Chapter 36
Alora
Light swallowed her.
Blinding, golden, and endless as it took her away. Until Alora stumbled from the tree’s hollow into an unfamiliar forest, her boots scraping stone before giving way to moss. Her knees buckled. Caelum caught her before she fell, but her breath still left her in a violent rush.
The traces of her song faded.
And with it… him.
An impression of Rune still clung to the wind. Alora pressed a hand to her chest, as if to keep something from breaking loose inside her. The wind was cool here, tinged with earth and pine. Birdsong filtered through the trees. And yet she felt… unbalanced.
As if some vital thread had been cut.
Caelum shifted beside her. “We made it.”
She nodded but didn’t speak. Couldn’t. She trembled, not fully understanding what had happened. The air shimmered around her, remnants of the spell she had somehow sung into existence.
They had emerged into the dawn, miles away from Karag D?r. The mountain sprawled behind her bathed in the sunrise. The wind caressed her face, cool and gentle. It smelled of fresh rainfall, of pine and soil and freedom.
But she could still feel Rune. Like the ghost of his hand on her waist. The touch of his breath at her nape.
The ring pulsated on her finger. And she swore she heard Rune’s roar beyond the mountain.
“Get rid of it,” Caelum instructed her. “He is tracking you through it.”
Before Alora could respond, he slid off the ring from her finger and tossed it away.
Her hand darted out to catch it on instinct, but the ring slipped through her fingers and vanished into a thorny bush. Something inside her oddly severed. But Alora forced herself to turn away. She had to leave it behind too.
Caelum took her hand before she could argue. “Come quickly! He’ll follow us if we linger.” They ran toward an open hill bathed in the dawn. “I had hoped the portal would have taken us further.”
“Portal?” She blinked, her chest heaving. “Is that what happened to the tree? How … how did I do that?”
She had sung on instinct, because her magic demanded it.
“You are a very special fae,” Caelum said, his eyes gleaming like she had never seen before.
He brushed the loose curls from her face, stroking her cheek.
“Powerful enough to tap into the Elder veins of pure magic that run through the earth. What you created…I have never seen such magic before. To turn a tree into a portal, it’s a wonder, Alora. I must see you do that again sometime.”
She moved away from his touch, the unusual familiarity leaving her comfortable.
Caelum glanced around once they reached the hill, his mouth quirking into a frown. “Ah, I think we have arrived on the other side of the mountain, miles away from the horses I left waiting.” His gaze flickered to her. “Unless…”
Alora’s heart pounded on a high, letting instinct take over rather than thought. And then without thinking, without planning, she reached for the wildflowers growing between the trees.
Her fingertips brushed the petals as she hummed and golden magic bloomed.
Vines coiled together, shapes took form: legs, hooves, a mane of blossoms and twisting green.
Two horses stepped free from the ground, whinnying softly, with bodies made of tree roots, mane of moss and clover, dotted with white flowers.
Alora stared at it, heart racing. The sight thrilled her … and frightened her.
Blessed Seven, how far did this magic go?
Caelum grinned. “Come, clever one. If we leave now, we may arrive at Gloam’s Watch by tomorrow evening.” He helped her mount the clover horse, then mounted on his own.
They rode west, quickly cutting across a vast open meadow. All shadows had been banished and scattered. Her hands shook as she gripped the reins made of vines. Now she was headed for a land where Rune could never touch her.
But she knew in her heart, it was not where she was meant to be.
“Caelum…” Alora called. He rode beside her, the sun gleaming in his brown hair, but his smile wavered when he met her gaze. “I can’t go with you to the United Crown …at least, not yet.”
He searched her eyes for a moment. “You need answers first.”
“I will find them in the Midlands.”
He nodded. “Then I’m coming with you.”
Alora smiled now, relieved he didn’t argue with her and that she had a friend to accompany her on this next chapter of her life. Because she knew, what Lady Zinnia would reveal would change everything.
She prodded the horse with her heels, and their mounts rode faster down the hill. Away from the mountain.
And away from Rune.
At the thought of him, his voice surfaced in her mind like smoke.
Fly as far away as you want, little bird. There is no place in this world where you can hide from me.
She shuddered, her heart racing. The Midlands was the one place that would keep him out. But she had until nightfall to reach it.
They reached the western foothills of Karag D?r in the late afternoon, now weathered and wild, cloaked in fog and jagged pine.
The road ended as they descended into unfamiliar terrain of jagged stones and dry grasslands.
Alora kept her hood drawn low, the wind too sharp with autumn’s chill.
Caelum rode ahead, scanning the horizon, his sword always within reach.
“We went too far west,” he said under his breath. “This is not territory of Argyle or the Midlands.”
Alora tensed, realizing what that meant. A sound rose on the wind. Low. Deep. Inhuman.
They dismounted and she released her hold on the enchanted horses. They dissolved into a wilted pile of clover at their feet.
Caelum drew his blade. “Stay behind me,” he murmured.
From the mist ahead, shadows moved. Shapes emerged from the fog-veiled trees.
Towering horned figures. Alora’s heart dropped.
But instead of demons, a dozen Minotaurs surrounded them.
Thick-limbed and hulking, eyes reflecting like yellow amber.
Clad in scavenged armor, wielding axes made of crude iron.
The largest of them stepped forward before her, his frame half the width of the door and twice its height. Polished horns curved back from his head, his black fur-streaked silver. He wore a leather jerkin, threaded with gold in a pattern that resembled winding vines.
Lord Zuma.
He looked down at them, nostrils flaring. A low, gravelly growl rumbled from his chest.
“Humans,” the Minotaur said, voice deep as the earth itself. “Trespassing into the Forgotten Ridge.”
Caelum stepped in front of her, sword drawn. She braced for the worst. For vengeance, for fury, for bloodshed. “Pardon us. My wife and I did not mean to trespass upon your lands.”
Alora stiffened at the claim. Well, she supposed it would be wise to hide their identities.
“We mean no harm to you or your kin—”
“You claim no harm but raise your sword against me.” Zuma said, his voice rumbling deep. “Humans, fickle in their words as they are in their actions.” He turned away. “Come. And I would advise you not to resist. It wouldn’t take much to cut you down.”
The Minotaurs crowded Caelum, quickly disarming him and another plucked Alora from her mount. Caelum motioned at her not to struggle, silently communicating not to reveal herself. Their hands were quickly bound and made to follow Lord Zuma and his warriors across the grasslands.
They soon arrived at a stone camp built into the side of the cliffs. It was primitive but fortified. The Minotaurs were not mindless beasts, and their numbers were much more than she imagined.
Zuma motioned to have them placed by a fire where others handed them food and waterskins to drink.
Alora, not expecting the kindness, was grateful for a drink of crisp water. A soothing relief for her dry throat. She watched as the males stopped by huts, checking in on their mates and embracing their children.
Lord Zuma paused to watch this as well, a forlorn look on his face.
“What do you mean to do with us?” Caelum asked him.
“I have not yet decided.”
“Pardon us for trespassing. We could pay for passage through your territory—”
“I will take no coin from you,” the Minotaur growled.
“You humans are deceitful creatures. Greedy and violent. Is it not enough that we are driven to make a home on barren land? Constantly roaming to scavenge what we can? Men have given their word to us before, promises of peace and a home, and those promises went unkept.”
Alora’s pulse beat like a drum in her throat.
He was not wrong.
Argyle had always spoken of honor, of banners and treaties and noble blood. Yet she had seen how quickly kingdoms forgot those who were inconvenient.
If she meant to be more than a pawn in silk, to be a queen worthy of the people she claimed… then she couldn’t hide behind a cloak while others bore the cost of her name.
Alora stood and the Minotaurs stilled as she let her hood drop.
“Then how about my word, Lord Zuma?” she said.
He breathed her name as if tasting it for the first time.
“Princess Alora… I thought you dead. We heard of the failed siege and Calveron’s incursion.
I am sorry for your father’s loos.” His voice roughened with regret.
“Perhaps if we had been invited to join your numbers, Argyle might not have fallen.”
There was a subtle resentment to his words.
“There had been no time,” she said, because to say more would be to paint excuses.
Zuma’s chest heaved with his deep breaths. “I came to the city when word reached us of your impending marriage to Prince Eldrik,” he said slowly, measuring her like a tide. “Then we learned the Shadow claimed you at the altar.”
“I will be claimed by none I have not chosen,” Alora said, voice firm.
His expression tightened. “I thought as much, so I assumed you had surely perished in the hollow mountain. For death would have been the only reason you would abandon your people when they needed you most.”
The accusation landed like a barb.