Chapter 44
The wind whipped my hair as I galloped through the forest. The brisk air came as a relief to my flushed face and cooled the sweat on the back of my neck.
The beat of my heart moved in tandem with the pounding of hooves against the underbrush. And my nerves, which had come and gone in waves, made themselves at home in my stomach and chest.
The stable boys hadn’t asked questions when I’d arrived in a frenzy and demanded Hazel be promptly saddled. If they thought it was strange that I was still dressed in my wedding finery, they didn’t say.
I was thankful for the riding lessons Tarben had given me.
While I was by no means an expert, at least I knew enough to mount her, set her in motion, and steer her towards the forest. I began with an easy trot but, painfully aware that it wasn’t long before sunset, I wasted no time in urging her into a gallop.
Despite my being a novice, Hazel was expert enough for the both of us. She confidently navigated the muddy surfaces, rocky paths and uneven terrain of the forest floor. Sensing my urgency, she maneuvered around trees, low branches and dense bushes at lightning speed.
I kept my eyes trained on the path in front of me, but, every now and then, I loosened my grip on the reins to make sure the grimoire was safely tucked into the pocket of my cloak. I was terrified of losing it, given it was possibly the only way to save Amalie.
Please let her be alive. Please let her be alive. Please let her be alive. The thought replayed in my head as I inched deeper and deeper into the forest. The chant was occasionally broken by another, more terrifying thought. What if I’m already too late?
I rarely did anything that didn’t benefit me in some way, and yet here I was, charging into the danger for a child I’d known for three weeks.
This was quite possibly the most reckless thing I’d ever done.
Certainly the stupidest. But I cared about Amalie.
Exactly when and how it had happened, I didn’t know.
I only knew that if anything happened to that little girl because of me, I would feel shame and regret for the rest of my near-eternal life.
So, for the first time, possibly ever, I would choose someone other than myself.
Just like with the shipwreck, I didn’t allow myself to crumble under the fear that had gripped hold of my entire being.
Instead, I pushed Hazel to move faster, propelled by the belief that I would get there in time to save Amalie.
And, once she was safe, I would figure out how to save myself—I had no intention of dying tonight.
The last of the sunlight filtered through the canopy, and soon the forest became so dark that I had no way of knowing what time it was.
For a long time, the only sound to be heard was the rhythmic clopping of hooves on the ground, broken by the occasional splash through a puddle or a rustle in the bushes.
And the sound of my own heart slamming against my ribs.
The dread knotting my insides was nearly debilitating by the time I reached the dense wood near the cottage. Just like the day of the hunt, everything went eerily still. As if this part of the woods was dead.
I spotted the clusters of mushrooms and mold growing on patches on the ground. The stifled air smelled like damp earth and pine.
I was close.
I dismounted and tethered Hazel to the trunk of a pine tree, forming a hasty knot and hoping it would hold.
I had to keep moving, had to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Despite every impulse in my body telling me to run in the other direction, I headed towards the cottage.
I ran like I had the last time I was in this forest, except, this time, I was running towards the monster. With each step I took I felt as though my heart was pounding harder. I inhaled deeply through my nose and exhaled through my mouth to try to calm its racing drum.
I didn’t stop until I reached the mound of roots and moss and muddy soil. Panting for breath, I crouched behind the pine tree at its summit and peered down to the clearing where the ramshackle cottage lay. As twilight descended, a deep shadow cloaked its crumbling exterior.
From my vantage point, I could see the ancient, dented cauldron hanging above a lit fire, smoke billowing towards the dusky sky. Lying next to the fire pit, on a knitted blanket I recognized from Basia’s bed, was Amalie.
I didn’t think. My legs propelled me forward of their own accord as I dashed towards her body.
She lay on her back with her eyes closed, a serene expression on her face. But what scared me the most was that she was utterly still. It reminded me of how I had found her in the ocean that night.
I could have wept with relief when I spotted the subtle rise and fall of her chest.
“Amalie,” I called in a gentle voice. I said her name a few times more, and when that didn’t work, I tried shaking her. “Amalie, you have to wake up. We need to go,” I said, shaking her more violently. Still, she could not be woken.
With a pit in my stomach, I shook her again, more furiously. It didn’t matter. She did not stir.
It looked like I would have to carry her until we reached Hazel. It would be difficult, and I’d have to take plenty of breaks, but I could do it. I would worry about waking her later—for now I just had to get her out of here.
I bent over to lift her when—
“You won’t be able to wake her, you know.”
I froze at the sound of the voice coming from the cottage behind me. I recognized that voice. Turning, my gaze locked on a familiar pair of sparkling eyes.