Page 92 of Feralheart

Two people walked with packs on their backs.

A silver braid. Sunlight flashing off his spectacles.

They’d taken Dorresk from his bed without letting him gather his things. Which meant Narlene had carried his spectacles out of the fortress herself, along with every other piece of their life she could strap to her back. It looked like they had good packs. New boots and cloaks.

Provisions someone had paid for.

The mine did not misplace men. Someone with a seal had signed to get Dorresk out, the same someone, I’d wager, whose aide had given Narlene a purse while the court watched dragons instead.

Protection always came with strings.

I was starting to wonder whether Prince Fenian’s ever did.

The warden counted heads at the mine shift bells, and today no one in the fortress would pay them much attention. Every eye would be pinned on tomorrow’s race. By the next bell, Narlene and Dorresk will be at least a valley away.

Narlene’s stride slowed, and she turned, her gaze pinning me where I huddled beside the tree. Even at this distance, I could tell when she recognized me. Panic crossed her face, and she grabbed Dorresk’s sleeve. The last time we’d stood face to face, she’d caught me somewhere I had no right to be and kept it to herself.

Straightening, I stepped out onto the path.

I touched two fingers to my forehead. The miners’ sign, the one Jalak had given me the morning I walked to the commons’ trials.

Luck for the road.

Silence for silence.

Narlene pressed her palm flat to her heart. Then she turned, and they kept going, while I turned toward my own escape.

I walked until the forest surrounded me. Until only the wind through trees and my own breathing kept me company.

I had maybe six hours to find Selira. Or I’d show up at the start of the Scorching with nothing.

Tolross would die while nobles laughed at the woman who’d been stupid enough to think she mattered.

The scale flared hot against my thigh.

I broke into a run, following the scale’s pull toward dark places where feral things lived.

Toward the dragon who’d decided I was hers.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

ERADIN

Iwas going to die in these woods, and no one would ever find my body.

The scale in my pocket was proof.

I’d been walking for hours. The fortress had been gobbled down by trees that grew thicker the deeper I went. My burned foot screamed with each step, and exhaustion ripped at my shoulders, a beast with claws.

Elite riders spent their entire lives training with dragons. I had…four or so hours to catch up.

The math didn’t work. It rarely did.

I kept walking anyway.

The scale’s heat intensified, a brand against my thigh that made me want to dig it out and throw it into the underbrush. Except I couldn’t. The pull was too strong now, dragging me forward.

The forest changed around me. The trees grew older, their trunks thick enough that three people couldn’t wrap their arms around them. Moss coated everything, and the air tasted different, mineral-rich and ancient.