“You make it sound like I feel no affection for you at all, but you’re wrong. The more I learned about you, the more affection I felt. You seemed so much like me, leaving a trail of enemies behind as you moved from town to town, even making an enemy of the queen. I thought you knew what you were doing and treasured your powers the same way I always have.” She gives me a pitying look. “Don’t break my heart, daughter. Tell me I wasn’t wrong. Tell me we can work together. Tell me you’ll belong to me again.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’ve never belonged to you, and I never will.”
She lowers her head and releases a long sigh. Then she shifts toward her pond, stopping only when her left toe meets the water’s edge. She doesn’t lift her eyes to meet mine, but I see the sheen of tears that fills them. “Then I’ll have to take my magic back by force.”
42
TORBEN
Astrid’s scent fills my lungs as I barrel through the forest in my unseelie form, paws tearing through soil as I race toward the woman I love. With every step I take, her scent grows stronger, fresher, closer. It’s tangled with a secondary scent, one that has me alternating between fear and rage. I noticed it as soon as I arrived at Davenport Estate minutes ago. But I smelled it even before that. Breathed it in on my property just the other day when I was doing my rounds.
A kelpie.
It had seemed so benign then. Just an unseelie creature passing through along with all the other wildlife. But now…now I know its presence was purposeful. What exactly its motive was, I know not. But I’m desperate to find out.
The sound of rapidly beating wings buzzes in my ear, followed by a minuscule feminine voice. “You’re going too fast, Huntsman. I can’t keep up.”
Irritation flashes through me. “I never said you had to come.”
The tiny pixie scoffs. “That’s no way to speak to your queen.”
Tris is right, but I have no patience for guilt or formalities right now. My every thought revolves around Astrid, around the fear now sharpening in her scent trail. When I don’t reply to the queen, she falls back to a more moderate pace.
As soon as I realized Astrid was in trouble and the queen wasn’t the guilty party, I asked Tris to allow me to use the Chariot one last time. I had to explain my reasons—or as much of them as I could in a matter of anxiety-ridden seconds—and she insisted on escorting me herself. If finding Astrid meant finding the person who killed her husband, she wasn’t willing to let me go alone. I’m surprised she didn’t bring any of her guards. I can only guess it means she expects to confront the culprit—and deal with them—herself.
Well, she’ll have to fly faster if she wants to dole out personal vengeance. I have no intention of slowing down for the pixie or waiting for her permission to act. As soon as I find Astrid, I won’t hesitate to lay waste to that damned kelpie or anyone who has harmed so much as a hair on her head. Tris can lag behind and confront their bloody remains for all I care.
Astrid’s scent turns sharper, her trail now mingling with the fragrance of her current profile. I’m close. So close. But the terror that pulses through her aroma, constricting it, strangling it…I can’t help but fear I won’t get there in time.
43
ASTRID
Igasp at the sudden pull that surges through me. It feels as if my lungs are being squeezed by iron, my blood drained of life, my bones sapped of energy. My mind spins, turning the moonlit clearing to black.
I don’t realize I lost consciousness until I open my eyes and find myself lying on the muddy grass.
Myrasa crouches next to me, lips turned down at the corners. She lifts a slender hand to brush a strand of hair off my forehead. I try to flinch back from her, but I don’t have the strength to move. My eyes flutter shut of their own accord, my eyelids too heavy.
“I don’t like having to feed off you, my child,” Myrasa says, her voice deceptively kind, “but I will do whatever it takes to get my magic back. It won’t be like it was last time. You can’t deflect my feeding magic now that I know what to expect. As long as I don’t meet your eyes, I can feed off your energy without you mirroring my powers back at me and making me drain myself. There is no escape, Astrid. Not unless you agree to become a partner. A true daughter. Use your magic to help me lure true sustenance to my pond, and I will allow you to keep the powers you stole. Then we can become a family.”
I try to speak, try to tell her that what she’s asking of me makes a mockery of the wordfamily, but even speaking is too difficult.
“If you will not willingly stand by my side, I will feed off you again and again until you return my magic to me.” She strokes my hair again, her cold caress making my stomach roil. “So this is your true face. You’re so beautiful, my daughter.”
I realize then that my magic must have fled when I lost consciousness. Finally, I manage to open my eyes again. Her face swims before me, but as soon as those green irises become clear, a jolt of terror runs through me. On instinct, my magic snaps back into place.
She snatches her hand away from me, then lets out a low chuckle. “I still don’t enjoy that side of your magic, Astrid, but now that I understand it, I won’t let it thwart me. You’ve been wearing that face since you stepped into the clearing. Donning it again won’t keep me at bay. Show me my worst qualities all you want. It won’t change what must be done.”
I struggle to move again, trying to force my lips, my hands—anything—to flinch or flutter. But I remain limp. Now I understand why so many of her victims drowned, lured to the edge of her lake and drained of energy, unable to fight the water that flooded their lungs. What a sad irony, that a creature who feeds off love has sent so many people to such a violent, unloving death. I doubt she’s ever experienced real love herself.
But I have.
I think of Torben’s face, his smile, the strength of his touch. The comforting warmth of his bear form. My mind goes to Father next. His loving, unwavering acceptance of me and my magic. His kindness. His bright and boisterous laugh.
A tingling rises to my lips, then spreads to my fingers and toes. Slowly, inch by aching inch, strength returns to me. Not entirely, but enough to push myself to sitting. Then standing.
Myrasa rises to her feet too, looking me over through slitted lids. “You recovered quickly. Now, I ask you once more, will you cooperate? I don’t want to have to drain you again.”
