Page 51

While the fairy regains his bearings, I hop off his horse and sprint for the cemetery, my terror eclipsing any pride I feel at that punch.

I threw a man off his own horse.

That’s my queen,Memnon says, immensely pleased and not at all bothered by the fact that I assaulted someone.

As I run, I rip off my veil and toss it aside so that no one else can assume I’m actually on the market.Fuck. I’m trying todrop the engagement I already have. I do not need a second one forced on me.

“Selene!” Sybil shouts from far behind me. “Selene!”

Everything in me is demanding that I continue to flee?—

Flee?Memnon’s voice is no longer playful.Who are you fleeing from?

I’m fine, Memnon,I insist, even as I glance past my friend, toward that black-haired fae rider far behind me. He’s remounting his horse and scanning the crowd of witches.

I dart behind a tree. Goddess, but if he tries to grab me again…

Who tried to grab you?Memnon demands.

Stop eavesdropping on my thoughts,I respond, my breath coming in quick pants.

“Selene!” Sybil is still shouting.

“Over here!” I call out.

I will gut your enemies from navel to throat.

You won’t,I correct him,because like I said?—

I pause to peer around the trunk of the tree. When I catch Sybil’s eye, I wave her over.

—I am fine.

Memnon doesn’t respond to my words, but I sense his skepticism.

Sybil jogs over just as I hear the fairy’s horse snort.

“Why didn’t you warn me aboutthat?” I whisper. Around us, other witches are still heading toward the cemetery, many of them glancing back at the rider.

“Because that didn’t happen last year!” she says, her eyes wide. “Goddess,” she says, grabbing my aching hand, and I have to smother a wince. “Are you all right?”

I sense Memnon still eavesdropping.

“I’mfine,” I say, more to him than to her.

She searches my features, then glances back at the fairy. “Fuck!” she curses as the hoofbeats start up again. “Duck!”

I don’t know what good ducking will do, but I drop to the ground anyway.

The fae rider and his steed pound past us, my floating veil clutched in his grip. He doesn’t notice me at all as he veers off into the woods.

I’m breathing heavily. “Who thought letting him in was a good idea?”

“He’ll leave by dawn,” says an older witch passing by. “The bride he takes will have agreed to go.”

Oh really now? Because he didn’t seem super into consent when I was in his clutches.

“Those are the rules for hunting on coven property,” the elderly witch finishes as she moves away from us.