21. Chapter 21
R en and Talen rode on horseback for nearly an hour.
Ren was mounted on a white gelding whose ears flicked and tail lashed as though he shared her dislike for the errand.
His name was Biscuit, a fitting choice for a horse with an insatiable sweet tooth.
It had taken a handful of sugar cubes to pry him from his cozy stall, but Talen had assured Ren he was one of the best mounts for night rides.Talen’s mount, by contrast, was a chestnut mare with gentle eyes and a steady gait, her demeanor so sweet it almost looked ridiculous beneath the weight of a warrior prince.
When they paused at the edge of a densely thick forest, Ren stroked the gelding’s pale mane in an absent motion.
Her stomach growled, a reminder of how little she’d eaten at Kaelin’s Name Day celebration.
If she had her way, she’d get this over with quickly and be back in her chambers with a bite in hand before sleep.
Ren’s stomach growled again, louder this time. Talen’s head turned at the sound, his eyes flicking toward her with the faintest twitch of a smirk before his expression settled back into something grim.
“It’s time we go on foot,” he announced, pulling on the reins to halt his chestnut. He swung down in one smooth motion, tying the mare to a weathered post half-hidden in the underbrush .
Ren glanced at the forest ahead, then back at Biscuit pawing impatiently at the earth. “Why not stay on horseback? We’d cover more ground and may even find the creature sooner.”
“A horse’s hooves will announce us long before we ever see it.” He glanced toward the dark treeline. “And the terrain’s too thick. Roots, gullies, brambles – they’ll break a leg before they carry us through.”
“So we stumble through instead?”
“On foot, we control the pace. Horses spook easy, and one panicked scream in the dark could cost us both our lives.”
Ren pressed her lips together, conceding with a small nod. Ren dismounted with less grace. She patted Biscuit’s neck once before securing him beside Talen’s mount, the leather creaking as she tightened the knot.
The forest loomed ahead, swallowing the last remnants of the starry sky.
Ren and Talen traveled in silence save for the soft crunch of their boots on leaves.
They followed the curve of the riverside, its dark waters moving sluggishly beside them.
Both of them kept their senses sharp, every creak of a branch and rustle of undergrowth sharpening the tension that threaded between them.
Mist curled between gnarled roots and skeletal branches. Even the wind seemed to cower, the hush too complete, too deliberate.
Ren felt it crawling over her skin, that wrongness.
Beside her, Talen walked with measured steps, his sword loose in his grip, his silver-etched armor catching what little starlight filtered through the clouds. She glanced up to see no moon. Just a sea of darkness above.
“This creature has no name, and I couldn’t find any information in the library on it,” Talen murmured, his eyes scanning the trees. “Villagers say that it calls to you in the voice of the one you’ve lost.”
“You mean it mimics them? ”
Talen shook his head. “It becomes them. In memory, in movement… even scent. It’s a weapon – our own grief turned against us.”
“Do you think my fire may repel it?”
He nodded. “It’s worth a shot. We haven’t had time to figure out its weaknesses. There was only one other in the kingdom who ever wielded fire like yours, and she’s been gone for a century.”
“Great odds.”
“It hunts on moonless nights.”
The shadows beneath the canopy pulsed with a darkness so complete it felt alive, as though the forest itself was waiting to exhale. Ren’s gaze narrowed as her eyes swept through the trees, searching for any sign of movement.
She ducked beneath a gnarled branch, fingers grazing the wet wood. “Tell me, Your Highness, why is the fae prince of House Vaelaran trudging through haunted woods instead of staying behind the palace walls? Shouldn’t your court be panicking that their future king is hunting these things?”
“That’s not how our court works. The king and queen choose their heir at the end of their reign. The crown goes to the one deemed worthy.” He flicked a glance at her. “My sister may very well be the next monarch.”
Ren nearly tripped. The image of Kaelin seated on a throne slithered into her mind like a very bad omen.
Ren asked quietly, “And how do you feel about the crown?”
He didn’t answer right away. Finally, he said, “I haven’t had the luxury of thinking about it. But if it’s what the realm needs, then so be it.”
“You really don’t care if it’s you?”
“I care about the realm,” he said, each word deliberate. There was no bravado in his voice, no arrogance. Just a quiet conviction that struck deeper than any polished speech.
Ren had never hunted a creature like this.
This was far different from fighting in the pits.
There, the roar of the crowd filled her ears, the scent of blood and sweat heavy in the air.
She could feel the weight of every eye upon her, the press of bodies screaming her name or cursing it.
The chaos had been more of a distraction from her own racing heartbeat from the adrenaline .
But here, there was no audience – no jeering or applause, no opponents she could read like a book. Just the eerie stillness and the knowledge that something ancient and hungry was waiting beyond the trees.
And no roaring crowds to hide her racing heartbeat hammering within her chest. It was so loud, she wondered if Talen’s heightened sense of hearing could hear it.
They passed a circle of scorched bark, trees that had blackened from the inside out. Signs that the thing had fed here before.
And then—
A sound.
Ren’s name, spoken in a soft and familiar voice.
Her blood turned to ice.
She knew that voice. She would have known it in a crowd of thousands, even after all these years.
Her older sister, Eve.