Asterious. The Blackwynd Prince. The man who tore those with magic to pieces for the fun of it.
Once more, Caramyn’s thoughts roiled with confusion.
"She’s not strong enough to hold herself up." The prince said. “She’ll have to ride with me for now.”
Caramyn swallowed, her mind racing. Asterious was the King's son. His reputation was built on the death he brought. She’d heard the rumors that had even manage to reach the heart of Havenswood—how he ruled the Felhold Prisons, never leaving the dungeons where he delighted in serving as his father’s brutal executioner. He cherished the bloodshed of his father's enemies—of those with magic. Perhaps that was why his own magic was tolerated. As a steel singer, he was lethal. A weapon to the crown. She was sure that if he didn’t need her for information about the ring, she would’ve been dead already.
It seemed unlikely that the cruel prince would be lurking around in this gods-forsaken corner of the kingdom unless the King sent him to find her. But it hardly seemed sensible that he’d send his very own son across the kingdom just to kill off rumors of a haunted forest. Unless there really was something worth protecting within it…Something she must keep him from at all costs.
Asterious guided Caramyn to his horse, a regal black beast. She tried to hoist herself into the saddle, but her grip on the cantle was as solid as water. Her foot half in the stirrup, she lost her balance and teetered backward, knocking into a firmly planted Asterious. He didn’t budge.
“Shattered gods, you’re worse than I thought." The slightest chuckle slipped through his words. "You could almost rival Wyran at the tavern on Frostlight."
Frostlight.Caramyn hung onto the word. She hadn't been part of a Frostlight celebration since she was a child. A handful of times, she'd wandered to the edge of Havenswood on the eve of Frostlight and watched the festivals from afar, drawn in by the glow of the lights so bright they radiated over the city wall like an aurora over fresh snow. She'd listen to the feasting, and dancing, and the music—oh, the music, so joyful and sweet that it soothed her aching soul just for a night…and she'd spend the day and night's journey back swaying to the memory of it.
The men snickered at the comment, especially the gruff, auburn-haired Wyran, but Asterious was stone-faced. Without warning, he scooped Caramyn up and placed her up onto the horse with one swift, effortless movement.
"I hope you can ride better than you can walk right now." His smooth voice tickled her ears like velvet night and satin, but there was something hurried in it, and she noticed how the men glanced back at the depths of the Woods every so often.
Caramyn shuddered as Asterious’ touch lingered on her skin from where he’d swept her off her feet. She’d never been pressed against a man’s body like that, never felt so weightless in someone’s arms. The strength of his hands had made her recoil and flush with emotion all at the same time. A flutter of heat had swept through her at the sensation of his palms against her waist and thigh.
But she shook away the feeling once she was settled in the saddle, peering through the ears of the great animal. The last time she'd been on a horse, she was running for her life as her home went up in smoke behind her, until it stumbled and threw her, and she was left with only her two feet.
"What is your name?" Asterious looked up at her through a silver gaze like thunder, soft but intimidating all at once.
She thought for a moment. She could give him a false name. But would it really matter? He clearly didn’t know she was the Witch. If he did, he would’ve killed her by now. There were few things Lightborn, Spellbounds, and humans all agreed on, except that anyone involved with Shadow magic was an enemy. It was the reason Shadowbloods were hunted by Lightborn long before the human crown decided to destroy them both.
Her name would be long forgotten by the small village of so few people that ever knew it. She was born hiding from the world. And still hiding twenty years later. Her name would be nothing to a stranger.
Straightening her spine in the saddle as much as her sore joints would allow, she focused on the space between the horse's perked ears and the stretch of land ahead, refusing to meet the prince's eye. "Caramyn."
Without a response, the prince swung up into the saddle behind her, and commanded his men onward. She sensed Nocthar following them discreetly, his caws breaking the silence every now and then. She still felt weak and feverish, but with thering removed, her body ached less. She wondered how long it would take to feel like herself again and be able to trust her own instincts once more. For now, the world still felt too muddled to make sense of anything.
But she listened to the men chatter amongst each other and slowly figured out each of their names. Aside from Wyran, Tyrios talked the most, and rode closest to Asterious, a hardened look on his face but something tame within his green eyes. He was respectful, and Caramyn almost thought he might’ve made a better prince with his mannerly nature. The younger pair, Riven and Gariel, kept silent much of the time, but they were always watching the surroundings, flanking the group at the rear.
After they’d been riding a while, traversing the withering open terrain of the Bleak Wilderness, the prince’s voice startled her from behind. It was low. Quiet, as though he preferred that she was the only one to hear him clearly.
“Caramyn…was it?”
She nodded slowly, feeling his breath on her neck.
“Do you feel recovered enough now to tell me how you came across the ring?”
He would have no reason to keep her alive if she told him the truth. She would be sealing her fate if he knew the Shadows were on her side. And if he ever saw the Shadow marking on her arm…
So she feigned weakness far greater than what she really felt, letting her head loll back with a pained moan. She drooped against him and closed her eyes, giving a feeble shake of her head. So as long as she kept quiet, she could use his desperation to her advantage. She could lead him on, let him distract himself by believing he’d saved her from the Shadow Woods.
She thought of the ninety-nine marks on her wall and considered that maybe this was why the Shadows didn’t help her as he loomed over her in the Woods. Perhaps she needed to see him for what he was. He was no ordinary intruder. Hewas a prince of two courts that would both hate every part of her, from her corrupted Lightborn eyes to her Shadow markings. Regardless of which one was his true identity, she was an enemy regardless.
And that made him the next target, the next threat to her haven of Shadows. She had to find out what he wanted with her Shadow Woods. Because there was clearly a reason he’d come to them in the first place. And if he was a Blackwynd, the reason couldn’t be good. Perhaps these past five years spent as a fugitive was all to prepare her for this. To harden her enough to face her enemies. To make King Daemar suffer as she’d suffered from his rule. By making his half-breed Lightborn son her one-hundredth.
4
The Girl from the Woods
Asterious
Awhole day had passed and all he knew was her name. It brought the prince no further understanding of the strange young woman with eyes like blooming orchids in the moonlight who possessed the Vaerwynd signet ring. He sat behind her, forced to keep himself distracted from the feeling of a woman’s warmth pressed against him by counting the horse’s footfalls, even as he secretly savored her scent of spices threaded with honey, and fresh rain on leaves. He should’ve let her ride with Tyrios or Riven, but whatever connection she had to his family secrets made him want to keep her close. He had to gether talking eventually. But for now, she could hardly keep herself in the saddle as the horses ambled onward.
