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I’m crouched down among the wildflowers when I hear it. The pummeling of hard, heavy feet against the earth and the lowing of some beast, deep and powerful. If it’s gotten this close to the clearing, close enough for my weak human ears to hear it, then that means it’s bypassed Destan.
I stay still, my legs aching with the effort of maintaining my crouch. But making noise could attract it, and it’s possible that it’s course won’t bring it anywhere near me.
Except that would require a level of luck I just don’t seem to have.
The noise is definitely getting closer, and the forest is playing tricks with my perception. The hoofbeats sound impossibly fast, rolling after one another in endless succession. It occurs to me that even if the creature can’t hear me, it can probably smell me. Which means I can either stay here and hope Destan comes back before I’m mauled, or take the risk of getting lost and make a dash for it. My hand goes to my pocket. I still have the petal Ruskin gave me. With it, I can find my way back to the palace.
I make my decision and run.
As I rise, I tug my skirts up into my belt, keeping my feet clear to sprint out of the clearing. The trees race past me as I try to put distance between myself and whatever that is. My boots send up sprays of earth in my wake. I dodge a tree root and hop over another. The sound is still getting louder. Closer.
I use precious time to slow down enough to look over my shoulder. The trees are so close together I can only catch glimpses, but there’s a crashing of branches as something big and gray moves between the trees towards me. I think there’s probably more than one beast, maybe a pack. The hoofbeats are too many and as the lowing sound comes again it’s accompanied by the wild snorting of several animals.
I hurl myself forwards, using every ounce of muscle I have. Still, it’s becoming clear to me that I won’t be able to outrun them. I need to get off the ground, up high somewhere. I size up the approaching trees for one with low branches. Unless the footholds are reachable, I’ll be dinner.
There—a fat, low-growing elm tree with limbs outstretched wide as if waiting to embrace me. I surge towards it and plant a foot up on the lowest branch, pulling myself up until I’m standing on top of it.
It’s been years since I climbed my last tree, but once again, I will myself upwards. I get up and over the next branch, and the two after that. But then I stall. The next one’s too far out of reach—and when I look down, I see I’m not nearly as far from the ground as I thought.
The snapping of branches and scream of whatever’s coming for me is seconds away. Heart hammering, I wonder if I could kick them in the face from here, if that would be enough to put them off. Then something brushes my arm.
“Need a hand?”
Chapter 14
I’m so shocked, I nearly let go of the branch I’m clinging on to. Wrenching my head around I see there is, indeed, a hand by my shoulder. Large and masculine. I follow it up to a muscled arm, and then my eyes fall on the face I’ve come to hate despite all its beauty.
“Ruskin, lift me up now!” I grunt through gritted teeth.
He obliges without argument or any further teasing, hooking his hand under my shoulder and lifting me up with one arm like I’m no more of a burden than an ungainly bag of apples. My body automatically works to help him, even though it doesn’t seem like he needs it. As my legs scramble against the upper branches, I swing flush against his chest. Even in my panic I notice the toned hardness of it before he wraps an arm around my waist and deposits me on the branch beside him.
Only fae strength would allow anyone to get as high as we are now. The ground is a distant thing, and we’re enshrouded by thick foliage. There, beside him and hidden by the leaves, I feel safer than I have in days. The curiousness of that feeling doesn’t wear off as the hoofbeats pound the ground below.
My pursuers are there and gone so fast that if I blinked, I almost miss seeing them. They flash past in a blaze of gray flanks and wild manes and…
Riders on horses.
Granted, they’re the biggest horses I’ve ever seen, every footstep seeming to shake the earth, but they’re bridled and reined, directed by the High Fae seated on their backs. As they dash on below, I see one of the fae lift their hand to their mouth, holding something, though from this angle and at that speed I can’t tell exactly what it is.
The lowing sound I mistook for the cry of a beast sounds again.
“What is that?” I murmur, almost to myself.
“Dragon horn,” Ruskin says. He perches one foot up on the branch, resting an elbow on his knee. He looks as casual and comfortable as if he was seated on a futon back at the palace. “It’s the call of the Wild Hunt.”
“You have dragons?” It’s not the most important question in my head, but it’s the first that comes out of my mouth.
“Not anymore—that I know of, anyway.”
I stare into his yellow-green eyes. He’s gone for the “Seelie” look today; another reason I feel a little bit safer with him. He always seems less volatile when he’s not wearing the Unseelie features. Nonetheless, his eyes still bore into me with enough intensity to send tingles jumping down my spine.
“They could’ve killed me!” I say, the reality of it sinking in. I’m still breathless from running for my life and I feel curiously light-headed. “They must’ve thought I was one of the feral animals.” It wouldn’t have mattered of course; their steeds were so fast and wild they could’ve easily trampled me before they realized their mistake.
“I wouldn’t count on them seeing it as a mistake,” Ruskin says darkly. I stare at him, then suddenly notice his arm is still around my waist. It’s what’s been making me feel so secure up here in the branches, warm and firm against my side. I have an urge to lean into it, maybe even rest my head on his shoulder, but that’s ridiculous. I’m pissed off with him, I remind myself, near-death experience or not. I make a point of twisting away from his arm now.
“What do you mean?” I say, shuffling carefully a few inches along the branch. The smell of him is still on me, sweet and distracting and adrenaline is doing funny things to my body. I tell myself that’s the reason for the heat in my face and running along my legs.
“Animals haven’t always been the Hunt’s only quarry.”
