Page 9

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S hock rippled through Cora like a shuddering current, nearly taking her breath away. Without meaning to, she rose to her feet and took a few steps closer to the creature before her, her eyes fixated on the white spiral horn. Her pulse thrummed wildly.

“Mother Goddess,” she muttered under her breath.

Before her was a fae creature. A unicorn. It was like he had walked straight from legend. Like the stories had said, he was larger than a regular horse, his neck sinuous, his hooves massive. That was where the comparisons ended between the faerytale descriptions and the creature before her. For his brown coat was dull, not shiny. His body was emaciated, not broad and strong. His eyes seemed more lifeless than keen.

The unicorn wavered on his legs again, head dipping, eyes blinking slowly as he took a swaying step back. His rear came up against the bars of the cage. With a sharp equine cry, the unicorn jolted away, but the movement brought his flank against the other side of the cage. Another piercing sound, one of pain.

Cora stepped closer again, squinting as she studied the cage to identify what could be hurting him. All she saw were plain iron bars bound together with rope. Such an assembly suggested the cages were used for travel, with the ability for the sides to be cut loose and reassembled with ease. The enclosure was obviously too small for a creature of his size, but it seemed otherwise benign. There were no sharp edges, no nails, no barbed corners?—

Cora’s breath hitched, her eyes narrowing on the seemingly innocuous metal bars.

Iron.

A metal that—if the legends were to be believed—was harmful to the fae. Deadly, even.

Her heart plummeted and with it went her control over her mental shields. They crumbled around her. Before she could gather her senses enough to replace them, she was struck by an onslaught of emotion, so powerful it made her legs quake. Hunger, pain, fatigue, terror, sorrow. The feelings enveloped her, permeating her blood and bones. It was all-consuming, all-penetrating?—

“Cora.” Maiya’s strained voice startled her. It was enough to help her get control, to breathe, to push back against the unwanted emotions.

Taking a stumbling step back, Cora tore her gaze from the brown unicorn, breathing deeply until she felt the remnants of the emotions fade. In their place her chest was tight, her throat dry. She ignored it and whirled toward her friend, finding Maiya wincing as she tried to push herself to sitting. Cora ran to her and kneeled at her side. “Are you all right?”

“Where are we?” Maiya asked, squinting as she looked around the camp.

“Somewhere dangerous.” Cora left her friend’s side only to retrieve her belt, bow, and quiver. She sheathed the dagger and shouldered her other weapons. Then she squatted back down next to Maiya and put her arm around her. “We need to get out of here. Can you stand?”

Cora tried to lift her, but Maiya let out a hiss of pain. “My ankle,” she said, voice quavering. “I fell. Twisted it. That’s how they caught up to me.”

Dread filled Cora’s stomach. If her friend couldn’t run, they’d be at an even greater disadvantage. Their only hope now of making it back to camp was if the hunters remained distracted long enough. “It’s all right,” Cora said, more to herself than to Maiya. “We’re going to make it.”

Shifting her stance so she could help Maiya rise on her good leg, she attempted to pull her up again. Finally, they were both on their feet. With one arm secured around Maiya’s waist, Cora led them toward the edge of camp. Each step was slow and hobbling, sending a spike of panic through Cora’s heart.

“You should leave me,” Maiya said, hissing as she nearly tripped with her next step. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’m not leaving—” Cora’s words died on her lips as the sound of thundering steps came tearing through the woods. The hunters. They were coming back.

From the sound of it, they were heading straight for them.

“Goddess above,” Cora muttered, part curse, part prayer. She angled them to the side, attempting to flee to the other edge of camp, but they were too slow.

Too late.

The pounding steps tore into the clearing.

But they didn’t bring a horde of angry hunters.

The steps belonged to hooves, not feet. The thundering rhythm had belonged to a gallop, not a run. And the creature that now reared up before Cora…

Maiya’s hand flew to her lips to cover her gasp. “Is that…”

Cora swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Another unicorn stood before them, but he was nothing like the emaciated brown one. This creature was enormous, muscular, his white coat splattered with mud. His russet eyes were wild as he bared his teeth.

They took a staggering step back, one that sent Maiya sprawling to the ground. Cora tried to dive for her friend, but the unicorn darted between them. He stomped his hooves, sidling toward her and shoving her back from Maiya.

A feeling slammed into her. With her shields still down, she had no defense against it. Desperation, rage, fear, struck her one after the other. She froze in place as the feelings grew, rippled, changed. Soon the sensation shifted into a sense of need, bearing a weight she’d never felt before when reading anyone’s emotions. The weight undulated, multiplied, divided. Cora could do nothing but feel it unfold inside her until it settled into something new.

A word.

A voice not heard but felt. Understood.

Help .

Cora’s eyes went wide. Never before had she experienced anything like this. Never had emotions become thoughts, become words. It felt strange, invasive, and utterly terrifying.

She looked to Maiya on the other side of the white unicorn. Her friend scrambled back on her forearms, struggling to stand. Cora’s eyes darted between the creature and Maiya. She dove to the side to skirt behind the unicorn, but he skittered back, blocking her.

Help , came the feeling-turned-to-word again.

“I don’t understand what you want from me,” she said between her teeth. She tried to outmaneuver him in the opposite direction, but it was no use.

He stomped his hooves, nearly connecting with Cora’s feet. She danced back to avoid having her toes crushed, but the unicorn pursued her, sending her backward again and again.

Cora’s fingers flew to the hilt of her dagger. She unsheathed it and brandished it before the creature. The unicorn tossed his mane, releasing a frantic whinny.

Help.

Help.

Help.

He stomped toward her again. Cora cast a glance over her shoulder in search of trip hazards, but her gaze settled on something else.

The caged unicorn.

The white beast was forcing her toward the cage.

She faced her pursuer. “You…want my help. As in…you want me to free the other unicorn?”

He tossed his mane again. Her heart raced as she looked at Maiya. They didn’t have time for distractions. Not with Maiya’s injury. If they didn’t get free of the camp before the hunters returned…she didn’t want to consider what would happen then.

Still, the memory of what it had felt like when she’d connected with the brown unicorn’s emotions made her heart sink. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that the unicorn was being kept in a too-small iron cage on purpose. The hunters wanted the creature to hurt. If she had a chance to set him free…

“Fine,” she said to the white unicorn. “I’ll help release your friend, but after that, you need to get out of my way.”

As if in answer, he sidled back and put space between them.

Cora cast another glance at Maiya. Her friend’s brows were knitted either with concern or confusion. Then Cora whirled toward the cage and closed the remaining distance. The brown unicorn inside the enclosure only blinked at her, each flutter of his lids slow and heavy. She brought her dagger to the ropes binding the bottom left corner of the cage and cut through them. Then the bottom right. The upper corners were more of a challenge as they were high above her head. Standing on her tiptoes, she extended her arms and cut as much as she could reach, starting with one corner, then moving to the next. The process was slower than it had been with the bottom bindings, but soon the ropes began to fray and snap. She sheathed her dagger and wrapped her hands around the iron bars, tugging at them until the front frame began to tilt on its own, snapping what remained of the ropes. Cora darted back just as it swung down and landed in the dirt with a thud.

“Go,” Cora whispered when the unicorn inside made no move to claim his freedom. She pointed to the perimeter of the camp and infused her voice with a warning edge. “Go. Now.”

Finally, he took one wavering step. Then another. His bony legs trembled as he left the cage, his hooves trodding quickly over the iron bars as if they burned. As soon as he was fully upon the dirt floor, he kicked up into an uneven trot and darted into the dark woods.

“Cora,” came Maiya’s voice, quivering with warning.

She turned back to her friend, but the white unicorn reared up before her. A lashing sound shattered the air, followed by a guttural neigh from the unicorn. Cora lurched back as the creature returned to all fours, but she heard the lashing sound again. This time she saw a flick of something slice the unicorn’s hide. As it withdrew, a red mark welled up in its place.

Erwin, the hunter who had hauled Cora into camp, stood behind the unicorn, lashing out again with his barbed whip. Only now did Cora understand its true purpose.

The barbs were made of iron.

It was a weapon designed for wounding fae creatures.

“Run and I’ll find you,” Erwin said. Although he kept his eyes on the unicorn, Cora was certain he was speaking to her. The angle of his head revealed a mark under his ear, just like James’ brand. This one was shaped into TR . She tried to recall what crime that stood for. T represented treason, but the two letters were too close together to stand for two separate charges. “I won’t hesitate to use this on human hide. You’ve only had a taste so far. With another lash, I could cut through your flesh like a knife through butter.”

Now she recalled what his brand meant. TR . Torture. He slashed at the unicorn again. Again.

The unicorn bared his teeth and tried to dance away, but no matter which direction he tried to flee, the whip found him, sliced him.

Cora jumped with every snap of the whip, but she slowly edged around the fire toward Maiya, trying to put as much distance between herself and Erwin as she could. The hunter continued to pursue the unicorn toward the cages, much like the creature had done with Cora mere minutes ago.

Finally, Cora reached Maiya, who was halfway to standing on her good leg. Cora helped her the rest of the way up, then shifted toward her bow. She paused as Erwin’s eyes locked on hers.

He angled his body to the side so he could keep her in his sights. Watching her from the corner of his eye, he continued to snap his whip at the whinnying creature. “Don’t even think about trying anything clever,” he growled. “This whip can reach you from here.”

She believed it could. The portion he held was still coiled, suggesting its length was far more expansive than it was now.

Without warning, the unicorn charged Erwin. The hunter darted back and lashed out with his whip. The leather circled the unicorn’s neck, its barbs digging into the creature’s skin. The unicorn tried to rear back, but Erwin tugged, tightening the whip’s stranglehold.

Cora lunged for her bow and swiftly nocked an arrow. Her heart pounded a thundering rhythm but she told herself to breathe. Just breathe. She planted her feet firmly beneath her, imagining the soil steadying her, holding her. Then, pulling the fletching to her cheek, she narrowed her focus to Erwin. He continued to struggle with the unicorn, weaving back and forth as he tried to get the creature under control.

The unicorn calmed.

Stood still.

Erwin took a confident step closer.

Cora shot her arrow, felt in her bones that it would hit its mark.

It did. Slamming through the center of his throat, it tore through his flesh.

Erwin’s mouth fell open as he staggered back, clutching at his ruined throat as blood poured from the wound.

Cora’s stomach bottomed out. A ripple of disgust crawled up her spine.

Disgust in what she was seeing.

Disgust in herself.

She already knew the wound was fatal, knew—as Erwin slid down to the earth, still clutching his neck—that he was going to die.

Her first human kill.

And she wasn’t sorry for it.

Disgusted. But not sorry.

She whirled toward Maiya. Her friend’s face had gone pale, her eyes locked on the dying man. “We need to go. Now,” Cora said.

Maiya nodded, the movement erratic, and let Cora guide her toward the edge of the clearing. A face stared back at her, appearing from behind the trees—it was James. He hesitated, gaze shifting from Cora to the camp, landing an extra beat on something behind her. She had no doubt it was his dead companion.

His lips peeled back from his teeth as his eyes locked back on hers. Then he put a curved horn to his lips and blew. The sound fractured the night. Rage coursed through Cora’s blood as James blew the horn again. An echoing blast sounded from not too far away. With a parting, murderous glare, James fled.

Cora cursed, and Maiya let out a cry as she tripped on her injured leg. Maiya’s panic seeped into Cora’s awareness. Or was it her own panic she felt? Gritting her teeth, she tried to bear more of Maiya’s weight to help them quicken their pace.

Four more horn blasts surrounded the camp, coming from every direction. Cora paused, eyes darting about as she tried to discern which way to go. She shifted their course slightly to the left and hefted Maiya forward?—

The white unicorn blocked their path.

“I don’t have time for this again,” Cora said through her teeth.

Danger , came the unsettling invasion of feeling-thought.

“I know.”

Danger , he said again. This time, the unicorn lowered his head and sidled closer. Mount. Safety.

Her eyes widened at the creature’s marred flank. “You want us to…mount you. Like a horse.”

He scraped a hoof in the dirt in an agitated gesture. Safety. Now .

She exchanged a glance with Maiya, who could only seem to nod. Then, squatting down, she hefted her friend with all her might until Maiya took hold of the unicorn’s mane. “Sorry,” Maiya said with a wince as she pulled the creature’s hair harder to aid her efforts in climbing the rest of the way. Then Maiya extended an arm to Cora. Gripping Maiya’s palm with one hand and the unicorn’s mane with the other, she hauled herself up. She was hardly seated in front of her friend before the unicorn took off. Maiya encircled her arms around Cora’s middle while Cora wrapped the creature’s white mane around her fists.

They took off into the night, swallowed by the dark forest.