Page 14 of Bound to the Fae Assassin

The path turned again and the world around her darkened as the forest grew more dense. The underbrush was reaching for her, tiny leaves flattening themselves against her skirts.

A huge tree above waved its branches so violently that leaves rained down on her. The first one to touch the flesh of her hand whispered its message just as she felt the ground vibrate.

They’re coming, the leaf told her, as it fell off her hand to the dirt path. Hide.

In her mind’s eye, she saw the wagon of elves, drawn by an ancient draft horse, just before it appeared in front of her.

But it was too late.

“What have we here?” a teasing voice asked.

Elves poured out of the wagon, more men than she would have imagined could be inside at once. They were dressed in worn leathers and one of them carried a well-worn oak cudgel.

“A sweeting,” one with the stick whispered.

“A rebel,” another said. “She’s no respecter of the mortal king’s wall.”

The band laughed and moved toward her as one. And even though she knew she was in danger, she couldn’t help but marvel at their effortless beauty and grace. Thorn had been almost otherworldly, but this crew seemed very real, like hungry cats circling a helpless mouse.

“Don’t worry sweetheart,” one of them sneered. “We’ll keep you company until we get to the village.”

“But there you’ll die alone,” another one added.

This didn’t strike Farrow as particularly funny, but it bought another chorus of laughter from his fellows.

She finally came to terms with what was happening. Her body and mind seemed to slam back into the present at once and she spun around and ran back toward the wall for all she was worth.

She shouldn’t have bothered.

They were on her in an instant, laughing and joking as they grabbed her and hauled her back to the wagon.

She tried to scream, but there was a hand over her mouth before she had a chance. It smelled of earth and nastiness. She closed her eyes and tried not to breathe.

Her body hit the wooden floor of the wagon, bruising her left hip. But the hands blessedly let her go. She curled in on herself, preparing to fight like an animal if they tried to touch her.

But the elves seemed content to scare her.

For now.

The rickety cart started up with a lurch, and she listened as they berated the poor horse for its slow pace.

If only her powers were stronger, then she would implore the trees to fight on her behalf. But she couldn’t touch the trees from where she was. And even if she could, the best she would be able to do is coax enough flavor from them to be turned into a cake.

Unfortunately for Farrow, no one ever had to bake for their life.

They bumped down the uneven path endlessly, until the trees overhead thinned out to reveal a storm-gray sky. A few minutes later, the horse’s feet were singing out on cobblestones instead of dirt.

She longed to sit up and look around, but she didn’t dare move while the elves were watching her. Allowing her eyes to open the tiniest bit, she studied the two of her captors who were within her sight lines. They were looking around excitedly, clearly pleased to be in the town.

Farrow took a deep breath and reminded herself why she was doing this.

Then she opened her eyes and leaped up.

“Help,” she screamed. “I need to find Thorn. He owes me his favor.”

Along the street, elegantly dressed Fae ladies pretended not to stare. But other elves and even a few goblins turned and openly gawked at her.

“That’s enough outta you, girlie,” one of her elf captors said, grabbing her roughly and pulling her hands behind her back.

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