Page 21 of The Blood Queen

“Huh. I guess you’re right.” I glance over at Samson. I know he has no love for his father, but, well, this is his father’s severed arm lying on the mossy ground of the fae realm. It’s a lot to handle before lunch.

“He’s going to be furious,” Samson mutters.

It’s not just that we’ve maimed the man, but his position in the High Blade’s army…

I stifle a giggle.

Samson looks over at me, brow furrowing.

I clamp my lips shut, biting my cheek.

“What is it?” A smile cracks on his face.

“It’s just…” I let out a steadying breath, really and truly trying not to laugh. A man’s arm is flopped on the ground in front of us, Samson’s father’s arm. “It’s just he was the High Blade’s right-hand man and now…”

We both stare down at the right hand on the ground in front of us.

Oh, feck, this isn’t the time and place. This is Samson’s father, regardless of everything else—

Samson snorts. “Might be easier to fight him next time if he’s…unarmed.”

I can’t help myself. I let out a howl of laughter, and some of the tension leaves Samson.

The mushroom circle is now nothing more than a shadowed depression, the moss dying.

“Let’s get out of here,” Samson says. “Unless…there’s no chance of them breaking through?”

I shake my head. A fairy ring will only work if the mushroom circle is complete on both sides of the realms.

“What about the wisps?” he asks.

“Wisps are pretty good at evading capture,” I say, but then I think about the glowing wisps I saw in Lochmaben’s castle. The Red Caps must have used an iron net around them, one of the few things that would have limited their power. It sickens me. Will-o’-the-wisps are such wild creatures. That doesn’t mean they’re innocent, of course. Look at the way these three led us on a merry chase, making us far too close to being captured. But a thing shouldn’t die for lack of innocence.

I set us off, veering around a tree growing in the center of a path, little more than a game trail worn away in the thick moss.

“Where are we going?” Samson asks. He’s slow; he keeps looking over his shoulder, his body tense, ready for a fight that’s not going to come, at least not yet.

“I have no idea where we’re going,” I say, turning back and heading resolutely down the trail. “I only know that when you’re given a path, you take it.”

Samson stops.

“Come on,” I say.

His frown deepens. He takes a step closer to me, raising a tentative hand. “This path… Will it lead to someone who can help?”

It takes me a moment to realize what he means. The wounds the High Blade gave me. They’re raw and red, the scabs too thin to hold together everywhere.

“I’m fine,” I say.

Samson’s jaw twitches. “You’re not. And if this is a safe place, maybe we should rest here. Or I can scout ahead and look for—”

I grab his hand and squeeze his fingers. “Wherever we go, we go together.”

A small smile tugs at his lips. It fades too quickly. “We can’t just wander around and hope for the best,” Samson says. “We need a plan, and you need medical attention, and—”

“And we can’t stop now,” I say gently. He’s right. I ache in both my body and my soul. “Wisps take us where we need to go. We went through the portal and escaped the Red Caps. A path in the fae realm is the same concept. It’ll take us where we need to go.”

Samson doesn’t seem fully convinced, but he doesn’t argue as we continue down the trail. What I don’t tell him is that while I spoke true—this path will take us where we need to go—whether that need will put us in a position for me to be healed or get rest is up for debate.