Page 140 of Blood of the Fairest

My stomach clenches desperately, my pulse deafening—but I force myself to look away from the blood.

The carriage door is wide open. Two men stand beside it. One holds a flickering torch, and the other holds Ingrid back.

She's terrified, but struggling to break free as a third bandit leans into Snow White's carriage.

Snow White screams something about not telling them anything, but the intruder just calls out to the others, "Oi! Maybe he'll be happy if we bring this tasty little princess to him, instead."

"Don't be a fool," the torchbearer snaps before addressing Snow White himself. "Isenmerian royalty's supposed to ride in the last carriage, so where is she? Speak fast, or we'll take you, too."

However disoriented I was about this sudden attack, it transforms into fury at the idea of them laying a hand on that innocent girl.

That fury beats hard in my veins, mingling with the persistent thirst burning my throat. My teeth ache to sink into something.

"There you are," Malivant's voice whispers in my mind. "Such wrath could lure me anywhere."

Ignoring that fucker's voice, I let the anger and bloodlust take over as I rush toward the man leaning into the carriage.

He's holding a sword. I briefly see Eris's face flash in the blade, thanks to the glow of the nearby torch.

"Verena, don't⁠—"

It's too late. I'm already tackling the man to the ground, knocking his helmet off. My teeth become fangs just as they slide into his neck.

His scream of alarm quickly melts into a moan of arousal—but he's the only one enjoying this, because his blood tastes like rotten papaya.

Still, it soothes the overwhelming burn long enough for me to think more clearly.

When he starts to writhe with pleasure, I grab the sword hilt from his hand and release his neck. Leaving him panting on the ground and humping his own hand through his breeches, I stand to glare at the other guards.

I have absolutely no fucking idea how to actually use the sword I just commandeered, but hopefully they think otherwise.

The torchbearer stares wide-eyed at the blood dripping from my mouth. So does Ingrid, who has stopped struggling to gawk.

But the man holding Ingrid quickly shoves her aside, motioning at the other man.

"Red hair, like he said. Grab her and let's get out of here. The others can't distract that northerner for much longer."

A chill passes over me. They intentionally distracted Wulf, just to…

"They're after you," Eris shouts from the sword, confirming my realization. "Run!"

Just as the man who released Ingrid lunges toward me, I drop the sword and run.

Nearly tripping on my skirts at first, I hike them up and tear through the meadow. A second later, I look over my shoulder to make sure they're after me.

The good news is, those bandits have no interest in Snow White or Ingrid anymore—but the bad news is that they really are after me, and they're fast.

Fuck.

Just like all those years ago, when I actually had to run for my life for the first time, I curse myself for not joining a track team or training for marathons. I'm not a runner, and apparently neither was the queen because my lungs are already burning.

"Oi! She's over there! Don't let her get away!" one of the men in pursuit shouts, drawing several other bandits' attention to me.

A hand makes a grab for me from one side. I manage to dodge it, still running like my ass is on fire.

I don't even realize where I've been running to until I hear another attacker shout something about the Loomdark.

Twisted trees tower in front of me, getting nearer with each impact of my feet against the ground. All at once, I've left the meadow, the warm southern air of Aurefeld dropping several degrees and filling with scents of earth and moss.