Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
“Valen! Help me! Valen!”
I turn quickly, hoping that it’s just an auditory illusion. I scan the path behind me—empty. Irena’s gone.
I run to the edge of the path and shout for her…but the trees seem to muffle my voice. I think I hear someone thrashing in the underbrush, but I can’t be sure. Goddess damn her all to hell, where has my curvy little Princess gotten herself off to? And what’s happening to her? Nothing good, I fear.
I hesitate for a moment, my thoughts racing. I think of the sign at the beginning of the forest that warned, we should “Heed no Voices.” And so, what if she’s in trouble—she’s my enemy. I should be glad she’s been foolish enough to leave the path and get herself embroiled in some kind of conflict.
But I don’t feel glad—I feel a massive surge of anxiety—like a blast from a furnace. It’s coming from inside me—from my Drake. He doesn’t want her to be hurt or killed. I don’t either. And, if I’m honest with myself, it’s not just because if she dies, I’ll be stuck in my Drake form. I can’t bear the thought of some fucking monster eating her.
Irena might be my enemy, but she’s also mine. I can’t explain why—maybe because of the blood we’ve shared. But I can’t just leave her to be maimed or killed. Even if it means leaving the path and going into certain danger, I have to find her.
“Hang on, sweetheart—I’m coming,” I mutter under my breath. Then I launch myself off the path and plunge into the woods.
34
IRENA
I run until I get a stitch in my side and I can barely breathe. Finally, I stagger to a stop and bend down, hands resting on my knees as I struggle to catch my breath.
At last I’m able to straighten up and take stock of the situation and myself. I’m no longer being followed—at least, I don’t think I am. I don’t hear a thing except the quiet rustling of leaves and a few notes of bird song far away.
I look down at myself—I’m in bad shape. My shift is tattered and torn and bloody—my left arm, my breasts, and my face are all scratched and bleeding. I must look a proper mess, but at least I’m alive.
It’s a good thing I’m not wearing my Court dress anymore, I think as I look back the way I came. If I was, I never would have gotten through the forest. The branches that tore at me would have tangled in the heavy fabric and brought me down.
I guess Valen did me a favor, giving it away. I wonder where he is now. Did he hear my cries for help or did the forest muffle them too much to reach him? Even if he heard, he might not have come for me—why should he? I’m his enemy—his Mistress, as long as I wear the ring and he wears the collar. He might have just decided he was well rid of me and turned round to leave the forest at once.
These kinds of thoughts are depressing, but they also remind me of something—I can’t depend on anyone to come and save me. I’m on my own and I have to find my own way back to the path.
But now I’m almost afraid to try. The tree-creature that wanted to eat me was right by the path—what if it’s still there? Maybe I ought to find some kind of shelter for the night and try to find my way back tomorrow. But where could I possibly stay where I would be safe all night long? Maybe I can find a hollow tree or a kind of cave or something like that.
I start walking, scanning the area for any possible shelter, when something bright catches my eye. It’s red and white…and pink and blue and purple and orange. I squint, staring between the trees at the distant blob of color. What in the world can it be?
Warily, I walk towards it, trying to be quiet as I go. My slippers don’t make much sound when I tread carefully and I’m fairly quiet as I approach. Long before I get there, I realize it’s a house. And when I get closer I realize something quite extraordinary—
The house is made of candy.
The red and white thing I first saw is the front door—it appears to be made of a huge slab of peppermint. The other colors are giant gumdrops, glued to the house by white globs of royal icing. The walls appear to be made of some kind of brown, fragrant gingerbread—I can smell it from where I am. The cinnamon-ginger-clove scent is enough to make my mouth water. I love gingerbread, especially fresh from the oven.
And that’s the thing about the candy and gingerbread house—it looks like someone just now created it. There are no fallen leaves on its icing and gumdrop roof and the candy glistens as though it was just made. There’s nothing dingy about it, even though it’s sitting outside in the middle of a forest. No birds have pecked at it and no forest creatures have nibbled it—it is pristine, as though someone unwrapped it from a giant box and left it here for me to find.