Page 96 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

The back of my calf has been sliced open. Blood soaks through the torn fabric of my trousers. I curse viciously under my breath. That is a deep cut. But I don’t have time to tend it. I push myself to my feet, ignoring the screaming pain, and keep running—limping violently. Blood streams down my leg.

I make it to the end of the Path before I stop, breathing too hard, and use my knife to cut a strip of cloth from my cloak. It’s not clean, but that doesn’t matter right now. I wrap it around my calf and knot it so tightly I nearly cry out from the pain.

A thousand questions flood my mind, panic about how I’m going to manage this raid, how I’m going to keep this wound hidden from Rahk when I return to his house. I shove them all away. There is nothing except the task before me.

I keep running. I take the right Path this time, one that goes to my next target: the Pyrenar Court.

I don’t know how much time until Rahk frees himself from the monster, but I have to act fast. Pushing past the pain, I sprint through the Path, careful not to accidentally fall off it and into the unforgiving depths of Caphryl Wood.

Waiting at the end of the Path, before a white, ornate gate is Tailor. His spectacles sit askew on the bridge of his nose, his face wreathed in fear. “Kat!”

“No time!” I gasp. “We need to get them out—”

“I’ve already gotten them out,” he says. “But you—you’re bleeding!”

“Bless you. Prince Rahk is on my trail,” I say by way of explanation. “I’ve got the lead on him, but I cannot go back the way I came.”

“I have an alternate Path for you. This way! How bad is the injury?”

“I can barely feel it, to be honest.” I duck after him around the gate. In tall rushes, a young couple hides. They look only barely older than I am. He has his arm around her shoulders, and she grips his hand in hers. I spare a relieved thought that they both look like they can move quickly.

“Thank you, Ivy Mask,” says the young woman. “We owe you everything.”

“You’ve given us a chance to live—and to marry.” The man gives me such a look of earnest gratitude as he pulls the woman I assumed was his wife—but apparently is his intended—to her feet.

Their praise turns my stomach. “Don’t thank me yet,” I mutter, reapplyingollea. The three of us follow Tailor through thick foliage until we reach a new Path that shimmers before us.

“He won’t be able to track you here,” the tailor says. “It’ll take you to Valehaven, and from there you can take the usual Path to your part of the world.”

I cannot help myself and I grab him by the collar and kiss his cheek soundly—a slapping of my mask against his face. “You are a miracle, Tailor. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Yes, yes, now go!”

It’s a longer distance than usual, and I could weep from missing Bartholomew, but we make great time for being on foot. When I stumble, the fabric tying my wound soaked through, the young man scoops an arm beneath my shoulder blades and under my armpit, dragging me back to my feet and helping to bear my weight.

“Thank you,” I gasp.

We make it to the edge of Caphryl Wood an hour later. My leg shakes from the ill use. But I don’t stop as I yank out my precious little supply ofollea.I cannot take chances tonight. “Put a drop on the bottom of your shoes!” I tell them. Now that I know Rahk is here in the human world, along with Ymer, I’m painfully aware of how unsafe this place is. It’s like the shimmering ground of the receding border is only a reminder of how dangerous Ashbourne is while Rahk is on the hunt.

I search the darkness for sign of Ymer. In the distance, a great lump is sprawled on the ground, and if I strain, I can hear something resembling snoring. I exhale in relief. As long as we stay quiet, we should be fine.

The couple does as I say, and I give them the usual instructions. Sweat streams down their faces as they pant. The young man’s eyes flick between my face and my wounded leg. “We’re not leaving you like this.”

“Absolutely not!” insists the girl.

“I will be completely fine,” I lie. “You’re the ones in danger. I have only a little way before I am safe. Please—you must make it to the city. For me. You’ll leave me in worse danger if you stay.”

They look dubious, but accept my explanation and break into a run.

I watch them disappear into the darkness and spare a prayer that they will rebuild their life together and have a long, happy marriage. Then I take stock of where I stand, a good half of a mile from my cart and the Nothril Path. My limbs shake from the exertion and pain, yet I have no choice but to work as fast as I can. I need to be back in bed at Rahk’s house before he returns—and I must be free of all signs of Faerieland when I do. I rip off my mask and stuff it into my pocket.

It seems impossible.

But I must make it happen. There is no other option.

Thunder rumbles overhead, low and menacing. I take another strip of my cloak and wrap it around my leg. I cannot leave a trail of blood behind me. I find a stick I can lean on and hobble my way as fast as I can back to Rahk’s estate. It’s agonizing work, sweat streaming down my face and salt stinging my eyes. Each step is more painful than the one before it. I grit my teeth and push onward.

I’m beginning to believe I’ll never make it when the light woods near Rahk’s house and the burbling of the creek nearly make me gasp in relief. I pick up my pace, ignoring the throbbing that now shoots up my entire leg.

---