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“Leaving something else to feed on.”
I didn’t have the courage to ask what he meant.
We’d been galloping for what seemed like hours, the rhythmic pounding of hooves against dry earth our only companion. Then, between two towering pines, I saw it—a soft wisp of smoke curling up into the crisp morning air. Hope swelled in my chest, and my heart raced in time to the horses’ thundering hooves.
And then I smelled it.
The scent of sulfur and ash greeted me, burning the inside of my nose, turning my throat dry, and coating my tongue with rotten char. It was a familiar acrid scent but one that I had not encountered in many years or thought I would ever have to again, like inhaling the iron-smoke from a matchstick. It transported me back to a time when I’d not been able to run. When there had been no prince to protect me, and I’d been far too young to protect myself.
I looked back over my shoulder, and a scream died in my throat.
The ground quaked and rumbled, shaking my feet. A deep fissure tore through the ground, widening with each passing second. The crack was filled with a swirling mist that seemed to come from some unknown abyss below. Then, all at once, things began to pour out of the crevasse. Dark, shadowed, noncorporealthings.
Like smoke taking shape, nightmares coming to life, the creatures descended on the trail of destruction Bael had left behind us, thundering after us like a ghostly hunting party. Here and there, it seemed as if I could make out a face among the shadows, twisted, ugly, monstrous faces, all screaming with rage or pain.
I felt Bael’s heart quicken under my palms, and he seemed to stop breathing. “Don’t look.”
I closed my eyes, even knowing it wouldn’t matter if I looked or not. Merely knowing would keep me awake at night for months to come.
“How?” I asked in a strangled whisper. “How are they here?”
“I don’t know, little monster. I’ve never known the afflicted to leave Aftermath.”
His confirmation of the word—afflicted—was a stone dropping into my stomach.
The afflicted were a terror that I hadn’t known since moving to the capital, a nightmare that made all other monsters seem benign by comparison. If I feared the High Fae, it was nothing compared to the terror I harbored at the thought of even one afflicted rider.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a horrible idea lurked: Was this my fault—our fault? Was this the doom that I’d been warned of? The Wilde things, called by the magic I was never, ever supposed to reveal?
Bael leaned lower on the horse, seeming to try to force it off its feet and into the air. “Hold on to me.”
I clung to Bael’s back, feeling the powerful muscles beneath me tense as I heard the screeching, unnatural sounds of our pursuers rapidly closing in.
The horse whinnied and reared up, its hooves pawing wildly at the air. I gasped in panic as I tumbled backward, and time seemed to slow as I caught a glimpse of Bael twisting around in an effort to break my fall. Then, with a bone-jarring thud, we crashed to the earth at the same time, both of us enveloped in a cloud of dust and dirt.
The impact sent a jolt of pain through my body, coursing from my toes to the tips of my fingers, but I had no time to nurse my wounds.
Bael was already up, pulling me to my feet. He clasped my hand tightly in his and all but dragged my limp body along after him as we ran.
“Take us through the shadows,” I gasped.
Mere hours ago, I would hardly have believed I’d ever beg to travel as the Fae did, in that twisting way through the darkness that left me nauseous and disoriented. Now, however, I would rather travel across the continent than be caught by one of the stocking shadows behind us.
Bael didn’t answer, only tugging me along faster, and I chanced a glance up at him.
His jaw was tight with determination, yellow eyes practically glowing, and for the briefest moment, I was reminded why I’d had so much cause to be afraid of him. There was something in the prince’s face that spoke of a darker energy than he usually portrayed, like whatever lurked behind his eyes was banging on the bars of its cage and snarling to be let out.
“When you get to the palace,” he continued as if he wasn’t listening to me, “tell Scion that they’re here.”
My heart stuttered. “You tell him yourself.”
Abruptly, Bael stopped running, jerking me to a halt. Everything shook around us, and the roar in my ears was almost unbearable, yet he stood firm and pulled me around to face him. “I won’t be able to.”
“What?”
He bent his head slightly to look directly into my eyes. His hand found the back of my neck, and he dragged me in, pressing his lips against mine as if trying to force every ounce of courage into me before we parted. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feel of his lips, hoping to commit the sensation to memory.
It felt like a goodbye and tasted like an apology.
