Chapter 5 #2
“What else am I supposed to call you when you won’t be honest with me?” My voice rose. “You only answer questions when you feel like it. You claim I’ll be in danger in Ghedda, but I could have died just now.”
“You were completely safe inside the circle. If you had stayed put like I ordered, that wolf never could have gotten to you.”
Was he serious? I stepped toward him, my temper rising. “I apologize for trying to save your life.”
The spark of anger in his eyes faded. “Listen—”
“You said trust is earned. If you want me to trust you, tell me the truth. Otherwise, I’ll assume you have something to hide, and I’ll do whatever it takes to escape. I can’t stop you from dragging me into Nocta, but I can make it very difficult for you. I’ll fight you every step of the way.”
He looked at Maddox, and if I hadn’t known better, I could have sworn he considered asking the horse for advice on how to proceed. When he turned back to me, he sighed. “I wish I had some nefarious scheme to confess. It would be a lot more interesting than the truth.”
I folded my arms. “I’m dying to hear it.”
“I scented the wolves when I crossed into Ghedda a few days ago. It didn’t concern me much.
The werewolves are territorial fucker— Ah, individuals.
It’s not unusual for them to stalk travelers, especially ones with money.
” He nodded to the trees around us. “I brought you through a different area of the border just to be safe. As for lying to you, that accusation is unfounded. Did I withhold information? Yes. But you’d just been kidnapped by Cyprio and then carried across Ghedda for hours.
You needed rest. You were unlikely to get it if you sat up half the night worried about werewolves. ”
I absorbed his statement, mentally searching for holes and hints of duplicity. “You said all of Nocta serves King Rasimir.” Immediately, the trees around the clearing shivered and bowed. The first time, the display had impressed me. Now it set my teeth on edge.
Vander waited for the trees to straighten. “Every kingdom has criminals.” A faint smile touched his lips. “Even vaunted Ghedda.”
“And all werewolves are criminals?”
“Not all. I believe this was an isolated attack. Just rogues playing at being highwaymen. But Nocta isn’t immune from occasional unrest. Like their animal counterparts, werewolves live in rigid social hierarchies.
Plenty of pack leaders view themselves as kings.
They don’t like bowing before another king—or those who serve him. ”
“Like you,” I said.
He inclined his head. “Like me.”
I studied him, wondering if maybe the werewolf had gotten it wrong—if maybe I was the fool to accept Vander’s story.
“Your hands,” I said at last. “I saw claws when you were fighting.”
“I expect you did.” He looked at the sky. “The sun is rising. I’ll bury these bodies, and we can ride out.”
I wedged my foot in the door he tried to close. “And you’ll tell me about the claws?”
His chest lifted as he sighed. “And I’ll tell you about the claws.”
“T hey were a gift,” Vander said a half hour later when we were seated on Maddox.
We’d emerged from the forest as the sky turned pink and orange.
I didn’t have to ask if we’d fully crossed the Feyline.
As Vander guided the horse up a rocky incline, tendrils of power brushed my skin.
The twinkling lights I’d glimpsed the day before were back—and now there were more of them.
I looked down at Vander’s hand near my waist. He’d forgone his gloves, and he held the reins in a loose grip.
His knuckles were large but ordinary, with no sign of the bone-colored talons that had shredded the werewolf’s throat.
Maybe they were like my fangs, which slid down from tiny openings in my gums. Or maybe they were like the dragonstone gown and worked through some kind of magic I had no hope of figuring out.
“Someone gave you claws as a gift?” I asked.
He made a noise of assent. “One of the elven lords.”
“You met an elf?” I twisted around so I could see his face. Excitement shivered through me. “An actual elf?”
He nodded, his hair copper in the dawning light. “I did him a service. The elves don’t like to be in anyone’s debt, so he gave me claws. The elves don’t like it when you refuse their gifts, either.”
“Would you have refused them if you could?”
“No. Not at the time.” He trained his gaze on the terrain ahead of us. “Almost there.”
I swung back around, my heart thumping. The slope was just rocks, grass, and a few wildflowers. “Where?”
Vander clicked his tongue, urging Maddox into a canter. “I had another reason for taking you through the Wendlewood.” The horse charged up the rise, and I gasped as the power in the air swelled. Seconds later, we crested the hill.
And I forgot how to breathe.
Magic.
Nocta.
It spread before me in a dazzling array of colors more vibrant than anything in Ghedda.
Soft pink clouds floated in a lavender sky studded with stars that shimmered like diamonds.
The wildflowers that had dotted the incline were everywhere, their blooms as vivid and varied as gemstones.
Tall emerald grass swayed in a warm, gentle breeze.
Mountains rose in the distance, their sides thickly forested and their peaks kissed with snow.
A waterfall cascaded down one slope like a length of glossy blue ribbon.
Everything sparkled, as if someone had flung sugar into the air and let it settle over the land.
A soft glow emanated from nowhere and everywhere, making each flower and blade of grass gleam like they were lit from within.
People used the word breathtaking all the time, but they didn’t really know what it meant. This. This was breathtaking.
“Is it always like this?” I asked, hearing the wonder in my voice. It was like a painting…or a dream.
Vander’s voice was soft behind me. “It’s always beautiful. You’ll get used to the magic in the air.”
“The sparkle?”
“Mm-hmm.” He stretched an arm around me and pointed at a patch of rosy pink sky over the mountaintops. “The sun is there. The magic is so thick, it diffuses the light.”
And made it possible for vampires to walk around during the day.
A thousand butterflies took up residence in my stomach. “How long will it take to reach my father?”
“The Drakhold is an hour’s ride north.”
I tensed. “Is that a castle?”
“It’s King Rasimir’s seat.”
The wildflowers around us shivered and dipped their blooms toward the ground.
As if he sensed my unease, Vander touched my shoulder.
“You’ll be welcomed with honor, Corinthe.
” Just as the warmth of his skin sank beneath my gown, he replaced his hand on the reins and nudged Maddox into a trot.
Magic thrives in twilight , whispered a voice in my mind.
The people of Derryton said it in hushed tones when they spoke of Nocta.
The words had always been an abstract thing.
Now they pulsed around me, every thump of Maddox’s hooves carrying me deeper into the twinkling, perpetual dusk.
Minutes later, Vander and I clattered onto a wide stone road lined with trees bursting with fat, colorful blossoms. A sweet, intoxicating scent perfumed the air, which continued to sparkle.
The temperature was perfect, neither hot nor cold, and the hum of magic was like the low, pleasant strum of a harp.
Before long, I relaxed against Vander with a smile tugging at my lips.
The thunder of approaching hooves made me bolt upright again. A man with a muscular, nude torso that blended into a horse’s body galloped toward us. He nodded but didn’t slow as he passed, his long hair streaming behind him.
“Centaur,” Vander said in my ear, his voice laced with amusement. “They look fierce, but they’re big softies.”
“Are there a lot of centaurs in Nocta?” I asked, twisting in the saddle to watch the centaur’s retreat. Before Vander could answer, a buzzing sound made me whip back around.
A group of winged creatures swept toward us, their bodies hovering off the ground.
“Pixies,” Vander said, and now he sounded like he’d eaten something bitter. “They’re not softies.”
The buzzing sound swelled as the pixies approached.
Three women and two men, roughly the size of cats.
Pointed ears peeked from their hair. Their features were beautiful but otherworldly, with sharp angles and skin that shimmered as brightly as the magic in the air.
Arrows bristled from quivers strapped to their backs.
Their eyes were cold, their expressions haughty.
One of the women inclined her head as she zipped past, the draft from her wings tugging at my hair. At first, it appeared the other pixies would ignore us. Then, one of the men doubled back, mischief in his eyes as he circled us like a hornet.
“See something you like?” he demanded, one dark eyebrow raised.
Maddox shied and tossed his head. Vander tightened his arm around my waist as he struggled to get the horse under control. “Shove off, pixie!” he growled.
The pixie flashed an insolent smile as he groped himself. “Shove this, bloodsucker.”
The woman who’d passed us dove out of nowhere and seized his arm.
“Simpleton!” she hissed. “Do you want your head to end up on a pike?” She dragged him away in a flurry of wings.
When she got a short distance down the road, she spun around and bobbed once in the air.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, then turned and streaked out of sight.
Vander swore under his breath. “Pixies,” he said, as if that explained everything.
I might have laughed, but the female pixie’s statement gave me pause. “What did she mean about his head on a pike?”
Vander started Maddox down the road again. “More like my head on one of those toothpicks they call arrows. Pixies are a vicious breed. But to answer your question, the woman was smarter than her companion. She knows it’s folly to insult a knight who serves the king.”
“So they recognized you.”
“Yes.”