Fantastical (Fantasyland #3)(29)



God, that sounded beautiful. I wished I had that.

It also sounded awful.

Poor Dash. Poor Rosa.

“We should have that,” he informed me.

“We don’t,” I informed him.

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” And I sure as heck didn’t, except the part that I wasn’t from this freaking world!

“I do,” he replied.

Really? He did?

“You do?”

“Yes, Cora, I do.”

“Then why don’t we have it?”

“Because to have that pull you have to have a heart. You have to be able to fall in love. He fell in love with her the second he saw her and she the same. And, as you know, the minute my eyes hit you, I fell in love with you.”

Whoa! Wait.

What?

What, what, what?

Before I could verbalize my question, he kept speaking. “But you didn’t fall in love with me because you have no heart and then you proceeded to kill my love for you and twist it into something else entirely. And you keep doing it. Every bloody time I see you. Every time I speak to you. You twist it until there’s nothing in it to recognize as anything even close to what it once was.”

“You loved me?” I whispered, looking into his harsh, moonlit face.

“Don’t,” he clipped shortly.

“Are you saying you loved me?”

His arm got so tight I couldn’t breathe and his hand in my hair twisted so it wasn’t gentle anymore. Not even a little.

And as he did these things, he barked in my face, “Don’t!”

“I –”

“Play your game but don’t you ever, ever, Cora, play with that memory.”

Oh.

My.

God.

He used to love me! And, obviously, he’d told me. And, just as obviously, I’d spurned that love.

Or, more aptly, the other me spurned his love.

Oh. My. God!

His arm gave me a shake. “Am I understood?””

“Tor –”

He lost it and I knew it when his hand twisted in my hair, I cried out at the pain and he roared, “Am I understood?”

“Yes!” I shouted.

At the same time I shouted, Salem threw his mighty head back and whinnied loud.

Noctorno’s head shot to his horse, his body went statue-still then he looked over my head to the mouth of the cave.

“Gods!” he yelled, let me go but grabbed my hand and dragged me behind him as he sprinted to the antechamber. He went so swiftly, I nearly stumbled twice on the way.

“Noctorno!” I cried and he yanked back the pelt and hauled me through so roughly and with such force, I went flying.

“Hurry, finish dressing,” he ordered.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Dress!” he thundered.

I jumped and ran to my clothes.

I was bending to snatch up my skirt when he commanded, “Meet me at Salem.”

I looked up and saw him dragging a sword off the wall.

“Salem,” I agreed, nabbed the skirt, tugged it on, grabbed the vest, shrugged it on then bent and snatched up my belt. I wrapped it around my waist on the run and saw that Noctorno had already disappeared.

I fled the space and saw him saddling Salem.

“In there,” he jerked his head to the space where the wood was kept. “Arm yourself.”

Arm myself?

I skidded to a halt three feet away from him. “With what?” I asked stupidly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he answered curtly, cinching the strap under Salem’s proud chest. “Just as long as it’s sharp and you can wield it.”

“Right,” I whispered, ran to that space, snatched a lethal looking knife off the wall and ran back out.

When I arrived, Salem was saddled, a sword in a scabbard at his left side. Noctorno put his hands to my waist, hefted me up, wasted no time swinging in behind me and this was good.

Really good.

For I learned what all the fuss was about.

Vickrants.

Everywhere.

Their near transparent wings flapping hideously, their claws reaching, their scaly skin glistening, they were filling the cave.

“Hee-yah!” Noctorno barked as he dug his heels in, Salem’s mighty flanks bunched and we bolted out the mouth of the cave, vickrants following in a swarm. “Home, Salem,” Noctorno yelled over the wind rushing in our ears and the branches slapping at our bodies, vickrants darting through the trees and making passes at us, so close, I could feel their vile, cold, leathery wings and smell their stench.

Yikes. I forgot their stench.

Fetid. Hideous.

“Take the reins,” Noctorno commanded, extending them to me.

“What?” I cried.

“Take the reins,” he repeated.

“I don’t know how to steer a horse!” I yelled.

“Take the bloody reins, Cora!”

I took the reins.

He immediately pulled the sword out of the scabbard and with one arm locked around me holding me tight to the safety of his body, the other one struck out with powerful swings and blue sparks and sharp hisses met his blows.

A smaller vickrant landed on Salem’s neck, claws digging in, the horse screamed his fury but kept charging ever onward through the dangerous rock and scrub. Noctorno was busy swinging so I leaned forward with my knife, lifted it high and stabbed at the foul creature. Blue sparks flew back into my face, the thing shrieked and fell away.

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