Maiya made a pleading sound but took a step toward Gisele.
Gringe’s gaze snapped to her friend. “Here’s a suggestion,” he said with a dark laugh. “Tie them up. We take them back to camp and figure out where they really came from.”
With that, the hunters surged forward. Cora’s heart leapt into her throat. “Thirty!” she shouted at Maiya, who’d frozen at their approach. Cora took her dagger out from behind her back and threw it at the nearest man. It glanced off his chest hilt first and fell to the ground. She wished she’d actually practiced throwing daggers before attempting that pathetic spectacle. Cora lunged for her bow instead and nocked an arrow. This gave the hunters a moment of pause. “Thirty, Maiya!” she shouted at her friend. Finally, Maiya’s feet flew into action and she grabbed Gisele’s arm. They darted for the tunnel. One of the hunters lunged at them, but Cora shot an arrow. It skimmed his wrist, making him pull up short.
Her next arrow grazed his neck. It would have hit dead center if not for her erratic breathing, sending her aim wild. This was nothing like practice where targets stood still, where her only threat was being mildly distracted by her own thoughts.
“Go after them,” Gringe barked at the man she’d narrowly missed. He obeyed and darted after Cora’s friends. Cora nocked another arrow. “You too,” he said to James. “Clean up this mess you made and I’ll consider not delivering your head to the duke.”
Mention of the duke had Cora’s blood burning with rage, clearing her mind just enough to remind her to breathe. One more hunter was still approaching—the man with the barbed whip. Gringe remained near the mouth of the tunnel, grinning as if he expected an entertaining display of theatrics. The hunter flicked his whip. She shot her arrow. Just as her fingers left the fletching, searing pain sliced down her arm. One of the barbs had torn her flesh. Her shot went wild.
The man closed in.
She kicked, she flailed, she bit, but it was to no avail as he crushed her in his grip.
Bound,gagged, and blindfolded, Cora no longer regretted neglecting her understanding of defensive magic. Now she wished she’d spent twice as much time honing her skills with weapons. Perhaps then she wouldn’t have been in such a position that left her hauled over a hunter’s shoulder like a sack of grain. She struggled in vain, wishing she could at least pound her fists against the hunter’s back or slam her feet into his chest, but her wrists were tied behind her back, her ankles bound together. No matter how she wriggled, he paid her no heed. She heard the shift in sound as her captor’s feet left the stone cave to the forest floor. “I’m going to do horrible things to you,” he said, a dark chuckle in his voice.
“We question them first,” she heard Gringe say from up ahead. “See if they were lying.”
“But after?”
“They won’t be leaving alive,” Gringe said, “so do what you will.”
She shouted into her gag, cursed them both with every vile insult she could think of. None of it reached their ears, as muffled as her words were.
“Gringe!” A new voice came from just ahead.
“What is it, Sam?”
“I saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“The white. The one we were tracking earlier. It waltzed right into camp as if it wanted to be caught. I tried to catch it on my own?—”
“Damn it. We can’t let it get far. Not on our last night here. Erwin, leave her at camp and take the south. Sam, go north. I’ll signal James and Velek to head east. I’ll take the west.”
The hunter carrying her, Erwin, kicked up into a jog, jostling Cora with every step. From behind, she heard a low bellowing sound—a horn being blown—that ended in three sharp bursts. That must have been the signal Gringe had mentioned. Other horn blasts echoed back from farther away. A few minutes later, her momentum shifted. Erwin heaved her off his shoulder, and her back met hard earth as she landed on the ground with a thud. His retreating footsteps followed. Cora held still for a moment, straining her ears for any sign that she wasn’t alone. Nothing but a crackling fire answered. She took a few deep breaths to steady her nerves—as well as she could—and cut a window through her mental shields. Extending her senses, she opened herself to nearby emotion. At first, she felt nothing. Then…something. Or was it nothing as well? An unfamiliar sensation filled her bones, bringing with it a quiet sorrow. And yet…it didn’t feel like anything human. An animal? The hunters’ horses, perhaps?
Another thought came to mind as Cora remembered what James had said about unicorns. He couldn’t have been telling the truth, could he? Unicorns hadn’t been seen in hundreds of years. Legends stated that all had become horses by now, leaving nothing of their ancient fae origins intact.
Rolling onto her side, she pressed her face to the ground beneath her, feeling dirt grate against her cheek as she worked to lift the cloth from her eyes. Finally, she managed to shove it over her brow.
Blinking, she took in her immediate surroundings. First, she saw the light of a campfire several feet away. Closer and just out of arm’s reach—had they not been tied behind her back—laid her bow, her quiver of arrows, and her belt. Her dagger had been returned to its sheath. She glanced around the rest of the camp, seeing no one else in sight.
She wriggled across the ground, making a haphazard line for her belongings. Sweat beaded across her brow with every inch she drew near. Soon the items were within reach. Rolling to her other side so her back faced her weapons, she fumbled for her belt. Her fingers only had the slightest reach beyond their bindings, and she struggled to gain proper leverage. Finally, her pinky looped around her leather belt. She stretched her hands to get a better grip, then moved her fingers down the length of it. One hand met air as she reached the wrong end. Gritting her teeth, she reversed directions until she felt her sheath. Excitement sparked in her chest as she then walked her fingers up the sheath until they came around the hilt?—
Footsteps pounded toward the camp. Gripping the dagger, she wriggled a few feet away from her belongings and rolled halfway onto her back, hopefully obscuring her weapon in the folds of her skirt. James came into view, face strained as he hauled a female form over his shoulder. Far more gently than Erwin had been, he laid his burden next to Cora. Her heart lurched as she saw Maiya’s profile, her temple marred with blood. Her hands were bound in front of her, but she was neither gagged nor blindfolded.
James glanced around the camp, then met Cora’s eyes with a frown. “I let Gisele get away,” he whispered. “And don’t worry, this one is just knocked out.”
Am I supposed to thank you for that?Her words, stifled by the gag, sounded only like a string of mumbles. She cut him with a glare that probably looked anything but threatening in her bound state. Then her eyes landed on a strange marking she hadn’t noticed before. Just below his ear was a patch of raised skin in the shape of anR.
Cora’s blood went cold. She knew what that marking was. It was a brand reserved for criminals set for execution. ThatRstood for one of the most heinous and violating crimes she could imagine.
His gaze turned steely as if he could see the realization in her eyes. “I wasn’t going to hurt your friend,” he said, tone curt. With that, he darted away, grabbing a spear off the ground before he left the clearing.
Alone again, Cora shifted her attention back to her dagger. Angling it toward the knot between her wrists, she sawed the blade against it. It was painstakingly slow, and for a few moments, Cora thought her efforts were futile. But then she heard a satisfying snap as part of the rope was severed. With some mobility freed, she redoubled her efforts. Another snap. Then freedom. She brought her arms in front of her, wincing at the strain on her muscles. Her forearm still seared from where Erwin had lashed her with his whip. Pulling herself to a seated position, she quickly cut through her ankle bindings and tore off her gag.
