What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(31)
Brann turned to me, his expression filled with fear as he spoke. His words were lost to the sound of the horse’s hooves beating against the ground as it charged toward us, but I read the message loud and clear all the same, and I turned to obey.
“Run.”
10
My boots pounded against the foliage-covered forest floor, my breath heaving out of my lungs as I tried to keep up with Brann’s steady pace. “Hurry!” Brann encouraged, reaching behind him to grab my hand and tug me faster. My feet slipped in the leaves, making me stumble as I looked over my shoulder.
The Mist Guard on our trail was nowhere to be seen, but I wasn’t naive enough to believe that he’d given up the chase when we’d run.
Brann pulled me forward, yanking me through the trees as I fought to get my footing once again. My chest throbbed with the force of my beating heart, my mind focused only on keeping up with Brann so he could get to safety. The Mist Guard wouldn’t hesitate to cut him down for helping me.
I suddenly slammed into Brann—my heart dropping into my stomach, my body feeling weightless as I knocked him over. He sprawled on his belly at the feet of a massive chestnut horse, the rider atop it glaring down at us as I scrambled off of Brann’s back and to my feet.
I spared one last look for my brother as he rose to his knees, hurrying to stand upright as the rider slowly dismounted his horse. The sound of his sword leaving its scabbard rang through the air as he pulled it free, holding it at his side as he took that first step toward me.
I felt his boot strike against the ground in the echo of my racing heart, the sound carrying through the silent forest as Brann pushed to his feet to face the Mist Guard. He was unarmed, his hands clenched at his sides as if he stood a chance against the gleaming iron sword of the other man.
My throat ached with the desire to beg for Brann’s life, something I knew would fall on deaf ears. I stood taller, staring down the Mist Guard in an attempt to divert his attention off my innocent brother. “Some Mist Guard you make,” I snapped, forcing a sneer to my face when all I felt was terror; for myself and for Brann. “Can’t even properly kill one Fae whore in the woods.”
My lips twisted as I held my stance, watching as the Guard’s head turned away from Brann and toward me. I shoved my hair away from my neck, letting the Fae Mark glow in the softly lit woods where the sun shone through the canopy of pine trees above us. There was something robotic in his motions, all semblance of humanity gone from him as he raised dark eyes to sweep over the Mark on my neck.
His iron helmet covered the top of his head and curved around to lie against his cheekbones, leaving only the space from his eyes to his mouth visible. His dark eyes were sunken into his face, his skin unnaturally pale, as if he’d never seen the light of day. His crooked nose and tense mouth gave no illusion of kindness, while his nostrils flared slightly as he fixated on me. I’d thought I knew all the Mist Guard, thought they’d lived among us and walked Mistfell freely, but this man with no trace of emotion was a stranger to me.
But it would seem I was no stranger to him.
“Estrella Barlowe. The girl who turned two men to snow,” he said, shifting his hold on his sword as he spun away from Brann. He stepped toward me, the heavy falls of his feet where his armor encased him clattering with a metallic ring. “I’ve been looking for you.”
I backed away, pulling him further from Brann’s side and demanding all of his attention. I gave Brann the chance to escape, drawing the Mist Guard soldier to follow me further into the woods. “What makes you think that number won’t become three, soon enough?” I asked.
When I was certain he’d come far enough that pursuing me was more likely than turning back for my brother, I turned and bolted through the trees.
He chuckled behind me, the sound filling the air with menace. Metal clanked as he followed, running as quickly as he could manage with all that weight on his body. “Have you ever heard the rumors of what happens to the Fae when you cut them with an iron blade?” he called to me as I hurried away from him, the words slithering over my skin. I ducked behind a tree, zigzagging to try to throw him off my tail.
I didn’t answer; didn’t give him any sound in response that might have given away my location. My spine pressed into the oak tree behind me, my breath heaving as I waited and listened for where he might have gone. I carefully turned to peek around the tree, finding no sign of the Mist Guard who meant to cut me down.
Turning forward once again, I scanned the trees for any sign of him and found none, as if he’d vanished into thin air, a figment of my imagination.
A whistle came as his sword cut through the air in an attempt to sever my head from my body. I ducked low, dropping to my ass on the ground and scrambling to the side as the thunk of his blade cutting into the tree reverberated through me. “They die. So what do you think my iron blade will do to you?”
I scrambled to my feet, jumping back as he swung once again. Magic surged along my skin, consuming my Mark with every strike he committed against me. I shook as I tried to hold it back, undecided on whether I should live or die.
Even now, staring my death in the face, I couldn’t commit to going into the Void that awaited, after the end. I couldn’t surrender to the resounding peace I’d felt the day before, in the moments when I’d thought it was all over.