Page 71 of The Blood Queen

We huddle there, peeking out the window, until the High Blade tires herself out with her raging. Whatever words are spoken now, they’re too low for us to hear, but soon, the army breaks apart, not in the rush of marching off but in the settling of making camp.

Alyth ducks away from the window. I cast one last look down below at the High Blade’s army pitching tents and lighting fires.

It’s all so normal. As if there ain’t a burning village behind them. As if they didn’t massacre this innocent town.

My father’s down there somewhere. Now missing an arm and probably livid for that—

How many villages have they ransacked since we left? Soaking up blood to fuel their magic, to strengthen themselves.

Have they been to Stirling yet? What happened to everyone there—Alyth’s friends, the glaistigs, Kitty?

Eyes burning, I turn away, following Alyth back down through the cottage.

As quietly as we can, we weave through the village, the sounds of the army making camp covering our movements. Why should they worry about the village? They slaughtered everyone in it. We’re just ghosts to them.

The stags are right where we left them, tucked away in the grove. Alyth starts pacing, arms around herself, rubbing warmth. I don’t hesitate to gather her against me, bleeding as much of my heat to her as I can. She melts into me with a throaty sigh, cheek nestling into the crook of my neck.

“We have to sneak in there,” she whispers, her words warm on my skin. “Into the High Blade’s tent. Surely she’ll rest after such a feast.”

She says the word with heavy disdain, and part of me clenches tight, hating that I know what she means on an intimate level.

In another life, I’d have been at my father’s side, killing innocents for my own power. Would I have been just as numb to the pain as they are? Would I have been as maniacal, as merciless?

I tighten my hold on Alyth.

“You’ll sneak in and stab her, then run?” I ask. “No matter how deeply she’s sleeping, she’ll wake at that.”

“I’ll be quick.” Alyth pulls back to work a short dagger out of the belt around her gown. “We just need a drop of her blood. A scratch is all it’ll take.”

“Fine. I’ll keep watch. I don’t wanna risk getting close to her, just in case—” My words falter, and my eyes drop to Alyth’s collarbone, to where the scars lie across her skin.

When we fled the fae realm, I was in control of my rage. Me. But can I hold that control against the High Blade?

Now’s not the time to test it. Not when our task is so straightforward.

The images of the ruined village flash through me. The careless destruction. The clear disregard for human life.

If the High Blade gets control of me again, that’s my fate. To bring that kind of misery to the world. To Alyth.

Alyth brushes her fingertips against my chin, pulling my focus back to her. “I’ll be quick,” she repeats. “We’ll meet back here at the stags and ride them to the next nearest portal.” Her face pinches. “And hope the princes haven’t closed it yet.”

“Agreed.” I pull her tighter. “Only there’s no meeting back here. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

She smiles, soft and humoring me, and I can see her argument in it. That it might not be in our control. That we might get separated.

I lower my forehead to hers, holding her against me.

She sucks in a breath, a sudden pull of words unsaid.

“What you told me,” she whispers between us, “before we left the fae realm.”

A flush spreads through me, chasing off some of the chill. “I meant it.”

A pause. “I know.”

I didn’t say it to get her to say it back. I said it because it’s true.

So I don’t give her a chance to worry or overthink. I tug her to where the mighty white stags are now seated, and we huddle down between them, using their flanks as windbreaks and sources of heat.