Page 74 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

I pack all my things quickly, spare clothes, weapons, and my traveling cloak. Everything I need fits in a single satchel. I’ve learned to travel light and to keep my possessions minimal. Easier to run that way, if running becomes necessary.

The north stables are on the far side of the compound. Garrett is already there, standing beside two beautiful creatures. They’re taller than horses, with sleek bodies that seem to shimmer in the morning light. Their coats are silver with an iridescence and their eyes are impossibly blue, bright as summer sky.

Garrett’s hand rests on one’s neck, stroking absently. He looks up when I approach. “This is Sunstrike,” he says, gesturing to the Noctral beside him. “Yours is Dawnchaser.”

Noctrals are notoriously temperamental, only allowing riders they deem worthy. I’ve heard stories of them throwing even experienced riders, or simply refusing to move. I approach the second one carefully, extending my hand slowly. Letting it smell me and learn my scent.

The Noctral’s nostrils flare. Its ears swivel forward, alert and assessing. Then it nickers softly and tosses its silver mane. The sound is almost musical, like wind chimes. To my relief, it lowers its head in acceptance.

I mount smoothly, settling into the saddle. The creature shifts beneath me and its horn glows. I feel the connection. The Noctral is sharing some of its awareness with me. I can sense the sun overhead and feel the way it energizes the creature beneath me. It’s dizzying and exhilarating.

“They’re sun-blessed by Tavarra the Traveler,” Garrett says, watching me adjust to the sensation. “The brighter the sun, the faster they can run. But the moment the sun sets, they become ordinary horses. Slower and more vulnerable.”

I nod as the connection thrums through me.

“We have until sunset to reach the border near the fae territories. It’s a full day’s ride, even on Noctrals.” He gathers his reins, settling into his saddle. “We should go.”

I urge Dawnchaser forward to follow him.

Garrett leads us out of the city at a steady pace, not wanting to draw attention. The morning streets are already busy. A few people nod respectfully to Garrett as we pass. He acknowledges them with casual waves, playing the part as the Commander of the Valorian. No one looks twice at me. I’m just another guard in his retinue.

We clear the gates and hit the open road heading south. The city walls fall away behind us. Rolling hills dotted with farms stretch out ahead, fields still brown from the drought.

Garrett glances back at me. “Ready?”

I briefly nod. I can see him expecting a conversation. I offer nothing but silence and a flat stare. He gives up and turns away.

His Noctral leaps forward like it’s been loosed from a bow. Dawnchaser follows immediately. I barely have time to adjust my seat before we’re flying. The landscape blurs around us. Wind whips through my hair, stinging my eyes. The Noctral’s hooves barely seem to touch the ground. We’re not running so much as gliding.

It’s terrifying and exhilarating.

I catch glimpses of Garrett ahead of me. He sits his mount perfectly, moving with Sunstrike like they’re one creature. He looks back at me and for just one brief, unguarded second, I see joy on his face. The simple pleasure of speed and freedom and leaving everything behind.

Then he faces forward again.

We ride like that for hours, eating up miles at an impossible pace. The city falls away behind us and farmland gives way to wilderness. These lands are unclaimed, bordering fae territory. Few elves venture this far. We only stop long enough to let the Noctrals drink from a stream and catch our breath.

I dismount stiffly, my thighs aching from gripping the saddle. Dawnchaser lowers her head to the water, drinking delicately.

“How are you doing?” Garrett asks, offering me water from his flask.

I look at the offered flask and say nothing. I walk to the stream and cup water in my own hands, drinking from the source instead.

Behind me, I hear him sigh in resignation “We should reach the foothills by late afternoon,”

He looks south, toward the distant peaks just visible on the horizon.

I follow his gaze despite myself. The Frostspine Mountains rise like jagged teeth against the sky, snow-capped and forbidding even from this distance. Between the dark stones and white snow are endless shadows.

It’s the perfect place to hide.

“Wolf—” Garrett starts.

I’m already mounting Dawnchaser, settling back into the saddle. The Noctral shifts beneath me, eager to run again.

Garrett watches me for a moment longer. Then he shakes his head slightly and mounts his own Noctral.

The terrain grows rougher as we approach the southern mountains and the air grows colder. I can smell snow on the wind. The sun begins its slow descent toward the western horizon. Our Noctrals slow gradually, their power waning as the light fades. By the time we reach the foothills, they’re moving at an ordinary canter.