A Shadow curling at Caramyn’s feet caught Asterious’ attention. Snaking around the both of them, it coiled and curved through the trees. His eyes followed the winding black smoke against the white ground, settling on a massive fallen tree in the distance.
By the time he looked back, Caramyn had vanished, but her raven swept past him, leading him to the end of the fallen tree, a great dirt cradle from where the roots had once held. He slid down into the hollow space just as the footsteps passed right by the stream.
Asterious peeked through the gaps in the mossy cage of roots shielding him, hoping to catch a glimpse of what exactly they were hiding from. A small guard of men—dead men—marched through the snowy banks of the creek, their dead eyes as empty as the grave. Black metal armor glinted against the dullness of their decayed graying flesh as they moved in unison. Their steps appeared synchronized at first glance, but a closer look revealed the variation in their lifeless steps as they charged forward at the command of the one controlling them—a cloaked rider atop a nervous black horse that pranced behind them.
Asterious would recognize that regal silhouette anywhere. The jewel-encrusted horse head clasp on her cloak was enough of a giveaway on its own. But she pulled back her hood, lifting it over her obsidian crown, and with a quiet rage burning in her eyes,she scanned the area, searching desperately for something—or someone.
And beside her, atop a dark bay horse, was a man who was very much alive, marked by the ruddy color in his face and his eyes that scampered back and forth at his surroundings. And the familiar voice that pierced Asterious to the core as the rider slowed with a lift of his own cloak that made his features undeniable. Wryan.
Barring the confusion, the impossibility of it all, his greater worry was his soldiers, fearing Wryan might have done something to them. But he couldn’t help them from here.
“This place is sending us in circles. We should’ve been at the Veil by now,” Wyran hissed.
“Patience, Captain. I sense my brother’s blood nearby. And even better.” Sinevia lifted her chin with a wicked smile. “I sense his mate.”
Mate?
His breath stuttered. It couldn’t be. He’d considered it briefly but hadn’t believed it could be possible—that he and Caramyn sharedthe rare bond of two souls intertwined before the Shattering itself.
But it would mean everything he’d felt, since the moment he saw her, was all real.
“Oh, she’s here. And right by his side, no doubt.” The sneer on Wyran’s face told the prince all he needed to know. He’d told Sinevia about Caramyn, about everything.
Caramyn appeared beside him, sneaking in so quietly that he jolted at her presence. She moved like a wraith in this place. She knew every hiding spot, every fallen branch and dirt nook. But wherever she had been, he wondered if she had heard the same thing he did.
Mate.
He felt her body tighten next to him at the sight of Wryan glancing their way, and they both ducked down further.
“I have an idea,” Caramyn whispered. “But you’re not going to like it.”
“What is it?”
“We never washed in the river. You still carry my scent.” Her face was unreadable, void of emotion. “So, I suppose you can consider last night a duty, if nothing else. A necessity to mark you with my protection.”
“Caramyn, that’s not—"
“The Shadows won’t hurt you, because they see you as part of me. You no longer need me with you to wander these woods.” He was sure his expression must have betrayed his uneasiness as she continued. “I know these Woods and she does not. And whether she can manipulate Shadow magic with her spells does not change the fact that they are on my side. I’ll lead her on a chase. It’ll waste time and her Soldiers will expire. That will give you all the time you need to go find the Blade. Nocthar can lead you to it.”
The thought made his stomach drop. She was hismate. And sending her into the hands of his enemies was something he could not bear to consider. Had she not heard the same thing? Was she pretending not to know? He couldn’t bring up such a thing here and now. But neither could he express his devastation at her plan without doing so. “No...no, Caramyn. You want us to separate?”
“Why not? It’s time we focus on the task at hand, remember?” Her amethyst eyes scorched as she turned his own words against him. She was always quite good at that.
Caramyn held her gaze on Wryan and Sinevia as they rode farther into the forest, the troops long ahead of them.
“It’s too great a risk. This is my battle, not yours.”
“It became my battle when Blackwynd blood crossed into these Woods.”
She leapt up, her bow in hand, but Asterious grabbed her arm. “I won’t try to stop you. I won’t try to control you. But I want to make sure you understand that you’d damn better survive.” He muttered, her face inches from hers.
She leaned in, her lips close—too close—as she cocked her head stubbornly. “I always do.”
And then she was gone, like wind in the night.
Asterious whipped around at the shriek of surprise that came from Wryan, only to see Caramyn leap down from the treetops to land right in front of the horses, her fall softened by the Shadows around her. She looked up with cold eyes as the Shadows cleared, and the horses balked. “Did you get lost in my Woods, Wyran?”
Wryan was silent and went pale as a ghost. Sinevia stared at Caramyn for a long time, the air so tense Asterious could feel it from behind the tree stump.
