Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy #1) - Rachel Higginson Page 0,18

and it wandered away.

Quiet descended on the Blood Woods, broken only by Oliver’s gentle snores. I tipped my head back and stared at the obscurity overhead. It took several minutes before I was comfortable but eventually, I managed to relax.

Whatever dangers awaited us would have to come tomorrow. My eyes grew heavy and I closed them without meaning to. I promised myself that I would rest for just a minute…

Screeching ripped through the air. I blinked awake, confused and disoriented. A raven sat at the end of the branch we had slept on. Black wings stretched and took flight as soon as my gaze landed on it. It disappeared into the weave of red leaves and clustered branches with a single caw.

More screaming pulled my attention back to the forest floor. Someone was in trouble. Someone little. A baby. Hazy light trickled through the canopy. I had slept through the night. The baby screamed again.

Panic curled in my gut and spurred me into action. My elbow found Oliver’s ribs. “Wake up!” I demanded.

He muttered something in his sleep and when I leaned forward to retie my boots, he slid behind me, banging his head against the trunk.

Still, he did not wake.

I shook his leg. “Wake up, Oliver!” I dug my fingernails into his thigh. “Wake up!”

He opened one eye. “What is it, your royal highness? Do you need your chamber pot emptied?”

“First of all, you would make a terrible servant. You should never go into the business of changing chamber pots.” His second eyelid lifted, and he gave me a sleepily sardonic smile. “Second of all, our services are needed. So move your skinny arse!”

“Our services?” He came more fully awake.

The screaming rent the air once again and I twirled my finger, indicating the sound.

“Oh.” He scurried to his feet, trying to step in either direction without success. “Oh.” I handed him his pack so he could secure it to his body. “What is that?” he asked again after listening for a minute.

“I think it’s a baby. Or a small child. Either way, it sounds as if it’s in a great deal of pain.”

Jumping down, we checked ourselves again to make sure we had everything, then took off toward the cries.

We moved as fast as we could without knowing exactly where we were going. Unfortunately, the sounds took us deeper into the forest, instead of out of it. We tried to put up quick markers so we could find our way out again, but we didn’t take enough time to make sure the task was done properly. With every second, the cries became louder and more pronounced.

The broad trees and snarled roots were easier to navigate during the daylight, but not by much. We picked our way over the rough terrain. With every minute, my chest squeezed tighter and tighter.

What if a beast carried the baby off before we could get to it?

What if the baby was already being carried off?

What if the same wildebeest from last night had at last found something to feast upon?

“Tess, what do you think it is?” Oliver panted.

I felt him slow behind me and prickled at his sudden reluctance. Glancing back at him, he looked much more alert than at first. His normal cowardice had finally woken. “A baby,” I hissed. “One that is in trouble. We need to move.”

Oliver’s uneasy glare bounced from tree to tree. “You don’t think…?”

His hesitation bit into my resolve. “What, Oliver? I don’t think what?”

“Dragon’s blood, Tess! We’re in the Blood Woods. If there’s a baby screaming, why are we running pell-mell toward it?”

His question stole some of my courage. What baby would be left alone, or worse, in the Blood Woods indeed? The child in question screeched as loudly as ever, shattering the sudden fear that held me back. I began to move again. “It needs us, Oliver. We are not the kind of people that sit idly by while injustice brews.”

He didn’t follow me. Even after my rousing speech.

I allowed one more minute to spin around and pin him with my most serious frown. “Oliver the Silent, don’t be a coward!”

His eyes narrowed, but he took one step forward. “I hate it when you get your way.”

“And I hate it when I have to resort to insults to get your cooperation.”

“I’m not a coward,” he grumbled even while he picked up speed. “I’m intelligently careful. Unlike some princesses I know.”

“All right, Oliver the Careful, you’ve stated your case. If death awaits us, I shall allow you