Page 30 of The Huntsman's Heart
I should feel more guilty, but at least his sour mood has lifted. Sometimes he needs a distraction. “Has Raban returned yet?”
Corvin frowns. “I thought he must be helping you. What could take so long?”
I have been thinking the same thing.
I fetch water for Corvin to wash his hands, and we both set out beyond the walls. As soon as we go more than a few feet from the structure, the pull begins, a tug in my chest, making each step feel weighted as if a rope tethers me to the castle on a pulley. After many feet the resistance increases, and eventually it becomes impossible to go further.
“Raban!” I call. “Are you out here?”
There’s a bark and Knochenwolf bursts through the trees, carrying a large stick in his jaws. He grins at me around his prize, drool dribbling from the sides of his mouth. A moment later the others appear. Raban looks a little sheepish. “Oh, I thought that was you calling. Is it nearly dawn already? I lost track of time.”
I give him a knowing look. “Is that right?”
He lifts the stack of wood in his arms. “Slim pickings tonight.”
The ground is covered with perfectly good sticks, but I let it drop. We all wish to know what has happened to the princess, but I doubt he will find a trace of her anywhere within our reach.
We’re all quiet as the night ends. I don’t ask what the others are thinking of. I know it is her. If only we had another chance, perhaps we could show her life here with us would not be so bad. Of course, the castle is in poor condition and there are piteous few of the creature comforts a princess like her would be used to. I cannot blame her for wanting to leave. All the more reason to redouble our efforts to put the place to rights. There may not be many more opportunities, but I have to hold out hope that there might be at least one more visitor, one more chance for us to fulfil our true purpose.
Guinevere
I wake up when warm, gentle hands touch my face and a soft, deep voice calls, “Princess?”
I might be awake, but I can’t move any part of my body. I can barely even open my eyes. Everything hurts. At least I’m still alive, I guess.
And then I remember.
“Princess, can you hear me?”
I try to speak. All that comes out is an incoherent murmur.
Apparently that’s good enough. “She lives.”
Corvin’s voice scoffs. “I doubt it.”
“You know what I mean,” Raban says. Then he must bend lower. His voice is close to my ear. “I’m going to lift you, princess, so we can take you back to the castle. Keep you safe. My apologies. This may hurt.”
His hands are gentle, but searing pain is the last thing I remember before I black out again.
“Here, put her here. Be careful!”
I cry out as my legs make contact with a thousand blades.
“Shhh. It won’t feel like this forever.” This sounds like Évandre. Am I back at the castle? “I can already see your legs healing. Give it time.”
I try to sit, but all I can do is feebly lift my head. I’m quieted again and subside into the pain, let it wash over me until all I can feel is hot irons branding all my limbs. I’m crying but my cheeks are dry. Desperate wracking sobs shake my body, and a soft hand strokes my hair.
Some time later, I open my eyes again and feebly turn my head. I’m lying on a soft mattress in the middle of the courtyard with a fire burning nearby, tucked in warm blankets. Knochenwolf sniffs my hand and then licks it, and I try not to wince.
“All will be well, princess,” Raban croons.
“You shouldn’t have left the castle,” snaps Corvin. “Why would you do such a thing? We warned you.”
“No point berating her,” says Évandre. “She’s here now.”
I don’t say anything. I’m not sure I could.
Raban says, “She needs to get home, She told us that.”
