Page 92

“How much do you want to bet he wasn’t as regretful as he looked?”

“Apologies, satyr. I already lost that bet to Moth when it happened.”

I huff with laughter. “We’d just become rulers.”

He nods. “Brothers.”

The three of us had decided that day to bond ourselves, pledge ourselves to each other. If we had to lead the wild, we’d do it as one.

Reminiscing slows Cerulean’s outtakes and soothes his pallor, at least so he doesn’t resemble a ghost of himself. Good, because to get out of this, we might need to rely solely on one another. Who knows what state our band is in, or where the fuck Tímien has vanished? There’s no telling what could be keeping any of them from reaching us.

Least of all, if I let myself stew on what’s happening with Juniper, I’ll self-destruct and puke my intestines out.

Since picking a lock with a petal or a knife won’t get us anywhere, Cerulean stores both under his wings. Beyond that, our choices are severely limited. The Evermore Blossom is an amplifier for endurance, vitality, and natural instincts. It has the power to enhance strength but not against the effects of iron, so the petal can’t help us there. It won’t leach the iron from our blood or stitch up our wounds.

As for magic, that’s reduced outside of Faerie.

Glamour? Yes.

Manifesting? Yes.

Beseeching nature’s help? Yes.

Doing any of those things after being flogged by iron rods? No.

Calling through the roots or wind? Also, no.

Apart from some cute parlor tricks, iron wipes Faeries of most abilities. Lastly, without the longbow and javelin—who knows where those are?—an escape is going to take creativity, plus a lot more rest.

Already, Cerulean’s sinking to the floor. My head drops onto the flat of steel, my eyelids falling shut.

After that, consciousness comes in fits and bursts. Hunger and thirst follow close behind.

The sky shifts from stars, to sunlight, to clouds. Then eventide falls again.

At some point, I blink. Flames snap in my face, a boot kicks the cage, and a mortal accent grunts, “Still alive, monsters? Why waste your time? No one’s coming. They abandoned you. Any others won’t know where to look because they never saw where we put you.”

The light vanishes. I plunge into nothingness once more.

Another rotation of lightness and darkness consumes the woods. My dry tongue gets drier, but the starvation gnawing on my gut finally lets up.

Visions sweep through. Figures chasing a doe who’s my friend, my leg wedged into a set of jowls, my hoof leaking blood, and a small girl with green eyes.

Then a sound brushes against my ears. Muffled footfalls pat the grass, the steps light and quick. The noise stirs me awake, the world blurry except for a single figure kneeling by the cage, a hood draped over the stranger’s head.

I squint as the compartment rattles like bones, hinges squeal as the door opens, and the visitor crawls inside on all fours. Alarm hits me like an axe to an oak. My fingers spider-crawl backward and slip under Cerulean’s limp wings, searching for the knife.

Then a voice cracks through the space, crisp as a newly lit fire.“Once in the dark forest, a Stag hunted a Doe.”

My hand stalls. A second later, my head snaps up. “I’m dreaming.”

But the figure pushes back the hood, green hair spilling from its confines. Eyes of the same vibrant color glow through the darkness.

Juniper clasps the sides of my face and shakes her head, her cool breath rushing against my lips. “Then it’s time to wake up,” she rasps before sinking her mouth to mine.

21

Her lips slant, fitting with mine and pulling my mouth in deeply. The aroma of woodsmoke and the sweet tang of berry syrup drug my senses. Her nostrils flare, and she intensifies the kiss, as if consuming my own flavor and scent.