Page 29 of Betrothed

She twisted in his arms to reach the table, which had fire climbing the rear legs. At first, he thought she was reaching for the walking cane he had given her. But she picked up the freckle rock he had gifted her instead, tucking it safely in her pocket.

“Okay,” Fawn said, her voice thick. “L-let’s get out of here.”

Zax’s heart throbbed with all-consuming love. He kissed his beloved’s forehead, then climbed onto the burning window and leapt into the night.

The air filled with shouts.

“There,” Errol screamed. “He’s there, get him!”

Zax barely had time to grab onto a nearby tree before more flaming arrows were upon him, streaking past him so close he felt their heat. He crouched to jump to another tree, but an arrow caught him in the side.

The arrow burned. But unlike the other arrows, it did not burn him with fire. This arrow burned in a way that was completely unique to Skullstalkers; it was wrapped with malblossom.

Zax bellowed with pain. His grip slipped, and Fawn shrieked as they plummeted through the branches.

Zax flailed. But branches continued to snap around him, and the ground was coming at them so fast. If he had not been holding Fawn, maybe he could have stopped his descent. But he could do nothing but curl around Fawn, turn his back to the ground, and hope he landed on one of those damned mortals.

He slammed into the ground hard enough to force the breath from his chest. His side blazed with pain from the malblossom arrow. For a moment, he lay there, dazed. But he had no time. The mortals were running over to him, their weapons raised.

“Careful,” Errol yelled. “Don’t shoot the girl!”

A hunter ran at him with an ax, ready to bring it down on Zax’s head. But before he could raise it, a bathtub fell out of the sky and crushed the hunter to bloody bits.

“Bathtub,” Zax muttered sadly. He had spent ages trying to find a suitable bathtub.

But there was no time to mourn. There were still two hunters left, plus Errol. Zax held Fawn tightly against his chest and ran.

Arrows streaked past him. Zax ran faster, ignoring the stabbing pain in his side from the malblossom arrow.

“Zax,” Fawn said.

He ignored her, running so fast his legs ached. The mortals were piteously slow. Soon, Zax could hardly hear their shouting, and he let Fawn down on the ground so he could rip out the arrow. He reached down and curled a hand around it, grimacing as the malblossom scoured his hands. Then he yanked it out.

Blood trickled down his side. Zax examined the wound—not horribly deep, mostly cauterized from the malblossom burns—and then tossed the arrow aside.

“Come,” he panted.

He reached for Fawn. She took a step away from him, her eyes fixed on the distant shapes of men running through the trees.

“Come,” Zax repeated. “They will be upon us soon. I will take us away, to the mountains.”

He reached for her again.

Fawn stepped away. “Just a second.”

“We do not have a second,” Zax said. Again, he reached for her, and again, she moved away from him.

“Just one second,” she hissed.

Zax stopped. There were tears in her eyes again, but now he was unsure why. He thought she was scared of the hunters. But she had heard Errol’s voice now… Did she want to see him? Surely not. He had spoken of her so cruelly.

“Fawn,” he tried. “If you want to see Errol, I-I can bring you to him. But not now. Now they would kill me.”

“Then go,” Fawn choked.

Zax reeled back, stung. “What?”

He moved toward her again. She reeled back with a cry, tears spilling down her cheeks.