Eyeing the beast—which had to be the size of a small elephant—Emeline said, “I don’t know how to ride.”
“Not a problem.” He rose to his full height, then turned to the twisted, hoary roots where her boot was lodged. With one easy tug, it came free. “You’ll be riding with me.”
Emeline sat up. “Yes, you said that already. And it wasn’t a comfort the first time.”
He held out the Blundstone. She stared at her boot, speckled with mud, trying to think of something—anything—to convince him to take her to the Wood King.
She tried to remember Tom’s stories about the king’s walled city deep in the forest, the gate hidden from human eyes. Tom found a way in—or so he believed. Had he ever told her how?
Emeline wished she could recall more of his ramblings.
“I’d prefer to walk,” she said after taking the boot and pulling it on. She got to her feet and dusted the dead leaves from her jeans. “If you could lead me to the city gate, I’ll find my way from there.”
His knuckles bunched at his sides. “Did you not hear a word I said?”
She shrugged.
He looked truly annoyed. As if he were considering not just abandoning her to the stampeding ember mares but throwing her into their path. “Fine.Ifyou get on the horse, I’ll take you to the gate. All right? But we cannot tarry here any longer.” He pointed to the darkened canopy above. “The sun is down. We must gonow.”
He didn’t wait to hear her answer. He simply grabbed her hips in both hands and lifted her without warning. Easily. Swiftly. Up onto the saddle. Startled by his strength, she didn’t fight him. Only landed with a jolt, her weight settling on Lament, her legs hanging down the horse’s left side.
Unfair,she thought, then froze as the beast swayed beneath her. Fearing a fall, Emeline reached for the saddle’s leather edge with one hand and the horse’s woolly mane with the other, gripping both very hard.
The whole world looked different from this vantage point.
Mostly more terrifying.
She stared at the ground—far, far below her. Too far. She would definitely break something if she fell.
Lament turned her head, scrutinizing her new rider with one golden eye. Suddenly, all Emeline could think about was the size of those hooves and the sound of her own bones cracking after the horse tossed her off and galloped across her body while she lay sprawled on the forest floor.
She could see exactly how this day would end.
“Are you all right?”
“Um,” she managed.
His hands still held her hips, stabilizing her. “Unless you prefer to ride sidesaddle, I recommend one leg on either side.”
From atop his demon steed, any desire to defy him fled. Emeline nodded. Willing this all to be over, yearning to be at the king’s gate and forever rid of this horse and her rider, Emeline slowly turned herself, lifting her right leg up and over the other side. Both her hands fisted in Lament’s mane, the strands thick and wiry against her fingers.
He put his foot into the stirrup. The saddle lurched slightly to the left when he pushed up, making Emeline cling harder. As he settled behind her and his thighs pressed against her own, panic morphed into something else. Her body temperature rose as she became aware of him—how solid and steady and close he was.
One of his hands reached around her to take Lament’s reins; the other slid across her waist, pulling her gently against him.
A startling warmth spread through her belly.
“Are you ready?”
No,she thought, relieved that he couldn’t see her blushing face.
He was escorting her to the gate, she reminded herself. She could ride with him if it meant finding the Wood King and bringing Pa home. And then she would never have to see him again.
“Okay. Yes. I’m ready.”
With a simple nudge of his heels, the horse lurched forward. Emeline’s grip tightened in Lament’s mane, every muscle in her body going rigid as they began to trot through the silvered trees.
Lament’s trot soon became a canter. Her canter, a gallop. The forest blurred around them as they picked up speed, blazing through copses and thickets, the rhythm of the horse’s hooves drumming like thunder.
