Page 60 of Crownless Heirs

A second howl rolled over them. Maelan’s hand clamped onto Kyron’s arm, his grip bruising. He didn’t speak; he just shook his head, eyes wide, counting the seconds.

Two.

They had to move before the third.

“What is it?” Kyron whispered.

Maelan’s voice was low as he spoke, “It’s a Cu Sidhe. Tell Sorcha, but don’t draw attention.”

Kyron inhaled deeply and drifted toward Sorcha, masking the urgency in his steps. When he reached her, she glanced up, sensing something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” she whispered.

“Wolves. Up on the ridge. We have to be careful, but don’t let them know we’ve seen them.”

Her fingers tightened slightly on her weapon. “So what’s the plan?”

“We keep walking.”

Maelan caught up, his eyes still tracking the Cu Sidhe. The deeper they ventured, the thicker the forest became. The path wound back on itself, walking straight led them backwards, left led them right. Sorcha frowned, marking a gnarled oak they had passed ten minutes ago, yet here it was again, its branches seeming to reach lower than before.

“We’re walking in circles,” Kyron muttered, kicking at the mud.

From the corner of his eye, Maelan saw a shadow detach itself from a reed cluster it was small, round, and mud caked, before vanishing into a pool of sludge with a soft glug. They pushed through the dense forest further until they reached a fork in the path.

“There was no mention of a split in the road,” Sorcha murmured.

Kyron exhaled. “It’s a trap.”

“We should split up, we’ll cover more ground that way.” Sorcha suggested eyeing the right path.

“There’s only two ways to go, one of us will be alone.” Kyron argued.

“Don’t worry, you and Maelan can go together.”

Maelan huffed out a laugh “Absolutely not, you’re a queen, my queen. You’ll be fine on your own, won’t you Kyron.”

“No, not happening. We stick together,” Kyron retorted.

They argued on as Sorcha picked a stick and began twirling it around. Suddenly she knelt, gathering three sticks from the ground. She broke them into different lengths, mixed them in her hands, and held them out.

“We’ll let fate decide.” She declared.

One by one, they each drew.

Kyron scowled. He had drawn the shortest stick.

“As odds would have it,” Maelan said with a smirk, “we go left.”

The winding path turned so many times that it became impossible to tell which way led forward. The air grew thick with the damp scent of moss and decay. The trees pressed in, their gnarled branches tangling overhead, choking out the light. The croaking of frogs blended with the wet squelch of mud beneath their boots. Every so often, a faint splash rippled through the darkness, moving in the water beyond their sight.

Maelan and Kyron exchanged wary glances.

“It’s a bog,” Maelan murmured.

Kyron took a slow step forward. “Whatever you do, don’t enter the water. The worst thing that could happen is” He hesitated, his brows knitting together as he squinted to see further, “we run into a bog hag.”

Silence stretched between them. As if summoned by the mere mention of her name, shadows shifted in the darkness ahead. The bog croaked louder. Wind whispered through the reeds.