She strained her ears for another sound, but there was none and she moved again, down the path towards the clearing.
The wind rose up again, scattering leaves in her path, sending the branches above her rattling into each other and hissing as they shook their pine needles.
Kayla cocked her head.
She could have sworn she heard a more deliberate rustle, but the wind rose stronger, strong enough to lift leaves in an intricate dance before her.
And there was the clearing just ahead.
Kayla’s feet slowed.
Her heart bled for the woman, for the horror of her life, but still, shamefully, she was afraid of her, too. The strange mix of pity and fear she’d felt for a dancing bear that had come to the castle with the fair once.
It had lain slumped on the ground, still as a statue, tethered to a stake. Even though it could not break free, even though she stood too far for it to reach her if it tried, fear pumped through her as she’d watched it, along with a soul-deep sorrow.
The woman’s predicament, and her eyes, alive with rage, had reminded Kayla of the bear. Reminded her of its aura of violence suppressed, and denied. Seething just below the surface, ready to leap at the slightest chance.
Kayla shivered. Made her feet move forward again.
She stepped through the trees into the clearing, and in the second before the wind blew her flame out, she saw something that made her heart leap and twist in her chest.
The woman was gone.
Chapter Eleven
She thought he would let her go off in the forest alone? She thought he was asleep?
Rane didn’t know what to make of that.
Didn’t know what to make of her. This princess who was somehow his betrothed.
He’d responded with bravado to her father at Gaynor Castle, asserting his rights to her to get them moving, because he’d foreseen days of delay if he hadn’t insisted on leaving immediately, but he hadn’t truly believed what he’d said.
Though saying it had felt like an oath to protect her.
She was his by law, and yet, he knew she was not his at all. She was no-one’s but her own.
He couldn’t sleep. Not with her tossing and turning beside him. With the thought of the kiss he had not taken hovering between them, as tantalizing as it was crazy.
She had been about to let him. He’d seen the quick dart of her tongue to her lips, the swallow of her throat, the way her lips parted, softly, sensuously.
And then, like the slam of a door, she’d turned. Pretended the moment hadn’t existed.
He stood from his pallet, checking the fire to make sure it was safe to leave it.
She was returning to the woman in the clearing, and that puzzled him. He understood the horror of it—if she only knew how well he understood. How personal his experience was in this.
But what did she think she could do?
It was almost as if she were drawn to the woman by something outside of herself. Some additional enchantment. She had walked into the clearing first, after all.
At that thought, he started down the path at a faster pace than he’d planned, the moonstone firmly in his palm. She was nowhere to be seen, and he cursed.
He’d waited too long.
It was a mistake he wouldn’t make with her again.
He ran, taking the path in long, loose strides. The wind was stronger now, and the rustle and scratch of the leaves and the tapping of branches hid most of his noise.
It was taking too long, as if the distance between their camp and the clearing had been altered, lengthened; and in this forest, he didn’t discount it.
Where was she?
When the first streaks of panic began to fizz through his blood, he saw her. Just ahead, holding a branch with a wavering flame. She walked reluctantly, and he wondered again if it was against her will, if she was compelled.
She stepped into the clearing, out of view but for the weak glow of her makeshift torch, and Rane heard her exclaim in shock and horror.
Then the flame was extinguished.
Rane sped faster, flying into the clearing and stopped just before he slammed into Kayla.
She felt him, heard him, and turned, looking straight through him, her eyes wide. “Who’s there?”
Her voice trembled.
He felt the weight of the moonstone in his hand, was about to open his fist, when a tinkling laugh came from behind her.
Kayla spun back. “Are you there? Are you free at night?”
A light began to throb and glow, just within the trees, and then the woman stepped into the clearing, her dress somehow glittering, as if threaded with starlight.
“You came to see me?” Her voice was at odds with her beautiful face, hard and cold.
Rane saw Kayla flinch at the sound, take a small step back. He moved out of her way.
“I wanted to see if I could help.” She spoke softly, her hands clasped before her. “I could not get your fate out of my head.”
“And who are you?”
“Kayla of Gaynor.”
His princess stood taller. Drew herself up.
“And the man with you earlier? Who is he?”
She was still a long time, and Rane felt the bite of curiosity.
“My betrothed.”
Rane almost dropped the moonstone.
“A prince and a princess wandering through the Great Forest.” The woman laughed, trill and high, as pure and icy as the starlight glittering from her clothes. “What am I to do with you?”
Kayla frowned, and she stepped forward, this time, not back. “Do?” She unclasped her hands. “Can you run from here, or do you always end back in this clearing during the day?”
“I become a statue wherever I am when the sun rises. And I chose this clearing, so deep in the Great Forest, because I find if I am closer to the edges, where there is more chance of meeting people, the men…are not as respectful of my person as you and your betrothed were today.” The woman looked straight at Kayla. “Not respectful at all.”
Kayla made a sound, a cry of outrage. “If it were in Gaynor, please tell me where and who, and I will make sure they are punished.”
The woman laughed again, softer this time. “Not Gaynor, but thank you, little princess. No one has offered me recompense before.”
“Who are you? Where are you from?” Kayla crossed her arms below her breasts and shivered in the wind.
“I don’t know.” The hardness was back. “I cannot remember another life than this.”
“Was it the wild magic?”
The woman cocked her head, genuinely puzzled. “Wild magic?”
Kayla looked over the woman’s shoulder, unable to speak, and Rane saw what had frozen her tongue. Wild magic, smaller than the ball of energy from last night, rolled out from the trees behind the woman. It seemed to spin in place, and yet, to be completely still.
Looking at it too long made his eyes water.
Kayla pointed, mute, and the woman turned slowly.
“My pet.” She crowed in delight, reaching down a hand to stroke the flaring ball of energy.
It contoured to her hand, pressing up against her like a cat.
“The men who hurt me?” The woman spoke with a purr, as if she took on the behavior of the wild magic. “I don’t need recompense for what they did. I dealt out justice every night, all by myself.” She patted the wild magic. “With a little help.”
Kayla moved at last, backing towards the path to their camp.
“Stay a while.” The woman smiled. “Or don’t you like my pet?” She lifted her hand from it. “I was thinking what I could do with you and your prince.”
Kayla seemed unable to take the final step that would get her out of the clearing. Rane stepped behind her, ready to physically push her.
“Perhaps you would make good love birds.” The woman dipped her hand into the wild magic, and faster than Rane anticipated, faster than seemed possible, she threw a handful of energy at Kayla.
Rane leapt, pushing Kayla down, out of the way, but he was too late, too slow. The purple-green light sped quicker than a blink, hit her full square, and as he fell beside her he braced for something terrible, his heart hammering in his throat.
But instead of changing her, hurting her, it rebounded off her, spinning back towards the woman.
“It’s me,” he breathed in Kayla’s ear, scrambling up and dragging her to her feet. “Run.”
She looked straight at him, as if the moonstone was no longer in his hand, and she could see his eyes.
“Run!”
The woman screamed, and Kayla, at last, ran from the clearing. He saw her stumble on the path, right herself, and disappear into the night.
Then he turned to the woman. The wild magic she’d thrown at Kayla broke over her like a spray of water from a wagon wheel. She cringed back, and it danced in the air over her head.
The air wobbled like jelly, rippling over her, and the woman was not beautiful any more. She was middle-aged, with a spiteful mouth, thin and down-turned. Her clothes hung from her, dirty rags, and her hair was limp and string-like.
She stared down at herself and shrieked, her hands going to her mouth, the knuckles standing out sharply against the thin, white skin.
She looked at the wild magic, and Rane felt a shiver of fear at the hatred in her.
He could not leave this woman loose in the forest. She would try to harm them.
“You betrayed me, pet. You turned against me.” She dug her arms deep into the wild magic, lifting up an armful of flickering energy. “Let us have another try, eh? Find the princess and her prince.”
She laughed, the sound as chilling as the mad giggling from the Djan-turned-monster the night before. She took a step across the clearing, and the wild magic fell from her grasp, liquid as water through her fingers. It pooled on the ground beside her and flowed back to the spinning ball.
“What? You will not? I’ll do it myself, then.” She bent, picked up a rock. Hefted it in her hand, her eyes on the path to their camp.
Rane tensed. Could he kill a woman?
The wild magic moved, a gentle roll across the ground, connecting with the woman’s back and legs, leaping up to engulf her completely.
She fell hard to the ground, crying out. And was gone.
Rane stared at where she had been, his body tight with adrenalin.
The wild magic spun, moved a little in Rane’s direction and seemed to look at him, focus on him, despite the moonstone clutched in his hand. Then it rolled out of the clearing the way it had come in and disappeared among the trees.
Rane realized his hands were shaking.
What had it done with the woman? He stepped closer. Saw something small move at his feet.
It was a frog, blinking up at him with yellow eyes.
He crouched down beside it. “As it happens, I’m no prince.”
Chapter Twelve
Kayla ran halfway to the camp and stopped. Turned back.
No matter what may happen, she would not cower by the fire while Rane dealt with the woman and wild magic. Dealt with a situation of her own making.
He had protected her since they’d begun this journey, and she would not repay him by leaving him to face danger alone.
She walked back quickly, her shoulders and neck stiffer with every step as the enchantment made its displeasure known, her hands clenched in fists to stop them shaking.
A flicker of light to her right slowed her feet, and wild magic was suddenly in front of her on the path. Blocking her way.
She could not make a sound, her heart stuttering in her chest, her ears ringing. She could do nothing but stare.
It rose up, stretching itself, forming a huge oval, like the cheval mirror in the corner of her room in Gaynor Castle.
The green-purple light flickered and thinned, but she could not see through it to the forest beyond. Instead, she was looking into some other place, like a pool reflecting back a different reality.
She leant forward and made out a stone staircase, rising upward, a single sconce lighting the way.
Then she heard a sound. Not from the forest, but from within the image before her—footsteps, coming down the stairs. The tread was quick, energetic. Masculine.
Fear gripped her. She had a terrible sense whoever was coming would see her. Would be able to step out of the magic into the forest with her.
She moved back, but the wild magic moved with her.
“No,” she whispered. But instead of obeying her, like it had before, it moved again, straight at her.
For a moment there was a strange sense of nausea, a sparkle of light around her.
Then Kayla shivered.
She was standing at the bottom of the steps in an icy, dark chamber, the smell of cold, damp stone filling her nose. And the footsteps were coming closer.
She spun around. The oval shimmered, an open window back to the forest in the otherwise impenetrable darkness of the room. Through the wavering light she saw the trees, the path. And though every step she’d taken in the forest had been one of fear, she wanted nothing more than to fling herself through the strange doorway, back to the familiar.
The footsteps behind her stopped, and she turned slowly, her pulse thundering in her ears.
Eric the Bold stared at her, the shock on his face so clear, so sharp, she knew for certain he had nothing to do with this strange doorway between the forest and himself.
He made a noise, a gurgle, as if trying to speak, and then shook his head, cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”
“Where am I?”
“My stronghold. In my dungeons.”
She thought he would step closer, but he did not, staying on the second last step. His eyes flicked from the wild magic, back to her.
“I wonder why it brought me here?” Kayla reached out a hand, casually, as if making nothing more than a gesture, and her hand slipped through the curtain of light. She could feel the warmer air of the forest on the back of her hand, the gentle stroke of the wind. Would it let her back through?
“It…brought you?” Eric scowled.
“I certainly didn’t have anything to do with it.” Kayla turned back to him, drawing herself up.
“That is very interesting. I wonder…” Eric extended a hand, as if she should take it. Come closer to him.
She did not move.
Fast as the viper he was, he stepped forward and grabbed her wrist, jerking her back with him to the stairs. He held her close, close enough for her to smell the curious mix of herbs and wood smoke on him. But underlying it all, there was something else. The cold, sour smell of deep, dark places.
Kayla looked down at where his hand manacled her wrist, and then up at his face.
There was a flush of color on his cheeks, and he was breathing hard. “Perhaps you were thinking of me, hmm? Perhaps that’s why you are here?”
Kayla jerked her arm, hard. “No.”
“I have certainly been thinking of you.” Eric tightened his grip, lifted his other hand and stroked her cheek.
Kayla flinched back.
“Not saving yourself for De’Villier, are you?” Eric smiled. “The heroic savior who was only after the apple, not the princess.”
Kayla went still.
“I know about you, Kayla of Gaynor.” Eric’s words were sly. “I know the secret your father tried so hard to hide. My only mistake was underestimating the lengths he would go to keep you from me without showing his hand.”
Her throat closed, and Kayla had to force out her response. “What do you know?”
Eric laughed. “How innocent you look. I must commend you, but witches are duplicitous, aren’t they? You take after your kind so well.”
“Witches.” She repeated the word, flat and expressionless.
“Your dear, departed mother, of course, although like you she was untrained, and your paternal grandmother. With power from both sides, I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time. Your heritage shines out of
you. But I cannot believe the restraint you’ve shown.” He twisted her arm painfully, looking at her inner wrist, and shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s a sign of outstanding control, or total ineptitude. But we shall see, won’t we?”
She stamped down on every emotion swirling within, every question, and forced her eyebrows up. Forced her words to be cool and biting. “What did you have in mind?”
Eric fingered a strand of her hair, pushed it off her face, and it took everything in her not to jerk away. “I think you can guess.” He lowered his mouth to her ear. “You’ve been so obliging, turning away suitor after suitor, giving me time to build up my power. Then came De’Villier. He managed to impress you because he let you do the work, am I right? Let you think you were in control. But with me, you can have all the control you have ever wished for. More power than your father, more power than any other in Middleland.”
How little he understood. “Power through you?” She let a little of the scorn she was feeling slip into her question.
“You are hardly going to harness it on your own. I know you are…uninitiated.” He gave the word a sexual innuendo. He dipped his head even lower, nuzzled her throat, leaving her gasping for breath at her vulnerability. She could feel the edge of his teeth, just beneath the softness of his mouth.
“The world will be at your feet.” His whisper teased the shell of her ear, and she shivered.
His hand still held her wrist as viciously as before. The warm, gentle touch of his lips and the steel of his grip deepened her sense of violation.
She lifted her own hand, touched his face to bring his eyes back to hers.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
He laughed, a throaty sound of triumph, and released her wrist at last, lifting his hands to her shoulders to draw her closer.
In that sliver of a moment she was unrestrained, she dropped straight down in a crouch, spun, and dived headlong through the wild magic doorway.
* * *
Rane approached the wild magic cautiously. He’d seen it glimmering ahead, and with a sense of inevitability, of foreboding, he made his way towards it.
Golden Apple, The Page 6
