Page 63 of The Crowned Queen

“Get off the horse.” Naeva’s voice rose, panicked. “You need to get off the horse right now⁠—”

Something exploded from the leaf mold almost beneath the horse’s feet. Their placid carthorse reared up, eyes rolling and hooves flailing. Serafina screamed, the sound cut off too suddenly as whatever it was wrapped around the horse and pulled, slamming them both into the ground with a sickening thud.

“Serafina!” Finn lunged forward, but thorny vines burst from the ground, wrapping around his legs. He fell with a curse, blood blooming where the thorns rent his skin. “Loren⁠—”

“Help her,” Loren ordered the shadows, loosing his hold on them.

The vines dropped Serafina, rearing back as the shadows stretched forward. Loren would have sworn he heard them screech as dara’el sliced through the thorny growths like blades, but he couldn’t hear over the squealing horse. It struggled against the vines, but for every one the shadows cut down two more sprang up in its place, the coppery scent of blood filling the air.

“I can stop them—” Brynn lunged forward, a handful of fire in each cupped palm. The vines tangled around her legs screeched, pulling back as the flames touched them.

Finn fought his way free, staggering across the clearing to where Serafina lay, her white-blonde hair spread in a halo around her head. He pulled her into his arms, dragging her away from the thrashing horse. The vines rounded on him, but another burst of flame drove them back.

“Good—” he coughed, choking on the smoke quickly filling the air. “That’s good. Now pull back the flames.”

“I don’t think—” Brynn’s voice shook, her moss green eyes wide with panic as the leaf mold caught, new flames springing up as quickly as she could pull her own back. “It’s spreading! I can’t stop it⁠—”

“Don’t panic.” Loren grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to look at him. “Find your center. Focus on that. What do you want to do right now?”

“Keep everyone safe.” Brynn sniffed, tears filling her eyes. “All I was trying to do was keep them safe⁠—”

“And you did,” Loren reassured her. “Focus on that. What you wanted to accomplish—you did it. You don’t need your fire anymore.”

Brynn closed her eyes, her whole body shuddering. The flames died down, Loren’s shadows spreading out in a cooling blanket across the still smoldering leaf litter. There was no sign of the vines. They’d vanished as suddenly as they’d appeared—leaving them all breathing hard in the smoke-filled air.

“Is Serafina alright?” Loren asked Finn.

“I’m fine.” Serafina sat up with a groan, wincing as she touched the side of her head. “I hit my head when it dropped me, but nothing is broken.” She shook off Finn’s grip. “Let me go, you oaf.”

“You’re bleeding,” Finn growled. “You were almost just killed by plants bursting from the ground⁠—”

“It let me go.” Serafina pushed to her feet, making her way back to the horse on wobbly legs. It lay where it had fallen, its sides heaving with shallow, labored breaths. At least one of its legs was broken, bent and twisted at an unnatural angle that made Loren’s stomach lurch. But it quieted as Serafina knelt beside it, one dark eye rolling to look at her as she rested a gentle hand on its foam-slicked flank.

“I’m sorry, friend,” she whispered. Golden magic rose to her fingertips, the horse’s labored breathing slowing—then stopping.

Serafina knelt there a moment more, her head bowed. Then she stood, grabbing her pack from the ground and swinging it over her shoulder. Tears streaked the blood and dirt marking her cheeks when she turned back to them, but her voice was strong when she spoke.

“So that’s the wild magic in the forest?”

Finn nodded slowly, his face pale under his tan. “I think so.”

“Well I think that explains why they’re burning the forest back all along the border.” Serafina scrubbed a hand across her face, wiping her eyes. “We should keep moving. They might still send a scouting party into the forest if they see the smoke.”

“We both know that’s not how wild magic works, right?”

Finn didn’t answer, but he cocked his head toward Loren, his eyes still scanning the trees around them. Bright daylight filtered down through the branches, casting the forest floor in dappled sunlight. Birds sang in the trees, the atmosphere far too cheery for what they’d all witnessed just a few short hours ago.

“Wild magic is wild,” Loren continued, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear him. “That—that had intent. Purpose. It only went after Serafina. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Finn answered, his voice low. “We don’t know much about what happens here beyond rumors. The fae who go to Elvanfal—they don’t come back.”

“Araya is in Elvanfal,” Loren hissed.

Finn winced. “I know,” he said. “And we’re going to do everything we can to get her back. But we have to find somewhere safe to make camp first and figure out what we’re dealing with. Does dara’el have anything to say about it?”

“Nothing useful,” Loren muttered.

He hadn’t been able to get a clear answer out of them, their myriad voices talking over and across each other until his head was pounding. The only thing they’d agreed on was that whatever was here was powerful—and old. Then they’d gone silent, refusing any attempt he made to cajole more of a response from them.