Chapter Seventeen
Calista
I quickened my pace, the threat of the newly released hunters lengthening each of my strides. Neither of us spoke for what seemed like a lifetime as we traversed the frigid cliff side. It was as if my guard too could feel the looming threat edging ever closer.
I prided myself on my training, on the willingness of my body to perform as it needed to, but this… this was more than I’d prepared for. My muscles burned, my breaths scorching my frosted lungs. And tonight was only the first of five. We would have to endure four more just like this.
Where would we sleep? And more importantly, would I be safe if I did? If a hunter caught me, I would be hauled to another Court, property of yet another male. If I was lucky. There were no rules that said I couldn’t die first.
Goddess, perhaps I hadn’t quite thought this through.
A whisper of oars hissed past my spiraling thoughts. Then came the faint rattle of hooks. A skiff slid along the coast to our right, black hulls, no lanterns, and no sound except the sea.
“Nightreef,” the Black Wolf hissed through clenched teeth. “Keep to the shadows.”
“Hunters?”
Before he could respond, a grapnel sang past my shoulder. Its prongs bit the rocks along the cliffside and the rope went tight. I darted for the cord, but my Wolvryn guardian was faster. One hard twist and he sent the hook and rope snapping back onto the skiff like the sea had changed its mind.
A sharp curse sped across the wind. Another projectile arced from the boat and burst at my feet. What in the moons? Black tar splashed up my cloak, hot and sharp with reef stink.
Disgusting.
“Reef-tar,” my guard shouted. “It’s a marker. Other hunters will be able to track the scent.”
Yanking a dagger free, I slashed at the fouled hem as we darted between the shadows. I managed to save the rest of my cloak, but the smell still clung to my nostrils.
“Keep moving,” the Black Wolf whispered over my shoulder, hand at the small of my back.
A second hook clanged beside my heel and held to the ground. Another tar bomb exploded, sending the black ichor splattering everywhere.
“Watch out!” he shouted, darting in front of me.
My guard took the brunt of the hit from the foul-smelling pitch this time. Muttering a curse, he stepped into the rope and crushed the knot under his boot. The line went slack in an instant. The skiff slid backward, no longer tethered to the earth.
I willed my heart back down into my ribcage.
“You can’t run forever, bride,” a voice echoed through the mists. “Nightreef is coming for you.”
A chill skated up my spine.
“Move,” he repeated, his hand pressing harder against my back. “We’ll have to veer inland if those bastards continue hunting along the Silverveil Sea.”
“But you said that would take longer.”
“It will, but we can’t risk another tar bath. Every hunter within miles will be drawn to that smell.”
I groaned. So much for not having a Wolvryn scent to follow.
Just ahead the path split, one curling around the coastline and the other turning west, inland. Pausing at the fork, I cocked my head at my guard. “You swear you’re not leading me to my doom?”
His eyes found mine, honest, and steadfast. “On my honor. I am here for one purpose alone. To keep you breathing.”
I searched his gaze for another long minute. “Moons take me. Inland it is.”
As the hours dragged on, the jagged line of the rocky shore turned to brush and then to flat, gray ground that looked harmless enough. A little light danced ahead, low and blue-green, like a lantern carried by a child.
That’s odd. “What is that?” I squinted, peering into the darkness. “It looks like someone made a fire.” Not a smart move.
“No one walks that straight in this wind.” The Black Wolf’s light eyes pierced through the slits in the mask. Then he pointed at the steady flame. “It should flicker, but it doesn’t. That must be fox light. It’s Gloomheath’s witch-fire.”
Fox light? I didn’t know much about the Gloomheath Court, other than the tales I’d heard.
They were dusk wardens of the moors who were known to dabble in spell craft.
According to legend, a Spellbinder from Mysthallia had shipwrecked on the Lunaris shore decades ago and Gloomheath had kept the female as an invaluable pet.
Closing my eyes, I strained to listen. The frogs to our right sounded wrong, deep and muffled, like they were under boards. There was a bog ahead, not solid ground.
“To the left,” I snapped and caught the Black Wolf’s wrist before he moved toward the glow. “It’s a trap.”
Leaves rustled just behind us, raising the hair at my nape. I reached for the crescent at my back. Before I’d fully drawn it, a blur darted by us.
“Is that the Ashfen female, Pyra?” I peered into the darkness.
“Looks like it.” My guard’s arm pressed across my stomach holding me back. “Wait…”
She took two steps onto the earth ahead before she dropped thigh-deep into a black pool. Gods, the land had looked solid a breath before. She yelped and scrambled back, stumbling.
The fake light winked out, blanketing the clearing in darkness once more. Pyra disappeared into the black and the fox light lure along with it.
I held my breath for a second, hand tight on my crescent in case she doubled back. But she never did.
“Well done,” he murmured.
I almost smiled at my guard.
Then, I turned us toward the path on the left instead. After a few minutes, we finally found the first river we’d seen on the map. It slid through the brush toward the sea.
The Black Wolf paused at the edge. “The current looks quick but honest at least.” He offered a gloved hand.
Ignoring it, I toed the icy water with my boot and led the way.
I crossed where encroaching branches hung low and the water slowed.
It was a sluggish trek but at least we’d played it safe.
Once we reached the other side, we climbed to a ledge that looked back over the cove.
From there we could see the next river mouth and the one after that. It was better than walking blind.
Maybe my escort had been right after all.
Over my shoulder more dark forms raced across the jagged terrain.
The Black Wolf studied the coast along the Silverveil Sea with eyes narrowed. “It looks like the hunters are splitting up.”
Squinting into the darkness I tried to follow his line of sight. I could barely see past my nose. “How do you know?”
“Boot marks below.” A beat, then an intake of air. “And their scent.”
“Then we don’t let them bait me into a trap. We keep moving and remain in the shadows.”
He nodded and revealed a leather pouch from beneath his fur cloak. “You should eat now. You might not have time to later.”
We moved closer to the ledge before I dropped to my knees while my guard fished through his pack. My stomach rumbled as he revealed a chunk of hard bread and salted cod.
“And when do we sleep?” I asked.
A sound that could have been a laugh vibrated behind the mask. “There won’t be much sleep during the hunt.”
“I know that. The question is when to take our small allotment, night or day?”
“We’ll rest at dawn. Once we reach the Stormhallow rise. Tomorrow night, we’ll see.”
“Fine.” I chewed hard bread and fish while my eyes traced the path we would take. River. Ridge. Field. Then finally, a slow climb to the first Stormhallow rise before dawn. I could do it. If we hit that high ground, we would see the day before it saw us.
The Black Wolf unlatched his helm without a word and lifted it free.
I blinked, my jaw nearly unhinging. My guard wasn’t the faceless shadow I’d expected to eat behind iron for the remainder of the Hunt.
He was… I swallowed thickly. Icy blue eyes peered at me, a strong, rough-cut jaw dusted with stubble, a straight nose with a small break to it, and a pale nick through one eyebrow.
Wind-tossed black hair, shorter at the sides, curled at his nape.
He was terribly handsome in a hard, useful way, like a blade that had seen work and kept its edge.
My surprise must have shown because his mouth tipped, brief and unreadable, before he reached for our shared rations.
“Just like that?” I blurted.
He eyed me over a mouthful of bread. “What do you mean by that?”
“I spent more than two days with your king and never once did I see the face behind the mask.”
“And that upsets you?” A spark of amusement lit up the sapphire of his orbs.
“No,” I snapped. “I just didn’t expect—”
“To see my face?”
Diverting my gaze, I shoved another piece of bread into my mouth. “Correct.”
“Most of the king’s guards wear the Wolvryn mask per custom, but it is not law, little wolf.”
Little wolf? My eyes shot up to meet his, and heat flushed my cheeks at the brazen look in that piercing gaze. I was under the impression my guard was to remain silent at my side. This male was apparently far from quiet.
The wind shifted a finger’s width and brought the scent of metal with it.
The Black Wolf’s nostrils flared. “It’s Ironcliff,” he snarled, slipping the helm back over his head. “Their hunter is coming.”