Page 8

8

T he three newcomers were dressed in the same style of greatcoat James wore, with Duke Morkai’s sigil marking their right sleeves. All but James appeared at least ten years older than Cora. Their appearances were far more rugged too, with mud-splattered boots, bushy beards, and wild, unkempt hair. One carried a spear while another held what looked like a coiled leather whip covered in metal barbs. The tallest—who Cora assumed was their leader—palmed the hilt of one of the daggers sheathed in his bandolier.

James shuffled to the front of the group and faced the three men with raised palms. “Gringe, it isn’t what it looks like.”

The man named Gringe scoffed. “And what exactly do you think it looks like?” James stammered for words, but Gringe cut him off before he could reply. “You left your post. Not only that, but you left to dally with three women and didn’t think to share.” His cold eyes wandered from Cora to Maiya, then Gisele. Cora’s heart hammered against her ribs, her stomach roiling as the man assessed them like livestock.

“I’m sorry I left my post,” James said. “I shouldn’t have, but I figured it was safe to come for a quick soak. And they…” He cast a helpless glance over his shoulder at the girls before returning his attention to Gringe. “They were here by coincidence.”

“So you don’t know them?”

“No.”

“Then I suppose you won’t mind if we…get to know them ourselves.”

James stiffened. The three other hunters erupted with laughter. With their attention on James, Cora took the opportunity to dip down and retrieve her belted dagger. As soon as her fingers met leather, she stood and pulled it behind her back, just as Gringe’s eyes shot to her.

His expression hardened. “You. Where are you from? The closest village is miles away.”

Cora’s mind raced to come up with an answer, but Gisele spoke first. Batting her lashes, she said, “We’re from Palovore, sir. We made the trip here just for Beltane. These caves are famous, you know. Everyone comes to the hot springs during the holidays.”

“Then why are you the only ones here?”

Cora stepped forward, purposefully edging closer to Maiya. “We’re just the first to arrive,” she hurried to say. “Dozens more are coming. My…my husband will be here. My brother too.” She hated having to use the threat of another male for protection, but right now she was willing to say anything to keep the hunters at bay. Besides, better they thought she was a helpless female who needed a man to fight her battles than a girl with a dagger in her hand. If only she could retrieve her bow without them noticing.

“Dozens,” Gringe echoed. His smirk said he wasn’t falling for her bluff.

“Please, just leave them be,” James said.

Gringe sneered at the man. “Who are you to give me orders?”

James shifted from foot to foot. “It was…more of a suggestion.”

“Did you tell them?”

“Tell them?”

“About our…prey?”

James shook his head. “They know nothing, I swear.”

Cora stepped closer to Maiya until their shoulders brushed. “Count to thirty,” she whispered, “then take Gisele and run for the tunnel.”

“What? No! We’re not leaving you.”

“I’m just giving you a head start.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Count to thirty.”

“Cora—”

“Just do it!”

Maiya made a pleading sound but took a step toward Gisele.

Gringe’s gaze snapped to her friend. “Here’s a suggestion,” he said with a dark laugh. “Tie them up. We take them back to camp and figure out where they really came from.”

With that, the hunters surged forward. Cora’s heart leapt into her throat. “Thirty!” she shouted at Maiya, who’d frozen at their approach. Cora took her dagger out from behind her back and threw it at the nearest man. It glanced off his chest hilt first and fell to the ground. She wished she’d actually practiced throwing daggers before attempting that pathetic spectacle. Cora lunged for her bow instead and nocked an arrow. This gave the hunters a moment of pause. “Thirty, Maiya!” she shouted at her friend. Finally, Maiya’s feet flew into action and she grabbed Gisele’s arm. They darted for the tunnel. One of the hunters lunged at them, but Cora shot an arrow. It skimmed his wrist, making him pull up short.

Her next arrow grazed his neck. It would have hit dead center if not for her erratic breathing, sending her aim wild. This was nothing like practice where targets stood still, where her only threat was being mildly distracted by her own thoughts.

“Go after them,” Gringe barked at the man she’d narrowly missed. He obeyed and darted after Cora’s friends. Cora nocked another arrow. “You too,” he said to James. “Clean up this mess you made and I’ll consider not delivering your head to the duke.”

Mention of the duke had Cora’s blood burning with rage, clearing her mind just enough to remind her to breathe. One more hunter was still approaching—the man with the barbed whip. Gringe remained near the mouth of the tunnel, grinning as if he expected an entertaining display of theatrics. The hunter flicked his whip. She shot her arrow. Just as her fingers left the fletching, searing pain sliced down her arm. One of the barbs had torn her flesh. Her shot went wild.

The man closed in.

She kicked, she flailed, she bit, but it was to no avail as he crushed her in his grip.

Bound, gagged, and blindfolded, Cora no longer regretted neglecting her understanding of defensive magic. Now she wished she’d spent twice as much time honing her skills with weapons. Perhaps then she wouldn’t have been in such a position that left her hauled over a hunter’s shoulder like a sack of grain. She struggled in vain, wishing she could at least pound her fists against the hunter’s back or slam her feet into his chest, but her wrists were tied behind her back, her ankles bound together. No matter how she wriggled, he paid her no heed. She heard the shift in sound as her captor’s feet left the stone cave to the forest floor. “I’m going to do horrible things to you,” he said, a dark chuckle in his voice.

“We question them first,” she heard Gringe say from up ahead. “See if they were lying.”

“But after?”

“They won’t be leaving alive,” Gringe said, “so do what you will.”

She shouted into her gag, cursed them both with every vile insult she could think of. None of it reached their ears, as muffled as her words were.

“Gringe!” A new voice came from just ahead.

“What is it, Sam?”

“I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“The white. The one we were tracking earlier. It waltzed right into camp as if it wanted to be caught. I tried to catch it on my own?—”

“Damn it. We can’t let it get far. Not on our last night here. Erwin, leave her at camp and take the south. Sam, go north. I’ll signal James and Velek to head east. I’ll take the west.”

The hunter carrying her, Erwin, kicked up into a jog, jostling Cora with every step. From behind, she heard a low bellowing sound—a horn being blown—that ended in three sharp bursts. That must have been the signal Gringe had mentioned. Other horn blasts echoed back from farther away. A few minutes later, her momentum shifted. Erwin heaved her off his shoulder, and her back met hard earth as she landed on the ground with a thud. His retreating footsteps followed. Cora held still for a moment, straining her ears for any sign that she wasn’t alone. Nothing but a crackling fire answered. She took a few deep breaths to steady her nerves—as well as she could—and cut a window through her mental shields. Extending her senses, she opened herself to nearby emotion. At first, she felt nothing. Then… something . Or was it nothing as well? An unfamiliar sensation filled her bones, bringing with it a quiet sorrow. And yet…it didn’t feel like anything human. An animal? The hunters’ horses, perhaps?

Another thought came to mind as Cora remembered what James had said about unicorns. He couldn’t have been telling the truth, could he? Unicorns hadn’t been seen in hundreds of years. Legends stated that all had become horses by now, leaving nothing of their ancient fae origins intact.

Rolling onto her side, she pressed her face to the ground beneath her, feeling dirt grate against her cheek as she worked to lift the cloth from her eyes. Finally, she managed to shove it over her brow.

Blinking, she took in her immediate surroundings. First, she saw the light of a campfire several feet away. Closer and just out of arm’s reach—had they not been tied behind her back—laid her bow, her quiver of arrows, and her belt. Her dagger had been returned to its sheath. She glanced around the rest of the camp, seeing no one else in sight.

She wriggled across the ground, making a haphazard line for her belongings. Sweat beaded across her brow with every inch she drew near. Soon the items were within reach. Rolling to her other side so her back faced her weapons, she fumbled for her belt. Her fingers only had the slightest reach beyond their bindings, and she struggled to gain proper leverage. Finally, her pinky looped around her leather belt. She stretched her hands to get a better grip, then moved her fingers down the length of it. One hand met air as she reached the wrong end. Gritting her teeth, she reversed directions until she felt her sheath. Excitement sparked in her chest as she then walked her fingers up the sheath until they came around the hilt?—

Footsteps pounded toward the camp. Gripping the dagger, she wriggled a few feet away from her belongings and rolled halfway onto her back, hopefully obscuring her weapon in the folds of her skirt. James came into view, face strained as he hauled a female form over his shoulder. Far more gently than Erwin had been, he laid his burden next to Cora. Her heart lurched as she saw Maiya’s profile, her temple marred with blood. Her hands were bound in front of her, but she was neither gagged nor blindfolded.

James glanced around the camp, then met Cora’s eyes with a frown. “I let Gisele get away,” he whispered. “And don’t worry, this one is just knocked out.”

Am I supposed to thank you for that? Her words, stifled by the gag, sounded only like a string of mumbles. She cut him with a glare that probably looked anything but threatening in her bound state. Then her eyes landed on a strange marking she hadn’t noticed before. Just below his ear was a patch of raised skin in the shape of an R .

Cora’s blood went cold. She knew what that marking was. It was a brand reserved for criminals set for execution. That R stood for one of the most heinous and violating crimes she could imagine.

His gaze turned steely as if he could see the realization in her eyes. “I wasn’t going to hurt your friend,” he said, tone curt. With that, he darted away, grabbing a spear off the ground before he left the clearing.

Alone again, Cora shifted her attention back to her dagger. Angling it toward the knot between her wrists, she sawed the blade against it. It was painstakingly slow, and for a few moments, Cora thought her efforts were futile. But then she heard a satisfying snap as part of the rope was severed. With some mobility freed, she redoubled her efforts. Another snap. Then freedom. She brought her arms in front of her, wincing at the strain on her muscles. Her forearm still seared from where Erwin had lashed her with his whip. Pulling herself to a seated position, she quickly cut through her ankle bindings and tore off her gag.

Her chest burned with anxiety, lungs contracting as she scrambled over to Maiya. She cut her friend’s bonds, setting her hands free. Maiya remained limp. Cora set down her dagger and framed Maiya’s face in her hands. She whispered her friend’s name. Nothing. She sought her pulse at the base of her neck, relieved when she felt a soft beat. “I’m getting us out of here,” she said, then cast her gaze around the camp. She needed a safe way to flee. Steal one of their horses, perhaps. But she saw no sign of one, heard no evidence of a nicker or a neigh.

Subtle movement caught her eye from the opposite side of camp, drawing her attention to two metal cages. Both were composed of six barred panels assembled into a large box, their corners and sides tied together with rope. One stood gaping open, empty, the front of it slightly askew on its roped hinges. The closed one, however, held a single occupant—a male equine creature, brown and nearly skeletal. He wavered on hooves that seemed overlarge for his too-thin body. He blinked sleepily at her, his head dipping low, as if too heavy to hold upright. That was when she noticed the slim, white, spiral-ridged horn protruding from the center of his head, aglow with the light from the fire.

A unicorn.