Chapter Forty-Four Blodwyn #2
“Almost ready. I just have to—” Gavin stops short. And any hope that I misunderstood the situation dies at the way the color drains from his face. “Blodwyn. I can explain.”
A sour taste cuts between my teeth. How could I have been such a fool?
“Explain what?” I ask, brandishing the parchment. “That you were kidnapping me on your father’s orders? That I was about to be your hostage?”
“No,” he says. “I mean…I had to make it look like that, but…”
“You had to,” I echo. “Because it seems to me that you could have chosen otherwise.”
“It was the only way I could think to get you out of here safely,” he says, flustered. “But I was never going to go through with the rest of my father’s plans.”
“And what were those?” I retort. “To leave me locked in some tower room until your coronation? Or is there an accident waiting for me out in the woods?”
“Of course not! I wouldn’t let that happen.”
“And I’m just supposed to believe you?” I ask. “After all this?”
Anger throbs in my chest and I’m not sure who I hate more in this moment: Gavin or myself. And to think I was actually beginning to believe he was different. That I might have been wrong about him—about love itself. But he was using me.
And I am alone here, just as I’ve always been.
“Blodwyn,” Gavin tries, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
He reaches out, but I do not want him near me. Do not want anything to do with him, ever again. Rage roils in my veins, stronger than I’ve ever felt it.
“Don’t touch me!”
A sound like thunder cracks between us. Wood explodes as the stall door crashes inward. I duck and throw my hands over my head. The horse whinnies and gallops off. When I look up, Gavin is lying on the opposite side of the stall, motionless. And standing in the splintered doorway is…
Barnabas.
He must have broken the door down. But why? For me? His amber eyes shine and he dips his head, as if to confirm my suspicions.
A chorus of shouting jolts me out of my trance. The guards, no doubt. Fear pounds in my veins. If they find me, they’ll lock me away, just like Princess Matilda.
Move, my mind orders. Now!
But the horse is gone and—
Barnabas chuffs. A mad, wild idea unfurls in my mind.
“Can you help?” I ask.
He snorts and impatiently thumps his front hoof, as though he’d been waiting for me to land on that idea. Still, I hesitate. Barnabas isn’t trained for riding. He doesn’t even have a saddle. But what else am I going to do? The shouting is getting louder.
“All right,” I say, my nerves humming.
The stag lowers himself, permitting me to climb onto his back. The first of the guards rounds the corner.
“Here!” he shouts. “She’s here!”
The stag needs no further encouragement.
I hold on as tightly as possible as he lets out a keen, then tears out of the pen and charges down the aisles, knocking guards aside with his antlers as though they’re no more than sacks of flour.
The courtyard blurs around me as we barrel through the press of bodies and the guards at the gates, then plunge into the forest.
—
A storm breaks almost as soon as we crash through the trees.
Thunder cracks overhead, so loud that it rattles my teeth.
Even with my thick cloak, the cold rain eats through my clothes, drenching me to the bone.
The frigid wind lashes like a whip, yanking my hair free from its braid and lashing it in wet tendrils around my face.
Branches slap at my skin. In the flashes of lightning, they look like gnarled hands, grabbing for me.
Beneath the howl of the storm, I swear that I can hear something else. A low, rasping voice.
Blodwyn, it calls. Pay the price.
Panic beats against my eardrums and I urge Barnabas faster. He leaps over fallen logs and plows through thickets. I keep checking back over my shoulder, certain that the guards have followed, but I can’t see anything through the sheets of rain. Until—
Barnabas rears, tossing me backward. I land hard in a tangle of bramble and something warm trickles down my forehead.
But my injuries are the least of my worries.
A short distance away, a figure begins to materialize from the darkness.
At first, I believe it’s a person, but it can’t be.
It doesn’t have a face, save for its eyes, which glow red with malice.
The same eyes I’d glimpsed in Ayleth’s rooms.
Another roar splits the forest as Barnabas charges the creature.
My muscles finally heed my screaming instincts. I sprint through the forest, driven by the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Lightning flares again and I spot a tree in the distance, one with branches low enough that I might be able to scale it.
Without breaking my stride, I hitch my skirts around my waist and lunge for the tree, grappling with the slick bark.
My hands slip, but I manage to haul myself up into the middle branches.
But my next step lands on a rotten spot.
It gives way with a hollow crunch, throwing me off-balance.
I lose my grip and topple backward, flailing for purchase.
There’s nothing. Only the whistle of the air and the pounding of the rain as I fall.
Only the creature waiting below, its nightmarish eyes gleaming in the night.
I hardly feel the crack as the earth meets my bones.
And then the forest is swallowed by darkness.