CHAPTER SEVEN
STERLING
That rutting bastard. Sterling had almost done more than call the Prince of Carnage that before fleeing from her cottage.
The wind thrashed through Sterling’s hair as she bolted into the forest, her lungs tightening to the cusp of bursting.
She was left with only two decent choices.
One being to travel straight to the market and collect her brother before abandoning the town.
The second was to distance herself. It would take her longer to get to Cyan this way but wouldn’t lead the prince straight to him.
It also gave her the possibility that she wouldn’t be found.
Her heart pounded as she thought about Winter’s vile hands around Cyan’s tiny neck, tightening, then snapping it as though he were nothing. Just another lowly human to him.
No. Sterling skirted around various tree trunks, leapt over bright green foliage until the scent she’d been waiting for washed over her.
Up ahead, the apple orchard blossomed, the sweet and slightly tart smell filling the air.
Along with the mud near the lake, it was the one thing she knew that could mask her smell.
The prince could easily sniff her out, but with any luck, this would conceal Sterling long enough for her to circle back to the market.
A freshly painted red and brown barn sat beside a beautiful cottage, calling for her to go there first. She tore open the door of the wooden structure, and two of the horses startled and snorted.
Sterling ignored the smell of manure and scanned the walls for a pitchfork or anything that could be used as a weapon.
Just past the hay, nestled in the corner beside a line of tools, were two bows and a quiver holding arrows.
Even better. She didn’t hesitate to snatch a bow and the quiver up, then hurried toward the lake while surveying her surroundings.
No one was outside of the cottage, and she prayed to the gods that they weren’t peeking out through the slits in the curtains either so they couldn’t alert the prince of her location when he came. Because he would certainly be there soon.
Red, green, and yellow fruit dotted the trees, and she plucked one, biting into it to release the apple’s fragrance.
It only took her a few more moments to reach the lake, its shimmery surface reflecting the sun.
She slathered mud at the water’s edge across her body and crouched behind a nearby tree, keeping her breath slow and steady as she drew back an arrow on the bowstring.
Sterling waited and waited and waited. Her legs and arms ached from remaining in the same statuesque position.
Not a single wolf came. Winter should’ve at least entered the apple orchard by now, even if he couldn’t find her after that. Fear struck her then, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
What if the prince wasn’t coming after her at all—what if he’d gone to find her brother first?
Fuck.
Slowly, Sterling stood from her crouched position as she lowered the bow to her side. She knew she’d made a grave mistake, but maybe luck was with her, that he somehow didn’t know where she worked, only where she lived. Please.
Heart lodged in her throat, Sterling darted back through the orchard and toward the market center.
Perhaps she was wrong, and Winter had simply stayed in her home, waiting for her or Cyan to return.
The bastard had to be toying with her in return for what she’d done to his pack.
Even though Winter was the reason she loathed wolves, she should’ve let vengeance go.
She and Cyan had a good life now, one she’d worked hard for, and her vendetta could cost them everything.
Nareth had been a bodyguard at the brothel, though his job was mostly tossing out drunkards. There was no way he could take down a shifter. Not with their strength.
If she got to her brother in time, they would flee with nothing but the clothing on their backs.
They would have less than before, but at least now she knew how to hunt while Cyan could grow herbs and vegetables.
Together they would find solace in one of the other eleven courts and make a new life for themselves.
As perspiration slicked the back of Sterling’s neck and face, she peered up toward the cloudless sky. Please, Grandmother. Please, Mama. Give me strength. Get me to Cyan.
An eerie quiet washed over her as she reached the market, not a single customer wandering the street, not a single worker outside their stores.
Something wasn’t right.
Sterling threw open the door to her shop, and the usual scent of blood permeated the air.
But this time it wasn’t only from the meat in the back.
Nareth sat slumped on the floor, his wrists bound behind him around a pole, his head hanging downward.
Blood smeared his shirt, and she couldn’t tell if he was dead.
“Nareth!” Sterling shrieked and hurried toward him, her heart galloping.
A gurgled sound left Nareth’s mouth as he lifted his head to peer at her. A few bloody gashes marred his cheek and nose, the rest puffy and red from where he’d been beaten.
Thank the gods! He’s alive. Sterling sprinted to the back of the shop, glass crunching beneath her boots. “Cyan!” she shouted. “Cyan!” But her brother was nowhere to be found.
Sterling grabbed a knife and rushed back to Nareth. “Where’s Cyan?” she asked while cutting through the ropes.
Nareth caught himself on the floor by his bloody knuckles.
“You have to go,” he said through ragged breaths, his eyelids fluttering.
“The prince knows who you are. I lied for you … he took Cyan anyway. He wanted me to tell you to go to his manor before sunset tomorrow, but you can’t. It’s a trap, Sterling.”
The bow fell from Sterling’s fingertips as she slumped back against the wall, the only thing holding her up in that moment. Prince Winter had her brother. Cyan could already be dead, and it was just an elaborate plan to get her there to see his torn body lying in the corner of a cell...
She would never turn her back on him though, and she had to believe he was alive. “I have to get my brother back.”
Nareth clenched his jaw as he pushed up and placed his hands on the counter. “He’ll kill you both.”
Then they would die together. Swallowing deeply, she went to the back room and opened a small safe. She fished out a sack of coins and set it on the counter beside Nareth. “It’s only a week’s worth of money, but take it. Get out of here.”
Nareth’s face paled and he grasped Sterling’s shoulders. “I can’t.”
“If you’ve ever cared for me at all, you will leave!” Sterling spat, shrugging out from his grasp. “Do you understand?” Nareth couldn’t stay here—the prince would want him dead after he delivered the message.
Nareth nodded and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. “You did always do what you wanted.”
“And now I’m paying the price.” She drew back from him and peered up at his battered face. “Who struck first?”
“If you count throwing salt in the prince’s face, then it was me.”
Sterling scowled. “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you for that, but thank you for trying.”
As he shoved the coin bag into his pocket, he scanned her over, his gaze lingering on her muddy arms. “You’re filthy.”
“Don’t ask. My plan was foolish.”
Sterling scooped up her bow and followed Nareth outside, watching his back to make certain no enemies slinked out.
Between two of the shops, a gray-furred wolf craned its neck, then launched itself toward Nareth. She nocked an arrow, piercing the shifter straight through the eye, then another in the neck. The wolf fell to the ground, and she yelled to her friend, “Run!”
Nareth took off as the wolf’s body elongated, the fur revealing dark flesh, blood skating down his face and neck. The shifter stilled, unmoving. One who worked for the royals—Bael. Good.
As she surveyed the area, the roofs, there didn’t seem to be another lurking about, unless they were deep in the shadows.
Sterling believed Nareth could abandon the court before the wolves found him again, even if she went straight to the prince now. She had until sunset tomorrow to go to him, but she wouldn’t wait until the last second.
Taking a breath, she left the market and took the winding path toward the forest that led to the prince’s manor.
Dread pumped through her veins—the only thing worse than finding Cyan already dead would be if Winter slaughtered him right in front of her, the way he had let his wolves do to her grandmother.
Sterling tightened her grip on the bow and clenched her jaw to keep from crying. She wouldn’t let the Prince of Carnage have her tears.
As she hit the forest, she slowed her pace. Most dared not enter this particular part, not even her. It usually ended in bloodshed—pleasure for the wolves and pain for the humans.
Soon, the tops of the trees blocked out most of the light, making it seem as though the day was already dying. A few birds cawed and chirped, but nothing rustled. The hair along her arms and the back of her neck stood on end, and she felt as if a thousand eyes watched her.
In the distance, the deep green and brown manor came into view, the hues matching the forest.
“I’m not going to fight!” Sterling called, lifting her chin and dropping her bow on the dirt beside her. “Take me to your prince.”
One man—shifter—slipped out from a tree, four wolves prowling behind him.
The man carried a long silver chain in his hands, a devious smile on his face.
He was maybe ten years older than Winter, his hair trimmed short and a deep auburn.
It was him. Micah. The only other wolf, besides Winter, that she’d yearned to tear apart.
She bit the inside of her cheek, holding herself back from retrieving the bow from the grass.
Sterling wrinkled her nose. “You could’ve at least found some trousers.” She didn’t want to mention her brother just yet, to let the fear currently gripping her show.