I find a spot to squat and try to ignore the dog’s red eyes glowing at me like a monster’s in a horror story. “How about some privacy?” I suggest, and he growls low, making me regret my firm tone. “Sorry, Balor, I didn’t realize you were so sensitive.”
The bushes rustle and Balor’s growls turn into rolling barks. Something breezes past my ear, there’s a woomp sound, then a heavy thud on the ground behind me.
Hiking up my underwear, I lurch onto my feet as Ever steps into view, lowering his bow. My mouth hanging open, I look around to see what he’s shot, and then yelp.
“Oh, my God. What the hell is that?”
Not even a yard away, Balor is frantically sniffing a rather disgusting hairy lump. It’s about the size of a big wolf with long limbs, a grotesquely round stomach, and long fangs protruding from its gaping snouts. Yep, it has two heads. Both of them ugly as heck.
“It’s an othrius. You would not wish to be its dinner. It savors its victim’s screams as it devours their bodies slowly.”
My own dinner rises in my stomach.
“Thank you for shooting it,” I say, wrapping my arms around my chest. “Do you think there are any more of them around?”
“It’s unlikely. They are solitary creatures unless on the hunt for a mate, and I’m not sure you’re their type.” He inclines his head and smirks, his gaze flicking over my body. “Come. Let’s return to the fire. You will feel well when you’re warm again. Although, you may wish to dress first.”
Huh? I glance down. Oh, of course. Face flushing hot, I tug my jeans up fast, thankful my uniform at least covered the important bits. How embarrassing. I hurry to follow in his tracks.
As we near the campsite, firelight casts him into silhouette, a halo of light outlining his body. He looks strong and safe, an alluring mix of darkness and light. A magical being.
He points at the bed of bracken and branches. “Go. Sleep now.”
Too shaken to argue, I flop in the bower, watching from beneath drooping eyelids as he builds the fire up. He tells Balor to lie opposite me, then his deep voice ranges closer. As his boots appear in front of my nose, his cloak swirls and then drops over my body, making my heart pound.
Why would he care about keeping me warm?
I don’t have time to ponder the question before my heavy lids drop, and I tumble into dreams about Max’s diner and my cousin, Isla, berating me for not showing up to shifts all night long.
When I wake the next morning, I’m surprised to find Ever still lying asleep on the other side of a pile of smoldering ashes. I lean onto my elbow, my pulse quickening, excited to have an opportunity to inspect him.
Unconscious, he looks young and sweet. His sulky top lip pouts attractively, lending him a kissable innocence. As I watch his chest’s rhythmic rise and fall, something draws deep in my gut, and I yearn to reach out and touch his cheekbone, test the texture of his skin.
This magnetic pull shakes me to the core. He’s far more dangerous like this—asleep and vulnerable. I can’t explain it properly, but it’s as if cruelty isn’t his true nature, more like a separate entity that only possesses him when he’s conscious.
The way his fists curl under his cheek makes me feel sorry for him. I feel pity. Even compassion. Is this the beginning, the first symptom of Stockholm Syndrome?
Foolishly, I want to believe Ever is good, that he’ll help me and not let his court sentence me to a horrible death, possibly executed by his own hand. But that’s a child’s romantic folly, wanting to believe what’s beautiful on the outside is the same on the inside.
Aunt Clare’s words come back to taunt me: Handsome is as handsome does, Lara. Don’t believe pretty lies from pretty mouths. Instead, let their actions speak to your heart. The truth shines in deeds, always has and always will.
I remember how happy she was when Isla hooked up with her boyfriend, Sam, who’s average-looking and about as much of a bad-boy as Father Christmas.
I sit up properly and look around the campsite. Three things strike me. One: it’s very early. Two: Balor has disappeared. And three: the sun is shining. That third fact astounds me, because other than yesterday’s brief break in the clouds while I bathed, the whole time I’ve traveled with the huntsman, it’s been gray and gloomy. But right now, while he still sleeps, the morning sky is cloudless.
Warmth filling me with hope, I push my coat sleeves up to my elbows and look around our sunlit surroundings. To the north, a large hill rises from the middle of the flatlands. That must be Mount Cúig. Ever told me about it yesterday. In its center lies the Lake of Spirits from which four rivers spring, each one named after the elements—River Aer, River Terra, Serpent River, and lastly Fire River, the one we've been following.
I take another glance at the sleeping fae, just so I can remember what he looks like bathed in sunshine. Golden. Glowing. And, sadly, even more handsome.
Balor bursts through the trees and barks loudly. Ever lurches into a sitting position, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He glares at the sun, scowling hard until clouds appear and shoot across the sky, blocking out the burning ball of light. My symbol of hope gone with a single crease of his brow.
I feel his attention shift my way, and I study my boots as though I’ve never seen them before.
“You we’re looking at me the way you did the rabbit last night,” he says, each word sharp, an accusation. “Is it because I was asleep? That is your fault. Why did you not wake me?”
“You seemed so happy. I—”
“Happy?” he scoffs. “I doubt that very much.”
Aiming to get on his good side, I change the subject fast. “What are we doing this morning, fishing?”
“No. We will visit the lake first and eat later.”
That’s disappointing news for my stomach.
“It will take approximately two hours to ascend Mount Cúig,” he continues. “We’ll walk around the top and descend on the other side. We’ll fish in Terra River as we head north on the way to my home, which we shall reach before nightfall.”
What? Arrive tonight? Panic sets in, my thoughts bouncing around wildly. This is bad. I’ve run out of time to find a way to stall him and break free of my vow.
“Never, would you be able to find me if I ran away?”
His fists tighten on his thighs. “Of course. I am a hunter. I have air magic, and I shall never forget your scent. There is nowhere you could hide where I could not follow.”
Great. So that was a stupid and useless plan I hatched.
Looks like I’ll be checking out the Land of Five tonight, which is a frightening prospect. In Mom’s paintings, none of the fae looked particularly friendly. In fact, quite the opposite.
Maybe I should have volunteered to go with the Merit prince called Temnen. He seemed chattier than Ever. Friendlier. “Tell me why that Merit guy wanted to take me?”
“It is best you don’t know.”
I leap to my feet in a fit of anger. “Stop treating me like I’m an idiot.”
He stands gracefully and stalks forward, backing me into a log so he can loom over me. “Stop acting like one and I shall be able to treat you differently.” A muscle tics in his jaw, before he dismisses me with a sneer, then he walks to the saddlebags hanging from a low tree branch.