Page 35 of An Arrow to the Heart

“I heard you’d have the item I’m after,” Sylvie said, her chin high, without an ounce of fear. He didn’t know if she was faking it or she genuinely, somehow did not fear these folk. Either way he wasn’t sure what he’d be more impressed by as if it was the former her acting was scaringly good and if it was the latter, well, let’s just say that if he wasn’t so stubborn in his attempts to impress her that he’d be shitting his pants right about now so how she remained so composed truly baffled him.

“That depends,” the hag said, looking Sylvie up and down. “Firstly, what is it you have to give me in its stead and secondly…. What is it you think I possess?” She continued, the sound of her voice sending literal shivers down Ardál's back.

“The heart of a shifter,” Sylvie said.

Ardál nearly lost his composure. What on earth kind of bloody curse required the heart of any creature. He really, really did not like this.

The Hag tilted her head slightly, her nostrils flaring as she took in Sylvie’s scent. “interesting request from the likes of you,” she said.

What in the seven Hels did that mean? The questions seemed to be piling up, regardless Ardál remained silent, a stalwart knight at her side, should she need him.

“Do you have it or not?” Sylvie said tilting her head slightly, eyebrows raised, apparently unbothered, nor threatened.

“If I had such an item, what have you to barter. Hypothetically, the heart of a shifter could fetch me a fair amount of coin in the auction.”

“I have coin,” Sylvie threw a pouch heavy with coin at the Hag, “and…. I have dragon scales.”

Ardál nearly choked at the words.

She had what?

Why was all of this news to him? Where had she gotten them? Why hadn’t she told him about them? She knew about his fascination with dragons. Did she not trust him? The thought broke something within him, but he pushed the feeling back, convincing himself she must have her reasons for keeping him in the dark. It hurt nonetheless.

He was pulled out of his thoughts, when the Hag merely said, “deal.” And he watched, eyes taking in every detail as they made the exchange. The Hag was apparently happy with the price paid as she showed her teeth in a horrifying wide grin.

“Can we please get the fuck out of here now,” Ardál said, quietly into her ear, making sure not to let his mask slip. He was royally creeped out and he didn’t want to stay here any longer than they needed to. To his surprise, she brushed one of her hands against his, as though to offer him quiet comfort and agreement. So they quietly and hurriedly slipped through the shadows, out of the crowd and back out into the open darkness that waited for them.

Before they could get to their horses however, a figure appeared from the shadows of one of the turrets.

“Leaving so soon?” a rough male voice said, tone dripping in threat, just as more indiscernible figures emerged from the shadows of the trees, like a pack of wolves clad with biting blades.

Ardál swallowed hard, his heart already pounding as he assessed the threat around them. They were surrounded, his hands immediately finding the hilt of his scian, as he stepped in front of Sylvie on instinct.

“Look who we have here,” said one of the voices to another, as he stroked his beard, stalking around them.

“It’s the hero who killed my brother Sven,” he said with a mirthless bitter laugh.

Fuck.

It was the same group that had attacked the village that day. The same group who had shot him with the arrow.

A group who had reason to want him dead.

Fuck.

Fuck.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

-Sylvie-

Oh Gods.

They were surrounded, the darkness of the night around them offering nothing but bleakness.

For the first time in a long, long time Sylvie felt real fear. Her chest rose and fell too quickly for her to properly assess the situation. She was on the brink of helpless panic surging through her. Time ceased to have meaning.

A guttural scream tore from her as several large rough hands grabbed her, pulling her backwards with such force that she stood no chance against them.