Page 92 of The Dead Queen

Then both ends of the rope yank tight, jerking me back and forth by the section knotted around my waist. The pressure digs into my stomach, pulling harder and harder until I’m afraid it will slice into my skin—or worse, tear me in half.

I scream and scramble for the knife hidden in the ankle of my boot. Half-blinded by fear, I saw at one end of the rope. Tears spring to my eyes as the fibers resist the blade.

It snaps. At the same moment, the other end goes limp. I collapse to the ground, gasping. The knot around my waist is too tight to undo with my fingers. My hands shake as I use my knife to saw through it. A sob of relief escapes me when it finally snaps off, the frayed ends falling to the dirt. I gasp on my hands and knees, trying to get ahold of myself.

All is silent.

Then, footsteps. Someone is running toward me. I brace myself, but Hunter emerges from the fog, his face full of panic. He gasps in relief when he sees me on the ground. He falls to his knees, pulling me into his arms.

“Sienna! Why didn’t you answer me when I called?” He lifts my face, brushing my wild hair from my eyes.

“I was yelling for you,” I say, alarmed.

He shakes his head. “That’s not possible. I’ve been calling your name ever since you disappeared.”

“No, you disappeared. I tripped, and you were gone!”

Understanding washes over his face. “It’s the fog.”

There’s no point in asking how that’s even possible.

I bolt upright, horrified. “Tristan.”

Hunter and I scramble to our feet. Hunter grips my hand tightly.

“Tristan!” I call.

“Tristan!” Hunter follows.

Silence.

Then, “Red?”

Relief washes over me. “Tristan, we’re here! Follow my voice!”

A figure emerges from the fog, crouched low, one arm stretched out to feel his way forward.

“Thank the old gods,” he says when he sees us. His gray eyes are wide, and his dark hair is a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it. He grabs my shoulders and pulls me into his chest, taking me by surprise.

Hunter doesn’t let go of my hand.

Tristan’s voice is breathless with relief. “I thought I’d lost you.”

This place has stripped away his usual icy manner. I’ve never seen him this shaken, not even when he was tied up in the kennels. Not even when the foxhounds attacked us on the road.

His eyes move to Hunter. “I thought I’d lost you both.”

Hunter’s voice has an edge to it. “Not yet, I’m afraid.”

“What happened?” I ask, but he just shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but the sooner we get out of there, the better.” He grabs my hand again. “So, no ropes then.” He leads us forward a second time.

We walk through the fog. It snakes over the cracked earth, pooling in the hollows between scattered bones and rusted weapons. My eyes ache from straining against the gray. Then, something catches my attention. A flicker of movement, like a shadow, but it’s gone before I can focus on it.

“Did you see that?” I whisper, my voice unsteady. Another glimpse flashes at the edge of my vision, a shadowy figure that vanishes as I turn my head.

Tristan tightens his grip on my hand. “Keep moving.”