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“You bitches’ll pay for this!” I swore.

“She’s snotty,” one of them remarked. “And cute.”

“So’s he,” another cooed, crouching in front of Nicu, cupping one side of his jaw while grazing her anelace’s edge along the other side. “What’s say we keep ’em?”

The whiz of a blade cut off their discussion. A glare of steel shocked the girl’s dagger from her grasp and sent it flying from Nicu’s face.

The foxes scattered into the bushes. The bitches grappled for their weapons as a figure swooped into the copse.

Lithe. Graceful. Swift. Deadly.

Like a winged predator.

He moved too fast for me to follow, whisking his blades against theirs. The clang of weapons ricocheted up the trees and rang in my ears.

He ducked and twisted. His sword blocked an arrow, then sent the archer down with a slash to her leg.

Another girl nocked her long bow, but Nicu thrust out his limbs and tripped her, causing her quiver to spill across the grass.

Punk’s assaulter let her go. She went wild, clipping Nicu’s bindings and then pecking anyone who got near him.

The scene spun before my eyes. The knight fought like the wind, fluid and fierce, his movements tireless, his swords spinning, slicing the air and sending the group tottering backward.

The maidens put up a solid brawl, matching his strength with their own, but charging more recklessly and losing. They evacuated, turning tail into the dell.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves. Those piercing blue eyes fixed on me as I dangled before him, vulnerable to his scrutiny. Useless, like a puppet.

The knight wrenched his eyes from mine. The last remaining girl had been inching toward me, aiming for the short axe peeking from the hem of my skirt.

Aire’s right sword reached her first. It swung and froze at her throat.

That beautifully furious voice issued a command. “Release her.”

12

Honesty

I had felt her before finding her. In the atmosphere, I noted the harsh texture of wood and a cloying self-centeredness, the potent sensations matching those from the castle, when I had sensed her essence cloistered somewhere within the training yard, just as I had sensed her in the cemetery prior to that.

Over a day had passed since beginning my quest for her...for the girl and, with any hope, for the boy. As the Autumn bells had hollered, I’d investigated the underground tunnel through which I suspected she’d crossed, then retraced my steps to collect my horse. From there, I’d pursued omens: impressions in the foliage, the tracks of wagon wheels, and wind’s whistle.

Yet as the troops swarmed the lower town, and I followed an invisible current, searching proved a trial, forcing me to triple my efforts. None had reported seeing her, nor the Royal Son; they would be hard-pressed to miss a face like hers, as well as Nicu’s.

By daybreak, my intentions had shifted from town and neighboring fields to the woodlands. That’s when prescience dawned and visions of her intensified. My fingers and ears tingled, a violation of thoughts raiding my head, thoughts of deceit and fraudulence and lies.

I’d urged my steed into a gallop, requiring majority of the day to catch the telltale signs: breaks in pathways, the beating of my eager heart.

She’s been here, I kept thinking at certain points.

She’s been here and here and here.

The afternoon sun dipped and dappled, the jeweled leaves sparkling of rubies and citrines. Suddenly, I’d heard her screeching. Her protests rushed at me through the boughs, a forgery of sound, a tone wrought of falsehoods.

She possessed a smoky voice, a sultry tendril with crisp edges.

I’d dismounted and found her trussed up like a marionette, the girl on strings suspended from a tree limb, her skirt swatting her legs, her well-packed figure on display. Her tantrum had thrown me from my trance. Beneath the guise of outraged pride, I perceived layers of humiliation and fragility.

The lumber maiden’s feathered hat had been poached by one of her captors, and they mocked her with it. Despite her wrongdoings, this disturbed me for more reasons than I understood.