Page 12 of A Thieving Curse

He stared at the dead creature as his hands began to shake.I…did it? I did it. Someone spun him around.

“Your Grace! Are you hurt?” Sir Christopher snatched Gareth’s bloodied left arm. “The prince needs bandages!”

Dazed, Gareth looked back at the manticore. “I killed it.”

Sir Christopher released his shoulders. “Yes, Your Grace. Well done.”

“Gareth!” Father pushed Sir Christopher aside. “You could have died!”

“But I didn’t.” A grin tugged at the corner of Gareth’s mouth as the stress of the fight gave way to euphoria, but Father didn’t appear pleased. Gareth clasped his hands behind him so Father wouldn’t see how badly he was trembling as the rush wore off. “I killed a monster—”

“If you say like Sir Roderick, I swear…” Father jerked Gareth against his chest in an embrace, then promptly released him. He turned, leaving Gareth stunned. “Sir Christopher?” Father asked heavily. “Any casualties?”

A male servant hurried over and cut away Gareth’s sleeve. Torchlight gleamed on rivulets of blood running out of four shallow cuts that stretched from the middle of his bicep to his elbow. Now that he was looking at it, Gareth became aware of how much the wound stung. The servant poured water over the gashes. Gareth barely stifled a moan. Then the servant set about wrapping his throbbing arm in a white bandage.

Sir Christopher made his way back, frowning. “We lost Brenton. Thompson took the tail, and the poison… He’s nearly gone. Some minor wounds.” He glanced at Gareth. “We are fortunate we didn’t lose more.”

Gareth fought the urge to flinch under Sir Christopher’s implied remonstrance. Forget about Father and Sir Christopher, Raelyn would be proud. He wondered if she’d been close enough to see his killing blow. He hoped so.

A knight rushed up to them, panting as he gave a perfunctory bow. “Your Majesty. The princess…the princess is missing.” Gareth’s blood ran cold.

Father paled. “What?”

The man wrung his hands. “She was at the back of the company, well away from the danger, but…she’s gone.”

“No,” Gareth choked out. He seized a torch from someone and ran to the end of the caravan, shoving people out of his way. She wasn’t there. He’d left herright there.

“Raelyn!” Gareth turned in a frantic circle. “Rae!”

His breathing became shallow. He was vaguely aware of Mother’s high-pitched voice and Father shouting orders. Gareth drifted to the side of the road and stilled as a broken branch caught his attention. He crouched down. Hoofprints. His gaze lifted to a trail of broken undergrowth, panic strangling him. He rushed forward. Other men soon caught up, also bearing torches.

Father fell into step next to him. “We’ll find her.”

“I know.” Gareth focused on the trail left by Opal’s flight, thankful for every hunting trip.I’m coming, Raelyn. I’m coming.

They followed the erratic trail for miles, but Gareth was too on edge to feel weariness. He just felt numb. Finally, they came to an open area where the grass was worn down. A scrap of color near the base of a tree caught his eye, and he hurried toward it. A piece of burgundy fabric—from Raelyn’s dress. He straightened and his stomach dropped. He brushed cold fingers over the fresh claw marks in the tree’s bark.No…no, no…

“Hoofprints go this way,” Sir Christopher called.

Relief coursed through him. She must have remounted.

They followed the broken underbrush until something dark blocked their path. Torchlight fell on the mound and Gareth backed away, shaking his head as bile pushed at his throat. Father cried out and fell to his knees.

Raelyn’s horse. What was left of it.

She’s not…she can’t be… I’d know. She’s alive. Shehasto be.Someone took the torch from his unsteady hand. Father wept while the knights searched nearby. Gareth couldn’t move.She escaped. I know she did.

“Your Excellency.” Sir Christopher bowed his head. “There are no signs of her body. There’s a trail. Looks like a bear.”

“Would…” Father’s voice shook. “Would a bear take her body to its den?”

“She’s not dead!” Gareth clenched his fists.

Sir Christopher didn’t acknowledge him. “It’s possible, Your Excellency.”

Father nodded. “Find her. So we can…”

“Yes, Your Excellency.” Sir Christopher bowed. “Sir Varkin, please escort His Excellency and His Grace back.”

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