Page 19 of Let Slip the Dogs of War

“This way,” I say and stride off without waiting for either of them.

Grant quietly swears, but Dante says nothing as he sets in to follow me. After a few minutes, I slow my pace. The forest floor is littered with pine needles, and the sky might be clear, but the scent of damp and rot infiltrates my nose all the same.

“Half a day, you said?” Grant suddenly pops up beside me, and I swallow a yelp. I hear Dante behind us.

“Yes.”

“At this pace?”

“Yes.”

He hums, narrows his eyes, and drops back again. I sigh. Perhaps it is too gruelling a pace, but we at least need to leave the immediate area as soon as we can. That the witch has sensed me so quickly is a good sign, as she may offer some protection in terms of keeping unwanted fae from her lands. But she will not come storming out of the trees to rescue us, should those fae find us anyway.

Dante and Grant speak in degrees as we walk, both keeping their voices low. I feel the occasional pulse of Grant’s magic—he is more skilled with it than I thought—but it is an hour or so before Dante’s voice slowly rises.

“We are not safe yet,” I say and hear a surprised giggle.

I whip around. That is not Dante. Sure enough, when I look back, Grant is leaning back against a tree, head tipped back as he laughs until tears escape from the corners of his eyes.

Dante stares at him. “I—What’s wrong with him?”

I come close enough that I can touch Grant’s shoulder. He slowly stops laughing and stares up at me. His pupils are wide, and his lips still curve up in a grin.

Ah. Perhaps Cassian could have warned us of this, though I wonder if he was so angry when he came here that he burnt right through it.

“There is too much ambient magic,” I say. “The power is…”

“Going to his head,” Dante says with a groan. He looks less panicked than a moment ago. “Fuck. Sam’s mentioned it before.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Adam fed on him once. Well, more than once now. But that first time…” He pulls a face. “And I’m pretty sure Grant said he was all out of it the first time he went out in the sun.”

I look up at the sky again. We cannot see any suns here—and there are two of them, twins—but there is enough daylight all the same.

“I imagine that is not helping.”

“No, I imagine not,” Dante replies.

Grant giggles again and slowly slides down so he is sitting on the forest floor, his back to the tree trunk. Dante worries his lower lip with his teeth, then looks at me.

“We could carry him?”

“The worst of it should wear off in a few hours,” I say. “I know we are in a hurry, but—”

Dante is already nodding, his face somewhat paler than it was a moment ago. “No, you’re right. We need—We should wait.”

He does not sit like Grant does, but he leans back against the nearest tree and crosses his arms over his chest. I hesitate for only a moment before I do the same. Against another tree. I do not believe he wants me too close.

Will he ever? Does it matter? I will be lucky to escape this world again. I will be lucky to escape the court, and that thought almost has me groaning aloud.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dante says, eyes widening as though the words were not supposed to escape.

Tell him… I don’t have to ask what he is referring to. My face gets hot, and I stare down at the carpet of pine needles. Is it better or worse to admit that I did not mean to tell him at the Wild Hunt’s base? That I could not stand the assumption or the look on his face?

“It was not the right time.”

“Oh?”