Page 5 of Anwen of Primewood (The Eldentimber #2)

I whistle for Danver. While I wait for him, I watch a little squirrel scamper up the fruit tree next to me. As I coo at it, Danver runs from the stables.

I turn to Galinor. “See? He was hunting mice. Foxes are lovely, helpful creatures.”

“Until they get into the chicken pens,” Galinor says.

I pick up Danver and glare at the prince. “Danver would never.”

Galinor shakes his head, dismissing the conversation. “If we’re going to track down this tree, we need to leave now.”

A man with light blond hair joins our group. “What tree? Where are we going? ”

“Anwen, this is Prince Bran of Triblue,” Irving says. “Bran, this is Lady Anwen of Primewood.”

“A pleasure,” the man says, taking my hand. I bite my lip to hide my smile as he presses a kiss to my knuckles.

Galinor clears his throat. “I’m taking Lady Anwen to the eldentimber tree, and we need to leave now if I’m going to be back before dark.”

Irving laughs. “You mean we are taking Anwen to the eldentimber tree. I just sent a message to her family stating I’m taking full responsibility for her safety and well-being.”

Galinor furrows his brow, about to argue with Irving, but Bran cuts him off, saying, “Dristan and I were planning on riding back to Triblue today, but I can accompany you on your ride instead. We can leave tomorrow.”

“How is Dristan?” Marigold asks.

“Excellent,” Bran answers. “Physician Clarion is a miracle worker, and Dristan’s leg wasn’t injured as badly as we had first thought. He tires easily, and he still walks with a slight limp, but he is better than we could have ever hoped.”

I’m about to ask who Dristan is when Galinor cuts the conversation short.

“Whoever is going, we need to leave. We will meet you outside the stables by the next bell. If you’re not there, I will go without you.

” He sets his hand on my shoulder and guides me forward. “Lady Anwen, you will come with me.”

I glance over my shoulder and shrug at Irving and Marigold as we walk away.

“Your horse will need to be saddled, and I must introduce myself to your guard,” Galinor says .

I open my mouth but then close it and shake my head.

“You don’t want to tell your guard you’re leaving?” His voice is disapproving.

“I don’t have a guard.”

“What about a horse?”

“I have a horse.” I nod and then rub my cheek. “She’s not here.”

Galinor narrows his eyes. “Where is she?”

“She was stolen.”

He leans down, his eyes sharp as he studies me. “You never told me your story, Anwen. Perhaps you should.”

I bite my cheek. I don’t want to tell him about Dimitri—it’s humiliating.

“I joined a Bandolian troupe,” I say. “They robbed me during the night and left me in the woods.”

He looks down at my dress. Perhaps only now does he notice I’m in the same one as the night before. Incredulous, he asks, “You joined a Bandolian troupe?”

I bite my lip and nod.

“ Why ?”

Unable to meet his eyes, I say, “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

He studies me, and I’m worried he may change his mind. I hold my breath, waiting.

“You’ll have to ride with me,” he finally says, putting an end to the conversation.

The ride is more pleasant than I expected. I’ve never had a chance to explore Lauramore, and I take in the scenery eagerly, wondering more about the plants and the animals that live here.

“What does a grim boar look like?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at Galinor. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen one.”

He scans the area around us. The ground is wet here, and we pass bogs of thick, green-tinged mud.

Lauramore’s forest is completely different from Primewood’s.

Deciduous trees grow amongst the firs, and their evergreens are nowhere near as large or as tall as ours.

Up higher, where the palace sits, the terrain is beautiful, but here, below the terraces, the forest is dark and thick—seeming almost malevolent.

“They’re like the boars in Glendon or Primewood,” Galinor answers. “But they are larger, gray, and emit a horrible stench.”

I lift my nose and sniff the air. I don’t smell anything except the pleasant horse scent of Galinor’s bay and the dark, forest soil.

“Do you think you could stop squirming?” Galinor asks as I adjust Danver in my arms.

The fox wriggles against me, tired of being held, but I don’t want to put him down in this part of the woods. Again, I glance over my shoulder. When my eyes meet Galinor’s, he gives Danver a pointed look.

“He’s restless,” I explain.

“Then let him go.”

I shift so I can get a better look at Galinor. “So a grim boar can eat him? I don’t think so.”

Galinor snorts out a mirthless laugh. “They’re scavengers, not hunters. ”

“Best not take any chances.”

Emery gave me a pack of food this morning, and I twist back to pull a few strips of dried meat out of the pouch that is tucked in Galinor’s bag. If I can distract Danver with food, he may settle down.

Galinor clasps my arm as I stretch around him. “What are you doing?”

I have Danver in one arm, and he’s frantically squirming to get free. My opposite leg is in the air for balance, and I just need to reach a little farther…

Danver wriggles away. I wrench back and try to catch him before he darts to the ground. The fox jumps from my arms. I lunge for him, but from my already precarious position, I lose my balance. “Galinor!”

There is no way I’m going to right myself. Just before I topple off the horse, Galinor’s arm wraps around my waist, and he pulls me back. Once again firmly seated, I collapse against him and breathe a sigh of relief.

And then I giggle.

Galinor is irritated, and I try to stop. Instead, I end up snorting, and then I lose all composure. Still laughing, I twist around to apologize. His lips are set in a firm line, but his eyes give him away. He’s not as stern as he would like me to think.

“Thank you.” I smile even wider when he doesn’t respond. “Are you always this serious?”

“The fox stays on the ground from now on.”

Danver is ahead of us, darting in and out of the bushes. He seems much happier.

“Fine, but only if you promise to cheer up.”

He scrunches his forehead. “I am cheerful. ”

I nudge his chest with my shoulder. “Then smile.”

He graces me with a fake, wide smile.

I laugh. “You can do better than that.”

Galinor looks away, shaking his head, but, despite himself, his lips quirk up on one side. Satisfied, I turn around, settle back, and once again scan the woods. Irving and Bran are somewhere ahead of us, scouting for boars. The two are excited at the prospect of flushing one out.

Galinor doesn’t share their enthusiasm. His sole focus is finding the eldentimber tree.

We pass a strange bush covered in blue leaves, and I think of Marigold. She would know what it is. I tried to persuade her to join us, but she was adamant about staying out of the woods.

“What is that?” I point to the bush. “I’ve never seen anything like it. There, up ahead, are more.”

Galinor shifts. “It means we are nearing the tree.”

I’m filled with excitement. I’ve never met a fairy, though my father tells me they are kind, benevolent creatures.

“Did Pippa honestly hold a fairy at knife-point?” I ask.

How cruel to snatch a tiny thing from the air and threaten its life—like a child plucking the wings from a grasshopper. I’ve only seen Pippa a few times, but I don’t think I will like her very much should I get to know her further.

Galinor laughs at the memory as if it is a fond one. “She did.”

I scoot forward so I am not sitting so close to him .

A strange clicking noise from one of the bushes catches my attention, and I strain to hear it.

“What is that?” I ask Galinor before I click back, trying to imitate the sound with my tongue and the roof of my mouth.

“Stop that,” Galinor says sharply.

“I’m just trying to draw it out. Don’t you want to know what it is?”

He shakes his head. “Not particularly.”

I scoff at his uneasy tone. “Listen to it—it’s tiny.”

I click again, and this time the creature responds. “Did you hear it?” I squeal. “It answered.”

I click. It clicks back. I click again, and this time a little brown creature pops from the brush and scurries up a branch, leaping from limb to limb to keep up with us. It looks like a squirrel, but it has large, round ears like a mouse.

It clicks at me again.

“You are adorable,” I say to it, and then I turn to Galinor. “What do you think it is?”

The prince tilts his head to the ground. “It’s going to be a meal in a moment.”

Danver watches the creature, crouched low, ready to attack.

“Danver, no!”

I’m too late. Danver pounces, and the little squirrel-mouse disappears into the trees.

I scold Danver once it’s gone, but the fox only looks at me, twitches his ears, and then runs down the deer trail in front of us .

Galinor leans in so close, his breath tickles my ear as he says, “Very well trained.”

He laughs under his breath when I swat his arm, and I bite my bottom lip, fighting back a grin as we continue along the path.

For the rest of the day, we ride somewhat aimlessly through the area with the strange blue bushes, cutting through deer trails and making our own in some places. Danver finds more of the mouse-squirrel creatures, and we stumble across several deer.

But we never find an eldentimber tree, and if there are fairies nearby, they don’t make themselves known.

The shadows grow long as the sun sinks lower in the sky. The once-warm breeze carries the chill of evening, and I wrap my cloak tighter around my shoulders.

“We have to turn back,” Galinor finally says, his voice soft and full of regret.

“Not yet,” I beg desperately, frowning at the ever-darkening forest. “Please.”

“You don’t want to be in these woods at night, Anwen.”

We must be close—how can we leave now?

Before I can say as much, I hear horses behind us. I turn and find Irving and Bran approaching, their gait steady and fast.

“Something is following us,” Irving calls as soon as he’s near.

Galinor tenses. “Have you seen it?”

Bran shakes his head and looks behind him. “No, but we’ve heard it.”