At first, she thought the assassin had been sent to kill him. But then, she’d turned her arrow on Kelwyn, Thane’s spymaster.
And then everyone had started fighting.
She didn’t even know who was fighting who anymore. Fear churning through her, she backed up against the stone wall, clutching her golden dress tight in her shaking hands. Reyna was busy protecting the High King. Eislyn would call out to her sister to come to her side, but she didn’t want to bring any attention upon herself.
The scent of blood filled the air.
She needed to get out of here. With a shaky breath, she turned to rush toward the heavy doors, still open from the procession of the boar’s head. Rough hands grabbed her from behind. She tried to twist around to see them—a castle guard perhaps, trying to help—but their grip was firm on her arms, squeezing so tight that she ached to cry out.
They shoved her out the door, and a heavy sack fell onto her head, dousing everything in darkness. She started to cry.
“Hush,” the voice said. The accent was unfamiliar. Foreign. Was this a wood fae? Had they somehow made it into the castle? Was that who had attacked Thane?
If so, where were they taking her?
Her heart banged hard against her ribcage as they dragged her down the corridor. The sound of clashing steel and screams faded in the distance.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked through the salty tears that fell onto her lips. “What are you going to do with me?”
“Keep talking and we’ll knock you out,” the gruff voice said. “We don’t have time for stories.”
Eislyn pressed her lips together.
She heard the creak of an opening door, and then felt a rush of cool wind, even through the burlap sack. They shoved her several steps forward, and the floor beneath her changed from stone to something soft. Mud. They’d taken her outside. If that was the case, surely someone would spot them.
Although...every single member of the court was inside that castle, either getting slaughtered or hiding in fear. Gritting her teeth, she tried to rip her arms away, but that only succeeded in forcing the captor to tighten his grip.
“Listen, princess. You have one more chance to be a calm, quiet little thing. You try anything else, and I will bash the blunt end of my sword against that pretty little head of yours.”
“Just do it anyway,” another voice growled. “No reason to keep her conscious.”
“No, I’ll be quiet,” she blurted through her tears. “I’ll be calm. I swear it.”
Both males let out a grunt. Eislyn steeled herself, anticipating the blow at any moment, but it never came. Instead, two fingers tapped her knee. She lifted her leg and felt a pair of hands wrap around her suede boots. He hauled her up into the air, the other captor holding her waist. She landed on top of a horse. It neighed beneath her, its warmth soothing away some of her fear.
Eislyn was not like her sister. She hadn’t spent hours galloping through the forests on the back of a speckled mare, her silver hair streaming behind her as the snow tumbled down. She had, however, enjoyed her riding lessons—the few she’d had—and the familiarity of the animal comforted her somehow.
Until a rough rope was wound tightly around her hands, tying the reins into her fingers.
She pressed her lips together, trembling, too fearful to comment.
“Hold on tight, princess,” one of her captors said. “We may have to gallop at times, and we’d hate to see you tumble to your death.”
Eislyn swallowed hard, gripping the soft leather reins in her hands. Suddenly, the horse began to trot. Its hooves thudded against the mud, reverberating against her skull. She shifted slightly, wondering...if she fell off now, before the horse took off into a run, she might be able to flee to the castle for help.
“By the way,” a voice spoke up from her left, “if you make any move to escape, Tammon here will shoot you with an arrow. He has one trained on you now, and you should know that he’s a perfect shot.”
She fought back tears, despair welling up inside of her. If the fae could ride a horse and aim an arrow simultaneously, then there was no longer any doubt in her mind that he was of the Wood Court. Were they going to take her all the way to Murias, the woodland capital? Did they plan to keep her prisoner there?
It was so far from home. So far from everyone she knew and loved. And so far from safety. If they took her across the border, she’d never get back. She would spend the rest of her life inside those tree-filled lands, never again feeling the snow on her face, never seeing her father, and never finding the way to fight the Ruin.
She would never be able to save her realm. The ice fae would be doomed.
The horse slowed to a stop. She waited, listening as the creaking sounds of a rising gate grew louder. Despite her fear, she could not help but ask.
“Where are the guards at the gate?”
“Dead,” the voice to her left replied. “And all the rest of Tairngire’s guards are inside that castle. They’re likely dead, too. The reign of the Air Court is over, princess, even if the High King makes it out of this alive.”
