Teryn’s grin split his face. “You read naughty romance?” He wasn’t even sure Larylis read such fare, and he tended to devour almost anything of the written word.
Lex lifted a shoulder. “I do now. Stole it from the library at Verlot before I left.”
“You stole that. From Verlot Palace.”
“Figured I’d want some reading material for the journey.”
“You do realize you’re a prince, right? You could walk into any bookstore and probably take any book for free.”
Lex continued as if he hadn’t heard a word Teryn said. “I didn’t realize it was the naughty variety, but I daresay, I’m finding it rather informative.” He waggled his brows at that.
Teryn shook his head with a chuckle. Then, spear in hand, he left the small clearing and entered the cover of trees. He peered overhead for any sign of Berol, but the falcon was nowhere to be seen. She’d left to hunt half an hour ago. Which was what Teryn now set out to do himself. Well, perhaps not hunt, but fetch lunch just the same. He’d set a few traps nearby for small game and one in a stream for fish. Unfortunately, the first three traps proved empty. Damn. That left the fish trap. He shifted course to the east where he’d found the stream earlier that morning. Walking along the bank, he sought signs of where he’d left the trap. He remembered a boulder that reached about waist high. And a cherry tree standing just above it, pink blossoms clinging to its boughs. It was rare to find trees with that many blossoms still intact this late in the spring, but there was one hardy variety—the Rosa Solara—that carried pink petals almost until summer. That should make it easy to find. Sure enough, a hint of pink caught his eye upstream. He took a step—
And froze.
A flash of movement snagged his attention. He turned, seeking what had fled the opposite side of the stream. There was nothing there, just ripples amongst the rushing current. He held still for several moments, keeping his breaths slow and steady. When he witnessed no further signs of movement, he continued along the bank, slower this time. He kept a more mindful grip on his spear, used his front foot to test the ground ahead before fully taking a step. Teryn should have been doing so all along. Regardless of whether his traps proved successful, any found prey would do for lunch.
The foliage grew denser around the stream the closer he came to the tree. He navigated around it with silent steps, creeping up a slight hill until he found a slim trail that led back to the stream. As he drew close to the cherry tree, it became clear it was not the one he’d been looking for. There was no boulder. No trap. Still, there was something in the music of his surroundings that kept him moving forward. A light cadence punctuated by birdsong. It was the sound of hooves. A deer, perhaps. Too graceful to be a boar. His mouth watered at the thought of venison. He’d fed the rest of the dried strips of meat to Berol last night.
He held his breath and waited for the sound again.
There.
It was coming from near the stream behind the densest patch of foliage. With slow, careful steps, he moved forward, softly prodding the earth with his lead foot to avoid snapping twigs or kicking loose stones. The hoofbeats grew clearer, approaching the stream from the opposite side of the brush. Then it stopped, replaced with a gentle splash. Then another. The creature was likely drinking from the stream. Teryn edged closer and closer until he was finally able to glance around the edge of the brush to the rushing waters on the other side. His breath caught as his eyes took in the animal facing away from him. But it wasn’t a deer at all. It was…a horse. An enormous white stallion with hooves the size of—
His foot shifted, caught on a loose rock. He regained purchase, but the sound had already caught the creature’s attention. It stopped drinking at once and swiveled its head toward Teryn.
He blinked several times, certain his eyes were deceiving him. Perhaps it was hunger. But no matter how he tried to battle both reason and visual evidence, there was no denying the white horn protruding from the horse’s head.
It wasn’t a horse after all.
20
Teryn swallowed hard, feeling as if his throat had turned to sand. His heart hammered against his ribs like it would break free from his chest at any moment. He didn’t dare blink. Didn’t dare move a muscle as he waited for the unicorn to dart away.
It didn’t.
It simply stared back at him, its russet eyes penetrating, probing. That was when Teryn remembered the spear in his hand. And the reason he held it.
Not the reason he’d come to the stream, but what had prompted his practice earlier that morning.
This enormous, impossible creature was the very reason Teryn was in these woods.Thiswas his prey.
Sweat slicked his palms. His forearms felt stiff, as if they were rebelling against the command Teryn was trying to give.Lift. Throw. Kill. That was what he’d come here to do. With one throw, straight to the lungs or heart, he could win two of Mareleau’s prizes. The horn. The pelt. After that, only one live unicorn to serve as the princess’ pet would stand between him and victory. He tried to feel emboldened by the thought, but his stomach only clenched tighter. Revulsion crawled up his spine, prickling his skin like tiny knives. He’d hunted before. He was no stranger to killing an animal. But, for some reason, this felt different. Wrong.
Damn it, he cursed silently to himself.You must do this. You cannot fail now, you sorry fool. Lift. Throw. Kill. Done.
Steadying his nerves, he took three deep breaths, then slowly angled his body to the side. He paused, waiting to see if the movement would set the creature fleeing. Instead, it took another step closer. There was something defiant in its posture now, the way it lowered its head, the way its lips began to lift from its teeth. Teryn saw its horn in a different light. This wasn’t simply a pretty faerytale decoration. It was a razor-sharp weapon. If Teryn missed, he’d be on the receiving end of that horn. Feeling a greater sense of urgency, Teryn lifted the spear. The unicorn stepped forward again, lips flapping with angry breaths. Teryn’s muscles tensed. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes. Another wave of revulsion swept over him, sending his stomach churning. He knew what needed to be done but his body wouldn't respond. Nor would his heart.
Throw, damn it! Throw!
He lowered his arm the briefest increment, not toward the creature but…down.
A sharp pain seared the side of his neck. He flinched back and slapped his palm to the sting. The unicorn hadn’t moved, hadn’t charged, and yet something wet and warm dripped down Teryn’s neck. From the corner of his eye, he could see an arrow protruding from the cherry tree a few yards behind him. Someone had shot at him. Before he could fully register what that meant, he felt the cold tip of a blade press against the underside of his jaw. Without moving, he glanced to the side, but only caught sight of an arm.
“Who are you?” The voice was quavering with rage, and…feminine.
Teryn slowly opened his palm, letting his spear drop at his feet. Then, raising both hands, he carefully shifted to face his opponent. His eyes widened as his gaze took in a petite young woman dressed in a linen shift and unlaced bodice, her skirt tucked between her legs and into a leather belt to form something like pants. She had a quiver of arrows at her back and a bow slung over one shoulder. Her hair was sodden, trailing rivulets down her tan arms—arms that bore black ink from palm to inner elbow.
