Black Moon Draw(37)

“I can ride on my own!” I say, at once flustered by his scent and nearness.

“Were I to trust a tree-witch.” He wraps both arms around me in a silent refusal to let me go. “You did not protest last night when my hands were on your body.”

Those thick arms and the warm skin of his chest are better than a shot of espresso. I’m wide-awake, wet somewhere I don’t want to be, and blood buzzing. I love being in his strong arms.

“I feared for my life,” I muttered.

“Obedience, witch. You should fear me as well.”

Oh god, take me now. Totally not the right answer for this situation. “Okay. I’m being good.”

He releases me.

I swing my leg over the withers and make an attempt to get comfortable. He loops an arm around me securely then takes the reins with his other hand. My ass is pressed to his crotch in a way that sends a flurry of fiery butterflies through my system.

“Too tight,” I complain, wriggling. It’s chilly and misty, and I’m burning up.

He says nothing and nudges the horse forward without loosening his grip.

“You ride with the Shadow Knight.” The woman’s voice is suspicious, displeased. Ugly Duckling, the sister of Disney Princess, pulls up alongside us, her critical gaze on me. “Can you help us, witch?”

“She will perform her duty as required, as will we all,” the Shadow Knight replied brusquely.

“My brother will not be pleased if you continue to push off the bonding to my sister.”

“’Tis between her and me and not your place to ask.”

The woman’s face flames red. She ducks her head in a quick, embarrassed bow and then rides away quickly.

I’m not sure what’s going on between the Shadow Knight and his betrothed, but I envy anyone who has a protective sibling. I’m an only child, one who grew up uncertain how to handle other people. I was always jealous of other kids who had huge families with tons of brothers and sisters. Plagued by awkwardness and insecurity, I’d give anything to have a sibling to help me through the worst parts of growing up. Ugly Duckling is concerned about Disney Princess, even though I don’t think a woman that intelligent, sweet, and beautiful has any problems with the world.

The Shadow Knight begins talking to a man with a possum head far too small for his human body, and I don’t let myself giggle the way I want to. I’m stuck in this place between laughing and running when it comes to most of this world.

The army is mostly ready. We pass the defeated warriors of Green Dawn Cave, chained together in lines that wrap around the camp. I hate seeing them like this and cling to the hope that the Shadow Knight wasn’t lying about sparing their lives.

I hope they aren’t sent to the edge of the world. Slavery seems like a fate worse than death. The men appear miserable already. The Disney Princess is riding among them, pausing occasionally to address either the defeated or the victors. I’m expecting her to hand out water bottles or something in the role as the perfect princess.

As if spotting her, the Shadow Knight steers the horse away, putting her behind us. Something really weird is going on, but I’m not about to delve into it. I can’t get the picture of people dying, or the defeated men, out of my head.

What makes everything so much harder to bear: the Shadow Knight is doing what’s right in his own barbaric way. It’s eye-opening, soul shattering, and absolutely necessary.

If I believe this place is real, I’ll never stop crying. No matter how it feels or smells, or how real last night was with the Shadow Knight, I can’t accept a reality so different from my own. It’s so cruel.

“What say you, witch?”

“How can you hear me?” I mutter. It’s sporadic, and judging by his expression last night, he’s not even aware that he’s occasionally overhearing one of my thoughts.

“Madwoman.”

“I am not a madwoman.”

Silence, followed by a terse, “You should not have heard that.”

“Finally! So did I read that thought out of your mind the way you’ve been doing to me?”

“I possess no such power.”

He’s so dismissive of the few things that make sense to me! With frustration and desire bubbling inside me, I’ve never wanted to slap or throw myself at anyone in my life, aside from Jason, who rightly deserves a punch. Would my family be happy I’d finally left the house? Am I grounded enough now?

The bitter thoughts weigh on me. Which is worse? Being dumped at the altar or ending up here?

After yesterday’s battle, I’m almost thinking here is worse. I didn’t think it possible.

I have to pull myself together. I’ve been floating around in shock, but it’s my third day here and I’m no closer to finding out what to do about the countdown on my hand. It’s hard for me to admit that the brutal, unrepentant Shadow Knight who wipes out entire armies might be the Hero of this story, and I’m no closer to getting home.

“Summons, sire,” a man says, approaching on foot with a satchel. He has the head of a weasel.

The Shadow Knight pulls the horse to a halt and takes the bag. As I watch, he reaches in and pulls out a fat yellow bird.

“I’ve seen one like that!” I exclaim.

“Messenger bird.” The Shadow Knight sets it on his hand and holds it open for me to see. I can’t reconcile the Shadow Knight who kills men with his bare hands and the man who can hold such a small, delicate creature. The bird is tiny, further dwarfed by the size of the knight’s hand. He makes everything he does appear effortless, no matter what level of strength the task calls for.