Jumping down, I wince as the branches scrape my legs, but I hold my hand out to Imelda, and she follows. Making as little noise as possible despite the scratching branches, we fight through the bushes and creep around to the back of the mill. Everyone’s in the square, and the riotous noise grows louder by the second.
“Where can we hide?” She peers toward the road.
“Not that way.” I point to the wall that separates Moonhollow from the woods. “This way.” Pulling her with me, I hurry across the grassy yard and press myself against the moss-covered wall. Making a stirrup with my hands, I bend my knees. “Step here and jump over.”
She backs up a little, then comes at me on a run. With a punishing step on my hands, she launches herself to the top of the wall, slings her leg over, then reaches down for me.
I jump, but I can’t grab her hand. She’s too far, and too exposed sitting up there like that. “Go!” I wave her away. “I’ll sneak around to the road.”
“It’s too dangerous,” she hisses.
“I can do it.” I shoot a look at the road. It’s quiet enough, no wagons or horses about. Everyone’s at the village center. I wave her away again. “Run! Head for the peak and don’t look back.”
“I’ll wait for you there.” She throws her other leg over and drops from view. “Thank you, Emma,” barely makes it to my ears.
I crouch lower and scoot along the wall. The square is quieter now. Maybe the day king has arrived to make his selections. I roll my eyes as I hop over a fairy house, the light inside flickering. With quiet steps, I creep to the road. All I have to do is get past the wall, and I can hide in the trees beyond until the Daylanders are gone. Those sunstruck fools can’t find me in my deep, velvety dark woods.
When I’m certain the way is clear, I dart to the worn road and break into a run. I get about five steps before I’m hauled up by the back of my dress, a scowling Daylander dangling me from his horse as he rides into the city.
4
Solano
“Get your hands off me, sunlover!” The changeling struggles in Brock’s grip and tries to kick him, but she can’t get close enough to do any damage.
“You should be on the choosing stage.” Brock shakes her.
“Let go of me!” Her red hair hides her face, but she fights like some sort of wild creature, her nails scratching along Brock’s armor as he shakes her again.
“Go easy,” I say.
“My lord, if you go easy with them, they think they can—”
“I said go easy.” I straighten my shoulders.
“Fine.” He drapes her across his saddle.
“Hey!” She pushes up on the horse, her waves of auburn hair still covering her face. With a toss, she clears it, and I get a glimpse of her preternaturally fair skin and green eyes. “If you don’t put me down, I’ll, I’ll bite this horse!” She snaps her teeth.
Brock’s horse neighs but keeps cantering into the village.
“I’d advise against it. Operin can bite far harder than you.” Brock pushes her down, his broad hand on her back as she glares at me.
I rather like the heart shape of her face—her defiant chin and widow’s peak. Females like her don’t exist in my realm. The sun bleaches everything over time, including the high fae. Even my golden hair will eventually fade into white. But her? She’s a creature of the darkest realm, her luminous skin and fiery hair an example of everything that charms me about the night. Beautiful.
“You look like you got dressed in Bonnie’s Salon.” She sneers at my royal attire.
“Watch your mouth, changeling.” Brock’s tone is low and lethal. “You address the king of the day realm with respect, or you don’t address him at all.”
“King?” She swallows, her eyes narrowing at me. “You’re the king?”
“Do I not look like a king?” I smile.
“I already told you what you looked like.”
Brock raises a hand to slap her, but I shake my head. “What’s your name, changeling?”
“Just let me go and let all the women you’ve yanked onto your stage go, too. Well, all except Lysetta. Take her with you.”
