Page 77 of A Betrothal So Bloody

“You tell me, master tracker. Can’t you just lick a rock and tell us if we’re headed north?”

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.

A muffled, frantic pounding draws us apart. The overturned wagon—something is underneath it.

“Please! That vile merchant kidnapped me,” a sharp, feminine voice cut the air. “I don’t want to die down here!”

My heart jumps to a gallop. A survivor.

I run to the wagon and crouch, peering into the dark slit where it cuts into the soft earth. I can vaguely make out a large crate underneath. More frantic pounding of fists against wood confirms it—someone is encased in that crate, the weight of the flipped wagon pressing upon it.

“Hang on, we’ll help you,” I call back. I try to reach into the small gap. My fingertips barely graze the latch securing it shut. It’s too far.

“Hurry, please!” The woman is dissolving into tears.

“I’m trying!” Gritting my teeth, I sink my knees into the mud, pressing myself right up against the wood to further my reach. My tendons strain with effort.

At all once, the wagon lifts into the air—as though God himself has plucked it out of my path.

I glance sharply to the side, agape. Dante has upended the entire wagon from one side, providing ample space to heave out the crate buried beneath. The immense frame groans, but it’s weightless in his hands—he’s not straining himself in the slightest. He gives me a slight dip of his head.

“Thanks,” I manage, muscling down the fluttering in my stomach.

I scramble down with urgency pacified, bracing my heels into the dirt to push the crate out. It’s still a staggering effort, but with a few strategic heaves of my weight, I manage to get it out and into the open. When it’s free, and I slump against it to catch my breath, Dante lets the wagon smash down unceremoniously and dusts his hands off on his trousers.

“Thank you, miss,” the woman cries, voice muffled. “Mother Earth bless you. You saved my life.”

“It’s alright, be at ease,” I say, unfastening the latch. “We’ll have you free of this in moments.”

The lid to the crate is heavy, warped slightly from soaking up moisture from the mud. Dante unsheaths his dagger and jabs it into the small gap in the lid, levering a sharp pull to pry it open on creaking hinges.

We both recoil in tandem as we get a good look at what’s staring back at us.

It’s not a woman inside. It’s not even human.

A large cage is tucked snugly inside the crate, housing what appears to be an adult forest nymph. I’ve never seen one in person before, but the features are unmistakable from the tomes I’ve pored over in the Corvus archives—even if she appears to be using some sort of glamour in an attempt to appear human. The magic is unstable, only masking in patches the ethereal beauty that lies beneath—pale green skin, large black eyes framed by elegant lashes, and seafoam hair that tumbles down one shoulder in loose waves to her waist. Her body is lithe and long, clad in deep emerald cloth that winds around her curves like vinework.

“Father above… A nymph! I thought they went extinct!” I breathe, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Dante.

“And no wonder they nearly did,” Dante mutters under his breath, unaffected by my awe. “They’re goddamn useless.”

“We live a peaceful existence,” the nymph chimes in, wrapping her long fingers around the bars over her head. “And it is a lonely one. But please—release me, I mean you no harm. I only wish to travel to Florence to be among humanity. I will repay you any way you wish.”

“You shouldn’t be going anywhere near a city unless you want an arrow in your back,” I say, frowning at the place where her illusion flickers—a blue human eye and dark hair fading in and out of sight on the left side of her face.

“My human guise will convince even the most dubious citizen,” the nymph insists, a note of defensiveness curling through her voice. “They’ll be enchanted by me. I’ve done it before.”

I narrow my eyes, easing backward. “And what will you do amongst humans? Seduce them for your use?” I ask, wondering if I can catch a lie on such an unusual face.

She grips the bars tighter, putting her face closer to mine. “Nothing like that, miss. I only wish to be adored! To be where I am wanted and worshiped. My gift is my song, and…” I swear color rises to her pale green cheeks. “It’s my dream to be the most beloved vocalist in the known world.”

“Oh God.” Dante rolls his eyes.

“I can show you! My voice has enchanted many a roaming traveler.”

As she opens her mouth and begins to sing a dulcet melody, Dante releases the crate’s lid, letting it slam shut. The nymph’s song tapers into a startled shout.

“She’s loony, even for a nymph,” Dante says, shaking his head. “A mercy kill would be kinder. We didn’t come this far to pick up every pity case along the way to Callistia.”