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“This way,” Stil called, trudging through the snow, moving towards Lake Sno.
“How is your shoulder?” Gemma asked.
“It’s fine. It aches a little, but it will pass. Angelique used some of her healing magic on me before we left for Ostfold,” Stil said. “Although that does remind me,” he said, pointing to the forest.
Standing at the edge of the forest was the white lupine with black paws and black facial markings. When the canine saw Gemma, its curled tail wagged.
“It followed you?” Gemma asked.
“No, it followed you. It was already here, sniffing outside the palace walls when we arrived this morning,” Stil confirmed.
“But it is a hellhound, and it crossed the border?” Gemma said, observing the creature.
“Whatever it is, it’s not a hellhound anymore,” Stil said. “It glows like a firefly in the middle of the night.”
“Do you think it was the starfire it swallowed?” Gemma asked. “And when it passes through its system, it will go back to being a hellhound?”
“No. Whatever you did was permanent. I haven’t seen a creature like it—and neither has Angelique. Hellhounds are exclusively used by practitioners of dark magic. By claiming it with light, you have forged a new kind of canine,” Stil said as they hiked past the creature.
Gemma hesitated before she wriggled her fingers at the dog.
The white furred animal happily yipped and broke away from the trees, its tail twirling wildly as it followed Gemma and Stil.
Stil and Gemma walked the shores of Lake Snow—the unusual dog following them. When they rounded a bend of the lake, Gemma saw the familiar tent and donkey waiting.
Angelique was outside, leading a bare-backed Pegasus, who gleamed like the patches of night sky that could be seen through breaks in the clouds.
“Gemma,” Angelique said, a smile blooming on her lovely face. “I am so glad you are safe.”
“As am I. Thank you for all you have done to help me.”
Angelique laughed. “It was no trouble at all. It was a pleasure, actually. It is relieving to deliver happiness in a time like this,” she said, patting her mount.
“Pricker Patch? When did he get here?” Stil asked, rubbing the donkey’s face.
“Not over an hour ago. He was quite unhappy and put out. I don’t think he appreciated being left behind,” Angelique said.
“He couldn’t have possibly kept up with Pegasus, and we left him with a farmer who promised to feed him. One would have thought it was the ideal situation for such a disagreeable animal,” Stil said as the donkey—to Gemma’s shock—tilted his head forward the tiniest degree to lean into Stil’s hand.
“Perhaps,” Angelique said. She glanced between Stil and Gemma before adding, “If you will excuse me, I need to set Pegasus loose for the night. He needs to stretch.”
“Certainly,” Gemma said, slightly confused by Angelique’s language. “Enjoy?”
The enchantress raised her hand in acknowledgment and walked off, leading Pegasus away from the camp.
“Let’s get out of this wind,” Stil said, giving Pricker Patch a final scratch before motioning to the tent. Gemma followed him in, nearly tripping when the white lupine dove in front of her to wriggle its way inside.
“You…,” Gemma said to the dog.
The white canine gave Gemma a doggy smile and scampered behind a settee. He poked his head out from behind it, his triangular ears pricked.
“Leave him. He’ll be fine,” Stil said, taking off his cape. His hair was short, and his clothes were unusually plain—black boots with tan cotton pants and a loose, royal blue shirt.
“Are you sure? He is a wild animal. He—,”
“Gemma.”
Gemma slowly raised her eyes to meet Stil’s gaze.
“We need to talk,” the craftmage said.
“Yes,” Gemma agreed, shedding her cape.
“Why didn’t you run?”
“Why?” Gemma repeated.
“Yes.”
Gemma pursed her lips. “I tried to run. Servants tracked me down and dragged me back. I think Lady Linnea underestimates Prince—excuse me—King Toril’s backbone—,”
“That’s not what I meant,” Stil said, his voice patient as he spoke over her. “I was referring to the rider, and to when the soldiers found us. I told you to run.”
Gemma sat in a settee and felt awkward. Why do I feel awkward? I know he loves me. I should tell him that I lov—no, maybe not.
“Gemma,” Stil said, crouching down in front of her.
The look in Stil’s uniquely beautiful eyes tore the words from Gemma’s mouth. “Because I love you,” she hiccupped.
Stil and Gemma stared at each other, both a little shocked.
“I didn’t mean to say that,” Gemma said, sliding down the settee and moving across the room.
“You didn’t mean to say it, or you didn’t mean it?” Stil asked, gliding after Gemma with an infuriating amount of elegance.
“Let’s make matters simple and pretend I didn’t say it,” Gemma said.