Chapter 23 #2
The King abruptly turned and shouted, “Anna, watch your—”
The tip of my boot got caught in something, and I lost my balance. Strong arms wrapped around the layers of my clothing and steadied me.
“Good thing Hayden saved her. We wouldn’t want the princess to faceplant, would we?” Layla’s voice came out as sharp and harsh as the wind and carried over the line of warriors.
My graceful movements reminded me of a sumo wrestler who’d lost his balance, and his massive body wobbled, threatening to topple over. A rush of warmth flooded my cheeks.
Dad only nodded at me and my bodyguard and kept walking. Hayden’s superb skill could be used in more critical situations, helping the kingdom and my dad rather than guarding me against sneaky rocks.
After a while, Dad called for another break.
Breathless, I stood on the path and desperately tried to wake up my toes. A warrior from somewhere behind me trotted through the deep snow toward the King, facing him.
“My King.” He bowed slightly and straightened. “If we were to stop again, we won’t make it back before nightfall.”
The man glanced at me but quickly averted his gaze to the King, strengthening his posture. Werewolves had no problem hunting at night, but the King wanted to return to the cottages before dark. I guessed because of me.
More blood rushed to my head, causing the ringing in my ears to intensify.
Dad gave instructions about how far we would go and that we would not make it to the top.
I’d slowed them down, and now I couldn’t look at the warriors’ disappointed faces.
Turning, I faced Hayden, but my gaze landed on his boots and pants. The wind picked up again and carried Layla’s words to me.
“She’s making us slow. The more we stay in the open and in our human forms, the higher the risk of danger…”
She was right—besides the wild animals on the mountain, the hunters hunted werewolves. Those men were human, but not the hunters who hunted wolves for sport or for protecting their livestock.
Hayden’s boots moved closer to mine, and his fingers touched under my chin, lifting my head. His gaze fell on me, and all I could see was his determination to be in my corner.
It was his duty, but there was something else behind his soft gaze that I didn’t understand.
“Ignore her, sweetheart.” Hayden let go of my face.
On cue, an arrow whistled past us and landed in the snow. I turned to look at Dad, and another arrow barely missed his back.
Dad shouted, “Hunters. Stay low.”
He looked at Hayden, and something passed between them. Hayden glued his side to mine.
Chaos broke out. Some warriors crouched and scanned the area. Our men yelled the location of the archers as others made their way there. Werewolves ran into the forest. Some tore through their clothes, shifting.
A large black wolf stood where a second ago Dad had. His transformation was instant. I’d seen Dad shift on many occasions, and every time, I was in awe of how strong and powerful he looked.
But I knew better—underneath the thick fur of his chest, Dad carried a scar and permanent damage to his flesh.
“I’ll be okay, Dad.”
The wolf gave me one last look with his yellow eyes, glanced at Hayden, and sprinted toward the forest. Even though he was fast, I couldn’t help but worry about how Dad’s wolf limped. His movements looked strained. But Dad was a proud King, and he endured the discomfort of the injury with dignity.
“We need to have our backs against a tree. Otherwise, we’re wide open,” Hayden said and hunched over. I did the same. “Stay low.”
We hurried to the first line of trees. Hayden had a frown on his face while his gaze darted around the area, scanning for threats. His idea of protecting me must have been to wait out the fight while we hid. But I wasn’t going to have any of that.
“How many are there?” I asked in a low voice, and we took cover.
Hayden huddled next to me. “It’s not as many as it seems. They have lots of arrows, but those will end soon. We’ll wait it out here.”
The men who’d sent the silver-tipped arrows our way were from a professional organization that hunted werewolves.
They were our enemy, even though they weren’t as vicious as the vampires and didn’t attack the kingdom on a regular basis.
According to Dad, the hunters usually retaliated when werewolves stepped out of line.
I still couldn’t understand what that meant. I didn’t know of werewolves hurting humans—not like the thirsty vampires who could literally suck the life out of a human. What had the werewolves done that earned them this attack?
My bodyguard’s head turned left and right, scanning our surroundings. Silver-tipped arrows flew everywhere. How many werewolves would be injured—or worse, killed—if we were just waiting?
“We need to find the hunters’ leader,” I said, looking at Hayden.
His frown told me, “No way,” but he asked, “And then what?”
“We’ll talk to him,” I said.
“It’s a very honorable goal, but it doesn’t work with killers, sweetheart. The hunters are our enemy.”
A sharp zip sliced the air as another arrow hissed past and struck the tree bark, barely missing us. I flinched, my heart pounding in my chest.
Dad and his warriors were risking their lives while I was…waiting. Every cell in me revolted, every fiber straining to act, to help. My cursed, slow human pace had led us right into an ambush out in the open, increasing our chances of defeat. Just like Layla had predicted.
“If the hunter leader doesn’t listen, we’ll fight him,” I said, clenching my fists.
My bodyguard wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side.
I started to protest when a loud, agonized shriek echoed nearby.