Chapter 20

About an hour after resuming our brisk pace through the forest's jostling terrain, someone approaches the Unseeie soldiers. I'm so caught up in sorting through my options that I don't hear the gallop of advancing horse hooves at first. The nearing, unfamiliar, group moves nearly soundlessly-approaching swiftly enough that my ears only just pick up the subtle difference only a minute or two before one of the Unseelie soldiers shouts a guttural warning.

The carriage jerks to a sudden halt, nearly throwing me from the seat and there's a clattering slide of blades being withdrawn. We're being attacked by robbers, maybe? I don't know what's happening out there, but I do know that I've been sorting through my options of escape and this is as good an opportunity as I'm likely to get. I'm desperate enough to take my chances with the robbers. Anything's better than this.

I stand on shaking legs, pushing open the carriage door enough to assess my best course forward. A few of the Unseelie soldiers have drawn their swords and battle axes and are facing off against the other, seemingly better-armed, group. The newcomers aren't in uniform, but wear sturdy-looking battle leathers, easily fending off swings from the Unseelie like its child's play.

They don't look like robbers, but it's not like I'm an expert on what thieves should look like. A fever-induced sweat mists my forehead, and I swipe it away with trembling fingers. The soldiers are all so focused on each other, that no one notices me stumble gracelessly out of the carriage. *This is it. This is my chance.* It couldn't be more perfect if the Mother herself handcrafted this diversion for me.

Resolve thrums to life through me as I take a determined step backward and out of sight from the majority of soldiers. If I can just get one of the horses unbuckled from the carriage, there's a good chance I can use the soldier's distraction to get away. I've ridden without a saddle before, so I'm confident enough in my chances of escape if I can just get the straps disconnected before I'm noticed. Riding without a saddle through unfamiliar terrain while weak with a fever isn't an ideal situation, but it's the best option I have.

When I'm out of direct sight, I begin making quick work of freeing the horse of the leather straps holding her to the carriage. Her large brown head swivels down at me and huffs out a disbelieving whinny.

"Oh, it's okay," I whisper up at her. I get the distinct feeling that she somehow understands my frantic pleadings because all she does is huff out a soft snort and let me continue working to get her free.

"Put your weapons down and state your business here." One of the new arrivals demands of the Unseelie soldiers, his voice ringing out clearly over the clamor of unrest. The man's words project with an air of calmness that's at complete odds with the tension radiating from both parties.

One of the Unseelie snarls, "Our business is none of yours, fucking shifter scum."

Wait, did he just say*Shifters*?

There's no sane or rational explanation for why that thought sends an emotion that feels oddly like hope streaking through the center of my chest. I can only blame it on the fever running rampant under my skin and clouding my mind. Because a small and utterly unhinged part of me wonders if there's a chance I might recognize one of the soldiers among the group questioning the Unseelie.

*Sure, Lily, go look for one of your previous kidnappers instead of taking this brief window of opportunity to get away from your new abusers. What a great use of your time.*

I push my fingers to work faster.

Despite the Unseelie's impertinence, the Shifter soldier who spoke before doesn't lose his calm confidence as he says, "Are you aware of whose territory it is that you're crossing through?"

There's only the grating hocking of phlegm as one of the Unseelie spits into the dirt by way of response. The Unseelie's level of class is astounding.

There's the stamping sound as another set of hoofbeats approach, and the horse I'm working unstrap stamps its feet nervously. My fingers pause their scraping against the leather and I reach up to gently pat her neck to keep her calm.

"Shhh," I whisper to her under my breath, "I'm almost done. Just one more minute."

The horse miraculously calms under my touch just enough that I can finish unknotting the last of the ties. I throw up a grateful prayer to the gods and quietly begin the last task of tugging the remaining ropes from where they're looped around the mare's body, all the while keeping a careful ear on the soldiers.

The rider I heard approaching comes to a halt near where the standoff is happening between the Unseelie and the Shifters, "What's the problem here?"

The smooth and clear, deeply timbered voice of the new arrival has my stomach clenching and a hot fluttering sensation dances its way up my veins. Even weeks later, I knew I'd recognize that shadowy rasp of that voice anywhere.

Commander Damion Lothbrook is here.

My heart rate takes off in a staggering gallop, and without my permission, my hands are still where they're working on the horse.

"Your majesty! We weren't expecting you until tomorrow, but it's good you got here when you did."

"So it would seem," Damion's voice holds a thread of dry humor to it before turning serious, "What's your business here, soldiers?"

There's the sound of a throat pointedly clearing, "We are crossing back to the palace," I hear Pieter's voice grind out between clenched jaws, "On the Crown's business." It seems even he knows better than to deny information to a foreign King.

The shifter soldier from before huffs out a humorless laugh, "A bit of a churlish bunch, this one. But it appears as if they're telling the truth; Not enough men or weapons to be launching any sort of attack. Looks as though they're just passing through as he says."

Before I can think better of it, I cast a curious, searching glance over my shoulder to where I know the King is standing. It's like an invisible cord's been hooked to where my heartbeat is racing in my chest. That cord gives a solid tug and it's like I can't help myself. My eyes, my attention, draw there of their own accord, finding the King's broad muscular form standing among the others immediately.

He looks the same as the last time I saw him-tall sturdy frame swathed in black riding leathers. A few strands of his black curling hair droop onto his forehead, windswept from riding. The shining black horns curve back away from his face along with the deadly-looking spikes on his shoulders giving him a menacing edge as he eyes the Unseelie with that sharp, too-discerning gaze. That same gaze that I'd become familiar with in my brief time with him.

Like he can sense my stare, his head turns sharply in my direction.

For a single tense heartbeat, my gaze tangles with his darker one. His dark eyes flicker, and his head ticks to the side as he takes in the sight of me half-hidden behind the horses.

"Princess?" There's a subtle softening of his voice that makes that single word sound like a caress. Or maybe the fever mixed with my frantic heartbeat has me imagining it.

Shit. *Why did I have to look*? Why couldn't I have just done the smart thing and get on the damn horse when I had the chance? Now every soldier in the vicinity swivels their heads in my direction to see who the Shifter Commander is talking to. So much for my escape plans.

Damion Lothbrook doesn't hesitate as he immediately strides toward me, closing the distance between us in only a few sweeping footsteps, "Sweetheart, what in the gods' name are you doing with this putrid lot?"

Any attempts at riding away now would be futile-this formidable male would have no trouble stopping me before I could even get my leg over the horse. I sigh, shoulders drooping tiredly as I turn to face him fully. And my heart stops when it does. Because the Shifter King comes to a dead stop in his tracks, his broad form going unnaturally still. His eyes go dark before blazing a brilliant flaming shade of amber.

His voice is a lethal darkness that sends a shudder up my spine as he growls, "*How the hell did you get that mark on your face?* Who did that to you?"