Epilogue
Chapter thirty-three
The sun rose, and with it came the hunting horns.
Briar pressed herself deeper into the hollow log, trying to still her ragged breathing.
Her beautiful garnet dress was in ruins, torn by thorns, muddied from falls, the careful embroidery pulled apart by grasping branches.
Blood seeped from dozens of small cuts on her arms and feet.
She'd lost the delicate shoes hours ago.
The hunting horn sounded again, closer this time. They weren't even trying to be subtle about it.
She could hear voices carrying through the morning mist, excited and eager. Someone laughed, high and bright, and she recognized Lady Rosewing from court. The same fae who'd curtsied to her just last night was now hunting her for sport.
Move, she told herself. You have to keep moving.
But her body wouldn't cooperate. She'd been running all night, using every trick she'd learned in her short time at court. Crossing streams to break her scent trail. Climbing trees only to drop down and double back. But she was human, and they were fae. It was only a matter of time.
The warmth in her chest pulsed steadily, still reaching back toward the castle. Toward him. Even now, even after everything, it pulled toward Eliam with desperate intensity. She pressed her hand against it, trying to quiet the sensation.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered to the connection that would die with her in these woods.
Another horn, from a different direction. They were spreading out, creating a net. The fae were smart, patient creatures. They had three days to find her, after all.
She thought of Eliam on his throne, cold and remote as he'd cast her out. Wondered if he was out here too, hunting with the rest. Or if he'd stayed behind, washing his hands of her entirely.
The thought hurt worse than all her physical wounds combined.
Something rustled in the underbrush nearby. Too deliberate to be the wind, but too careful to be an animal.
Briar held her breath, pressing herself smaller into the hollow log. Please, she prayed to any gods that might listen to a human in fae lands. Please just let it pass by.
“I smell fear,” a voice sing-songed. "Fear and blood and humanity. What a delicious combination."
Footsteps circled her hiding spot. They were unhurried, whoever it was knew she was there.
“Come out, little mouse. Lord Cairn wants to play.”
She recognized the name. It belonged to a young fae who'd held her hand too long during last night's dancing. Who'd looked at her like she was something to be devoured.
The footsteps stopped directly in front of the log.
“Found you,” he whispered.
Briar burst from the other end of the log, adrenaline giving her legs strength they shouldn't have had. Behind her, Cairn laughed in delight.
“Yes! Run! Make it fun!”
She ran deeper into the forest, branches tearing at her ruined dress, stones cutting her bare feet. The warmth in her chest pulsed a frantic warning, but there was nowhere safe to go. No sanctuary in these woods.
The sun climbed higher, painting the forest floor in dappled gold.
And somewhere behind her, getting closer with each breath, the hunters followed.
The Wild Hunt had begun.
And she was the prize everyone wanted to claim.