Page 17 of Wicked Prince of Carnage
Nareth caught himself on the floor by his bloody knuckles. “You have to go,” he said through ragged breaths, his eyelidsfluttering. “The prince knows who you are. I lied for you … he took Cyan anyway. He wanted me to tell you to go to his manor before sunset tomorrow, but you can’t. It’s a trap, Sterling.”
The bow fell from Sterling’s fingertips as she slumped back against the wall, the only thing holding her up in that moment. Prince Winter had her brother. Cyan could already be dead, and it was just an elaborate plan to get her there to see his torn body lying in the corner of a cell...
She would never turn her back on him though, and she had to believe he was alive. “I have to get my brother back.”
Nareth clenched his jaw as he pushed up and placed his hands on the counter. “He’ll kill you both.”
Then they would die together. Swallowing deeply, she went to the back room and opened a small safe. She fished out a sack of coins and set it on the counter beside Nareth. “It’s only a week’s worth of money, but take it. Get out of here.”
Nareth’s face paled and he grasped Sterling’s shoulders. “I can’t.”
“If you’ve ever cared for me at all, you will leave!” Sterling spat, shrugging out from his grasp. “Do you understand?” Nareth couldn’t stay here—the prince would want him dead after he delivered the message.
Nareth nodded and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. “You did always do what you wanted.”
“And now I’m paying the price.” She drew back from him and peered up at his battered face. “Who struck first?”
“If you count throwing salt in the prince’s face, then it was me.”
Sterling scowled. “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you for that, but thank you for trying.”
As he shoved the coin bag into his pocket, he scanned her over, his gaze lingering on her muddy arms. “You’re filthy.”
“Don’t ask. My plan was foolish.”
Sterling scooped up her bow and followed Nareth outside, watching his back to make certain no enemies slinked out.
Between two of the shops, a gray-furred wolf craned its neck, then launched itself toward Nareth. She nocked an arrow, piercing the shifter straight through the eye, then another in the neck. The wolf fell to the ground, and she yelled to her friend, “Run!”
Nareth took off as the wolf’s body elongated, the fur revealing dark flesh, blood skating down his face and neck. The shifter stilled, unmoving. One who worked for the royals—Bael.Good.
As she surveyed the area, the roofs, there didn’t seem to be another lurking about, unless they were deep in the shadows.
Sterling believed Nareth could abandon the court before the wolves found him again, even if she went straight to the prince now. She had until sunset tomorrow to go to him, but she wouldn’t wait until the last second.
Taking a breath, she left the market and took the winding path toward the forest that led to the prince’s manor. Dread pumped through her veins—the only thing worse than finding Cyan already dead would be if Winter slaughtered him right in front of her, the way he had let his wolves do to her grandmother.
Sterling tightened her grip on the bow and clenched her jaw to keep from crying. She wouldn’t let the Prince of Carnage have her tears.
As she hit the forest, she slowed her pace. Most dared not enter this particular part, not even her. It usually ended in bloodshed—pleasure for the wolves and pain for the humans.
Soon, the tops of the trees blocked out most of the light, making it seem as though the day was already dying. A few birds cawed and chirped, but nothing rustled. The hair along her arms and the back of her neck stood on end, and she felt as if a thousand eyes watched her.
In the distance, the deep green and brown manor came into view, the hues matching the forest.
“I’m not going to fight!” Sterling called, lifting her chin and dropping her bow on the dirt beside her. “Take me to your prince.”
One man—shifter—slipped out from a tree, four wolves prowling behind him. The man carried a long silver chain in his hands, a devious smile on his face. He was maybe ten years older than Winter, his hair trimmed short and a deep auburn. It washim. Micah. The only other wolf, besides Winter, that she’d yearned to tear apart. She bit the inside of her cheek, holding herself back from retrieving the bow from the grass.
Sterling wrinkled her nose. “You could’ve at least found some trousers.” She didn’t want to mention her brother just yet, to let the fear currently gripping her show.
“I remember you. You screamed so prettily when I gave you those scars,” Micah purred, tugging the chains between his hands and rattling them. “Aww, does the little bitch not want to speak now?” He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the ground. Air knocked out of her as cold chains bit at her wrists. “With an ugly face like that, I would be begging for mercy if I were you.”
Sterling continued to hold her tongue, even as he yanked her to her feet by the chains and pulled her toward the manor. The other wolves didn’t follow behind them, only watched with narrowed eyes.
“Move faster,” Micah bellowed, hauling her through the foliage.
Two guards stood at the manor doors, vines adorning the area. Neither said a word as they let them inside.
