Page 85 of Apples Dipped in Gold

“He is dead.”

The news gave way to a new worry. “I thought fae could not die.”

“They can if they choose,” said Lore. He paused and then met my gaze. “If anything happened to you, I would choose to die.”

I didn’t know what to make of his words.

“Don’t say that,” I whispered.

He was quiet, and there was a sincerity in his eyes that twisted in my gut. Then he slipped his fingers between mine and held my hand as we continued down the other side of the hill and into the forest ahead, though we could not maintain our connection long. The forest was too thick, the underbrush a tangle of brambles and green briar, which not only covered the ground but grew upward into the trees. The stems were impossible to escape; even when I thought I had avoided the sharp thorns, they still managed to scrape across my skin. Insome places, the vines were so thick, we had to find a way around.

As we continued through the wood, a horrible smell reached us. It was distinct, putrid and vile, worse even than the witch’s cottage.

“What is that horrible stench?” I asked.

“It is the dead,” said Lore.

“The dead?” I asked, feeling the blood drain from my face.

“There are dead at the base of the mountains,” said Lore. “Many have tried to scale them, and many have failed.”

I considered asking why so many had tried to climb the mountains, but I guessed it was likely for the same thing we were after—wishes.

“You do not have to do this, Samara,” Lore said.

“I know,” I said. “I am choosing to do this, Lore. I will be fine. Fox has not led us astray yet.”

At least, that is what I kept telling myself.

That, and I was closer than ever to the truest love I had ever known.

It was nightfall when we broke through the final row of trees. My calves stung, and my skin was shredded and bloody. I was so exhausted, I wanted to collapse, but the moon was out, and she had cast a silver beam of light upon the earth just as the fox had said, only it was guiding us over the first mountaintop, which, as I tilted my head all the way back, seemed to nearly touch the sky.

The height was daunting, but so were the bodies at the base of the mountains, just as Lore had said.

“Fasten the witch’s claws to your hands and feet,” said the fox. “And you will be able to scale the mountains.”

Lore pulled the satchel over his head and withdrewthe claws. They were still bloody. I did not have the heart to ask if it was mine.

We each took four and did as the fox instructed. With two remaining, Lore slid one in my hair as he leaned in to kiss me.

“Just in case,” he murmured against my lips.

Our gazes locked as he pulled away, thumb brushing over my cheek. His eyes were dark, almost swallowed whole by his pupils, and there was a tightness to his mouth that made me think there was more he wanted to say, but I would never know what was poised on the end of this tongue, because his body jerked suddenly, and he roared in pain.

“Lore!” I screamed, fear pounding through my entire body as he reached behind his shoulder and snapped off the shaft of an arrow.

My heart raced at the sight of the familiar fetching. It was Michal’s.

I whirled, finding my brothers standing before us.

It had only been seven days since I last saw them, but in that time, they had grown far more severe. Anger settled deep in the lines on their faces, and they looked worn and haggard, their cheeks and lips chapped.

They’d had no one to care for them, and they looked every bit as wretched as they were.

The only one I cared about was who stood behind them—Rooster, my sweet and beautiful stallion.

“I cannot believe it is true,” said Hans.

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