Page 52 of Chained Knight

Thatdefinitelyexplained why the chained man was so eager to have her performing errands. He just needed someone to stand in for this Moon-queen of his. Maybe once it was done he’d be grateful and send her back through a door to the mortal world? Or these people would let her stay in a little cottage somewhere, with pearl-cabbages and a flower garden.

Which would be nice, but Ari wished he’d just told her so outright instead of all this nonsense about heaths and blossoms, hunting and games.

Now everyone was looking at her except Leshe, who examined the forest instead, dark braids rippling down her back. Hannixe’s mane was astounding, but the other woman’s looked like a solid century of growth with nary a split end.

“My lord prince,” Jazarl said, carefully, “perhaps our queen should not be forced to endure the Blight or the traitor’s presence. Surely we may simply deal with him in a manner befitting, without troubling her more.”

Thank you. Ari’s gaze met his, and the blue-haired man straightened slightly. It was nice to know her careful attempts at finding allies had borne at least partial fruit.

“Unfortunately, that is the condition of release.” The chained man might have said more, but Leshe stiffened and whirled, blue velvet skirts belling.

“’Ware,” she hissed, a low fierce warning. “Movement in the woods, and ’tis not friendly.”

Nobody argued. Keners immediately broke away from the group of men, bearing down on Hannixe. The Grey Lady rose, bending to catch Ari’s hand and draw her upright. Darjeth and Alzarien ran for the equines; Majan, Naithor, Jazarl and Sarledrew rapiers, the sound of edged metal leaving sheaths dismally familiar by this point.

The canteen dropped from Ari’s nerveless fingers; Hannixe caught it, hustling her for the equines as Keners hovered, rapier-hilt gleaming and his head up, scanning the fog. The pale streak at his temple glowed, and he steered his lady for her dappled grey mount the moment she let go of Ari’s arm.

The white equine stood stock-still, ears back and dark eyes ringed, its lip lifting to show thosedefinitelynon-herbivore teeth. Ari had to put her foot in the chained man’s cupped hands yet again, hauling herself into the saddle. She gathered the reins, and the chained man’s grasp found her ankle. He looked up, and the metal-clad fingers tightened.

It was probably a warning, like Mike staring across a crowded room, cautioning her not to say anything to tarnish his public image, not to talk too long to another man, not to laugh too loudly or spill anything.Don’t fuck this up.

Now she was wishing she’d gone back to sleep after the nightmare, but at least the Mere was dealt with. She should’ve known even worse was around the corner.

“Do not worry,” he said, his tone slicing through the confusion of others mounting, Leshe hopping neatly into a saddle and Sarle swinging up behind her. Everyone except Ari knew exactly what to do. “Your work is done, my kindness. Simply let me finish this, and all will be well.”

Oh, yeah. Sure.Ari nodded, and didn’t bother replying.

There was no point.

29

SELF-DEFENSE

Red daylight burned,picking at the fog’s scab-edges. The Poisonwood stretched, crackled, creaked, and squeaked. Ari caught glimpses of trees thickening, losing their spines, and bushes shaking off pendulous berries as their branches shifted shape. Mushrooms shriveled, deliquescing swiftly; the black sunflowers crumbled, seeds puffing into bursts of ash before they hit the ground.

The entire place was morphing, and she was almost glad for the thinning screen of mist. Seeing the woods around the Keep growing in fast-forward was one thing, akin to watching a timelapse in a nature documentary. This was… something else, and she didn’t like it.

At all.

Maybe Hannixe agreed. The Grey Lady didn’t point out new species of flora or talk about tinctures and pastes. She rode close to Ari, her hood thrown back and ashen mane bobbing as she scanned what could be seen of the forest. Keners and Sarle led the way, Leshe before Sarle in the saddle, occasionally pointing in one direction or another. They accepted direction withoutquestion, sometimes steering away from what she indicated, other times turning immediately at her urging.

The chained man’s black equine was just behind Ari’s, and she felt his scrutiny. Her back ran with harsh tingling gooseflesh, her breath turning short when the sounds around them crested. She couldn’t decide what was worse, the mutating vegetation or that little phrase they tossed around so casually.

Restless dead. Those horrible moans, the damp slap-padding footsteps, and that other extremely concerning term,contagion. Not to mentionblight.

At least the falling leaves, branches, and other crap avoided their group, though sizable boughs frequently thudded down to one side or the other. The equines laid their ears back and snorted at the noise, but did not prance; they were tense and alert as their riders.

Ari’s fingers were cold. The chill crept up her arms, and her toes were numb as well. Maybe it was the constant stress, or the knowledge that she was just an appliance. The chained man wanted out of his tin can, and that was understandable.

I just wish he hadn’t said all that stuff. Thank heaven she hadn’t reciprocated, or made a bigger fool of herself. There was that to be grateful for, at least.

If she was eventually sent back home—assuming she wasn’t a changeling—it was time to start thinking of how to cope with the cops and the Hardisons. Ari might be able to make a case for self-defense even without the bruises, unless her injuries returned when she did? If the media got interested—or a savvy public defender—she had a good chance at manslaughter instead of murder charges. Of course Mike’s parents had a lot of money, but that wasn’t everything, right?

That was if she stayed to face the music. If she could deal with lakes of blood and giant, shiny horned robots, maybe crossing state lines and starting over again wasn’t such a big deal.Maybe she could even emigrate, putting an international border between her and the entire awful mess.

Ari straightened in the saddle, pushing her shoulders back. The deep piercing chill was new, at least since her arrival. It could be purely psychological, she supposed. A fresh breeze brushed her cheeks, slid away to dance in the speaking forest, and the mist shredded.

The trees no longer wept red resin or thick black tar. Some of the poisonous things Hannixe had pointed out lingered, true, but they looked far less virulent as they jostled with other flora. All in all the place looked a lot healthier now, and that was good because?—

---