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“Born of royalty?”
Truly had no idea. Westvane hadn’t talked much about his parents. But if agreeing helped get him back in one piece, she wasn’t above sharing what little she knew… or lying through her teeth. “His mother was executed by Lyonesse. His father —”
“Gods,” Azalea whispered, staring at her in horror. “He could be the one.”
Truly blinked. “The what?”
A good question. One in need of an immediate answer, but…
Azalea was already gone. Long robes kicking up behind her, she sprinted down the hill toward the village. Dark brown eyes flashed as she glanced over her shoulder and shouted, “Come on, Truly! We must reach him before it’s too late.”
More worried about her friends than ever, Truly didn’t hesitate. She raced after Azalea, a single thought running on repeat inside her mind.
Azalea’s reaction didn’t bode well for Westvane.
And as she sped down the path, swerving around trees, jumping over rocks, and skidding across dead leaves, she started praying. Please God, let her reach him in time. Before whatever damage Weeping Hollow had done became irreversible, and she lost him forever.
31
BELLY OF THE BEAST
Astep behind Azalea, Truly reached the edge of the village. It’d been a rough, downhill run, but as she dashed passed stone monoliths and onto a cobblestone street, she ignored the hitch in her side, along with the pain. Sore muscles and burning lungs were the least of her problems.
All that mattered was keeping up with Azalea.
No easy feat. For a senior citizen, the woman could flat-out run.
In full gallop, she timed her strides, staying close, following while fighting the urge to take the lead. Azalea turned left between two houses, into an alleyway, toward a dead-end. Truly slowed. Her companion didn’t.
With cat-like grace, the woman hitched up her long skirt and leaped over the wooden fence blocking the lane. The second her feet landed, she took off across a backyard. Lights flickered. An odd buzz hummed across the lane. Humid air stirred and darkness shifted. Leaping over a row of thick curling vines and pumpkins, Truly watched in amazement as what she assumed were streetlights took flight.
Hummingbirds.
Everywhere.
Hundreds and hundreds in flight, bodies glowing like fireflies. The hum of tiny wings increased. Soft shine radiated, then expanded and flew ahead, lighting her way in the dark.
She tore her gaze away from the living lights as Azalea upped the pace. Breathing hard, Truly stayed on her heels, weaving around yard furniture, ducking beneath clotheslines, trampling through people’s gardens. She crashed through a hedgerow, came out clean on the other side, and looked both ways. She caught a flicker of movement at the end of the path.
With a curse, Truly turned right and kept running. Azalea’s mad dash signaled disaster. The harbinger of bad things to come. Things Truly didn’t want to contemplate, but…
Was she already too late?
If she wasn’t, would she reach him in time to help?
Fear tightened its grip, shortening her breath, making it difficult to run. Truly pushed herself harder, forcing her muscles to work as she sprinted alongside a cathedral-like building. Trees stood on either side of the road. The huge canopies grew up and curved inward, creating a leafy tunnel. Hummingbirds flew into it, illuminating the structure of twisted branches from underneath, allowing her to see Azalea.
“Almost there!” Azalea yelled without looking back.
Thank God.
Reaching the end of the tunnel, Truly skidded into the town square. A large well stood at its center. An intricate arch curved over the well’s mouth, a bucket-and-pulley system attached to a hook anchored in stone.
Doubled over, breathing hard, Azalea stood beside it.
Truly slid to a stop beside her. Palms planted on the granite lip, she leaned in, trying to catch her breath as she glanced sideways at Azalea. “Where is he?”
Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Azalea pushed up from her crouch. One hand pressed to her chest, she pointed to the well with the other. “In there.”
