“We went too far west,” he said under his breath. “This is not territory of Argyle or the Midlands.”
Alora tensed, realizing what that meant. A sound rose on the wind. Low. Deep. Inhuman.
They dismounted and she released her hold on the enchanted horses. They dissolved into a wilted pile of clover at their feet.
Caelum drew his blade. “Stay behind me,” he murmured.
From the mist ahead, shadowsmoved. Shapes emerged from the fog-veiled trees. Towering horned figures. Alora’s heart dropped. But instead of demons, a dozen Minotaurs surrounded them. Thick-limbed and hulking, eyes reflecting like yellow amber. Clad in scavenged armor, wielding axes made of crude iron.
The largest of them stepped forward before her, his frame half the width of the door and twice its height. Polished horns curved back from his head, his black fur-streaked silver. He wore a leather jerkin, threaded with gold in a pattern that resembled winding vines.
Lord Zuma.
He looked down at them, nostrils flaring. A low, gravelly growl rumbled from his chest.
“Humans,” the Minotaur said, voice deep as the earth itself. “Trespassing into the Forgotten Ridge.”
Caelum stepped in front of her, sword drawn. She braced for the worst. For vengeance, for fury, for bloodshed. “Pardon us. My wife and I did not mean to trespass upon your lands.”
Alora stiffened at the claim. Well, she supposed it would be wise to hide their identities.
“We mean no harm to you or your kin?—”
“You claim no harm but raise your sword against me.” Zuma said, his voice rumbling deep. “Humans, fickle in their words as they are in their actions.” He turned away. “Come. And I would advise you not to resist. It wouldn’t take much to cut you down.”
The Minotaurs crowded Caelum, quickly disarming him and another plucked Alora from her mount. Caelum motioned at her not to struggle, silently communicating not to reveal herself.Their hands were quickly bound and made to follow Lord Zuma and his warriors across the grasslands.
They soon arrived at a stone camp built into the side of the cliffs. It was primitive but fortified. The Minotaurs were not mindless beasts, and their numbers were much more than she imagined.
Zuma motioned to have them placed by a fire where others handed them food and waterskins to drink.
Alora, not expecting the kindness, was grateful for a drink of crisp water. A soothing relief for her dry throat. She watched as the males stopped by huts, checking in on their mates and embracing their children.
Lord Zuma paused to watch this as well, a forlorn look on his face.
“What do you mean to do with us?” Caelum asked him.
“I have not yet decided.”
“Pardon us for trespassing. We could pay for passage through your territory?—”
“I will take no coin from you,” the Minotaur growled. “You humans are deceitful creatures. Greedy and violent. Is it not enough that we are driven to make a home on barren land? Constantly roaming to scavenge what we can? Men have given their word to us before, promises of peace and a home, and those promises went unkept.”
Alora’s pulse beat like a drum in her throat.
He was not wrong.
Argyle had always spoken of honor, of banners and treaties and noble blood. Yet she had seen how quickly kingdoms forgot those who were inconvenient.
If she meant to be more than a pawn in silk, to be a queen worthy of the people she claimed… then she couldn’t hide behind a cloak while others bore the cost of her name.
Alora stood and the Minotaurs stilled as she let her hood drop.
“Then how about my word, Lord Zuma?” she said.
He breathed her name as if tasting it for the first time. “Princess Alora… I thought you dead. We heard of the failed siege and Calveron’s incursion. I am sorry for your father’s loos.” His voice roughened with regret. “Perhaps if we had been invited to join your numbers, Argyle might not have fallen.”
There was a subtle resentment to his words.
