Page 79 of The King's Man
We’d entered the Shadows of Shade behind Hever and felt the eyes on our backs within minutes. But it was only as we grew deeper that the mists seemed to grow hands and teeth and—
Those days in the Shadows, even with theprotectionof whatever it was that Hever had done to save our lives, had been harrowing. I never wanted to repeat them.
Keep your mind focused on good intentions for the Fetch,he’d said in that dry-rot of a voice. But was that really what he’d done? He’d disappeared since Melek took the crown and—
I tried to run again—but a few steps later, a tree root seemed to rise out of the earth to catch my ankle and send me tumbling to the dirt again.
I lay for a moment, my temple to the cool earth, catching my breath—but then squawked when a pressure appeared on the back of my neck, like a boot, like a man standing, threatening to snap my spine if he didn’t suffocate me first.
With a raw howl I twisted and rolled until I was free and could leap back to my feet—but then nearby branches whipped as if they’d been caught and swung back, straight for my eyes.
This fucking forest washaunted.
I couldn’t remember which direction I’d come from. More branches whipped out to catch my face, so I raised my arms for protection, only to be caught on a tree root again. And when I staggered back to my feet… I was blind.
The fog had thickened to soup, twirling, boiling soup so thick I couldn’t see my hand when I extended my arm.
Then claws raked down my back, talons piercing through the linen of my shirt and into my skin and I screamed and drew my spear, whipping in a circle and roaring a battle call… only to have the mist flutter and seep in my wake, curling through the air where I swung the weapon, then lazily returning to the tendrils of vapor and…
DearGod,I needed to get out of here.
But my mate was here. And she thought I’d hurt her.
Panting, turning a slow circle with the weapon in my hand poised for thrust, I cast my mind back, desperately trying to remember what Hever had done to get us through.
He’d spoken to the mists as if they were sentient.
I rubbed a hand over my sweaty dirty face and shook my head. But what could it hurt?
“I’m here for my mate, Diadre. She’s Shadekin—”
The fogboiled,and one of those tendrils snaked out towards my chest like a rope. I gasped and stabbed at it with the spear, but the fog merely parted for it, then returned, coiling around me.
I was going to fucking die out here.
“Please! She’s my mate!”
Those claws that had dragged down my back, raked into my hair and down my scalp, tearing the skin so the warm seep of blood trickled through my hair and down my neck as I struggled and turned, trying desperately to get free. But there was no fucking enemy to stab. Noresistance.
Something caught my ankle and I screamed as I went down—it seemed the earth rushed up to meet me, but as I rolled back to my feet, something punched into my ribs, then my temple. I groaned, and threw blows, but only succeeded in almost tearing my shoulder when the punch landed on nothing but air.
Then another blow to my shoulder, and one to my back. Another to my head that made a sound in my skull like an inflated bladder bounced against a wall.
I curled into a ball in the dirt, arms over my head, grunting at the blows to my ribs, my hips, my back—screaming.“She’s my mate! I’d never hurt her—she’s my mate!”
But it was wasted breath.
It came home to me then that I would die—not an honorable passing in battle, or a dignified end in my old age bed. I would die with my nose pressed to the dirt like a dog and my arms curled over my head because I couldn’t get through to her—
Everything stopped.
I lay there on the ground in the fetal position, knees curled up to my chest, arms over my head, my breath wheezing as I heaved for more air.
Nothing.
The forest around me was silent.
A few moments later I blinked and slowly raised my head to look around. The fog remained, but now I could see through to the trees and the path and…
