Page 193 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

I stare at it, too shocked to fully comprehend what I am seeing.

I lean back against oak and let my eyes glaze as the pain roars to life.

I regard the throbbing injury again. At the thought of trying to pull the branch through my arm, I shudder. There’s no way I’m getting it out—and that’s probably for the best. I don’t have anything to staunch the blood flow, and if the branch remains in place, I won’t lose too much blood.

The pain seems to double, even triple, by the moment. It radiates down into my fingertips and up into my shoulder. I can barely move my arm without shooting pain.

“Curse you, stupid tree,” I grit out between my clenched teeth.

My mouth is dry as sand. My limbs quake from hunger and the hours of endless exertion. I stare at the pool. It seems to call me, pulling—pulling—pulling—

I drag myself back just before I plunge face first into the water.

I turn my head into the oak tree, squeezing my eyes shut. I cannot be trusted to evenlookat that water. Who knows what dangers the water holds? Creatures could be lying in its depths, ready to drag me to my death. Or the water could be poisoned, or bring on endless sleep.

I don’t know what to do. How much time has passed? Minutes, hours? Or years?

Maybe I’ve lost Rahk. Maybe he won’t find me after all. I’ll just die in this cursed Wood, slowly bleeding out from my wound. I get up, determined to leave behind this pool that calls to me even when I refuse to look at it. I stumble, and when I catch myself against the oak, agony nearly rips a scream from my throat. I stop where I am, breathing hard, my hood fallen low, my vision blurring in and out of focus.

Got to keep going. Got to keep going. Got to—

“Ivy Mask!”

My stomach pitches. He’s found me.

I will my legs to run. I will every muscle in my body to propel me forward. But I don’t move. Sinking dread fills me as the world swims around me. There’s nothing left inside of me. Nothing left to give.

So this is the end.

No.

I can keep running. The longer I run, the higher the likelihood that those people will be free. I must keep running. I must—

I stop myself.

Rahk got that Star City woman out of Faerie. Rahk loves me. He would never hurt me, even if his life depended on it.

I need to stop hiding from him. I need to stop lying to him.

I need to, for once, truly trust him. With everything. With my life. With the lives of the people I have tried to save. I need to trust the Prince of Nothril.

It is time to stop running. From Rahk, from Agatha, from the fae, from what happened all those years ago. I’mtiredof running.

I step out from behind the tree.

Sunlight cuts through the fog in the forest, illuminating the blanket of pine needles. And Rahk.

He stands with his legs braced wide, his arrow nocked in his bow, pointing it at my chest as he demands: “Take off your hood. Now!”

I’m already doing it. I almost smile. He still does not want to believe it’s me. My wounded arm hangs limply at my side, my other shaking as I peel back the hood. I whisper, “It’s me, Rahk.”

Then there is nothing. No hoods, or masks, or cloaks, or lies. It is just me. It is just him.

His eyes meet mine and his whole body goes slack. I watch the hope vanish from his face. His voice comes out in a dreadful groan as he drops his bow and sinks to his knees. “Kat.”

Chapter 63

Rahk

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