Shadow Cursed by May Sage Page 0,61

him.

I smirk, thinking about his reaction if I give him a real answer. If I told him what I’ve realized: that he was made for me. Or, I suppose, I was made for him, technically. I’m the younger one.

He likes me. He even wants me. It may confuse him, given that I’m not much to look at, too short to be graceful, too prickly to be pleasant, and unlike the rest of the ladies of the court, not fawning all over his delicious muscles. I would, but his ego doesn’t need it. But for all the likes and wants, Drusk is nowhere near accepting that fate has tied his life to mine yet.

I came to that conclusion by myself, and he should have the chance to guess it too.

“Nothing. I was just wondering if you were trying to signal your presence, or if you’re just that bad at stealth. Is this what you’re teaching the folk in your classes?”

He rolls his eyes, exasperated with me. “Not all of us can be three feet tall, pixie.”

I walked into that dig. “Five, I’ll have you know.”

By midnight, I hate to admit it, but I start to tire. Endurance has never been my strength, and I’ve kept up with Drusk’s pace for miles—one of his strides is about three of mine. I don't complain, though. Meda's a lot worse off than I am.

Just as I open my mouth to suggest taking a break, Drusk bends down to my side and wraps his arm around me. Almost automatically, I leap, and he catches me, to perch me on his shoulder. Considering his hulking build, I fit. The protective padding of his coat even makes it comfortable.

I choose to be offended nonetheless. “I’m not that slow. You should take Meda.”

"I'll pass," she shouts without turning back.

Now that he’s holding me, though, I can tell he was slowing down for my benefit before. We’re moving at a much faster pace, gliding through the forest almost as fast as a cloaked shade.

Damn him.

“Sure.” Sarcasm drips from his words. “I figured you’d want us to get to the border before next year, though.”

I’m mad, but not mad enough to give up my seat, so I just zap him with a burst of Void, fast enough to avoid any damage, but getting drained can’t be pleasant either way.

He says nothing to indicate he felt anything at all, not even a grunt. I’m considering doing it again, but I smell Drusk’s retaliation before I feel it, a distinct stench hitting my nostrils. Then my neck’s suddenly uncomfortably warm. I tap at the back of it, putting out a flame.

My eyes take in our surroundings with one glance, but we’re still entirely too alone, without so much as a rabbit in sight.

When it hits me, my jaw drops. “My hair. You burned my hair!”

I feel him shrug under me. “What’s left of it.”

“Do you remember what happened to the last person who did something to my hair?”

“If you can’t handle the consequences, may I suggest you refrain from testing me?”

I may murder him. Gleefully. The only person allowed to attack my hair is me.

I kick the back of my heel against his chest, and try to jump back on the ground, but he just laughs it off, keeping me in place with one arm around my thighs.

“Calm down.”

As though that phrase has ever worked on any woman. “I’m going to—”

“Vlari.” His tone has changed. Gone is all amusement; I catch a layer of alarm underneath.

I stop wiggling and look around.

We’ve reached a valley. I can’t be sure, but given the direction we’ve been going, I think we may be at the very edge of unseelie territory. On the right side stands the last of the Shadow Peaks, and on the left, the Dread Hills, at the edge of Darker Woods. In the darkness, I can’t see much ahead, but we could finally be on seelie land.

“Do you see anything?” My voice has fallen to a whisper.

“I don’t need to. They’re in the darkness.”

Of course. I try not to feel too jealous at the fact that his power allows him to sense anything hiding in darkness.

Out loud, I call, “Come out! We’ve come for a chat, not a stabbing.”

Meda, who no doubt had a much better speech ready, sighs, but my words were efficient enough: I see shapes approach from either side of the woods, surrounding us.

The first creature I can distinguish is a hag, older than anything I’ve seen, if one