Page 4 of A Bargain with the Fae King

Back to him, as in here?

My heart clenches, and I rub at my chest. Maybe my inner consciences thinks I’m healed enough not to need him anymore, but I—

“Oh, wow!” May grabs my arm and nearly pulls me over. If I didn’t still crouch on the ground, she probably would have.

My fingers dig into the grass as I steady myself. “What is—”

A shadow spills out under trees on the far side of the circle, mottled by thin strands of light. My heart picks up its pace, pounding like a hammer in my chest.

Not a shadow at all. A great beast of a thing with dark fur.

A bear.

The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. There’s not a sound. No birds chirp, no cicadas hum, and even the breeze has gone utterly still.

Wrong. All wrong.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. The bear looks our way, entirely too much awareness in its face.

“Think it wants to play?” Mays says.

“Let’s go.” Where her voice had been loud, mine is a whisper. I tug at her sleeves.

She digs her heels in. “But it looks so friendly.”

I stand with a grunt and shove her behind me. We are definitely going to have a talk about befriending wild animals when we get home.

“Now, right now.” Each word wobbles with undeniable fear. I watch the bear from the corner of my eyes and murmur silent prayers as I wrestle May toward the edge of the hill.

A deep whine splits the quiet.

May and I go utterly still, frozen by the bear’s cry. Its lumbered movement urges me into action.

I don’t wait, don’t speak, don’t look, before I scoop May into my arms and sprint toward the lake. My pulse thunders in my heart, drowning out May’s protests as she squirms in my arms to glance behind me.

Does it chase us? Can I outrun it? A scream climbs up my throat, and I swallow it down. My muscles do plenty of shrieking. May’s so much heavier than I remember, and I’m notthatstrong.

My boots slip in the decomposing underbrush. I wobble, nearly sending us both tumbling down the hill.

“Let me down! Let me down!” May hollers.

I do, almost dropping her before her feet touched the ground. My arms cry in relief.

May takes off down the hill, me tight on her heels. She doesn’t look back again. Neither do I, not until we’re back to the path.

A whisper on the soft summer breeze teases my ears. It tugs me to a stop. My brows furrow as I strain my ears, filtering through the bird calls and rustle of leaves that’s returned to normal. The whisper comes again, and this time, I can just make out what it says.

Lia.

Goosebumps race across my skin. I’m not afraid, or it’s not just that. The breathless whisper yanks on me like an invisible string. A plea.

“Riven?” I can’t say why his name climbs to the tip of my tongue. Maybe it’s because of that first dream, but he was never a bear, never terrifying. I squint, looking back at the hill, trying to see beyond the leafy trees blocking my view.

Nothing.

May still races on ahead of me, and without another backward glance, I chase after her.

Dad and Elise hurry to meet us, eyes wide and brows furrowed as we near the lake’s edge. May virtually collapses on the ground—a mix of actual fatigue and obvious acting. My heart pounds as my mind races in far too many directions.

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