The Wolf Prince - By Karen Whiddon Page 0,76

piercing and shocking. Tatiana let out a little yelp, as though she’d been stung. Even Ruben and Chad jumped. Only Willow remained perfectly calm and steady.

She lifted one arm, bracing her small body as a huge bird of prey landed on her, exactly as if she’d summoned it.

The hawk swiveled its head, fierce and wild and glorious. Inside, Ruben’s wolf strained against invisible bonds, wanting to snap at the bird.

All watched in stunned silence at Willow stroked the bird’s feathers, crooning wordless, nonsensical sounds in a soothing voice.

When the hawk nestled in close, delicately moving Willow’s hair with its fierce beak, several of the guards began to mutter. Neither Willow nor her winged friend paid any heed. In fact, as she and the bird interacted, Ruben knew she was doing her thing and communicating with the hawk.

One of the soldiers raised his bow and fitted it with an arrow.

“No,” the captain barked an order. “Stand down.”

Instead, the soldier pulled back the bow. Ruben didn’t think—he launched himself at the man, connecting in time to send the arrow harmlessly into the sky.

The hawk screeched. Huge wings flapping, it launched itself up, the force of its flight knocking Willow off her horse onto her back on the forest floor. She writhed in pain, the breath knocked out of her.

Cursing, Ruben pushed himself off of the stunned soldier, shoving the man away and leaving him for his commander to deal with. He rushed to Willow’s side and helped her to her feet. At first she hunched over, heaving as she struggled to draw her breath. Gradually, she straightened, her cough subsiding. She wiped at her streaming eyes and sniffed.

“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing the leaves and pine needles from her hair.

Eyes huge and face far too pale, she nodded.

Chad made a rude sound and sauntered over, Tatiana still clinging to him like a leech.

“What the shades was that?” he asked, glancing up at the stars as though he expected an attack from above. “That bird acted like your personal hawk. Is that your form of magic?”

Tatiana laughed. “My sister has no magic,” she said, her mocking tone cutting. “Not even enough to call a wild bird.”

Chad narrowed his gaze, looking from one sister to the other. “Is that true?” he asked, his tone demanding.

Willow just smiled sadly and turned away. When she began moving forward again, the entire armed escort snapped to attention. Then, as if she’d given a verbal command, they fell into place, surrounding the three Brights and Ruben on their way to the castle.

Whatever secrets the hawk had divulged to Willow, apparently she now felt compelled to continue on to the dark castle. Despite the fact that he had no hope of finding the killer here—the suspect was Bright, after all—Ruben knew he had to keep her safe.

The closer they got to the castle, the grimmer it appeared. If King Puck and Queen Millicent’s palace had been over-the-top glitz, this castle could be considered the polar opposite. Where everything had sparkled and shone at the home of the Bright, here the absence of light was what made the place notable. The grim stone appeared to devour anything bright or shiny. What little light there was seemed to sink into its inky blackness.

At the thought, Ruben glanced at Willow and her sister, hoping that didn’t apply to Sidhe, as well. Surely, the palace wouldn’t devour them.

They rode to a stop and at a signal, the entire regiment of guards dismounted. They motioned to Ruben and his party to do the same.

Slowly, they all followed suit. As soon as everyone’s feet were on the ground, black-clad groomsmen appeared and led their horses away.

Meanwhile, their armed escorts continued to look straight ahead, unblinking. Ruben began to wonder if some sort of magic compelled or hypnotized them.

No sooner had he finished the thought when the massive obsidian doors swung open. Inside, a yawning hole of blackness. Of course.

“Don’t you people use any kind of light?” Ruben asked, directing his question at the captain of the guard. Predictably, the soldier didn’t answer. In fact, each and every one of them continued to stand at stiff attention, though their faces had regained some color and motion. They waited as though they expected someone to exit the castle and inspect their ranks. Which meant, no doubt, that someone would.

A sense of expectation hung in the air, nearly visible.

Willow gripped his arm. He saw she had the same rapt expectation on her lovely face. A quick

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