Page 171 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

And if I can’t get back home before Rahk catches me, I won’t have a chance to redeem myself with my Nothril raid.

Mylastraid.

I push Bartholomew as hard as she can go through the Paths, straight through the people filling the edge of the border, crushing oversized fruit and vegetables in my wake. People scream, but I cannot look. Even a second will cost me everything.

I gallop as close to Rahk’s estate as I dare, then leap off and take Bartholmew’s lead, guiding her to the stables—which are still empty, as they should be. Normally I’d brush her down, but I barely have time to toss a bucket of alfalfa in front of her before I sprint to the kitchen.

Mary is there, alone, mending by candlelight. I barrel inside, streaked with sweat, grime, and tears. “He’s behind me. I don’t know how close.”

Mary lets out a violent curse like nothing I’ve heard from her before. She drags me to the pantry and we frantically peel off my clothes. She has the small basket of everything we need sitting there by the door, and next to it is a soapy bucket of water—long gone cold. I scrub myself as fast as I can, my heart pounding a syncopated rhythm. Mary has a hair oil that she rakes into my scalp with almost enough force to break my neck. Next is the lotion I slather all over myself while she ties up my hair in a clean linen. My hands tremble so hard I can barely pull on my nightgown, so Mary yanks it into place.

A loud bang from the opposite end of the house sends both of us jumping an inch out of our skin.

“He’s here,” I whimper. “I cannot get back to the bedroom in time!”

The bellow, so thunderous and powerful, carries clearly across the hallways and doors and empty rooms between us, sending Mary and I into twin panicked states of paralysis.

“Where is Kat? Where is my wife?”

Chapter 54

Rahk

Thefrightenedwomanwiththe curly black hair doesn’t see me before I’ve crept up behind her. She hides just off the lit road, clinging to the shadows. In one swift motion, I have one hand around her upper arm and the other smothering her scream.

“Tell me where the Ivy Mask is, and I will spare you,” I growl into her ear.

She trembles violently in my grip. I let go of her mouth.

“I don’t know,” she replies, the words coming out in shakes and stutters. “She went to find the others.”

She.

All this time, and I’ve never realized my quarry was a woman. Kat springs to mind at once. The memory of how she felt curled up against me this morning, her lips pressed against my throat in a long, unintentional kiss, returns to me unbidden with a painful ache. I sweep all thoughts of her aside immediately.

“The other slaves?” I demand.

She nods. The motion makes her hair fall into her face. I take stock of her quickly, and my entire body responds with pulsating shock when I see a familiar object clutched tight in her hand.

An ollea jar.

She doesn’t fight when I take it. Without releasing her, I hold the jar up to the light. Not a single drop remains. Sothisis how the Ivy Mask has been evading me so long. I never realizedolleacould be used like this.

I think of the girl I found in my Nothril quarters so long ago. The mute slave who shouldn’t have been in my room. The one I considered was working for the Ivy Mask.

She wasn’t working for the Ivy Mask. Shewasthe Ivy mask.

And she was in my room stealing this.

I picture the girl. She was slender, wearing an oversized uniform, with bits of black hair visible between patches of gauze covering her face. I think of her brown eyes, her straight nose. Again, Kat assaults my thoughts. She has a similar build and height to the Ivy Mask.

Stop thinking about Kat,I tell myself.You’ve got to focus.

I cast around, looking for what I need. I drag the woman after me, away from her hiding spot, until I find a loose stone on the edge of the road. I lift it, testing its weight in my palm. A spell like this is only effective if created outside the Wood. I run my fingers over its smooth surface, muttering under my breath.“Alathar illutrum o pomith sylithica pir bonrus.”

The stone begins glowing a soft purple. I hand it to the woman, who glances between me and it uncertainly.

“Take that and follow it through the forest—purple means you are heading in the right direction, red means you have turned the wrong way. It will lead you safely to the human lands. You will not be lost in the Wood.”

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