Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
I need to see this creature. I need to look into its eyes, see its golden fur. I need to—
I lean down when another branch is about to slam into my head, but as I rise too soon, it catches my cape instead.
A powerful force tugs at my throat, then pulls at my head, and I collapse, hitting the ground so hard my lungs empty. The edges of my vision turn black as I cradle the sore flesh of my throat. For a moment, I fear the force with which the cape pulled me off horseback might have done permanent damage, but I can still breathe. The world is spinning when I hear a thump close by, and I shriek when someone approaches, but what looms over me are not bloodstained antlers. It’s Anatole.
“You’re not... after him?” I croak, rubbing my throat.
He slings the bow over his arm and kneels by my side, grabbing my leg. “I heard your scream. Does your ankle hurt?”
“I… um…” I’m startled at his touch, and still overwhelmed by the fall. It’s only when Anatole mentions my leg that I become aware of the ache originating in my ankle.
His fingers are warm, and as they gently squeeze my calf, I get the sense that if I wasn’t wearing boots with many buckles, I might be feeling his touch on bare skin by now. “I’m not sure. I think my cape got stuck and just plucked me off the horse,” I mutter, so sore I almost expect the coppery tang of blood in my mouth.
I realize it wasn’t the wisest thing to tell Anatole when he moves above me and slides his fingertips over my bare neck next. “And you’re breathing all right?”
I look into his eyes from up close, and my breath hitches. Is he trying to… seduce me? My throat most definitely feels like there’s a cold lump in it when his leg not-so-discreetly nudges my knee to the side.
A sense of panic freezes me in place. I might be imagining things. Or he might be about to murder me in this dark forest, but as he leans in, and his fragrant, golden braid falls close to my face, the thumping in my ears becomes almost too loud.
I’m about to gently push Anatole back, so his pride remains intact, when Kyran’s voice cuts through the air like a shadow blade. “Step away from my promised!”
Anatole’s head shoots up and he pulls away, but I swear he’s flushed. “I’m checking if his leg isn’t broken. Where were you when he fell off his horse?” he asks without even adding a passive-aggressive ‘Sire’.
“It’s okay! I’m fine… I think!” I say, scrambling to move away from Anatole as Kyran leaps off horseback and dashes toward us in a series of long steps. Two more figures emerge from the woods behind me, but all I can see is the twist to Kyran’s lips, the fire in his dark gaze.
“How curious. Last time I checked, his legs were nowhere near his shoulders!”
Anatole squints at him. “Or were they?”
Kyran releases a choked grunt, and then he has his hands around Anatole’s throat and pushes him at the nearest tree. “How dare you! I should pluck your eyes out so you can never lay them on my promised again, you vile snake!”
“You’re the one… breaking protocol! How is he to… make an informed… choice during courting… if you’re fucking?” Anatole chokes out, grabbing Kyran’s wrists as I get up, dazed. Is this really happening? Are two beautiful elven royals fighting over me?
I don’t know if I should intervene, but Kyran seems to have the upper hand, so maybe I don’t need to?
“It’s you who dishonors your prince’s promised with your dirty hands and your blue cloak,” Kyran roars before smashing his fist between Anatole’s eyes, and then into the side of his face.
“Kyranis, stop,” Tristan mutters, stepping closer yet keeping his hands off the prince, as if he worries about possible repercussions.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have left him all alone in the woods! All of our lives might depend on him!” Anatole slides his hand over Kyran’s face, but Kyran is quick to grab his wrist with a shadow tentacle.
I can’t let Kyran take the blame for that. “He didn’t leave me, I rode off!” I say and step closer, because enough is enough. It’s all fun and games until one of them decides it’s time to pull swords out.
Kyran throws Anatole to the ground and spins toward me, his mane wild as if it’s made of black snakes. His hands are like claws when they reach for me, and I step back, breathless with fear as the others disappear and stark, black trees shoot up from the ground, forming a dome above. The moon is gone, so are the stars, and it’s only when my back hits something cold and strangely dull to the touch do I realize that we’re no longer in the woods.