Can Rhea’s spell track us on foot? We’re about to find out…
I just have to hope the princess and I don’t get separated. Duke sent me with her to protect the book. The little red tome will allow me to carry it a short distance from her—but no more than that. Since it’s an object of “feminine reverence”—according to its creator the long-dead bitch Morgana Le Fey—only a female can “own” it. Being male, I can merely be the muscle that carries it, and only if I stay near whichever woman claims it.
A gasp slips from Sabelle’s lips. I tighten my grip on her hand and run faster, praying she keeps up. If she’s unable, I’ll carry her, Bram, and the Doomsday Diary to safety. Despite my legs being longer, Sabelle stays with me, every step. My admiration for her goes up another notch.
Quietly, we zigzag through the trees, gradually turning toward the abandoned house. We can’t stay there now, of course. It’s likely the first place the Anarki will look. We have to keep fleeing.
Grateful for the darkness that covers our tracks in the mud and remnants of snow, Sabelle and I dash for the hill on the west side of the valley. Behind me, I hear the pursuit of several wizards, the curses when one trips over a branch.
“Are you certain they ran in this direction?” one asks.
“Not entirely. So spread out. If she teleports anywhere, we’ll find her,” Mathias assures. “The bitch can’t outrun us. When I get my hands on her, I will happily strip her bare and make certain she knows who her master is.”
Over my dead body.
But the conversation suggests that my hunch was right: as long as Sabelle and I are on foot, no one can track the book. I think briefly of hiding the tome in a tree and teleporting away, but the risk is too great. If the Anarki find it… No, we must press on.
Sabelle stumbles in the dark, falling into me. I wrap my arm around her and jerk her to her feet. She must be getting tired, yet I don’t dare slow our pace.
“Can you go a bit farther?” I whisper.
Despite her panting, she nods, her jaw set with determination. “I will.”
Clearly, Bram isn’t the only Rion with pride. I’m not convinced Sabelle’s will is stronger than her body, but I pray she finds the fortitude to press on.
Without a word, I strip the pack from her back and cart it over my free shoulder. Bram’s dead weight flops over the other, but like the book, I don’t dare leave her brother behind for the enemy to find and use against us.
Despite the winter chill, sweat drips off me. My heart pounds a constant, violent tattoo. My lungs are about to burst, and my thighs burn. But I must keep on. I cannot risk Sabelle for rest.
Finally, we approach the hill leading out of the valley. I’m more than ready to be gone from here, find a car in the nearby town, and drive to safety.
Just then the moon peeks out from the clouds shining into the valley below. The trees leading up the side of the hills are few and far between. Now that Sabelle is no longer carrying the pack, I realize her pristine white sweater all but glows in the dark. It might as well be a bloody beacon to Mathias and his minions. In her world, such impracticality is merely written off as fashion. In mine, it’s life or death.
We need to improvise–and quickly. If she were anyone else, I’d simply slop mud over her clothes. Her shiny blond hair, too. But the Sabelle Rion? Has mud ever touched magickind’s princess? Irrelevant. We don’t have time. Behind me, the Anarki sound closer than ever.
Though I might be able to coax Sabelle into running north, parallel to the river, I fear we will encounter searching Anarki. Same with creeping south. The cliff is east, the river west.
We’re virtually trapped. And I have seconds to decide our fate.
Chapter
Six
If we can’t run safely in any direction, and we can’t teleport away, how the bloody hell am I supposed to keep the book concealed and Sabelle safe? Think, I demand of myself.
“Ice,” she pants in my ear. “I know we can’t rest, but…perhaps we can take refuge in a tree? Maybe we can spot an escape route if we’re up high?”
I smother my surprise at her cool head under fire. “Perfect.”
Gaze frantic, I scan the area. A stout old tree with several low-hanging branches sways nearby. I help her up, then hand her the pack containing the book.
Anarki trample closer. Too close. We still. Can I teleport into the tree before Mathias’s minions find me? Maybe…but I’m not willing to take a chance this close to the book. We need a distraction.
“Ice!” she hisses.
Our pursuers creep closer. I have to move—now. With a silent grunt, I heave Bram off my shoulder and hoist him into the next tree over. He’s hardly invisible, but between the dark and Bram’s black clothing, he might be camouflaged enough to fool Mathias and his goons until we can escape.
“Careful,” Sabelle whispers. “He’s not well.”
