Page 74 of Wings of Lies
“Why are we stopping?” The orange-veined trees on white flesh captured my gaze. Their vibrant colors stood out against the dull brown. They wrapped themselves in a half-circle around us.
Aspen stood and stepped off the carriage, ignoring my question.
Brock walked toward the horses, unlatching them.
“Are we staying here?” I asked.
Brock gave a curt nod. He guided the horses to the edges of the orange-veined trees, likely going to the river trickling nearby. The wooden carriage rocked as Cacus and Bael got out.
Standing, blood returned to my bottom and legs after sitting for so long. I stepped off the carriage and almost face-planted. It was one thing to get used to the tingling sensation and a whole other to maneuver cuffed ankles. By the time they jangled, I was already falling, arms whipping out to grip anything I could. One hand found purchase on the rail, swinging me into the carriage side with an oomph. The itching of my power traveled up my arms as I contemplated punching the wood till my knuckles were bloody.
But I thought I wasn’t supposed to feel my powers.
I stepped down to the grass, glaring at Aspen, who sat on a stump far enough away not to hear my mishap. And, of course, he pulled out his sword, lying it across his lap, preparing to sharpen it.
Taking a few steps, my chains made little noise against the plush grass. Aspen didn’t acknowledge me. His whetstone clashed againstthe metal of his blades, covering the rest of my cuff noise. Brock was still gone, and the demons vanished into the trees, probably to hunt for food.
I glanced behind me at the forest, down to my chains, and back to my jailor.
Hana said Brock could sense things, which was part of the problem with escaping. But this time, it was only Aspen. This was my moment. It didn’t matter if the forest was dangerous and filled with Hellhounds. Aspen’s threat of chasing me down if I ran was only valid if he knew of my escape. But if he did catch me, he couldn’t do anything. His precious queen needed my powers. Armed with my bobby pins and the cover of the forest, I could remove my cuffs. After that, I’d lusceler away, find a safe place to practice my powers, and find my mom. The details would fall into place later.
But if I didn’t take this opportunity, my life would be forfeit the moment I stepped on Tenebrous’s soil. Any hope of finding my mom, even if she were in the Tenebrous Kingdom, would be crushed under the sureness of the queen’s abuse. But who knew if my mom was there? She could be in the Ethereal Kingdom. With the flickering image of both kingdoms surrounding her, I had no idea who had her. The only way to find those answers was through my dream-walking abilities or, if that failed, Magda.
So, if my only options were to brave the deadly forest and possibly die to find her, brave the deadly forest and get abused by my captors once caught, or sit back and wait to die at the queen’s hands, then why not attempt escape while Brock isn’t here?
If the forest killed me, if I was captured and broken again, so be it.
With one last glance at the asshole prince, I walked. My craving to escape begged me to run, but it’d make too much noise. So, I kept my steps slow and quiet, avoiding leaves and potential tripping hazards.
When I reached the halfway point, I glanced back at Aspen, covered partially by the carriage, still sharpening his stupid weapons. Good. At the three-fourths mark, something dark flashed in the forest. I might’ve stopped if it wasn’t for my need to escape and the lingering itches of my power riding my angry determination.
But I didn’t.
My boots reached the forest line, pausing in surprise. Sure, it’s only been a couple of minutes, but I figured my princely jailor would’ve investigated by now. Maybe after the Hellhound attack, he thought I was too frightened to attempt to go into the forest. Little did he know how badly I wanted to find my mom. The only thing keeping me going was the thought that my mom was alive and in need of help.
Ominous shadows flickered in the forest’s colorful depths. The oranges, whites, and greens were a curling finger beckoning me in while the shadows spoke of trouble. Without a second thought, I entered. Walking a ways in, I pulled a bobby pin from my hair. I crouched to pick up my cuffs and froze.
A Hellhound stepped out of the shadows.
Was it a Hellhound?
Its shadow fur resembled fur more than the ones that attacked us. Gold specs mingled with the black, moving between the wisps, matching the color of its eyes. At least this beast looked less skeletal, closer to a black wolf than a skeleton of death.
Maybe it was half-Hellhound.
I stood, knowing right about now I’d be feeling the stabs of my Glory. But unlike the itches I felt seconds ago, my cuffs suppressed them.
We stared at each other. It tilted its head to the side and sat back. The glow in its golden eyes was less murderous and more curious. Not that that meant it wasn’t going to eat me, or more accurately, drain all the blood from my body. Just because it seemed less threatening didn’t change the fact its gigantic fangs peeked from its black lip, glistening with poorly contained saliva.
I peeked to my left, seeing a road through the unique trees, knowing I couldn’t escape that way or to my right, where the river trickled somewhere in the distance where Brock and the horses were.
That left straight ahead past the half-hellhound—or whatever it was.
Swallowing, I gave one last glance at my cuffs and put my bobby pin back in my hair. I’d have to un-cuff them after I got past the beast. I raised my hands and took a step forward and to the side. It shifted to its legs, raising back up to all fours.
Heavenly hell, why did they have to be the size of small horses?
I stopped, hands shaking. “I just want to pass. Let me pass.”
