Page 90 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
“Fine. Bastard.”
“I love you too.”
With a tearful laugh, I hunch close to my stag’s neck, keeping my body low and tight, urging him on. I feel like apologizing to the stag for my weight—I’m probably much heavier than lithe, toned Lir—yet somehow we pull ahead. Which makes Lir’s stag unhappy, apparently, because he finds a reserve of energy somewhere and launches himself forward, straining as if we’re in a race.
My shoulder burns where the Unseelie vulture seized it. She’s diving in again—the rough edge of her wing scrapes my cheek.
Another Unseelie soars above Lir, then drops, his wings flung straight up and his legs apart. He lands on the stag’s back, right behind Lir, and I scream. I rake my hand through Fin’s satchel and come up with just two items—a piece of candy and an orb.
I fling the orb, and it explodes into orange dust against the Unseelie’s arm.
He begins to melt, acid steaming through his clothes and flesh.
“Push him off, Lir, push him off!” I scream.
Lir twists, grips the Fae’s collar, and flings him off the stag. The Unseelie collapses into the snow, shrieking as more of his body is eaten away by the acid.
“Sweetheart,” calls Lir, his face stricken. “Don’t help me that way again.”
“Noted.” I’m trembling with the thought of what could have happened to Lir and the stag if he hadn’t thrown the Unseelie off in time. And what if my aim had been off and I’d hit Lir with the acid? I have to be more careful.
A quick glance over my shoulder shows the rest of the Unseelie charging us again, deadly intent in their eyes.
But when I face front again, the treeline is right before us.
We charge into the narrow space between two trunks, slowing down a little to thread our way through. It’s a thicker belt of trees than I realized, but at the pace we’re going, we navigate it quickly, breaking out into a field of blue grass studded with smooth, upright rocks, man-sized, white as bone and chiseled with countless runes. The snow is still falling, but each flake evanesces the moment it touches the rocks or the grass.
In the distance, beyond that great field with its standing stones, lies a sheet of water, mirrorlike, reflecting the gray sky above.
The Unending Pool is utterly still and glassy smooth. I can’t see its farther edge; it seems to melt into gray mist, no horizon to be seen. Magic shivers in the air, tangible even to a human like me.
The Unseelie seem to have fallen back for the moment. They couldn’t fly through the belt of trees, and they will have to fly impossibly high in order to find a way over the treetops.
“This is good,” I say to Lir. “We have a chance now. Keep riding hard, and we’ll—”
“Louisa.” The wooden rasp in his tone startles me. “Louisa, I—”
His body spasms, limbs stiffening. His jaw works oddly, and his skin color has altered.
He’s reverting to Nutcracker form.
“No,” I gasp. “No, it’s too soon, isn’t it?”
“Something—about this place,” he chokes.
“We’ll pause for a moment. I’ll give you some blood...”
“No!” He leans into the gallop. “Won’t risk—draining you. If we stop—they’ll catch you. Kill you. Louisa—”
He groans, and the sound changes halfway through, a deep wooden creak that makes me want to scream. But he’s still his right size, still gripping the reins and riding.
Just a little farther. A little farther now…
Behind us, cries of fury and the whip of great wings tell me that our Unseelie pursuers have surmounted the ring of ancient trees. They got over it much faster than I expected. Shit.
I have nothing left. The remaining candy is a musical one, and that won’t help us. All I have is my dagger.
Lir can only cling woodenly to his stag’s back, and I’m not sure how long he’ll be able to stay in the saddle. I shout to my mount and his, urging them forward, pelting at top speed toward the Pool.
