I shook my head, breaking into a jog toward the stables.
You will remain everything you are.
You will.
There was no other choice in the matter.
I’d been taught to be the master of my emotions. I prided myself on embracing all that he taught me. One little Weaver would not undermine me. This was the way of our world.
My world.
Her world.
No matter how she bewitched me, no matter how she turned my body and willpower against me, I wouldn’t give in.
She’d learn that soon enough.
The moment I caught her, she’d learn her place. The moment I had her back in my arms, she’d never run again.
That was a fucking promise.
It’s time to hunt.
The stables were empty apart from Kes’s polo pony, my father’s prized thoroughbred, Black Plague, and my ebony gelding, Fly Like The Wind. That was his show and hunting name. In private, I had another name for him.
Wings.
Because riding him allowed me to fly the fuck away from here and find a small sliver of freedom.
Nila wasn’t the only one who wanted to run. Unlike my prey, I faced my demons and embraced them. I made them work for me, rather than control me, and forced them to submit by bowing at my feet.
Just like I’d make her do the moment I found her.
The instant he saw me, Wings’ velvet ears pricked, his metal shoes clicking against hay-strewn cobblestone.
A stable boy appeared from mucking out the stalls. “Sir?”
“Saddle him. I mean to leave in fifteen minutes.”
You told her you’d give her forty-five.
I shrugged.
There was no point giving her any longer. Her feet would bleed from running barefoot. Her skin would bruise from whatever ludicrous illness she battled. And it would all be for nothing.
Contrary to what she thought of me, I wasn’t a monster.
I needed her strong.
Plus, I could grant hours, days even for her to run—but she’d never make it to the boundary.
I knew that completely and utterly.
I knew, because I’d been in the exact same situation she was—only it hadn’t been summer like it was now, but middle of winter. Training, he’d said. Masculine growth, he’d lectured.Run in the snow, become the ice that drips from boughs and stems. Use the primal part of yourself to seek out the edge of our property, or pay the price.
Three days I’d run, jogged, and crawled. Three days I didn’t find the boundary.
I was found the same way I would find Nila. Not through tracking or GPS or even the cameras dotted sparsely over the grounds.
