As we set out, leaving the shelter of the bridge behind, I felt the claiming mark pulse in time with my heartbeat. The connection I’d forged with my beasts wasn’t weakening with distance but strengthening with purpose. I’d made them a promise in that dream-space between worlds. I would save them, no matter the cost.
Gaspard would hunt me. The king’s men might join him. Alain—No, I pushed away the thought of him, the complicated tangle of feelings his memory evoked. None of it mattered now. Only my mission, my purpose.
The Forbidden Forest loomed ahead, its ancient trees standing sentinel at the boundary between cultivated lands and wild magic. Most feared what dwelled within those shadows. I’d once shared that fear, but now I rode toward it with determination bordering on hunger.
“Hold on,” I whispered to princes who couldn’t hear me in this dimension. “I’m coming home.”
The stone pulsed one final time against my hip as the mare broke into a canter, carrying me closer to the forest that hadclaimed so many lives but had somehow, against all odds, given mine purpose at last.
forty-nine
Alain
The mare’s hoof prints were clear as day in the soft spring earth, mocking me with how easy they’d been to follow since dawn. Each depression in the mud was like a signpost pointing straight to Isabeau, and if I could read them this clearly, so could Gaspard and his hunters. I’d barely slept, leaving the castle grounds under cover of night with supplies Brigida had smuggled to me, my mind consumed with one thought alone:find her before they did. Before the tournament’s final “hunt” could claim her life.
My stallion’s breath fogged in the early morning air as we traveled the same path she’d taken less than a day before. The sun was barely cresting the horizon, painting the sky in violent streaks of orange and pink that reminded me of blood in water. An omen I refused to acknowledge.
The trail led down toward a small river, the water rushing over smooth stones with a constant murmur that almost masked the sound of my approach. Almost, but not quite. If anyone waited beneath the stone bridge ahead, they would hear me coming.
I dismounted, leading my stallion by the reins the final stretch. Better to approach cautiously than charge in like the privileged fool I’d always been. The one who thought he could keep a woman locked away for her own protection, never seeing the prison I’d created was no better than the one I’d rescued her from.
“Easy now,” I whispered to the stallion as we approached the bridge. The structure was ancient, moss climbing its stone sides like a slow invader, patient enough to wait centuries for victory.
The prints led directly beneath the arch. I tied my mount to a nearby tree and approached on foot, hand resting on the hilt of my sword though I expected no confrontation. If my timing was right, she would already be gone, but not by much.
The space beneath the bridge was exactly the kind of shelter a person on the run would choose. Protected from the elements, hidden from casual passersby, with water close at hand. I ducked under the low arch, my eyes adjusting to the dimmer light.
She’d been here. The ground was disturbed where someone had slept, a slight depression in the earth the perfect size for a woman’s body. I knelt, placing my hand against the soil. Still holding a whisper of warmth despite the morning chill. Hours old. She couldn’t be far ahead. Her rest gave me time to catch up.
My fingertips brushed against something soft. A strand of auburn hair caught on the rough stone, gleaming like copper in a shaft of morning light that penetrated the bridge’s shadows. I lifted it carefully, as if it might dissolve at my touch, and felt an ache spread through my chest that had nothing to do with the long night’s ride or lack of sleep.
“Isabeau,” I murmured, her name a prayer and a promise wrapped in few syllables.
I should have listened. Should have believed her when she spoke of beasts and curses and responsibilities I couldn’t comprehend. Instead, I’d dismissed her fears as trauma, her determination as delusion. I’d become exactly what I despised. Another man who thought he knew better than she did with what she needed, what was best for her safety.
And while I’d been strutting around the tournament field winning meaningless competitions, my father and brother had been plotting her execution with the very man who had broken her in the first place.
My fist clenched around the strand of hair. If I ever got my hands on Gaspard Coventry again, tournament rules would mean nothing. I would end him for what he’d done to her, for the fear that had paled her face at the mere mention of his name, for whatever horrors had driven her to flee into the Forbidden Forest rather than face him again.
But first, I had to find her.
I backed out from under the bridge, scanning the ground around me with new urgency. The tracks were painfully obvious. A single horse heading directly toward the distant line of trees that marked the beginning of the Forbidden Forest. Anyone with even basic tracking skills would be able to follow this trail.
“Shit,” I hissed, suddenly realizing how vulnerable she was. The hunt wouldn’t officially begin until later today, but Gaspard wasn’t one to play by rules. He would have set out at first light,perhaps even before, eager to reclaim his prey before anyone else could intervene.
I glanced back toward the distant city I’d fled. By now my absence would have been discovered. My squire would have reported that I never returned to the castle after the last event yesterday. Father would be furious, but not surprised. He’d seen how I looked at her, had warned me about getting too attached to a woman he considered beneath my station. Now he would have confirmation of what he’d always suspected. That his second son lacked the backbone to put duty before personal desire.
He was wrong. This wasn’t about desire, though I couldn’t deny Isabeau had awoken something in me I’d never felt before. This was about doing what was right when everyone around me was content to perpetuate a monstrous wrong. This was about saving an innocent woman from a fate she didn’t deserve.
My gaze returned to those damning tracks, and a cold certainty settled in my gut. I wasn’t the only one who would follow them. The tournament’s final hunt was hours behind at most, because Gaspard would never wait for official sanction. He would be on the move already, tracking her with the same single-minded determination that had made him the kingdom’s most celebrated huntsman.
“I need to buy us time,” I muttered to my stallion, who simply flicked an ear in my direction, unimpressed by human problems.
I returned to my horse and mounted up, an idea forming that might just work to slow down any pursuers. It would give us more time. And time was valuable for her right now.
Instead of continuing to follow Isabeau’s trail, I began riding in wide circles around the bridge, deliberately crossing over her tracks again and again from different directions. Then I took my mount down to the river’s edge, riding along the shallow water for a stretch before emerging on the opposite bank.
Back and forth I went, creating a confused web of hoof prints that led in multiple directions. To the east, toward the next village. South, back toward the city. North, following the river. And yes, some heading west toward the forest, but now they were just one set among many, no longer a clear path for hunters to follow. If only Isabeau knew the lengths I’d go through to protect her from this madness.
