The Centaur Queen (The Dark Queens #7)(18)

She blinked, cocking her head just slightly with a confused twist of her shell-pink lips.

I grunted. What the devil was wrong with me? For the past month, I’d not been acting like myself, and my sudden and very unwanted attraction to a centaur was proof of it. Centaurs and satyrs did not mate. Ever.

Fire burrowed through my gut, punching steely ropes all through me at the thought. In all likelihood, this had more to do with Myra than any true desire on my part. I was a wreck without her.

I glanced down at Ty’s bare feet. She wiggled her toes, and I fought a grin at the sight of those alien appendages on her. “You will cut your feet wide open on this land. Have you no shoes?”

Pursing her lips, she gave me a steely-eyed stare. “I am centaur. I’ve no need for human accouterments. You can trust that I will not hinder us further. Set whatever pace you need to get us there. I will follow.”

Grabbing hold of her bow that she rarely took off except to sleep or hunt, she gestured for me to proceed. I knew the pain she’d feel, having tended to many a nymph after a long and drawn out chase. But Ty was a proud woman and wouldn’t appreciate my nagging.

With a nod, I turned on my heel and began a swift trot up the cliff’s face. True to her word, she kept pace. After fifteen minutes, a zephyr stirred, bringing with it the coppery stench of blood, faint, but there. I bit down on my molars and curled my hands into fists. I knew she was injured. I could hear her wincing, a sharp breath every so often, no doubt when she stepped down on something that cut her deeper.

My pulse pounded, thrumming through my veins with anxiety by the time we finally made the left toward the bitter spring. It was ingrained in a satyr to always tend to his female’s needs, even if said female was only his for a night or two. It was simply our way.

But again, I had to remind myself that Tymanon wasn’t my female. She would not like it, nor would she thank me, if I made a fuss over her. Even so, by the time I smelled the first whiff of rotten eggs from the sulfur-rich spring, I was shaking with adrenaline that had nothing at all to do with our march.

Tymanon was now lagging several steps behind me. Her pace had slackened considerably. I’d not turned, but I had slowed, pretending exhaustion too, when in truth I could have been here at least fifteen minutes ago. But she’d done this for me earlier, and so I would do the same for her.

The sun was nothing but an orange sliver along the horizon. We’d not be building a campfire here. It was much too dangerous.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell her this was our stopping place for the night when I heard a moan. At first, I thought it was Ty, but it came from the left of us. I frowned.

“Ty?” I said her name slowly, looking over at her as I held my arm out in a defensive gesture in front of her.

She nodded, eyes already scanning the plateau to the left of us. Neither of us moved or spoke as we waited to see if we’d heard nothing more than wind playing through the bushes. We didn’t have to wait long before we heard it again.

This time, it was a definite whimper followed by a strange, wet gurgling sound. Yanking a dirk from my pouch, I gripped it fast as I followed the noise. Tymanon was just a few inches behind me, so close I felt the heated wash of her body press against my own like an electrical spark. My nostrils flared.

There was blood, and a lot of it. I’d not seen any other tracks on the path we’d taken up here, and I’d been looking for them, which meant there was a second route to this spring.

I was thinking maybe a wild animal had come here to die, but the closer we drew, the more human the noises became. A rock sank in my gut when I finally spied a faint outline, long, lean, and covered in shadow. I shook my head, refusing to take another step. Whatever it was, it wasn’t long for this world. There was a heavy rattle in its lungs each time it breathed and a high pitched whistling whenever it exhaled.

“No further, Ty,” I murmured.

“We must check it out, Petra.”

Meaning Ty was far too tired to go on tonight. Whatever was up here, we were going to have to deal with it.

Keeping one eye on the shadow, I leaned back toward her. “You’re injured. I smell your blood. We don’t know if that thing is friend or foe, or if it is a stone dwarf lying in wait. You stay here.”

I heard her teeth gnash and knew she did not like my unyielding tone, but I would not budge in this. The time to cater to her pride was at an end.

“I’m the better fighter.”

True enough. “Aye, but I’m not the one bleeding all over the place. Take out your bow, keep it trained on that thing, and if it comes for me, shoot to kill.”

“You have a point,” she conceded, though I heard the bitter tang of disappointment in her words. “Be safe, gída.”

I nodded and studied the sparse landscape. The plateau we were on held very little in the way of life. But there were a few plants that thrived no matter where they were, and they always tended to be of the killing variety.

I knew from personal experience that there was a small, but very dangerous, snare bush somewhere around here. The bush looked benign until its victim got within striking range. Then it would shoot bramble snares coated in sappy venom that would paralyze, allowing the scrub to pull its victim in and slowly digest him, much as a spider would a fly.

I shuddered. It was dark, but my memory was sharp enough that I could remember the safer spots to step. There was nothing truly safe about this area, but a traveler could survive the night so long as he stayed alert. Moving in a crisscross pattern, I moved safely toward the shadow. The closer I got, the more I could make of it.