Warmth swells in my chest as I picture the moss elves’ feast tonight, their bellies full to bursting.
Well, I think my first attempt at rebellion against the Court of Five was a success. But maybe I shouldn’t congratulate myself just yet.
I haven’t made it back to the safety of the gardens.
Chapter 10
BORDERS
Lara
When I return to the mage’s house the following day, I find the front door swinging open and Ether nowhere to be seen. I slink through the eerily silent chambers and emerge into the lush-green woods without incident.
High noon in the Emerald forest, and all seems well.
Feeling more confident today, I move quickly through the dappled shadows, glimpsing odd shimmers of light at the corner of my eye that disappear as soon as I turn my head. The forest critters are watching.
This time when I reach the red willow, I find twice as many moss elves waiting patiently next to yesterday’s empty basket, whispering in soft voices and gesturing to hear the lullaby again before they transport food away.
I take a seat on my favorite log and sing the twisted cradle song some of them already know, then begin a rousing tune about headstrong horses with flashing eyes and flying manes.
As I sing, a few of the moss children dare to come close and sit at my feet, their staring golden eyes far too big for their adorable pale-green faces.
After two more songs, I promise to return with more food as soon as I can.
Placing palms to their chests, they bow and smile brightly, murmuring amongst themselves. Magret says the elves don’t often choose to speak our language, even though they can. I hope they’ll speak to me one day soon, even if I can’t understand them.
When I stand to collect the empty basket and bid them farewell, a young boy brings forward a tiny wood carving and places it on my palm. It’s a beautifully detailed dragonfly threaded on a metal pin so it can be worn as a brooch. I immediately fix it to my tunic.
How could the moss elves possibly know I’m into dragonflies? I love them so much I even have one tattooed on my shoulder blade.
As I hike through the forest on my return to the gardens, I hum a lilting tune. The sun is shining. Birds chirp and swoop playfully above. The light breeze is warm. And I’m fast falling in love with the seductive forest and the gentle elves who live in it.
Having a useful purpose not only lifts my spirits but also takes my mind off my predicament—being held captive, not knowing if I’ll make it home or die here in this strange and dangerous land. Even the mysteries of what became of the king and Ever’s older brother, Rain, don’t bother me right now.
Given my circumstances, I should be a depressed wreck, but like the arrival of a new spring, the warm air makes me cautiously optimistic.
When I’m nearly halfway back to the mage’s house, a horrible prehistoric screech grates the air. It’s similar to the one in Ithalah Forest that made Ever pause and listen, worry etched deep on his face. Whoever or whatever that sound came from, I don’t want to meet it face to face. They’ve completely destroyed my happy, peaceful mood. Lesson learned. Good things don’t last long in Faery.
As another terrible shriek scrapes my ears, I peer into the sky and find two draygonets, looking exactly as Raff described them, circling above the trees.
Shit. Do I run? Nope, Raff said they love to chase. The only option is to hide.
In the three seconds I take to decide which direction to flee in, branches and leaves shudder, then with a hard thump, a draygonet lands a few yards away on the side of the path leading back to the red willow. At least it’s not blocking the way to the castle. That’s something, I guess.
A disgustingly long forked tongue flicks out as the beast cocks its head and sniffs the air. No doubt it’s wondering how hard I’ll fight, and if I’m worth the effort. Decision made, scaly shoulders set low as it prepares to pounce, and my knees turn to jelly.
“You shouldn’t be here you glutton,” I mutter, and a low growl answers from above.
I glance up. Another one perches on a thick branch above its buddy. Great. Better make that two gluttons, then.
Fear taking control of my limbs, my feet shuffle backward, and the draygonet on the path prowls forward, snarling and flashing needle-sharp fangs.
I wish I had a knife or a bow—neither of which I’m adept at using. Or fire. That would work! I wish I had matches and a branch wrapped in flammable cloth, and being desperate, I even wish Ever were here to kill the damn things for me.
Just as I’m about to lie down and let them have me, I remember what Raff said about noise, how it can drive them away, and I throw my arms out and yell. “Go on! Get out of here, you filthy scavengers!”
Yellow eyes narrowing, the creature creeps forward, gray wings unfurling as it communicates with its friend in a series of rumbling groans. They’re most likely deciding who gets the juiciest parts of me now, so there’s no squabbling once the carnage begins.
“Yah! Yaahh!” I yell.
The draygonet’s head shakes as it roars and keeps coming. And, oh, the stench of the thing is awful.
Well, I’d say I’m dead and done for now. My tale is told. The end is nigh.
I was sure I was going to die by Merrin River when I first saw the huntsman hovering over me and, somehow, I survived. But I can’t see a way out of this situation, and that makes me angry, wildly furious, mostly at Ever for bringing me here in the first place.
Not one to swallow down rage, my fists clench and I throw out my arms, releasing the loudest, longest scream I’ve ever made.
The creature stops stalking.
Okay. This is good.
I keep screaming.
Startled, its head cants back, and I get a good look at the blank, yellow eyes. They’re dull, vacant, stupid-looking. The sign of a creature perhaps easily fooled.
Turning my scream into a death-metal song, I leap around, slashing my arms through the air like a scythe-wielding sorceress. At best, I look like a raving lunatic. Ridiculous. But if I’m going to die, I may as well go down fighting. Unfortunately, my voice is my only weapon.
I stomp. I stamp. I whirl and swirl. Grit grates my throat, my shrieks and howls powering through the pain.
Branches crack and wings flap as the draygonet in the tree departs without even a snarl in my direction. The big coward.
I keep singing and whirling, screaming out crazy lyrics.
I’m a banshee. I’m a draygonet’s worst nightmare.
At least I hope I am.
The one shuffling backward on the path, black talons raking the dirt, seems to have decided I’m a problem because he snorts, growls, then stretches his wings and launches into the air.
“Yes!” I shake my fist at it. “Yes! Yes! Go home you scaly, spineless baby-eating creeps.”
I run three wild victory laps around an old oak tree, scattering birds from its branches, and then drop to the ground and hug my knees to my chest. I’ve ripped my tunic. I’m a mess. But I’m alive. I can hardly believe it.
Tears flow. I allow myself a good minute to sob loudly, then get off my butt and drag myself back to Ether’s house.
When I knock on the back door, she opens it immediately, ushering me inside with a gruesome smile.
“Welcome, Lara, you look as though you’ve had quite an adventure.”