Page 29 of The Secret Keeper's Daughter

I take a deep breath and finally give into sleep.

Chapter

Eleven

Snap!

I jolt awake and look around, only seeing leaves from the bush. Everything is lit bright, so it’s clearly morning, but I have no idea what made that noise.

Harek’s arm around me tightens and he makes a soft shushing sound. His warm breath makes my ear tingle.

Crunch.

Something or someone is close, and they keep breaking twigs or branches.

I inch my hand toward my sword. Harek’s hand is in the way. He doesn’t budge when I nudge him, so I elbow him.

He starts to mutter something, but I shush him. Then I grab my sword.

The etchings glow faintly in the shadows. I let go, and it stops.

I stare in disbelief. What could that mean?

“What—?”

“Shh.” Harek whispers in my ear. His breath is a warm tickle.

It annoys me that I like it.

More footsteps, snaps. A little snarl.

My breath hitches.

Harek’s arm tightens around me, a warning to stay still. I’m not sure what he thinks I’m going to do. Something justsnarled. I just want it to go away.

I’m really starting to look forward to the fae city—not that there’s any guarantee it will be any less dangerous for me, a halfling. Everyone there will not only hate me, but be more powerful too. Even so, maybe, just maybe, I can find my place there.

Crunch!

I stiffen, hold my breath. Hopefully whatever is out there can’t sense us. Whether it’s a wild animal or another fae, I won’t be able to relax until it leaves. And even then, there’s a good chance I’ll still be on edge. How could I not be? Literally everything has changed overnight.

Grief over Mother washes through me. I give it a moment, but then I have to push it aside because whatever is nearby is coming closer. The snarling grows louder with each breaking twig.

“Stay here.” Harek speaks so softly, I barely hear him.

I start to object, but he’s gone before I can say a word. On one hand, I don’t want to leave him alone to deal with whatever—or whoever—is out there, but on the other hand there isn’t much I can do. I have zero experience with my father’s sword. Grief makes my extremities simultaneously feel like rubber and heavy weights. I’m totally useless.

Part of me wants to stay here and cry all day until the pain finally leaves. But I can’t. Not only will the pain linger indefinitely, but Gunnar and Vog are sure to be after me.

I’m nothing more than property to them. I will not live under that oppression for another day, and that might mean fighting for my freedom. I’ll die before becoming Vog’s bride. A shudderruns through me at the thought of that. Death is by far the better option, but ideally I can escape. Get away unseen.

The footsteps outside stop. There’s a moment of quiet, followed by a snarl.

“What do you want?” Harek says, his voice deep and commanding.

“Passing through. You?” The other voice is much higher, almost squeaky.

Maybe I can help against that guy. I need to do something for my friend, even if it isn’t much—something is better than nothing. It takes all my effort, but I pick up the sword and make my way out of our little sleeping nest. My legs feel twice as heavy as normal.

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