Page 58 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
The tentacle wrapped around my waist was twice as thick as my arm and a mottled brown, gray, and green that helped it blend into its forest surroundings. Both of my swords were dug into its meat, but if I finished the cut, I’d drop straight into its mouth. The only reason it hadn’t eaten me yet was because the others were distracting it.
If I could grab a tree branch …The closest one was to my left. I released one of my swords and reached for the branch, stretching my arm as far as I could. The tips of my fingers barely brushed the bark before I swung backwards.
At first, I thought it was just my own momentum. Then the tentacle swung me in the other direction. The tree trunk rapidly grew in my field of vision, and I held my hands up to protect my face.
I stopped short of the trunk before being flung in the other direction again. The world spun around me, too fast for me to see why the monster was writhing around. Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed it back down.
The tentacle finally slowed to a stop. I’d completely lost my grip on my swords. One of them had come loose at some point. I didn’t know if it had been thrown into the forest or devoured by the gaping abyss. I blinked, trying to bring my vision back into focus.
Gazing down at the monster, I saw what caused its sudden struggle: a boulder sat in the center of its mouth. Small undulations reverberated through the tentacle as it tried and failed to spit the obstruction out.
“Can someone get me down?” I asked, voice faint.
The tentacle trembled. I closed my eyes, bracing for the fall. From that height, I’d be lucky not to break anything.
The trembling turned into shaking, rattling me hard enough for my teeth to clack together. Suddenly, it relaxed. The end wrapped around my waist unwound, gently lowering me to the ground.
Someone grabbed me and pulled me away from the beast. On my way, I grabbed the sword, pulling it out of the tentacle with a long, wetsquelch.
I looked up into Maximus’ sweaty face. His clothes were askew, one shoulder of his shirt ripped, and a thick red band covered the visible parts of his chest. “Did you wrestle the tentacles?”
He nodded. Once his breathing calmed down enough to speak, he said, “There were too many of them. Had to find something else. Found the rock.”
“Thanks, buddy,” I said, reaching up to pat his stubbly cheek. “You did good.”
A faint blush colored his face and neck, and he ducked his head bashfully.
Behind us, the creature gagged and smacked at the rock with its tentacles. Apparently, it couldn’t decide whether to spit or swallow.
Angelica flounced over to us. Green splattered across her front, joining the other stains from the day’s battle. She pulled a handkerchief from her pouch and dabbed uselessly at the ruined fabric.
Fitz stumbled and collapsed against a nearby tree. He was covered head-to-toe in monster blood and his glasses were smeared in green and hanging at an awkward angle.
“Has anyone seen my other sword?” I asked, hoping the devilfish hadn’t swallowed it.
“Right here!” Delilah called, running over with it clutched in one hand.
“Don’t run toward anything you don’t want to stab,” I chastised her.
She slowed to a dramatic tiptoe, exaggeratedly raising each foot to avoid any uneven ground. It took her a full minute to reach me and lay the sword next to my hand.
A quiet temptation whispered through my mind:This forest is Wilde’s domain. He could help you fight the monsters, or better yet, avoid them altogether.
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t need his help. I stood up and sheathed my swords. “Let’s find somewhere to camp for the night.”
This was my mission, the royal champions’ quest. No matter what the forest threw at us, we could defeat it together.
Chapter Seventeen
Shortly after the second fight, we stumbled across a stream. We filled up our canteens, purified the water, and washed away the monster blood. No one was brave enough to fully bathe, since that would leave us too vulnerable, which meant we had to wash with our clothes on, then lay ourselves out to dry.
Maximus set up a campfire and made us all tea with honey. Clean skin, warm tea, and the gentle sounds of a babbling brook and leaves rustling overhead made for a downright pleasant evening.
It also made me highly suspicious. I sat up suddenly and peered through the trees. “The ghost wolves are quiet again.”
“They haven’t bothered us since the centipede,” Fitz said. He was already tucked into his bedroll, reading one of his books. “Did you know the creatures we fought last night are called minor dryads?”
“I thought dryads were beautiful women,” Angelica said. Her head was wrapped up in a towel, like she was lounging in her own bedroom rather than on a forest floor.
