Page 15 of The Beast King's Bride

“No!” I yell as he marches me through the ballroom, a path opening in front of us all the way to the staircase. “No, let me go!”

Surely, I think frantically, surely someone will stand in his way, stop him. The guards. There have to be more guards. Someone will close the grand doors and not let him take me away.

“Pete!” I shout. “Pete, help me!”

But we’re already climbing the staircase. No sign of Pete. No familiar faces. Everyone leaps out of our way and we’re heading out of the palace.

I’ve never been outside. Never left the palace. It’s my home, the only home I’ve ever known, and terror is gripping me so hard I can’t draw breath. My feet barely touch the ground as he carries me along with his wide strides, between the sentries who don’t move to stop us, over the drawbridge, over the wide moat filled with water, its calm surface reflecting the torches set in the walls.

The Fae is muttering words under his breath as he hauls me into the paved square. A few people turn to stare as we pass by, on their way to the church or some errand in town, and scatter like sparrows.

We must be a sight, a girl in a glittering gown being pulled away by a fearsome horned Fae. Just the sight of him must have put the fear of the Gods in them. Indeed, I see an old man making warding-off signs with his hands as he backtracks and hides behind a cart. A little girl stares stupidly at us until her mother comes to pick her up and runs away with the child in her arms.

We walk down narrow streets and I stare at balconies leaning precariously over our heads, at the beautiful houses, the city founded by the hero Kyren after the first war with the Fae many centuries ago, built of pale stone over the river Everos. A city I barely know.

A yank on my neck brings me back to reality and the scowling Fae who is now pulling me toward another small square with an arched colonnade on one side. A black cloud seems to be sitting there, under one of the arches, and I try to jerk away, my fear returning tenfold.

“What’s this magic?” I whisper. “What is it?”

“A basic spell,” he says and I start because I hadn’t expected an answer. “Embar, konnuth!”

The cloud swirls and disperses, revealing a huge black horse.

Gasping, I jerk back but the Fae’s hand moves to my upper arm, holding me in place.

“This is Embar,” he says in that low, rich voice of his. “Embar, meet Elayne Isabel.”

The use of my real name disarms me for precious moments—he listened when I said it earlier, I think, he remembered—long enough for the Fae to grab me and lift me up onto the saddle. I yelp and grab anything I can find—a pommel, the horse’s mane. It’s so high off the ground!

Embar snorts as if laughing.

In one leap, the Fae climbs up behind me, putting a muscular arm around my middle.

“Please,” I whisper. A last-ditch effort. “Please, let me go.”

“I cannot.” The Fae clicks his tongue and the horse shakes his massive head and leaps forward.

I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, refusing to make another sound or otherwise show any more fear. We trot through town and I’m so focused on staying on the huge horse and not making a sound that it’s all just a blur—houses, trees, streets and squares, wells and fountains. We pass more people, I’m sure of it, but by the time I turn to look at them, they’ve fled.

We’re moving downslope, I realize at some point, toward the river. Heading out of town. There is a gate there and I look for the sentries but by the time we reach the stone-built arch, they’ve run away.

Gods.

We galop through the gate and over the bridge spanning the river, its roar underneath us setting my teeth on edge. Beyond the bridge, there is darkness, occasionally dotted by a light. Villages. Farms.

The unknown world.

So here I am, leaving my home, my country, my world on a monster’s dark horse, for the good of the many.

Gods, I’d like, just for once, someone to think of me first, to put me first, above all others, but it doesn’t look like it’s ever going to happen, and it’s all my fault.

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