Page 53 of The Witch Queen

“Duck!” Gavin yells, knocking me down with him just as the Nevenwolf soars over our heads. Gavin looks at me. “You were saying?”

“I can—”

A branch cracks behind me, followed by the too-close thunder of hooves as another animal gallops into the clearing. I blink, bewildered. It’s…the stag. What ishedoing here? I watch, stunned, as the two beasts square up against each other.

“Come on,” Gavin says, tugging at me. “This is our chance.”

Running is the smart thing to do. Theonlything to do if we want to live. But my feet don’t obey. The golden apple still dangles from the stag’s antlers, an apple that wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for me. I can’t just walk away. Not now.

Fighting every scrap of common sense urging me to do otherwise, I yank another arrow from my quiver and launch it at the Nevenwolf. The beast snarls and whirls, giving the stag the opportunity to thrash with its antlers. It knocks the Nevenwolf sideways.

“Have you lost your mind?” Gavin demands.

Probably. “Either help me or don’t.”

He mutters something under his breath, but then I hear a whistle. His arrow sails across the clearing and spears the Nevenwolf’s shoulder—another, its rib cage. The creature bellows, its patience evidently at an end. The stag charges, but the Nevenwolf is ready. It lunges, teeth snapping for the stag’s neck.

“Stop!” I shout, loosing another arrow.

It’s enough to distract the Nevenwolf, who turns its red-eyed attention on me. Time seems to thicken as the creature approaches, its teeth bared. All feeling rushes out of me, leaving nothing but the furious rhythm of my heartbeat slamming against my sternum. I brace myself for a killing blow. But then—

A roar splits the clearing.

The stag pummels into the Nevenwolf with such force that one of the stag’s antlers splinters. The Nevenwolf is thrown across the clearing, leaving a dent where it collides with the trunk of a tree. It struggles to rise. When it does, its single eye locks with mine, the moment pulling long and taut. I’m not sure if it will attack again—or if the stag has the strength to fend it off. It doesn’t matter. Abruptly, the Nevenwolf’s massive head turns to the side, its attention caught by something I can’t see. It gives a single huff, then bounds away into the forest, vanishing into a cloud of shadow.

“Are you all right?” Gavin asks, breathless.

“Fine, I think,” I say though my hands are shaking so badly that I can hardly hold my bow. “What about—”

“This way!” A man’s voice carries through the trees. “It came from over here!”

A moment later, about a dozen members of the hunting party surround us. Aunt Margaret is first among them. Her mouth drops open as she takes in the scene.

“Is that a stag?” she asks. “What onearthhappened to it? And to you?”

I start to answer, but Gavin beats me to it.

“It was a Nevenwolf,” he announces, earning a chorus of horrified gasps.

“A Nevenwolf?” Lord Warbeck repeats, steering his horse to the front of the group. “And you fought it off? Well done, boy!”

But Gavin shakes his head. “The princess did most of the fighting.”

Lord Warbeck scoffs. “Now is not the time to be gallant, son. You—”

“It’s the truth,” Gavin insists. “The kill is hers.”

It’s my turn to be shocked. Any other claimant would claim the victory for themselves. Why didn’t he?

“Finish it,” Gavin says quietly, nudging a knife into my hand.

Finish it and win,that small voice urges.

My attention returns to the stag. He’s lying on the ground, legs folded underneath his body, white pelt glistening a garish red with his own blood. Pain shines in his amber eyes and his breath steams in short, panicked bursts. The golden apple still dangles from the creature’s antlers. Gingerly, I make my way over to him, my pulse thudding against the hilt of the knife. But I don’t strike. I won’t. Instead, I reach for the cord holding the apple and slice it free.

“Blodwyn,” Aunt Margaret calls. “What are you doing? Finish the job.”

“No,” I reply. “This stag saved my life. I’m not going to take his in repayment.”