Page 74 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne

No monsters came out of the trees to eat me. Why couldn’t they take pity on me when Iwantedto be put out of my misery?

Without stars or other navigation tools, I had two options: pick a direction and walk; or call Wilde.

The memory of kneeling before him was fresh in my mind. Gazing up at him for once, rather than down. The soft touch of his thumb on my lips. How his voice had turned husky and quiet as he taught me how to beg. The heat and hunger of his desire when he finally kissed me.

I shifted to relieve some of the growing discomfort, took a second to compose myself, and opened the mirror. Before I could speak the summons, Wilde’s face appeared.

I snapped the compact shut.

After two seconds, the gold shifted to tarnished black.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened it again.

Wilde glowered at me. “Don’t cut the connection like that.”

And he’s back to ordering me around.Just because I’d submitted to him once didn’t mean I’d suddenly become sweet and biddable. “How aboutyoustop lurking in the shadows like a cheesy stereotype?”

He ignored my stereotype comment and asked, “Why are you walking away from Traumstead?”

“I am?” I groaned, glancing back in the direction I came from.

“You’re lost.”

Even though I’d called him for help, his certainty annoyed me. “No, I’m … taking the long way around.”

Wilde’s already grim expression darkened. “If you run away, Treasure, Iwillfind you.”

Heat stirred in my stomach at his words. How far would he be willing to chase me? And what would he do once he caught me?

But being genuinely lost in a cursed, monster-filled forest kind of dampened the fantasy.

“I’m not running away,” I said, rolling my eyes in exasperation. “I mean, I am, but like, from the patrols, not from you.” My brow furrowed. “Well, I guess since the patrols work for your master—”

“Our master.”

“—I’m kind of running away from you, but not like, fromyou.”

“Why are you running from the patrols?”

“Because I don’t want them to catch me?”

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, then dropped it so he could look at me as he explained, slowly and sternly, “If you’d cooperated with the guards, they could have guided you back to the lair. You would have protection from the other dangers of the forest,andyou wouldn’t be lost right now.”

I stared at him for thirty solid seconds before demanding, “Did you send them after uson purpose?”

“Of course.”

A memory of the spear aiming for Maximus, the minion’s sharp claws and powerful build, flashed through my mind. The edges of the compact dug into my skin as my hand clenched in anger. “Somebody could have gotten hurt, Wilde.”

He was quiet for a long time before asking, “Are you hurt?”

“No. One of the guards is though.”

“I’ll see they’re fairly compensated. What about the other champions?”

“I don’t know.” I slumped against the nearest tree, sliding down the trunk. The rough scrape of the bark against my back grounded me. The tree’s roots shifted to accommodate me, rising on either side of my legs like an embrace. The movements were slow, non-threatening, as if it knew its reputation was to harm rather than comfort. “We split up, and now I’m fucking lost and … you should have warned me.”

“I’m sorry.”