Page 410 of Flirting with Darkness

I glower at him, and we keep marching forward, hand in hand.

In perpetual darkness, I have no notion of day or time, and the only clue that hours have passed before physical fatigue sets in is hunger. And my rumbling stomach completely stops our progress. The king says nothing. He simply conjures up his bubble of protection once again and goes off to hunt for lunch.

And I’m left in the middle of the dark woods, alone. Just me and my thoughts.

I scan the area the ward covers and find a thick tree stump to settle on.

I let my muscles relax and notice, as I’m stretching my neck, that my brand-new boots don’t have a single spot of mud or dirt on them.

They look just as they had when the king first conjured them despite trekking miles in them.

Spelled boots. How novel.

But as interesting as the concept is, my mind keeps wandering to that poor woman.

She has to prove her worth…

She might have to prove herself but I can’t let her stay tied up in a tree like bait for this realm’s monsters.

I can’t.

But I can only see a handful of feet ahead of me at a time. And I’m still just a fleshy treat to whatever lives here, regardless of my new leathers and spelled boots.

I glance down at my chest, finger idly tracing the runic pattern stamped into the soft leather.

And the rune glows.

I pull my hand away at once, and the golden light vanishes.

Spelled leathers?

If I recall, the rune on my chest is a power sigil, meant to imbue the holder with strength and speed.

And it’s emblazoned across my chest. I touch it again, not expecting it to work twice, and I can chalk it up to a fluke or trick of the eye.

But the symbol glows with power and magic, and this time, it’s even brighter.

Did the king forget? When he conjured duplicate leathers for me, did he forget his were imbued with magic?

Or is this a trap?

My body hums with anticipation, with adrenaline, preparing for my next action.

My father taught me only the theory behind runic workings. I have no firsthand experience of how to wield this tool, but I have to at least try. Even if it is a trap, I have to try for that strange, pink-haired woman.

Maybe if I can get to her fast enough, thesluaghandbánánachwon’t eat me. Maybe I can get to her before it’s too late, and she can find her way out.

Or maybe…

Maybe we could find a way out together.

I glance at the surrounding ward, anchored to points in the landscape and not me. It won’t travel with me as I search for the girl in the net.

But if the king of darkness and brooding won’t do anything, I will.

I stare at the bracers covering my wrists, hiding the calluses I’d built over years of doing what I thought was the good and right thing. That belief was sometimes the only thing that kept me sane, kept me fighting through the sweat-soaked sheets and the temptation each night. I thought I was on the side of good.

Little did I know…

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