Page 16

I jolt awake and frown at the sharp sensation prickling up my arms. It takes me a few seconds to remember where I am. My hazy vision clears to reveal the horrid bone white trees mixed in with the fewer even more haunting black ones. The pink leaves cover the gnarled roots of the forest floor. The Blood Wood. It's the unmistakable sound of crunching leaves under nearing footsteps that's waken me.

Shit. Someone’s coming . I lean forward, searching for the knife. I don’t make it far. I’m bound. White tendril-like roots have wrapped around my arms and embedded themselves in my flesh. I let out a yelp, thrashing frantically. The roots hold me firm, pain lancing up my arms with every movement.

I come to a still again, breaths coming in quick succession as I lean forward to study the roots closer. Beads of red are moving through them in erratic pulses. Blood. The roots are draining me of my blood. I yank more vigorously, sharp bolts of pain slicing my arms.

“Div?” I whisper, observing the empty clearing of Wood. He’s nowhere to be seen. Deep, heavy thumps stir the ground, and a heaving, creaking noise of someone—no—something dragging in air. Something that sounds more animal than human. I spy the knife a few inches to my left. My fingers graze the hilt as the creature breaches the clearing. Fear trills through me, and I stiffen, my breath snagging in my throat.

Standing on two legs, where its face should be is only the white bone of its long-snouted animal-like skull. Two horns protrude from its scalp, one long and twisting and the other broken off at the bud. What’s left of the fur and flesh across its emaciated form is rotting, barely clinging to the bone. Even from across the clearing it brings the gagging stench of death.

Where its eyes should be are two deep cavities emitting a lurid red glow. It grunts and sniffs at the air, bones creaking with its steady gait. Based on the way its head swivels around the clearing, I don’t think it can see me. My fingers brush against the hilt of the knife. I tug harder against the roots, stretching closer. Sensing the movement, its head snaps in my direction, and my blood whooshes in my ears. Oh, please, please. I’m going to die.

It’s his words that ring in my head like a parting omen: You are naive. You know nothing of the world outside of the Wall.

The creature emits a low, rumbling growl and starts toward me. I tug as hard as I can and manage to capture the knife before it leans down and wraps one clawed hand around my abdomen. I shriek as it attempts to tug me from the roots. I can’t even attempt to stab it with the way my arms are bound. The pain in my arms is intolerable, however, it’s not going to be able to free me, and it's almost a relief to die drained of blood from these roots than to be at the mercy of that .

With a low rumbling growl, it jerks so hard my vision darkens at the edges as sharp painful spurts shoot up my arms and the roots begin to spring forth, splattering blood. A strangled groan claws up my throat as my arm is stretched past the limit. I cry out with the pain of it and there's an audible pop as my arm is pulled from its socket.

Every muscle in my body tenses as it heaves me closer. I shrink back, struggling in its grasp as it sniffs at me. The state of its decomposing skull is even more horrifying up close. Its stench so putrid I cough, wriggling and prying at the clawed hand cinched tightly around my abdomen.

It expels a low growl, positioning me back slightly as it begins carrying me away. Somehow, I’ve managed to keep a hold of the knife. From this angle, the most I can do is swing it back and rear it into the side of the creature’s arm. Clattering against the rotting flesh and bone, the knife is knocked loose from my grasp and lands with a dull thud to the forest floor. The creature grunts, it’s hold around me doesn’t falter. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I let out a blood-curdling shriek. A last-ditch effort, someone will hear and come to my rescue.

The creature growls and squeezes me tighter in annoyance. My shrieking dwindles into a whimper, my body growing limp. It’s futile. There’s nothing I can do. No one is going to come for me and I’m no match for it physically.

But then the air around me seems to expand, and I’m distantly aware of an enclosing swooshing sound. In a flash of movement, something crashes into the side of the creature, and I’m suddenly flung from its grasp. I hit the ground, smashing face-first into one of the large tree roots, and roll. Sharp lancing pain shoots up my injured arm as I attempt to lift myself back on my elbows, dazed. Lifting myself on my good arm, I maneuver into a sitting position with a wince.

The movements before me are so quick it takes me a long moment to process what it is I’m looking at. A flash of black, leathery wings. Prominent sharp fangs snapping out to nip at the skull-headed creature. I scoot myself back across the ground.

It’s a dragon.

I stifle a gasp. Not as large as I would expect for a dragon yet a dragon nonetheless. Not that I had much frame of reference. It moves impossibly fast, diving and slashing out its claws. It catches one of the creature’s clawed hands in its toothy maw, whips its head back with a sharp, crunching sound and leaves a dripping stump behind. The creature howls in pain.

The dragon does not relent. It dives, snatching at the creature’s other hand. Snagging it around the elbow, it takes that arm, too, and tosses it to the side. The clawed arm lands a few feet in front of me. Two jeweled rings gleam from the decomposing, skeletal, clawed hand.

I need to get out of here. This dragon is just as likely to turn on me next. I spy my bag on the ground and snag it up, digging one of the other knives out as I flee. Heat wafts against my back, the smell of smoke singing my nostrils.

My mind is sluggish. I’ve lost too much blood, but I keep a steady pace, heart leaping in my chest as I imagine claws or flames catching the back of my head. I hear something behind me, steps gaining on me, and I urge my body to move faster. My legs are hauled out from underneath me.

I hit the ground hard, sending a series of sharp shocks up my useless arm, and something heavy presses me into the soil and roots. I tense with a whimper, bracing myself for teeth to rip me apart.

Completely mystified when the weight shifts off of me. I roll onto my back with a pained cry and scramble to my feet. The last thing I expect to see is the prince glaring back at me. I take a step back with a sharp inhale. Sporting a pair of black trousers, his chest is bare and blood stains his chin as if he’s taken a bite straight out of a bloody piece of meat.

He pants, nostrils flaring, brow a hard line over his eyes as he stares down at me like I’m the bane of his existence.

He’s come for me, and he’s pissed.