Page 33 of Revealing Fate

“What are you saying?” Kal bit off the words. “She’s here.”

Santhe shook her head, features twisting with concern and…fear. “No,” she said more firmly. “It’s not her. Our message never reached her at the Starlight Lodge. Cinah’s man was forced to burn the missive. We were too late.”

Kal’s mind spun in fury. Cold, the kind that killed, seeped into his bones.

“Kalevar.” She leaned in, fisting the front of his cloak, her voice a hoarse whisper. “You took the wrong woman.”

If she said anything else, Kal did not hear. Could not hear past the roaring in his skull.

Chapter 13

PRISONER

FELÍNE PLODDED THROUGH THE SHALLOW stream, water splashing and minnows fleeing with each careless footfall. She was too tired, too cold, and too numb from terror to care how much commotion she caused.

The previous night had been quite possibly the single most horrifying night of her life. Worse than Kal’s abduction of her. Worse than her capture by Tavene and Drexan. Worse than her unintentional hallucinogenic trip.

Poor Penn had unknowingly given her everything she’d asked. He may as well have painted a map for her escape from Stillwater Wood, complete with blazing red arrows directing her away from Meress. She absconded within an hour of him leaving her at Kal’s for the night. Felíne had bundled herself in a thick sweater she found in Kal’s chest of drawers, stuffed a pack with enough provisions for two weeks’ worth of travel, allowed herself one final loving glance at the enchanting cabin between the sacred figs, and ran.

Navigating the darkened wild of the wood had been frightening. Even with Penn’s assurances, Felíne had jumped at every noise, every rustle of brush, every flash of tracking eyes. Thrice she’d been convinced a grimalkin stalked her movements. Her grip on Daybreak’s handle was like death, cold and final, and she swung the axe in front of her at random intervals to ward off an invisible attack.

Roughly an hour into her trek, she’d found the stream, just as Penn explained. Felíne had been following it since. Closer to dawn, delusional from fatigue and fear, she’d seen the yellow eyes again. She’d faced down the shadowy creature, entirely prepared to fight for her life, only to realize it wasn’t a grimalkin at all. Kal’s nameless wolf padded after her, its curious gaze keeping distant watch. He’d disappear for a time before reappearing again, just a flash of his silver-black tail and reflective eyes. She stopped worrying about a grimalkin attack after that but decided to enter the stream to try to throw off any trackable scent.

The sun had risen somewhere to her left hours ago, and Felíne’s initially careful steps had become leaden. She hadn’t seen the wolf again and wondered if he’d returned home, refusing to cross some invisible line of demarcation that said he’d gone too far. Felíne hoped she was nearing the edge of the wood. There was a small settlement at its boundary called Fahren’s Pass, where she hoped to purchase a mount to take her the remainder of the way to Asteros. The main roads would be patrolled. A member of her father’s army was bound to find her and escort her home.

Hollowness filled her gut. Home. What a foreign thing it now seemed. Grim determination propelled her. She just needed to survive her presentation. Break the damned curse. Save the people. Free the Fates. Exact a little justice. And then?

Felíne glanced behind her. She…she didn’t know what happened after that.

Something broad and slippery wiggled past her ankle, and Felíne shrieked in alarm, nearly losing her balance. The gray-green mass sloshed off toward the deeper center of the stream. A bottom-feeder. She shuddered.

Felíne righted herself and froze, slimy fish forgotten. Thirty paces ahead of her, on the opposite side of the narrow brook, head submerged in the bubbling flow, was a furred nightmare.

Twice the size of a shurii male in second form, the bear swung its great muzzle back and forth under the water, searching for its next meal. Felíne’s heart kicked into a hammering rhythm. If she ran, it would see her. There was no way she could outrun a bear on two legs. Felíne ever so slowly edged backward, near the bank. She scarcely breathed. Took another tentative step.

The bear turned, blessedly, away from her. Its head emerged, water spraying from thick brown fur, then plunged back down to continue its hunting. She was almost there. Another step and she’d be out of the stream. Three more and she’d be beyond direct line of sight.

Felíne lifted her right leg for that final step, and something, two somethings, crashed into her from behind. A raucous squeal pierced the air as identical brown bear cubs tumbled into the stream. Felíne crashed into the shallows, soaking her pantlegs and skinning her palm.

The bear on the far side swung its snout, sensing the commotion. The cubs squealed again, and Felíne’s startled gaze collided with that of their mother. Mama opened a monstrous maw and roared, water and spittle flying.

Felíne scrambled to her feet and tore in the opposite direction, clambering onto the reedy bank. A crash sounded behind her as the bear surged through the water toward her.

Felíne couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, as she fled blindly through the forest. Low branches grabbed at her face and hair. Thorny shrubs snagged at her pack and clothes. Mangled roots tried to trip her. She flew, thoughtless, directionless, into the woods.

Behind her, the bear roared again, and a sob escaped Felíne’s lips on a ragged exhale. Her chest tightened with panic. She dared not turn for fear of falling. Onward, she ran, the enraged mother bear thundering after her. Somewhere, distantly, a wolf howled.

Felíne reached into her pocket and flung a half-eaten strip of jerky behind her. The bear did not slow.

She launched herself over a cluster of slick boulders and miraculously avoided rolling her ankle. She slipped through the narrowed space between two larger rocks and screamed as a giant, clawed paw snagged her pack. Felíne yanked against it but was hauled backward. She struggled for a terrifying moment, hot, fishy breath gusting her nape, before she disentangled herself from the straps entirely. She struggled forward, food and supplies sacrificed to buy an escape.

Once emerged from the other side of the rocky berm, Felíne permitted herself a glance over her shoulder. The bear was no longer behind her. Wheezing a sigh of relief, Felíne righted her course and ran into something solid. She yelped again.

Strong hands kept her from falling to the ground. Felíne raised her bleary, tear-streaked face and met the stern, unfamiliar gaze of a man.

He was middle-aged, with graying, soil-colored hair and eyes like chips of rusted steel. “Yours is not a face I recognize,” he said in a gravelly baritone.

“Bear,” Felíne croaked. “There’s a bear…chasing me.”