Page 54 of Lady of the Lake

Rage crackles through my nerves. The image of Meriadec’s body is burned into my brain, branded on my thoughts.

The rational side of me is desperate to catch up to Arwenna so I can stop her from spilling my secrets. But the emotional side of me wants to rip her head off in fury.

A low branch rakes across my face, scraping my cheek. I don’t care. All I care about is reaching Arwenna.

Clover’s hooves are a blur, and she seems to be caught in an excited frenzy of her own, going faster than I thought she could. Her breath fogs around her as she runs.

Down the trail, I catch a glimpse of movement: Arwenna. Her bright red cloak snaps behind her in the wind as she disappears around the bend. I grit my teeth, spurred on by the raw thrill of the hunt. Snow sprays under us as we turn the corner. She looksback and hunches low over her horse, urging it onward. She’s running from me.

I grip Clover’s reins, trying to close the distance. Arwenna kicks her horse into a faster gallop. She’s a good rider—better than me, I’m sure—but her horse can’t compare to Clover, my gift from Talan. Now, we’re closing the distance at a breathtaking speed, and if Arwenna has seen the look on my face, she knows death is coming for her.

Arwenna glances back, her face pale. As she pulls her horse to a stop, her expression twists into something wild, panicked. She leaps off, dashing into the line of trees.

Coward.Is she this scared of a farm girl?

I slow Clover to a halt and dismount, sprinting after Arwenna, but she’s familiar with these woods, and I’m not. She thinks she has the advantage.

She’s wrong.

My wrists tingle with cold magic, and I can feel the symbols sliding around my skin. Rage feeds my magic, sharpening my senses. The Lady of the Lake is coming alive in me.

I hear a heart beating, pounding like a war drum. I home in on the sound, and to the snapping twigs as Arwenna flees through the forest. With my sharpened senses, I can easily pinpoint her direction. I leap over thick roots and boulders, closing the distance like a wolf about to take down its prey.

I reach a clearing. Arwenna stands at the far edge of it, facing me. She is breathing hard. Her chest rises and falls, her face flushed with exertion. Slowly, she smiles and draws her sword, a long rapier, its polished blade glinting in the rosy sunlight.

“That was exhilarating.” Her eyes blaze as if this were a game rather than the last moments of her miserable life. “I guess this is where it ends for us.”

“Looks like it.” My fingers twitch as I take a step closer.

“Poor farm girl.” Her laughter is wild. “Too bad you’re unarmed. Doesn’t Talan love you enough to keep you safe?”

“Talan doesn’t need to keep me safe,” I spit. “You have wildly underestimated me.”

Her smile is feral. “I guess you have two options. You can run at me, and I’ll skewer you. Or you can go back, in which case I’ll tell the world the truth about you. Either way, you’re fucked.”

“That’s not how I see it.” Another step closer, my boots sinking into the snow.

“You should have left when we first met, Nia. I’m not someone you want as your nemesis.”

I draw a knife from my boot. Sleek, small, and infinitely deadlier in my hands than a rapier, thanks to Avalon Tower. My eyes narrow on her.

She lets out a short laugh. “Do you think you’ll kill me with that tiny thing? You won’t even get close. Try it, you fucking peasant. I’ve been training with a sword since I was five years old. My fencing teacher is Sir Gawain, and I’m his most skilled student.”

My knife flies, sparkling with light as it twirls through the air. It finds its mark, sinking into her stomach. Her eyes widen in shock, and with a groan, she falls to her knees. Blood spills into the snow, crimson on white, and the rapier tumbles from her hand.

I step closer to her. “You were never my nemesis, Arwenna,” I say, drawing a second knife from within my sleeve. “You weren’t even a proper enemy. You were an irritation, a pain in the ass who got in my way.”

Her mouth opens and shuts, and blood streaks from her lips into the snow, but she’s a Fey with considerable strength, and she’s still moving, trying to reach for her sword.

She turns, her fingers straining to reach her rapier. I kick it away and step on her wrist. “You’re only formidable when youropponent is strapped to a chair. I guess Sir Gawain never taught you to actuallyfight.” I kneel in the snow next to her. “He just taught you to fence. It’s not the same, though, is it? You stupid, spoiled twat.”

Her jaw drops open, disbelief etched on her face.

I crouch by her side, watching her carefully. Closely. Unlike her, I don’t underestimate my opponents. Even when beaten, some people can be dangerous.

“There’s one more thing I need from you,” I say, reaching for her face.

She grunts and grabs my wrist, which is fine. I just need to touch her.

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