Taken (Fae's Captive #5) - Lily Archer Page 0,4

her for a quick—”

My growl stops him.

He swallows hard. “For a quick discussion about winter realm customs. Nothing more than that. But I’ll go.” He backs through the doorway behind him. “And you two can hash out the whole mate thing between yourselves.” Pausing, he smiles, though it’s a little sad. “Congratulations, by the way. Finding your mate must be a revelation.”

It is. One I thank the Ancestors for. Phin disappears as I continue my search, but her trail goes cold. The other scent, though, the strange one that doesn’t belong—I follow it. I burst out of a door along the granite wall, a secret entrance most have forgotten about. The moon shines high and bright, a fresh fall of snow covering the crags in the distance. Below, the High Forest spreads out, its dark depths home to many creatures.

“Beth!” I yell for her, but she doesn’t answer back.

Has she gone off with another male to engage in—no. I won’t think it. I can’t. Something is amiss. She wouldn’t wander off into the woods like this, not alone or otherwise. My jaw clenches, and for the first time, I can feel my feral beneath my skin. Find her.

I want to jump from the parapet and tear through the trees. Instead, I try to keep a level head. It’s what I’m known for. Keeping the peace. Playing the long game. Strategy and discipline. I don’t make rash decisions like chasing through the woods after a wayward changeling.

But then my mate’s scent wafts by, a hint of fear turning her wild perfume sour. She’s afraid. She needs me. Damnit all to the Spires! I jump down, my feet crunching on the snow, and tear off into the woods, the moon as my guide as I hunt down my changeling.

3

Beth

The Catcher throws me down next to a small fire. The ground is muddy from melted snow, and I fall to my side, cold muck ruining my dress and chilling me to the bone.

He drops to his haunches and pulls a leather bag free from his belt.

“What’s that?” My muffled voice is unintelligible, and he ignores me anyway.

I sit up and shiver as the chilly mud squishes against my ass. My hands are bound in front of me, and my legs are free. Glancing around, I can’t tell anything from the dark woods, all the trees just like the other trees. Which way is the castle?

“If you run, I’ll catch you,” he says emphatically without even looking at me. “Granthos is paying quite a bit of coin for you, and I intend to collect.”

Leaning over the fire, he strikes a lump of stone against a bright magenta crystal he pulled from his bag. The flames shimmer, and the exotic aroma of pure magic mixed with alchemy thickens the air. Primal fear runs along my skin, and I slowly push myself toward the edge of the clearing. The fire turns a deep green and grows higher. A doorway forms, and I catch the sweetness of night-blooming jasmine from the summer realm.

I didn’t know such alchemy existed. No wonder the Catcher is so adept at retrieving runaways—he can travel between realms with ease.

As the doorway solidifies, panic threads with my terror and creates a horrific tapestry of how Granthos will punish a runaway. I can’t go back. Not when I’ve finally found freedom. I scoot back from the fire, but the Catcher reaches out and grabs my arm, wrenching me to my feet. My scream doesn’t make it past the gag as he stands me in front of the blaze. I dig in my heels, pushing away from the hazy doorway. Different landscapes appear and flash past, as if the spell is roving to find the right spot to stop.

“No!” I struggle like a wild animal caught in a trap. I won’t go back. I’d rather die.

“Shame I can’t have you for longer.” He grins and lifts his bandanna to hide his face. “You’re a lively one.”

“You have no idea.” Gareth charges from the trees, his sword drawn and a mask of wrath on his face.

The Catcher shoves me to the ground and draws his sword.

I kick away from the fire as the two males engage in a blur of speed and aggression. Gareth’s howl of rage sends a shiver coursing down my spine as I gain my feet and hurtle away from the fight. I don’t stand a chance against the Catcher, but Gareth can handle himself. At least, that’s what I tell myself as