Malric stays in the rear, grabbing dropbears and pitching them headlong into the forest. Jacko races beside him. When the jackalope tries to dart ahead to me, Malric grabs him, keeping Jacko safely at his side, which I appreciate. As good a fighter as the jackalope is becoming, we haven’t gotten far in our “how to protect Rowan without tripping her” training. Fortunately, the dropbears are ignoring the jackalope in favor of the larger threats.
I don’t know how many dropbears there are. They all look the same—gray-brown fur, coal-red eyes and razor-sharp teeth flashing in and out of the darkness as they charge us, only to be driven back by my sword or Malric’s fangs or Dain’s boot.
There’s blood. Some of ours. More of theirs. I’m not trying to kill the dropbears, but I can’t actively try to avoid killing them either. While they may be tiny compared to a warg or wyvern or warakin, they are deadlier than all of those, a frenzied swarm that will not quit until they have their prey.
As I keep moving forward, keep fighting, Jannah’s story comes back to me. She did say they’d been lured into a trap—she just hadn’t specified how. That was the only dropbear swarm Jannah had ever encountered, and she didn’t like to talk about it. They’d lost two hunters that day. Experienced monster hunters.
Recalling that story, I do not hesitate with my sword. I slash and I move, as fast as I can. With each step, we’re heading deeper into the woods, and I’m aware of that, too—the danger of it, those we’re leaving ever farther behind. We cannot risk leading the dropbears to camp, though. We must keep going until we’ve driven them off.
I’m fighting and moving, my gaze on my path, when something drops into it, hitting the ground with a thud that reverberates through me. It’s a dropbear…only it’s huge. It is twice the size of the others, standing four feet tall, a grizzled and scarred old beast with one milky eye.
The alpha dropbear doesn’t charge. It doesn’t need to. It stands on its hind legs and brandishes claws as long as my fingers. That huge jaw opens, and all I see are teeth. Jagged, horrible teeth in a jaw that stretches wider and wider as the creature screeches a guttural keening.
Malric snarls, and the beast rocks forward, as if to attack. I can’t see the warg, but I know he checks himself. He cannot charge without the dropbear doing the same, and the dropbear will reach me before Malric does.
The dropbear swipes its claws against the air. That is a challenge. I know it is.
Come here, little monster hunter. See if you can slice me before I slice you.
I test my grip on my sword.
“Rowan?” Dain murmurs behind me. “Let me help you.”
“I’ve got this.” I adjust my grip, sword raised.
“You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
“I’m not. I’m getting us out of here. Which means getting us past this beast.”
“Let me help. Please.”
I heft my sword.
“Rowan,” he says, voice low. “You can trust me. I swear you can. I would never—” He swallows. “Whatever I’ve done, I didn’t mean to betray you. I wouldn’t do that.”
I wriggle my right foot, checking my footing.
“Please,” he says. “May I help you?”
I hesitate. Pride demands that I prove I deserve to hold the ebony sword. If there had been anyone else with us, I might have let pride win. But I’ve already lost Dain’s confidence. My duty now is to protect my companions, both human and beast.
I dip my chin in agreement.
He exhales audibly. “Thank you. All right. On the count of three, drop to one knee. Your right knee. Okay?”
I tense, my shoulders stiffening. He’s not just asking me to accept help. He’s putting me in a weakened position.
“Rowan, please. Do you trust me?”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
“Will you trust me right now?” he says. “In this one thing? Trust that I will do nothing to hurt you. Please.”
“Count,” I say, more grunt than word.
“Keep hold of your sword. Just drop to your right knee. Do it on one.” He inhales. “Three. Two. One.”
I drop and something flies over my shoulder. Silver winks in the moonlight. Dain’s dagger hits the dropbear in the chest, and the beast staggers back, shrieking. Then the forest erupts. Every dropbear that had fallen silent watching its alpha now sees him fall, and the forest bursts into a cacophony of crashing branches and screaming dropbears as they all rush at us.
“Run!” I say.
I run straight at the fallen dropbear blocking our path. I manage to wrench out the dagger before Dain shoves me, and then I keep going, running full out. A yipping sounds above the screams. The dropbears shriek louder, as if the sound drives them to a frenzy. Several break off and run that way, crashing through the forest.
“Left!” a human voice shouts. “Go left!”
I do, mostly because that yipping—and the voice—come from the right, which is where half the surviving dropbear pack is running to. The opposite direction seems like a very fine idea.
“House!” Dain shouts.
I think I’ve misheard. I must have. But then he pokes my shoulder, turning my attention to a structure of some kind. I veer toward it. The forest opens up, and ahead there is indeed a building. I can’t quite tell what it is—I’m running through a moonlit forest, pursued by dropbears, the world rushing by too fast for me to get a good look at anything. It’s a structure with walls and a roof, and that is enough.
I check that Jacko is still with us. I know Malric is—I can’t miss the pound of his paws. When I look back, the warg glowers, as if knowing very well I’m checking for my jackalope and taking offense that I might presume he’d leave Jacko behind. The jackalope is right there, running at Malric’s side.
The building is in a clearing, and as soon as we enter that open space, the dropbears fall back, yipping and shrieking, uneasy about leaving the forest. I race to the house and lift my hand to knock, but Dain catches it.
“This is one case where a princess may intrude on her subjects without knocking,” he says, casting a pointed look toward the dropbears cautiously emerging from the safety of the forest.
Dain grabs the knob and twists. Nothing happens. He throws his shoulder against the door, and I rap on the frame as loud as I can, calling, “Hello!”
Please help, as we are currently under attack by dropbears.
Somehow, I don’t think that would encourage anyone to open a door.
I bang louder and shout louder. The dropbears may have hesitated at the tree line, like warriors reaching the end of their defensive wall, but they’re venturing out, a silent wave of fur and fang rolling over the night-dark grass.
Malric growls, as if to say, “Hurry it up, humans.”
I spot a window, shuttered tight. I’m about to run and try it when I notice a latch high atop the door.
A dropbear yowls, and they all answer, a trumpet blast before they charge.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I leap to grab the latch and flick it open, and I’m about to warn Dain when he slams his shoulder into the door. It smacks open, he falls in and we tumble after him. Well, I tumble, and then Malric barrels into me, and I twist out of the way, and Malric falls onto Dain as I slap the door shut and lean against it.
A dropbear hits the door hard, and the wood smacks against me.
“Dain!” I shout.
Jacko races over and braces himself against the door, which I appreciate but…
Another dropbear hits it, and then another, the door banging open an inch with each hit, my boots sliding across the rough wood floor as I scramble to get my footing. I squint beyond us. The building is pitch-black.
“Dain! Need some help here!”
“Under…a…warg,” Dain grunts from the darkness. “Malric…get…your…”
A scrabble of nails on wood
, and then Malric is pushing against me, nudging me aside, telling me he has it. Still holding the door shut, I squint along the frame. I see a door latch just as Dain strikes a fire stick. As I slap the latch shut, I spot another near the base and fix it into place.
“Princess…” Dain says, his voice low.
“I think this will hold,” I say as I test the latches. “The fact that they weren’t locked—and the fact that no one has come screaming from bed—suggests nobody’s in here.”
“Turn around slowly, please.”
I do…and there is a dropbear right behind me. I blink at the beast. It must have tumbled in before I got the door shut. Now it rises on its hind legs, gnashing its teeth with glee as it realizes it is the sole member of its pack to make it through the door.
Jacko hisses and shakes his antlers. Malric steps up beside the dropbear and pulls to his full height. Dain moves forward, and I ease my sword from its sheath. The dropbear casts one slow look around and realizes…
Well, it realizes that it’s the sole member of its pack to make it through the door.
It is alone, trapped in here with us, and it’s a young dropbear, barely bigger than Jacko.
The dropbear gives one shaky snarl and wheels, diving deep into the shadows. There’s a skitter of claws, and when Dain lifts his fire stick, the dropbear freezes, poised on an exposed rafter. It takes one careful step along the beam, red eyes fixed on us.
“Uh-uh,” I say. “You really think we’re going to let you creep along that beam so you can drop on us? Think again, bear-beast.”
I stride toward it, sword raised. It takes one look at the blood-flecked blade and scampers into the roof corner, chittering to itself.
“Stay there,” I say. “When the coast is clear, Dain will help you down.”
“What?” Dain says, his voice rising two octaves.
I sheathe my sword. Then I take the dagger from my side, the one I’d retrieved from the alpha dropbear. I return it to Dain.
“You’ll need that,” I say. “But please don’t use it on the dropbear. You should be able to just carry the beast back to camp. It’s small enough.”
“What?” His voice cracks as he stares at me.
I wave at the beast. “It’s a young dropbear. I’m taking it home, of course. Unless you want it.” I peer at him thoughtfully. “Do you want it? You probably should have a bodyguard of your own, and a baby dropbear seems like a fine idea. It looks very cuddly. Except for the sharp parts.”
“She’s teasing you, Dain,” a voice says.
We all give a start. Well, all except Malric, who only grunts, as if he’d known all along that we weren’t alone.
Alianor walks in from a back room.
“What are you—” I begin.
“Rowan is joking about the dropbear,” she says to Dain. “Though personally, I think she should make you carry it home. You owe her. A baby dropbear will do.”
“Something tells me he wouldn’t survive the transport,” I say.
“The dropbear?”
“Dain.”
Alianor shrugs. “Accidents happen. At least you’d have a dropbear.”
Dain scowls at her. “What are you doing here?”
She jerks a thumb toward the back of the cabin. “There’s a rear door. Don’t worry. I latched it.”
“I mean what are you doing in the Dunnian Woods. Instead of back at the castle.”
“Studying,” I say.
Her brows lift. “So you did believe that? Rhydd said you did, but I figured you were playing along.”
She moves into the room and falls onto an overstuffed chair before continuing. “I guess Dain isn’t the only one who needs to apologize, then.”
“I need to apologize?” Dain says. “For what?”
“Uh, everything?” Alianor says.
I take the fire stick box from Dain and light a lantern in the corner. I move it under the dropbear, so we can keep an eye on it. As I draw near, Malric growls.
“I’m not going to walk beneath the beast,” I say as I push the lantern into place. “You really think I’m a very stupid princess, don’t you?” I glance at the warg. “Don’t answer that.”
He grunts and pads over, taking up position between me and the dropbear. As I return to Alianor and Dain, I glance around the half-lit shadows. It’s a small cabin, with a fireplace, a sleeping cot and a few chairs. Dried vegetables and herbs hang from the ceiling. My gaze catches on a particular herb, oddly shaped, before I turn my attention back to Alianor.
“Sorry,” I say. “Go on.”
“I was apologizing for presuming you’d understood my ploy. You asked me to join you, and I said no because I knew Dain should come along, as a monster hunter. I knew Dain wanted to come.”
She shoots a hard look Dain’s way as his mouth opens to protest. He shuts it, and she continues, “You picked me because he’s been a jerk.”
“Jerk?” Dain says.
“Sorry,” Alianor says. “He’s been a boy. Boys are sometimes jerks, and if they’re Dain, sometimes means ‘almost always.’ ”
She ignores his squawk of protest. “If you went without him, he’d sulk for the next decade. No one needs that. So I bowed out, knowing I could follow later. Which I did.”
“Rowan’s only supposed to have one companion,” Dain says. “That was Heward’s rule.”
“That was Heward also being a jerk. His argument was that more companions would mean more guards, which the castle couldn’t afford to spare. Since I don’t require a guard, it’s fine. Also, this is training for her trials—not an actual trial.”
“Does anyone know you’re here?” I ask.
“Rhydd does. He’ll tell your mother that he warned me it was a dangerous idea—which he did—but that I insisted—which I did.” She leans back in the chair. “I’m Clan Bellamy. No one expects me to do as I’m told. I asked Rhydd to come along, but he was being responsible.” She rolls her eyes at the word.
“He has to be,” I say. “He’s the future king.”
“Oh, I know. I understand, and I even approve. Just don’t tell him I said that. I admire his sense of responsibility, even when it’s inconvenient. It’d have been fun to have him along, though.”
“It would have,” I say. “But I’m glad I have you.” I glance at Dain and quickly add, “Both of you.”
Dain retreats into the shadows, mumbling under his breath.
“That’s Dain-speak for ‘I’m glad to be here too, princess,’ ” Alianor says.
“No,” I say with an awkward smile. “He’s definitely not glad to be here, trapped in an abandoned cabin, surrounded by dropbears.”
Dain grunts at that and relaxes onto a stool. “Any idea what we’re going to do about that, your highness?”
“Ransom that one.” I point at the young dropbear. I walk to the window and push against the shutter, which opens a crack, before I yell, “We have one of your own! We will trade him for safe passage. Please appoint a representative to discuss this on your behalf.”
Alianor snickers. Dain blinks, frowning, before catching Alianor’s laugh and shaking his head.
“Joke,” I say. “Apparently Malric isn’t the only one with a low regard for my intelligence.”
“Or perhaps your jokes just aren’t that funny, especially when we’re surrounded by killer bears.”
“They aren’t bears. They’re marsupials. You can tell by the pouch. Just grab that one up there, look at its belly, and you’ll see—”
“If you’re considering switching your job to royal jester, princess, may I suggest you stick with monster hunting? At least you show some aptitude for that.”
“Some aptitude? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“If I didn’t think you made a good royal monster hunter, I wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for you to
come up with a plan, would I?”
“Unless you’re just waiting for me to come up with a plan so you can say it’s horrible and proves I don’t deserve the job.”
I meant to say that lightly, teasing. Instead, it comes out with an edge that has Alianor straightening, her gaze shifting between us. Tense silence stretches, and I tense with it, ready for the insult that is sure to follow. Dain sits there, completely still except for his jaw, working as he considers responses.
Finally, he murmurs, “I never said you don’t deserve the job, Rowan.” His gaze lifts to mine. “Ever. I have made mistakes, but I would not say that.”
Now I’m the one fidgeting, feeling their gazes heavy on me. I clear my throat. “All right. Step one is to count the surviving dropbears. We can hear them out there, and it sounds as if we’re surrounded by dozens, but the pack wasn’t that big. So I need a firm count before we plan anything. The windows are latched on the inside. Open with care.”
As we count, I keep getting distracted by the cabin itself. The way the herbs are tied bothers me. They’re arranged in odd wreath-like shapes.
When I catch Dain eyeing one, I murmur, “Do you recognize that design?”
“No,” he says. “But I don’t like it. It reminds me…”
His shoulder rolls, as if throwing off the memory.
“Reminds you of what?”
He shakes his head and walks to another window to continue his count. I want to pursue it, but I know this isn’t the time. What matters isn’t what’s in this cabin—it’s what’s outside.
Once we’ve completed our count—either six or seven, plus the alpha—I say, “I don’t want to kill them.” I avoid looking Dain’s way—I don’t need to see his reaction to that—and hurry on with, “They can’t be left here, of course. I’m not sure why they’re this far east, but we can’t risk them continuing on to Tamarel. Once we get home, we’ll need to launch an expedition to drive them back. The council may decide they all need to be killed, but we also need to know what drove them from the mountains, so I’d rather not eliminate the entire pack now.”
“Too dangerous anyway,” Dain says, which surprises me. I expected a sarcastic comment about my not wanting to kill the poor beasties. When he agrees, I falter before continuing.
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