Page 55 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

I crouch down before the boy and pull aside my mask to give him a smile. “Want to ride on my back?”

His little wet face turns to interest almost immediately.

“Climb on!” I say—and then freeze in cold-blooded horror.

There, in the mud, is a fresh pair of giant footprints. Coming from this Path.

Someonefollowedme. From the human world.

Grubby little hands wrap around my shoulders. I hike the boy onto my back and pull my mask into place. I keep my observation to myself, but my voice is overly bright when I say, “It’s time to move fast now! Stay right behind me so you don’t accidentally step off the Path!”

My heart thunders in my chest as I set a vigorous pace. The boy on my back grows heavier, and his brothers and father are all panting hard soon, but I don’t dare slow.

I’m getting them out of here.

Even if it kills me, I’m getting them out of here.

“You’re going to be the reason they die,”the wind whispers.

I tighten my fists on the boy’s ankles and grit my teeth.

No one is dying tonight. Not on my watch.

With every step, I miss Bartholomew. I curse Agatha and Lord Boreham. I curse my mother for being swallowed by this wretched forest, and my father for giving up on her. I curse them both for dying and leaving me behind.

At one point, I glance back to find one of the boy’s feet dangerously near the edge of the Path. “I said to stay right behind me!” I snap, too harshly. He leaps back as though I’ve bitten him. I gentle my tone. “I’m sorry—it is just that you cannot see the Path, and if you step off of it, there is nothing I can do to help you. So please, try to walk exactly where I walk.”

I always make sure to stay exactly in the middle of the Path.

After a few more silent moments, where the only sounds are the strange whispers of the Wood, I crane my neck to call behind me, “We’re coming upon a troll. Just ignore him. He cannot hurt you.”

The words are hardly out of my mouth before a gravelly voice booms, “Who goes there?”

“Ymer the Indefatigable! You are looking . . . indefatigable today,” I call toward the troll. This Path doesn’t take us as close to him as the last, but he still regards me with slitted yellow eyes.

“Small elf,” he growls. “Ymer will flay your skin into fine layers and roast them on open flames!”

“You are adorable,” I reply with a grin. “Maybe I can bring you some bones one of these days. To make your bread with.”

“Elf lies, as elves always have since the ancient days,” Ymer growls, smacking his club against his leathery hand.

“It’s alright,” I whisper to the little boy who buries his face in my shoulder. I increase our pace and leave Ymer’s grumbling behind us.

Then, suddenly, we’re free of the Wood.

We spill out into the stretch of farmland. Sweat pours from the older brothers and their father, their matching tawny hair wet. I set the child down. He runs at once to his father, who smiles down at him and praises him warmly for being so brave.

I press a hand to the stitch in my side, breathing hard, counting the seconds—knowing we cannot stop, but as desperate as them for just one moment.

“You’ve got to keep going,” I finally gasp, bent and gripping my knees. “I’m so sorry, but you must keep going. That direction is the city. Don’t stop until you get there.” I give them directions to find Mary, who will be waiting for them outside the city’s cathedral with their sacks of provision, since I can no longer make them. I gave her all my allowance before I left for this very purpose.

“Saints bless you,” says the man.

They always thank me. I wish they wouldn’t. Their thanks always settles uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach. I stay where I am, watching the four of them continue despite their exhaustion. Every time we part ways, I am acutely aware of all that I long to give them. And all that I cannot.

It never feels like enough.

But there is yet one more thing I can do for this family.

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