Page 38 of Maneater

I couldn’t hear Leya. I couldn’t hear the cityfolk or the thunder of our own hooves as we tore through the streets of Falhurst.

Only one thought pounded through my skull, over and over:

Gadriel knows. Gadriel knows. Gadriel knows.

He would hunt me to my last breath.

Somewhere along the way, I’d convinced myself I had more time, that his sight hadn’t yet turned toward me. But I was wrong.

His hunt had already begun.

I doubted Gadriel would abandon his post in Torhiel.

Not when he made such a show of the devil kingdom and the cruciality of his political affairs.

He’d remain there, playing diplomat. But he’d send his knights.

Sir Karst and Sir Regis would be coming.

They would be leading the charge, and the thought twisted my stomach into knots.

I still wasn’t sure if Leya had told me the truth.

There were too many pieces that didn’t fit. Too many unknowns.

Still, I wasn’t afraid to die .

I was afraid of being caught, being dragged back into Gadriel’s hands.

Death would be a mercy.

Gadriel only tolerated me when I bent to his will, when I played the role he desired of me. Now that I’d fled, escaped him, defied him, and embarrassed him, his wrath would be unspeakable.

He wouldn’t simply reclaim me.

He’d ruin me, slowly.

“Odessa!” I heard faintly. “Odessa!” Leya’s voice came filtering back. “Can you hear me? I think they’ve sent sentries after us!”

My thoughts snapped back to the present at the sound of Leya’s cries.

The truth was, I had no idea where I was leading us. I knew Falhurst no better than any other city. I was running on instinct, guiding us toward the only path I could recall, the only path that might lead out. I was headed for the carriage station.

It was a guess. But it was all I had.

That was where travelers passed through, where tolls were paid, lodging assigned. There had to be an exit beyond it. I remembered the caravans from the night before, their steady flow in and out of the gates. They had to be coming from somewhere. Leaving from somewhere.

The small glimmer of hope I held onto was quickly fading.

We were at a clear disadvantage. Leya and I were just two women who were practically unarmed and entirely untrained.

What chance did we stand against sentries?

Those men were bred to serve their city, trained to guard and control who entered and exited this place.

My breaths turned harsh and uneven.

What could be done? What was left to do? Nothing. My faith in myself began to crack and splinter.

Calm , Odessa, I told myself. Calm down .

But the storm was already surging. Rising and roiling inside me, just beyond my reach. I couldn’t stop it this time. I had nothing to ground me, no anchor to hold onto.

I could hear the pounding of hooves behind us. The sentries were gaining. It wouldn’t be long before they caught up, before we were cornered or surrounded.

And then the thought chilled me: What had Gadriel ordered them to do?

Were we to be killed on sight? Taken as prisoners?

What would become of us?

The carriage station came into view ahead.

Handlers were stationed there, checking carts and caravans as they passed, but the station itself pulled at me like a beacon in the night.

It glowed with the promise of escape. Something deep inside urged me on, whispering that this was where I needed to be.

Onward was the only direction where freedom still existed.

I snapped the reins, urging Sigrid to move faster. The shouts and commands from the sentries faded behind me and I didn’t care. There was no turning back. I’d rather die breaking free than waiting to be caged like an animal.

We barreled past the first checkpoint, passing through just before the handlers could make sense of what was happening.

But the commotion we stirred sparked the next post into action, their forces scrambling to bar our way.

We must have been a spectacle, Leya and me.

Two women astride a mottled gray steed, hair whipping like banners in the wind as we charged through the gates.

Behind us, the horde of sentries continued to give chase, desperate to catch up. And in that moment, somewhere between fear and flight, I felt it. A thrill rising in my chest. It bloomed bright as coals and I let out a wild cackle. When I did, Leya’s grip stiffened.

Was I losing my mind? Had my mother passed a fragment of her madness on to me?

I looked a hellion in every sense of the word .

The world around me began to dim, and my senses dulled, each detail waning with the seconds that passed by. The noise of the city began to fade, replaced by the faint sound of my own breathing. Before us, the second checkpoint was fast approaching, and I pushed Sigrid to her limit.

The next gate began to descend in an attempt to stop us, but I kept on. I ignored Leya’s screams. They were muffled, distant now, her voice fraying at the edges, “Odessa, what are you doing? We won’t make it! You’re going to get us…”

Sigrid cleared the gate by a sliver of her hide.

One heartbeat slower and it would’ve been over, but we made it. The rush sent a wild laugh tearing from my throat again. I felt an exhilaration unlike anything I’d ever known.

It was intoxicating. Electrifying.

I’d done it again. We were past the outer gates of Falhurst.

Nothing lay ahead but open plains. Sigrid showed no sign of slowing, her hooves pounding forward as the gentle rays of sun broke over the horizon, washing the sky in beautiful shades of gray.

It was then, I didn’t hear a thing anymore, not even myself.

That old darkness stirred again, rising to the surface. It felt familiar. Safe. Like I belonged to it. It crept up my spine and spread through me, blooming like starlight, painting the world in silver.

Just as it was always meant to be.

With reckless abandon, I threw my head back and laughed, releasing one hand from the reins to feel the wind rush through my fingers. I never wanted to feel anything else again.

In that moment, everything was perfect.

But it was at the height of this euphoria when the sky fell inward.

The calm, silver world I’d claimed fractured into violent streaks of color. A blinding pain shot through my shoulder, and I was ripped from Sigrid’s back. A scream tore from my throat as I was thrown to the ground .

“Odessa!” A scream called.

My name rang out, once, twice, then again, desperate and breaking.

“Odessa!” Leya cried. “Oh gods, Odessa!”

Pain radiated through me as I rolled onto my back, bursts of it blooming across my body. My vision blurred, but I caught sight of Leya clinging wildly to Sigrid, arms and legs wrapped tight around the horse’s torso, barely holding on.

But the pain in my shoulder snapped me back to focus. My breaths came in ragged gasps as I looked down. There was an arrow lodged clean through my shoulder.

Shock hit first. Then a fresh wave of agony surged as blood soaked through my tunic and cloak. I tried to sit up, but another sharp jolt ripped through my arm, and I dropped down.

My eyes shot to the city. Above the gates of Falhurst, I saw the archers. They were lined up, bows drawn, arrows nocked and ready.

So that was Gadriel’s order.

If they were willing to shoot, they were willing to kill me.

I shut my eyes, letting the weight of reality sink in.

A volley of arrows could be loosed at any second, lancing me where I lay.

This was really it, then. I opened my eyes once more, and they found Leya.

I could see in her face that she’d spotted the archers too.

Somehow, Leya had been able to remount herself on Sigrid, reins taut and ready to flee.

But the resignation in her eyes told me she knew it was hopeless

Only one arrow had flown, and it hit my shoulder cleanly.

It wasn’t a mistake, it was a message. A threat.

And we both knew, if the archers wanted to, they wouldn’t miss next time.

The outer city gate groaned open, and with it came thunder. In a flash of hooves and steel, a half-dozen riders stormed toward us. Pain clung to me thickly, like a fog. My shoulder screamed and my stomach turned, but I rose anyway with my teeth clenched against the agony.

If they were going to kill me, I’d meet their eyes when they did .

A sudden, new wave of pain bent me in half, a gasp slipping out. I forced myself upright. The ground under me rocked and my legs faltered, but still, I didn’t fall.

“Odessa…” Leya’s voice came soft behind me.

My left arm hung limp, the shoulder completely slack. I gripped it with my other hand, trying to hold it steady. The arrow had struck deep and I couldn’t move it now. But I didn’t let myself dwell on what that meant.

I must’ve looked like hell. My cloak whipped in the wind, blood streaked across my dirt-caked skin and torn tunic. But I stood tall, head high, as the sentries closed in around us.

As they circled us, their movements were calculated.

Leya had drawn nearer, Sigrid solid behind me now.

I stared the sentries down, one by one, anger sharp in my chest. Then, without warning, they stopped.

Horses were jerked to a halt, swords flashed into the air, each one aimed straight at us.

It felt like a production. What could a royal consort and a courtesan possibly do against six men with swords and steeds?

I heard Leya whimper behind me. It was a sound so small and broken, it nearly cracked the ice around my heart.

No one spoke as a lone rider arrived moments later.

His uniform was far finer than the others’, and he carried himself with a smug arrogance to match.

My eyes hardened with disdain as he rode forward, breaking through the circle of sentries to face Leya and me.