“I agree,” Leighton chimed in, broadsword gleaming in his grasp. Towering at least a head taller than the rest of the party, he didn’t have to project his voice to make sure everyone could hear him. “I’ll be at the front as well, ensuring Kestrel’s safety.”
“Yes. Good.” The queen waved him off. “Now, let’s keep moving. I doubt any of us would like to be here longer than is necessary.”
Kestrel wanted to insist she and Elora stay together, but based on what logic? What the queen was saying made sense. Elora was the only protection they had in here. They needed to keep her close. Besides, maybe it would do them all some good to finally view her in a light other than destructive. Maybe this would give them an opportunity to see that thanks to her magic or ancestry or whatever it may be,shewas protecting them. Not harming.
Kestrel flashed the princess a look that she hoped conveyed that she was sorry to leave her side no matter how momentary, and then marched to the front of the small convoy with Leighton in tow.
As they continued to infiltrate the Hollows, they kept watchful eyes on the forest around them.
The rootless still lurked there, stalking them like the wild coyotes of Vallonde. But they kept their distance behind thetreeline. And for that, Kestrel and the others were able to walk freer, less rattled with fear.
Although they still had to be mindful of every step, careful not to wander out of Elora’s magical reach—which was difficult to do since none of them knew exactly how far it extended. On one occasion, Kestrel and Leighton were a little too far ahead of the group, and the rooted arms of the gravemoors didn’t shrivel back in time.
They lunged for them, vine-like claws reaching and nearly snagging Kestrel by the ankles.
Leighton had his sword ready though. In one clean strike, the branch was hacked in two, the remnants sent crumbling back to the tainted earth where they decayed in seconds.
“We should slow down,” advised the prince.
The suggestion was so obvious that Kestrel was tempted to mock him. As if after nearly being snatched and dragged away that wasn’t her first thought as well. But their dire surroundings and her still-racing heart had drained her sense of humor, so she merely agreed.
Once they resumed at a steady pace, Leighton turned to Kestrel and asked, “Is any of this looking familiar to you?”
Kestrel peered out at the blackened trees, each branch bare and identical to the last. “Yes and no. This whole place is like a mirrored version of itself. It all looks the same; tree after tree, lurking monster after lurking monster.”
“I won’t let them harm you.”
“That’s not what I—” Kestrel sighed, frustrated by his chivalrous intentions. She had never wanted to be the damsel in distress. Had always admired the heroes for their bravery, loyalty, and their commitment to putting everyone else above themselves. There was a time when she had admired Leighton for the same, when his gallant nature had heated the very depths of her belly with desire.
But that was before everything. Before he had betrayed her trust. Before she’d learned he was engaged. Before she’d met Elora.
Kestrel had moved on. But Leighton was still pining over her, or at least that’s how it seemed.
That wouldn’t do. Elora deserved better. And Kestrel would make this right.
It wasn’t exactly the best place for this conversation, but they needed to have it.
“I don’t need you to protect me. Besides, I’m not the one you should be protecting.” When he looked at her with genuine confusion, she clarified. “Princess Elora? Your betrothed?”
Leighton flinched at the title. “She doesn’t need my protection; if anything it’s the other way around.”
“You’re wrong,” Kestrel snapped, perhaps a bit too fiercely considering the way his eyes burst wide. He stared at her, assessing, as if he was starting to understand something she didn’t want him to. There could be nothing between her and Elora; this was about them. Kestrel shoved the outrage down somewhere deep so that it wouldn’t bother her again. “You know how people view her. What they say about her. The snide comments, the kingdom-wide loathing—it’s hurtful. And after your wedding, she’ll have to live in a kingdom where she has been hated for years. It will wear on her, and she will need someone by her side. Someone to support her. Someone…like her husband to take care of her?”
Leighton scoffed. “I’ll have to. She’ll be my queen.”
“No, not because you have to. Because it’s the right thing to do!” Kestrel stamped her foot, barely containing the growl in her voice. “Cursed sky, Leighton. I thought you were better than that.”
The prince just shook his head, a look of disgust etched in his features. “I guess not.”
Kestrel wanted to scream. She wanted to smack him upside the head the way she would with Darius whenever he was being an idiot. But princess or not, something told her if she struck the future king, there would be consequences.
“You haven’t seen what her power can do. How deadly she can be,” he continued, his voice a hollow, haunted thing as he kept scanning the perimeter. “Did she tell you she killed thirteen of our troops while she was transported over here?Thirteen. Men and women with families, with full lives ahead of them. And she snuffed all that out, ruined all those lives with a single touch.”
No, she hadn’t known. And now that she did, Kestrel’s heart ached for those families. But it ached for Elora more. She wouldn’t have slain those men on purpose, nor would she have taken any joy in it. Her power was uncontrollable, innate. Just like Kestrel’s mother’s had been.
“And what about me?” she asked. “Why be kind to me when you know my lineage? The dark history of my past. Dragon’s fire, my mother cursed your father and now he’s dead. Doesn’t that make you hate me?”
His jaw was a taut cord ready to snap. “No, I could never hate you.”
