Zane made a strangled sound, as if he’d choked on a laugh.
Another branch cracked, and his spine was rigid.
“Nians?” I whispered.
His lips were flat as he scanned the path ahead of us. “Probably.”
“What do we do?”
“This isn’t the place for a fight,” he muttered.
The trees pressed in on us. We wouldn’t be able to see the nians until they were on top of us.
“We run.” The two words were jagged, as if it pained him to say them. “You ready?”
I gave a brief nod, and we spurred our horses to a gallop. The trees raced by as I clung to the saddle horn and prayed Buttercup wouldn’t make any sudden shifts beneath me.
Zane’s horse ran in front of me, Remy’s behind. The sounds of their hooves hitting the frozen earth and the rapid thump of my heartbeat were all I could hear. The cold wind stole tearsfrom my eyes and froze them on my cheeks. Raw fear made it hard to breathe.
It was official. Excitement and adventure sucked.
Chapter
Forty-Five
PIERCE
The strands of a basajaun’s white hair were our only clues. Caught on branches, each glistening strand strengthened our resolve. We would find her. There was no other acceptable option.
“We’re near the Rymar border.” Grayson’s right hand hovered near his dagger’s sheath. His left held Caspian’s reins. His eyes scanned the landscape, but he was looking for threats, not the next strand of hair that might lead us to Haven.
“There!” Teal pointed. Caught on a pine bough, a silvery white strand fluttered in the wind.
“Is that a footprint?” The snow had stopped, and as much as we’d been searching for basajaun hair, we’d also been scanning the ground for traces of the beast’s passage. The indentations in the snow didn’t look fresh, but they were deep enough to follow. Hope flickered in my chest.
Grayson grumbled unhappily. Each step up the mountain took us further from Angelfire.
I understood his reluctance. His was the logicalstance. But when it came to Haven, logic had no value, not when a golden-haired woman who slew monsters needed us.
We’d been riding at a walk so as not to miss the strands of basajaun hair, but now that we had footprints to follow, Flynn urged his horse to a trot.
We reached a clearing, and the footprints changed. There were two different sizes.
The large ones headed down the mountain. The new, smaller set seemed to circle the clearing before cutting into the trees.
“It’s Haven. It has to be Haven.” The hope in Flynn’s voice was worrisome.
Flynn was a man ruled by fire. He burned bright, but disappointment or failure could drown him in darkness. Teal was his steadying presence. If we failed to find Haven, it would be Teal who dragged Flynn from the abyss.
We would not fail.
Because if we did, it wouldn’t only be Flynn drowning in darkness.
I respected strength. Physical strength. Mental strength. My uncle, a weak man who was desperately jealous of his older brother, had betrayed my father and cost me my family. The weak could not be trusted. They’d trade anything for power. I’d only met weak women. They traded on their looks or bodies. Unreliable. Grasping. Faithless.
Haven was nothing like that. She was strong.
I was self-aware. I knew I repressed my emotions. No one was better at burying their feelings. Not even Grayson, and he had a bottomless hole in his soul, one so deep that his feelings about his mother could never climb free.
