. His very presence is enough to keep at bay these terrible fae. For the time being at least.

“Very well, Prince,” I say stiffly and shrug his arm off. “I understand. Now, if you will be so good as to restrain from manhandling me.”

A bitter chuckle rumbles in his throat. We continue, keeping pace with one another. The deeper we progress into the Realm of Night, the more the hunters come out from the shadows. Soon they walk openly on either side of us, their eyes gleaming through the holes of their hideous masks, a grim escort. What would they do if we changed our minds and turned back? Something tells me I don’t want to try it.

We come at last to the lip of a deep, craggy valley full of black forest. Five tall towers emerge from the center of this forest, all twisted and black, like claws trying to tear free from the soil. The impression is so strong, I blink several times before I realize that I’m looking on the turrets of a castle.

“Skullkreg.” The Prince stops to take in the view. “A charming spot, perfect getaway if you’re inclined for a little blood-letting, skull-crushing, and skin-flaying now and again.” He tips his head and flashes me a droll smile. “Shall we knock and see if the family’s home for tea?”

All around us, the masked Wild Hunt shifts eagerly. Waiting for us to turn back, waiting for us to make a break for it. “Yes,” I answer, hoping my voice matches his light and breezy tone. “Let’s.”

The Prince offers his elbow. Fingers trembling, I take it, and he guides me down the path into the valley. All too soon we are under the forest canopy. At least the trees here seem to be ordinary pines, not the predatoryvirrora.They crowd close, however, their branches densely intertwined, blocking the stars from view. The dark is so deep, I can scarcely see my hand before my face.

“Steady on,” the Prince says through the side of his mouth. “I won’t let you trip.”

I have no choice but to trust him. All around us foliage rustles and cracks. It’s the Wild Hunt. I know how silently they can move when they wish; we only hear them now because they want us to. They want us to know how near they are. Now and then a finger or the tip of a claw brushes my arm or my cheek. Each time I flinch and press into the Prince’s side. “Courage, Darling,” he whispers. “Keep your head up.”

Despite his words, I find myself reaching for my satchel, tempted almost to the point of breaking to grab my book and quill. To draw upon the power I know is mine—power enough to decimate these foes. Perhaps the Wild Hunt senses the threat, for they retreat suddenly, and the forest goes still.

We pass in silence the rest of the way to the gates of Skullkreg. Great, black, and twisted, as though the metal has been tortured into shape. Worse still, they stand wide open. Ready for us. Eager.

The Prince comes to a halt. “We’re expected it would seem.”

I nod. It’s not a comforting thought. We’ve come this far, however. Squaring my shoulders but keeping a firm grip on the Prince’s arm, I march on. We’ve scarcely passed under the archway and into the courtyard beyond when the gate clangs shut behind us. I whip my head around, heart pounding. The Wild Hunt is there, just on the far side of the bars. They stare at us through the dark holes of their masks. Hungry demons gazing out from the edge of hell.

I suck in a breath and face forward quickly. If it wasn’t too late before, it certainly is now. We are here. In Vokarum’s stronghold. I must face the horned lord, come what may.

The front entrance of the castle is carved like a dragon’s head, complete with stone fangs and red torches set into two alcove-eyes. An effective display; not one I care to see much closer. Someone stands in the open door, waiting. A woman, clad in a revealing crimson gown. A metal torc set with gemstones graces her slender throat. Above this, her face is pale as a block of ice. Her hair, which might once have been golden, is white and limp, without luster. As we draw near, she gazes at us from eyes which seem to have dulled from blue to lifeless gray.

“Welcome, Librarian of Vespre,” she says, without so much as a glance for the Prince. She bows her head, long hair sweeping over her shoulders. “Lord Vokarum bids you join him for dinner.”

“Join himfordinner orasdinner?” The Prince takes hold of my elbow as though afraid I’ll dart through that door without a second thought. His fingers pinch, but I don’t try to wriggle free. “I’d just like to clarify, if it’s all the same with you.”

The woman turns her shadowed eyes slightly to take him in. She blinks once. Then without a word she whirls in a waft of red fabric and disappears into the keep. We are clearly intended to follow.

“Come on.” I pull against the Prince’s hold.

“That hungry, are you?” The Prince tuts, allowing himself to be led forward. “If you’ll take my advice—not that I expect you would—I’d avoid drinking anything offered within these walls.”

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