Page 19 of Apples Dipped in Gold
“I pulled her from the carriage,” said Peter.
“She was with the prince?” asked Arthur, as if he did not believe it could be true.
“Oi, Ijustsaid that,” said Peter.
“She does not look like royalty,” said Arthur, scanning my clothes.
“Perhaps she is his whore,” said Puck.
“She doesn’t seem afraid,” observed Peter.
“That has nothing to do with being a whore,” said Puck.
“No, but I don’t like it,” said Peter.
“Nor do I,” said Arthur.
Then they all shivered violently.
“Did you feel that?” asked Arthur.
“I did,” said Puck. “What was it?”
“I believe it was…a…shiver,” said Peter.
“A shiver?” Arthur question.
“Surely not!” said Puck.
“We would never fear such a frail thing—and a woman at that!” said Peter. “It is impossible!”
“But just to make sure,” said Arthur.
“We should kill her,” they all said together, and then they looked down at me.
In the seconds that followed, there was a strange sound I couldn’t place. I thought maybe it was one of the thieves unsheathing their weapon, but then I noticed blood soaking the collar of Peter’s shirt, and his head slowly slid off his neck, bouncing as it hit the ground. His body followed, revealing a towering figure with hair as dark as midnight. His brows were lowered over shadowed eyes, his cheeks high but hollowed with anger. He was dressed in fine clothing, finer than the prince of Rook, but I could focus only on the long sword he wielded, dripping with the blood of the thief.
He was fae, and he was beautiful.
For a few seconds, terror rooted me to the spot, but when his gaze shifted to mine, his violent eyes a stunning shade of lilac, I found my footing and scrambled to my feet. As I turned and ran, the two thieves bolted past me, screaming.
Arthur went down at the edge of the forest, a dagger in his back. The other made it into the thick of the wood, and I followed.
I ran so hard, it felt like my bones were splintering. The only thing I could hear was the rustling of flora as the remaining thief and I barreled through the forest to escape the warrior fae.
Beyond the blur of trees, I could make out the thief’s retreating form as he stumbled over the ground. His mistake was looking back, though I suspected there was no escaping the fae.
“No! Please!” His voice rang with fear. “No!”
A bloodcurdling scream followed his final words, and then there was silence, save for the sound of my own breathing. I kept running, vaulting over a large branch. I halted and lifted it from the decaying leaves, holding it like a club in my hands as I hid behind an ancient tree, its shallow roots making it hard to stay upright.
It wasn’t long before I heard footsteps. I held my breath and waited until they drew near before I stepped out from behind the tree and swung the branch with all my might. It flew through the air and landed a few feet away, not even grazing the head of the fox from last night, who sat patiently before me with his tail curled around his feet.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, relieved to see him and not the fae.
“Your aim was off,” said a voice from behind me.
A strangled cry escaped my mouth as I turned and came face-to-face with the fae. I took a step back and fell. Spotting another branch, I tried to reach for it, but it crumbled in my hands, so instead, I squeezed a handful of the decayed limb and threw it at the creature.
