Page 12 of The Huntsman's Heart
“I am going to let you ride now, if you do what you are told. I am sure it will be a more comfortable trip for you if you cooperate. Defy me and you will end up slung over my horse again.”
I watch her until she makes the slightest nod. Then I reach out and remove the gag. Then, cautiously, I untie the rope binding her legs to let her sit astride in front of me in the saddle.
There’s a brief moment when she’s quiet and still, the perfect picture of a humbled, obedient princess.
Then she turns and sprints into the trees, arms still bound behind her back.
Guinevere
I don’t really have a plan other than somehow getting away from Alaric and back to Blackthorn. I don’t know why he brought me out here, but I know I won’t like the reason. I’d rather not stick around to find out.
And every moment I spend out here in the woods is another I’m away from my father. He may not have many left.
My throat burns, but I can’t give in to tears now. I can’t let myself be weak. I could run faster with my hands free, but I didn’t dare wait to see if Alaric would untie them.
He’ll catch me any moment, but I have to try. I can’t give up.
The ground is mossy and uneven. Loose pine needles and icy frost make my footing unstable. I slip but manage to right myself, legs working faster to keep me steady.
I can’t hear Alaric behind me. I don’t want him to catch me, but experience tells me he will any moment; so why can’t I hear him?
I’m so busy concentrating on the noises I don’t hear behind me and finding my way between the trees in the dark that I don’t spot the dark, scaly shape slithering around the trunk of the tree beside me until it rears a fanged face which stretches almost as tall as I am.
I don’t bother screaming. There’s no one here who could come to my aid. Instead I dodge out of the way, almost tripping on the root of a tree. I scramble backward, but I’m no match for the monster who slithers towards me, fangs dripping with something vile and a hiss rising in its throat.
I scramble backward, colliding with a tree, the wind knocked from me. I slide to the ground just as it catches me. It’s like a snake, but so much bigger it could swallow me whole. A gray beard trails from its chin, and in the dark its eyes glow red. It shifts with an unnatural flickering magic that seems to repel the light.
I should run. I should try to get up instead of lying here paralyzed. All I can think of though is I’ve known all my life that monsters existed, but never once have I reallyknown.
Now I’ll never un-know.
As the creature rears its head again to strike, a blade flashes through the air in front of me. With an awful hacking noise, Alaric cuts the monster’s head off with a single blow. Thick black blood splatters the ground, and the head rolls away as the body of the beast drops to the ground steaming.
Without an ounce of mercy, Alaric yanks me up by my hair, wiping his sword on a tuft of moss and sheathing it in one fluid motion that reminds me that this is child’s play to him. He trains boys to face the Gloamwald. He slaughters monsters every time he sets foot in this forest. I've seen the severed heads he carries back to the keep after each excursion.
My scalp stings, and I wince as he sets me roughly on my feet. I’m still shaky from my encounter. Right up until that moment, this was all a horrid game. Another battle of wills between us.
Not anymore.
Now the reality that I'm probably going to die out here sinks home like Alaric’s blade into its sheath.
If I ever get my chance, though, I’ll make Alaric pay for this.
“Still think it wise to run from me, princess?” he scoffs.
I don’t answer. There’s no point. I won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting he is right. And I won’t stop trying to escape him every chance I get, even if it is a stupid risk.
I might end up in the belly of whatever foul creature catches me first, but I have no doubt my fate will be equally unpleasant if Alaric gets his way.
He ties me to his horse while he finds the head of the serpent and milks venom from its fangs into a tiny glass vial which he stashes under his belt.
I’m shivering in the cold, but I can’t even wrap my arms around myself because they’re still tied behind my back. It must be the middle of the night by now. My limbs ache. I wish I was in my comfortable bed with my heated bedpan and a servant on hand.
Hell, I almost wish I was attending Melantha at table or in another hated embroidery lesson; I’m that cold and miserable.
Alaric remounts, kicking the horse into motion, and I’m forced to trot behind so I’m not yanked off my feet. He doesn’t slow his steed. Doesn’t look back at all.
I don’t know how long we go on like that.
