Caelith.She called for him in her mind, praying, pleading. She’d risked everything to come out to these cursed woods, chasing afterhim. He had to come save her. That’s how it worked in the old stories.Right?
A voice cut through the dark.
“Emmaline? Is that you?”
Her eyes flew open just as the branch gave up the fight. It snapped, and she plummeted, flailing wildly as if she could somehow fend off the air itself before crashing hard into a solid someone atop a massive silver horse. The impact knocked the rider clear out of the saddle, and his startled curse barely had time to leave his mouth before gravity claimed them both.
Emmaline landed in a heap, tangled limbs and pointed elbows colliding with the unforgiving ground. Nearby, a loud oof filled the air—definitely not hers.
She blinked, pulling the hair from her face, and then—
“Damnation, woman!”
Her head snapped up.
Deyric dangled upside down from the side of a horse, one foot lodged firmly in the stirrup, his arms flailing for balance. His emerald-green hair, now dusted with dirt, swayed over the ground as he twisted, trying to reach the trapped limb.
For a brief, glorious moment, he just hung there, swinging slightly, caught in an utterly undignified state of limbo. Then, with an impressive flex of his core, he hauled himself up, grunting as he reached for the stirrup’s latch. There was a quick flick, and—
Thud. He dropped unceremoniously to the ground beside her, groaning.
Emmaline scrambled back, half in horror, half in sheer disbelief. This was not Caelith.
“What are you doing here?” Emmaline braced a hand against the ground, pushing herself upright.
Her legs wobbled as she patted down her dress, trying to shake off the dirt and twigs clinging to the fabric. The movement sent a sharp pulse of pain lancing through her skull, and she instinctively reached for her head. “I thought you had the afternoon off.”
Her fingers came away wet. Sticky.
She blinked down at the crimson streaks smeared across her skin. “Oh, dear Goddess.”
The ground tilted as the trees blurred at the edges of her vision, their towering forms swaying like they had come unmoored from the earth. Breath thinning, the deep, sinking pressure dragged at her, as her mind narrowed to nothing but the ringing in her ears.
A voice—distant, urgent called her name.
The taste of iron hit her on her tongue, then the scent of leather, of sweat, of something familiar.
She tried to steady herself, to brace against the spin of the world, but the world had other plans. The last thing she felt was the rush of air against her cheek before everything went black.
Chapter ten
Adullachethrobbedatthe back of her skull, radiating outward in slow, pulsing waves.
She was moving, though not walking. Being carried? No, not carried.She was slung across something solid and shifting, her stomach pressing uncomfortably against a broad, muscular plane.
The rhythmic sway of the movement made her head swim, and with each step, the soft whisper of tall grass brushed against her fingers. Moonlight bathed the landscape in pale silver, revealing a worn dirt path stretching ahead.
The trees were gone. The suffocating press of the forest, the thick scent of damp moss and decay—all left behind. She was out of the forest.
Awareness hit her like a bucket of cold water. She sucked in a breath, willing her body to move, but something held her firm.Not firm. Bound.Snug and unforgiving leather straps looped across her body and cinched around her waist, holding her in place against a horse's shoulders.
She twisted, trying to get a look at her captor.
Deyric.
He sat further back on the massive silver stallion, reins held loosely in one hand, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. The saddle wasgone, its remnants now serving as makeshift restraints keeping her strapped to the damn animal like a sack of grain. Her pulse spiked, and she yanked at the bindings, muscles straining, but the straps didn’t budge.
A low chuckle rumbled behind her. “Finally awake, little killer?”
