Page 182 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

Kat

I’vebecomesodependentonolleathat to no longer have it makes me feel as though I’m crippled.

I come up with an alternative plan. Mary purchased a new set of clothes for me and did her best to not touch them and get her own scent on them. I’ll wear those along with a fresh pair of shoes to the border. Once I’m inside Caphryl Wood, I’ll switch to my glass slippers. It won’t be comfortable, but Rahk himself said the shoes didn’t leave a scent.

I leave Bartholomew behind tonight, no matter how desperately I long to take her with me. I visit her before I leave, however, and give her an apple as a treat. “Not this time, my friend,” I tell her while I scratch under her chin. “You’ve got to stay safe, and I cannot risk Rahk recognizing you.”

The journey to the rise takes forever. The moon is full overhead, lighting my way. When I arrive, there is no troll threatening to eat me. It is good that Ymer is gone, but truly I would prefer him to the many lanterns filling the valley as people farm the magicked ground late into the night.

But I thought of this, and that is why I wrote to my cousin who manages my estate earlier this week.

I stay on the rise. And wait.

As I watch, a dozen torches light the darkness, approaching the valley to my right. It is not an army, but a hired band of mercenaries.

“We have come to claim the part of this land that belongs to the Vandermore Estate!” cries the leader of the mercenaries.

The people farming the ground look up. Some of their faces cast in flickering shades of concern, while others go back to work.

“Everyone must vacate the premises between these boundary lines!” calls the mercenary once more.

They’re not looking in my direction.

Time to move.

I dive into the valley. It is like running through an orchard of vegetables. But even as I try to dodge around thick squash vines and hanging tomatoes the size of my head, I notice spots where the plants growing are much smaller and have not produced fruit yet.The magic is wearing off.It is such a relief that this strange situation will come to an end sooner than I imagined.

Yelling has started up between the mercenaries and farmers. A large group of people fall into my path. Quickly, I take refuge behind a massive pumpkin. It’s so massive that its stem has snapped, and it lies there like a great orange wheel.

“We will take this by force if we must!” cry the mercenaries. “You have no weapons to defend yourselves! Take your lives and your produce and leave immediately!”

Judging by the volume of the exchanges, the situation is escalating perfectly.

Still, I cannot run all the way to the Wood without being stopped. I look around, then focus on the pumpkin. Maybe . . .

I almost reveal myself several times during the process of dislodging the pumpkin. It takes every ounce of my strength to shift it even an inch. Somehow, I manage. Then I get it rolling.

It rolls fast. I am nearly left in the dust, exposed to all eyes. I leap into motion, running alongside the rogue pumpkin and keeping my hand on it to avoid it falling and crushing me.

By the time it falls onto its head and cracks open, spilling seeds and its stringy guts everywhere, I have enough head start to bolt into the Wood and onto the right Path, before anyone can stop me.

The sentient eyes of the Wood fall upon me at once. The cool air wraps around me like a blanket. I wait for the voices to begin as they always do, but they remain silent. It is a thick, pregnant silence of interest.

This is the last time I will step into this Wood.

I pause, switch to my glass slippers, and nothing stops me as I move fast toward my final raid.

IknowIhavemade it to Nothril by the wet scent that sinks into the Wood. I step off the Path quickly, so I do not run into the fae warriors who guard it, and head toward the dense, low foliage where Tailor and I always meet.

Thick eyebags hang beneath his spectacles. His shoulders are slightly hunched as he crouches behind the shrubbery. I slide into a crouch beside him and chirp, “Hullo! You look ready for an all-night raid.”

He sighs and massages the bridge of his nose. “Princess Pelarusa is a nightmare to work for. I would refuse her if I could.”

“I believe you,” I reply. “Were you able to get the glamour?”

He fishes a small, translucent vial from his pocket and drops it into my open palms, along with a pocket watch. “It only lasts two hours, but it is a powerful glamour that will disguise you as a fae. It cost me my entire life savings to get my hands on it. Use it wisely. Your name is Ariselle, of Nothnim—one of the Nothril cities. Once you take the glamour, you have two hours to get everyone out. Remember, we have eleven targets tonight. Are you still sure we can get that many?”

My mind immediately returns to the Star City. I grit my teeth. “Yes.” I tuck the vial into my breast pocket. “Give me all the information you’ve got.”

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