Chapter 25 Draiders #2
Without another word, I sprint up the path in the direction we were traveling before the ambush.
Knowing how fast the veilmane move, this may prove pointless.
Perhaps it was more an excuse to get away and compose myself.
Turns out, I don’t need Brynn’s shirt—not for the amount of Jasmeen’s blood already on my hands.
An unbidden tear escapes, smarting the raw skin of my cheek.
I continue on the path for some time, working to steady my breathing and quiet the swelling dread.
Every second that ticks by with no sign of the veilmane undoes another tether on my resolution.
Something dark catches my eye ahead—a shadow right off the trail along the more spaced-out blackwood trunks. I slow down, inching along the path’s edge in case I need to take quick cover. But thankfully, it’s our Shadow and not the shadow that accosted us in the woods.
Then… where is Moon?
“Shadow,” I breathe, even though I know it’s impossible to sneak up on the blind veilmane. Shadow does not flinch. They lift their head at my approach. I pat their snout before leading them back to the trail by the reins. “Please stay put.”
It’s unclear if Shadow understands me, but their tail again swishes back and forth. I take this as a sign that all is well. For now.
I make my way into the trees on the same side that I found Shadow, hoping Moon did not stray far from their counterpart.
Every sound, even those that my own boots make as I snap a twig or rustle a crunchy leaf, has me twitching.
Whatever attacked us is still out here. This is mighty brave of me.
The farther I go, the more my returning anxiety threatens to smother me.
I wave Brynn’s tunic above my head, slightly manic, wafting Jasmeen’s scent into the too thick air when—
“Thea—”
I crouch at once, scanning the forest before me for a source.
“Princess Thea, sole heir of Gale Kingdom, daughter of King Tobias and Queen Perda—”
My entire body tenses. There’s no one around. Not a soul. The voice is nothing but a disembodied whisper that tickles my ear, like a lover’s caress.
“I see you. I see you. I see you.”
My heart stops beating. Fear paralyzes me.
“I know you.”
A warm, fuzzy snout slides into the limp hand at my side, shocking me back into reality.
“Moon,” I gasp, turning to find Moon’s milky white eyes inches from my own.
Again, they see nothing but somehow everything.
Their tail swishes rhythmically, much like Shadow’s.
I pat Moon’s side, noting their relaxed muscles, and hold my hands to them as though their warmth will help calm my erratic pulse.
I need to get the fuck out of this forest. Now.
Using a low hanging branch for assistance, I hoist myself back into Moon’s saddle.
My hands shake uncontrollably as I grab the reins and spur the veilmane back toward the main trail.
We find Shadow in the same spot I left them.
Moon pulls close enough beside Shadow so that I can tug both reins.
They don’t require much guidance. We glide in the direction of our companions.
The closer I get, the clearer it becomes that Brynn should have accompanied me. Glo’s enraged shouts cut through the stillness. The unflappable veilmanes’ ears pin back at the sound. We move a little faster. I do not know what I expected to find, but it is not this.
Glo is on fire.
Literal balls of flame encase her fists.
She takes a swipe at Brynn. He blocks it—barely.
Sweat, mud, and Jasmeen’s mortal blood glisten on his bare chest. Who knows how long they’ve been brawling like this.
Jasmeen still lies unconscious on the ground, but her chest moves with steady breaths.
Her skin is not any paler than it was when I left, at least.
I all but dive from Moon’s saddle for the second time today.
I push off the ground with a wince but move swiftly, planting myself between Glo and Brynn.
Brynn’s gaze flits to me, and he exhales in relief—though I’m uncertain if that’s relief that I’m alive and have returned, or relief that I’m here to somehow restore harmony.
Glo, however, doesn’t seem to see me at all.
Tears stream down her cheeks. No, steam down her cheeks.
The gold faerie blood speckling her chest and face glimmers in the firelight from her glowing hands.
She looks like a terrifying work of splattered art.
I approach her like a madman would a wild beast—my hands up, my movements slow and deliberate. When she finally registers that it’s me standing before her, the flames in her hands extinguish in an instant. She releases a heartbreaking sob. Without thought, I reach for her shoulders to embrace her.
“Thea, I wouldn’t do tha—” Brynn tries to warn me.
Too late.
I wrap my arms around Glo to find that she is hot to the touch. It’s like I’ve grabbed a boiling tea kettle off the coals with my bare hands.
“Fuck!” I exclaim, resisting the innate, screaming instinct to pull away, “Can’t lie—you’re very fucking hot, Glo.”
Her sob sounds more like a bark of laughter as she shoves me away from her.
“Be careful—I—I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, her voice all gravel.
“I’m good. If I tend to Jas now, will you keep your hands to yourself?” I ask. Glo nods, staring at the ground and sniffling like a child who’s been reprimanded.
I shoot a warning glance at Brynn, too. A wordless request to back off.
I am distracted by the pained glaze over his eyes, the emotional heaving of his bare chest. It’s another one of those baffling looks of tenderness battling contempt.
I busy myself by retrieving the vial of Clot from my satchel on Moon’s back.
Kneeling at Jasmeen’s side, it’s apparent that Glo used all the scraps I gave her.
She was forced to find a new piece of fabric for the neck wound.
I carefully peel the soaked cloth back and the blood again flows too fast. I pop the stopper off the vial and apply a liberal amount.
It works in an instant—the bleeding slows.
Relief floods my chest. I rip another bit of fabric from my top, what’s left of it, and re-cover the cut.
I spread the rest of the small vial of green, sticky goo over the gash on her arm.
It thankfully stopped bleeding while I searched for our veilmane but is still a gaping slash of cleaved flesh. It begins to mend before my eyes.
Several minutes of utter silence pass—other than the pitiful sound of Glo sniffling behind me.
I remove the tourniquet from Jasmeen’s upper arm and instead tie it around the still healing gash.
I tap her freckled cheek in an unsuccessful attempt to rouse her.
At least some of her color has returned.
Rounding on Brynn and Glo, who both stare down at me like wilted flowers, I ask, “Does anyone have a clue what just happened?”
“We were ambushed by Draiders,” Brynn sighs, refusing to acknowledge Glo. “They’re hired hands—sent to punish, arrest, or even kill thieves. Depending on how substantial the crime committed is.”
I glance at Glo. The thief. He blamed her for their attack. No wonder she exploded.
Brynn continues, “Jasmeen was hit—I heard her cry out and came up on two of them. The second they realized who I was, they fled.”
“It’s a very good thing they’ve shit aim,” I say, trying hard not to toss blame at Glo, too. It’s a very good thing Brynn is a recognized prince, I think to myself. The faces of the two drunken assailants who beat me in Aston float through my mind, and with them a wave of renewed remorse.
“I swear it, Vir. Thea. It wasn’t me—I did not take anything. I am playing it safe—lying low, as promised. Thea was the last person I stole fr—”
We are so distracted by our conversation that we do not notice when Jasmeen comes to. Her heavy sigh causes me to start. My relief at her being awake is dashed in an instant by the distraught expression she wears.
“Glo’s telling the truth,” she says, her soft voice hoarse. “Those Draiders were after me.”