Ambrosia (Frost and Nectar, #2)(11)

In the bloom of dust, I caught a glimpse of a muscled arm and golden skin, tattoos swirling over a bicep that I recognized.

My heart leaped. Was this real?

Torin appeared in the opening, his tattooed chest coated in gray dust. He looked down at me, his pale eyes beaming with an unearthly light.

Maybe it was the dehydration and general delirium, but he looked so much like a god towering above me that I held my breath. He was a bruised and bloodied god, but a god nonetheless.

How was he still so strong after the past few days in here?

His gaze slid slowly over me, and I remembered that I was still completely naked. I’d left my dress to dry after cleaning it.

My heart thudded, and I hugged my knees to my chest.

The Seelie king sheathed his sword. “We’re getting out of here, Ava.”

Sword in hand, he faced the tree trunk and closed his eyes, brushing his fingertips reverently along the blade. Then, with a wide arc, he hacked at the trunk. I gaped in disbelief as the blade slid right through the thick oaken walls, and otherworldly voices echoed in the air.

Whispers…

A lump rose in my throat, and I winced. Why did the sword in the trunk feel like I was watching someone get stabbed?

I reached for my dress, my muscles shaking from weakness. As I clutched it in my fingertips, Torin scooped me up and carried me out into the night.

The shock of freedom danced wildly in my chest, and adrenaline sparked through my nerves. I’d been so certain I would die in there. I couldn’t believe we were out under the stars. I clutched the dress over myself. No time to put it on.

From the castle, horns blared.

“Are you all right?” Torin asked. “I heard you screaming days ago.” He was trying to move quickly, but I could tell his gait slightly favored his right side. “What did he do to you?”

“I’m fine. You’re the one he really hates. Torin, are you limping? I can run on my own. ”

“We’ll get a horse from the paddock,” he said, ignoring my question. His gaze drifted down my body again.

I tugged the top of my dress up, trying to cover myself. I wasn’t being modest; this didn’t seem like the ideal time to distract him.

“Torin. Morgant claims you find me repulsive and slovenly, but I feel like you’re not keeping your eyes on the mission.”

“I only said that to get him to leave you alone. I didn’t want him to think we were allies. Apparently, it didn’t work.” His breathing was labored, and he held me tightly. “We’re almost there.”

I turned to see a small paddock where horses grazed surrounded by a stone fence. A cacophonous throng of crows swept over us, cawing wildly under the night sky.

“I’m not letting them get you again,” he said, almost to himself. His velvety voice was like a balm against the ravages of the last few days. “I’m getting you away from the fucking demons.”

“Awkward that I’m one of them,” I muttered.

With me in his arms, he clambered over the stone wall. For a moment, his dark eyelashes lowered, and he met my gaze. “It doesn’t appear that they agree.”

He let me down in the grass, and I grasped for the hem of my dress to slip it on—but Torin pulled it out of my hands, turning back to the horse.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“We don’t have much time.” He laid my dress over the back of a white horse, folding it. “And trust me. You will want something between you and the horse when we break into a gallop. The dress is all we have.”

He scanned the wall and grabbed a halter and lead rope that had been slung over the stone.

I hugged myself and cast a glance back at the castle, my pulse quickening. Steel glinted in the starlight. The soldiers were coming after us already.

Torin spoke to the horse in Fae and fashioned reins out of the lead rope. As if enchanted, the white mare knelt before him, folding her front legs in front of her.

“Get on,” Torin said. “Now.”

I glanced back at the castle looming over us. Dark stone towers pierced the sky, rising from twisted midnight roots, half stone and half tree, with dark boughs twining the towers and blooms of cascading red leaves. It was as if a castle had grown from the soil, and the earth was reaching up to drag it back. The enormity of it made my stomach plummet.

I slid onto the horse, straddling my own dress, and gripped her white mane. Turns out Torin was right. I really did want something between myself and the horsehair, because this was already weird and uncomfortable enough.

What was the opposite of a bucket list? Because whatever that was, “riding a horse naked” was on mine. And yet, one glance back at the oncoming soldiers told me this was not the time to worry about the method of transportation.

Torin mounted the horse behind me and slid his arm around my waist. With his free hand, he grabbed the reins .

When he spoke again in the Seelie language, the horse rose to her full height.

Torin gave a light kick, and we took off, galloping through the middle of the paddock and then leaping over the stone wall. The cool night wind whipped at my hair and my bare skin.

My heart raced as I clung to the mare’s mane for dear life. Still, Torin’s grip around my waist was like iron. And after a few moments, it started to feel exhilarating. After far too many days withering in a dungeon, it felt like I’d come to life again.