He lifts his head, and seeing his distorted features from up close has me recoiling, scrambling to get away, an irrational, instinctive flailing that for sure won’t save me.
He’s on top of me, for all the Gods’ sakes. I’m not going anywhere.
Suddenly, he’s off me, jumping to his feet, and those long, black claws wrap around my arms. The world tilts as he lifts me and throws me over his shoulder.
I gasp, the last of my air knocked out of me as my stomach slams against his hard muscles, the rapier falling from my hands and clattering to the floor.
And before I can gather my thoughts, he turns and runs, shoving servants and guests aside, throwing them to the floor like dry leaves and bursting through the doors.
We’re outside.
He’s already loping away toward the meadows and woods when it hits me that he has stolen me away—and hasn’t killed me.
Yet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ROSAMUND
He runs through open fields and then below the canopy of tall trees, and I think I pass out at some point, then come around again to find we’re still moving.
There are images that feel like memories—trees bending over gurgling streams, rolling hills where deer dart over rocks and hollows, farmers leading their animals through the pastures, stopping to gape at us.
But I can’t draw in breath, my middle crushed to Valen’s big shoulder, and I lose track of time and distance. Of reality.
When eventually I’m lowered on my back to the ground, I become aware of wheezing. It’s me. I can barely breathe.
Large hands are on my face, my neck, my chest. They start pressing down, massaging my icy skin. They burn like fire where they touch.
“Fuck, Princess, breathe, okay?” he commands me, the sound more of a growl. “I sometimes forget you’re human.”
I paw at him, trying to shove him off me.
“Stop pushing me away. I’m trying to bring you back to life. Your lips are fucking blue.” He rubs at my collarbone, my throat. “Breathe. Don’t die on me. Not after I went into so much trouble to save your life.”
I cough. “Don’t…”
“I’m not going to eat you,” he says, “although I’m fucking pissed.” After a while, he sits back on his heels. “Your color is coming back.”
But my mind is slower to resume function. Lying on my back on the hard ground, the wind whistling around us, I stare stupidly up at his handsome face, the fall of white hair in his golden eyes, and can’t… think.
He licks his lips, that silver stud in his tongue flashing, and reaches again for my face, only to let his hand fall to his side. “Stay here. I’ll go hunt and be right back.”
Hunt.
It hits me, then. It’s really true. We’re outside. Outside the manor. Out in the wide world.
That’s not how I had imagined my foray outside my little bubble to be, the first after my harrowing childhood excursion.
After he leaves, I slowly sit up, pressing a hand to my bruised and aching middle. He left me inside a stone circle, an old structure, worn and weathered. Moss paves the ground, and lichens form patches of pale pink and yellow on the dark stones that rise like jagged teeth out of the earth.
Above, the sky is dipping into afternoon hues, lilac and gold, dragons cavorting among the wreaths of clouds. I see many draks, the most common dragonkin, large enough to take on riders, as well as small darakins. I don’t see any of the Great Dara, the enormous dragons inhabiting the higher atmosphere.
I feel… oddly calm. Numb. Still in shock, probably. At a loss as to what to do. I’ve always had my routine to keep me going, to settle my racing heart and give sense to my days.
Now… What do I do now?
Reach Lord Eorl’s manor. That was my goal up until today.
