Page 30 of The Wolf and Her Shadows

Rolling my eyes, I take another bite of jerky to buy myself a bit of time to think of an adequate response. One that won’t reveal my ever-increasing desire for the woman sitting next to me. After a moment, I settle for, “Princess automatically brings to mind a fair maiden tucked safely away from the world in a castle, handmaids and servants waiting on her hand and foot. That isn’t you.”

I take another bite, then foolishly continue, “Your Majesty, on the other hand. That title is associated with power. Rulers of nations. Queens sitting on thrones, her subjects bowing before her, willing to lay down their very lives to protect her.”

Glimmers of tears appear at the corners of Mariane’s eyes as she gasps, the sound muffled by the hand she’s now covering her mouth with. After a long moment of staring into each other’s eyes, she lowers her hand and whispers, “Is that truly how you think of me?”

I nod, not trusting what else I might reveal if I was to risk speaking.

She clears her throat. “Vannaria, I–” Our horse, Adaman, lets out a loud whinny, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say.

My head whips towards the animal, his own head raised high, nostrils flaring as he stares off in the direction we’d come from. Tilting my own head in the same direction, I hear the faint sound of hoofbeats. Lots of hoofbeats. Heading our way and likely to be upon us at any moment.

Accidentally letting out a curse in my native tongue, I grab the bow resting beside me with one hand and Mariane’s arm with the other. “Time to go, Your Majesty.”

Without waiting for a response, I take off at a run towards Adaman, tugging a startled Mariane along with me. As if sensing our need for urgency, the horse proves himself even more worthy of his name by meeting us halfway. Skidding to a stop, I spin Mariane around in front of me and practically toss her up onto the saddle.

As she scrambles to right herself, I use the hand not holding my bow to grab the saddle’s horn and swing up behind her. Clutching the reins in one hand, I wrap the other tightly around Mariane’s waist a split second before Adaman leaps into a gallop, heading in the direction we’d previously been traveling without needing to be told.

Long black hair whips against my face as I glance back over my shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever it is we’re now running from, while also praying to any god listening that they’re still too far behind us to see. A cloud of dust on the horizon dashes those foolish dreams.

“What is it?” Mariane yells, barely audible over the thundering of Adaman’s hooves and wind whipping around us.

“Not a what, a who,” I call out. “Lots of whos as a matter of fact.”

“Mercenaries?” she asks, tone hard.

“Can’t tell. But there’s far too many horses moving far too quickly for me to wanna stick around and find out.” I tighten my grip around her waist. “If outrunning them doesn’t work…” I trail off, knowing Mariane will be able to finish the thought herself.

Letting out a curse, she leans forward and begins unhooking her double scabbard from the side of the saddle with the hand not holding the reins. I dodge out of the way when she slings it over one shoulder, narrowly avoiding a pommel to the face. Aren and Rayne’s presences enter my mind immediately after, likely having sensed the impending danger we might face, but staying quiet as to not be a distraction.

Darting another glance behind us, I suck in a breath. Six horses are now visible, each one being ridden by large figures wearing mismatched armor. Sunlight glinting off metal clues me in to the numerous weapons they each have strapped in various places on their persons.

Gripping the horse’s flanks with my thighs, I give Mariane’s waist one last squeeze before letting go. My hand makes it halfway to my quiver before Mariane grabs it, having let go of the reins to do so. Sending me a fiery glare over her shoulder, she snarls, “If you’re intending to sacrifice yourself it won’t be their blades you need to worry about.”

My heart skips a beat at the threat, and I have to swallow down a lump in my throat before I can reply, “I’m not. You have my word. I made a promise to you, and I can’t keep it if I’m lying dead on the side of the road.”

Her eyes search mine for a brief moment, hair still whipping around her face, then she nods, letting go of my hand. “Alright.” She glances past me and lets out a hiss. “Any chance that they’re not after us specifically?”

Forcing myself to look away from Mariane, I also turn to look behind us again. Whatever glimmer of hope I might’ve had dies when I spot a familiar giantkin woman in the center of the group, riding atop a black horse much larger than Adaman and wearing bits of armor strapped across its wide muscular chest.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. “None.”

Chapter Fourteen

Mariane

Letting out a curse, I reach over my shoulder and pull one of my swords free. From my periphery, I see Vannaria nocking an arrow onto her bowstring. My chest constricts. If anything happens to her…

Adaman veers sharply to the left, nearly unseating us both as he dodges an arrow that should have been impossible for him to see coming. His heavy breaths mix in with the sound of his thundering hooves and a deep sense of dread pools in my gut. There’s no way he can keep up this pace much longer, not after how hard we’d ridden earlier in the day in hopes of reaching the next town before nightfall.

The same town that is still hours away from here.

Closing my eyes, I send up a quick prayer to the moon goddess, Seline. Taking a deep breath, I open them again and with a trembling hand, pull back on the reins. Adaman tosses his head in protest, leaping to the right to avoid yet another arrow.

Gritting my teeth, I call out, “We can’t outrun them. We’re going to have to fight them one way or another.”

As if somehow understanding me, the horse lets out a loud snort before beginning to slow, still weaving back and forth to avoid yet more arrows raining down around us. I feel the brush of Vannaria’s elbow as she lets one of her own arrows fly, but I don’t dare look to see if it lands home. Hoping to catch the mercenaries at least a bit off guard, I steer Adaman sharply to the right, intending to circle around behind them if at all possible.

Then I see what Vannaria clearly had earlier. Ashana, leading a group of men that are all too familiar from my time serving drinks while working for Kelv. Whatever fear I’d been feeling is replaced with white hot rage at the reminder of all that I’d been forced to endure under that vile man’s employ. Some of which by the hands of the very men now pursuing us. Pursuing me.