After crawling through the tunnel most of the day, my clothing is completely wrinkled. I smooth my hand down my tunic to straighten the fabric, trying my best to appear unfazed when I am anything but.
I shouldn’t have kissed him. How could I be so foolish to think he’d ever want me. Why would he want a human? I’m sure that I’m nothing compared to the beauty of an Elvish woman.
Studying Caelen, I note how handsome he is, even dressed in the Dwarvish clothing.
Dwarves are similar in height to humans but more sturdily built. With broad shoulders and chests and thick cords of muscles on their arms and legs, it is easy to tell them apart from humans.
However, as my gaze travels over Caelen, I cannot help but notice how much taller he is than they are. The hem of the pants they lent him barely reaches mid-calf, and the cloth is oddly fitted over his form. He is not a small man by any means. His broad shoulders taper to a narrow waist, and his body is lean and muscular. When I clung to him, in the cave, I noticed just how solidly built he is—not an ounce of fat on him.
My body warms at the memory of our kiss. I turn to regard the forest in front of us, forcing myself to focus. “How far do you think we are from the coast of Solwyck?”
His nostrils flare as he scents the wind. “The smell of the sea and the ash is faint here. Perhaps a day’s travel before we reach the border between Eryadon and Solwyck. Then, another day beyond that to Rivenyl.” He turns to me. “We should get as far from here as possible in case any of Fredrik’s people somehow learn of this tunnel.”
Worry fills me as I think on Bran and the Dwarves, hoping they’re all right. “Do you think Fredrik and his army left the Dwarves alone to their mountain after we left?”
“The Dwarves are skilled in illusory magic. I am certain the decoy worked to lure Fredrik’s people away.”
“I hope so,” I murmur. I look toward the horizon. “Let’s get going.”
As we traverse the woods, his eyes continually scan our surroundings as if searching for danger. Something moves in the forest ahead, and he pauses. Fear ripples up my spine when he grasps my forearm and pulls me behind him.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
“A Wolf shifter,” he replies in a voice so low I almost miss it. “If I tell you to run, do not hesitate.”
I draw the dagger from my belt. After everything he has done for me, there’s no way I’d leave him behind. “I won’t leave you.”
His deadly fangs and claws emerge as he stares straight ahead. “Show yourself, Wolf,” he snarls.
My heart pounds when a man steps from the shadows. His glowing, green eyes study us with a menacing glare, baring two rows of gleaming white fangs in a feral grin. “Since when does a High Elf protect a human?”
Caelen growls low in his throat. “Who are you?”
“A hunter,” he says in a low and sinister voice. “The queen sent me to kill the princess and bring back her heart.”
Fear twists deep in my gut. I hold the knife out before me as the Wolf’s gaze remains locked on mine.
“You will die before you touch her,” Caelen snarls.
“Calm yourself, Prince Caelen,” the Wolf growls. “I have no intention of killing your mate.”
“Then why are you here?” Caelen grinds out.
The Wolf turns his attention back to me. I observe in shock as he drops to one knee and bows low. “My name is Malak, and I have come to warn you, Princess. I am not the only hunter the queen has sent. Another follows close behind me. His name is Kalov, and he is one of our best trackers.”
I study him warily. “Why should I trust you?”
He lifts his head. “Your brother, Arthur, saved my life once. I swore a blood oath to him in return. Because your brother is gone, my oath now extends to you.”
“Malak.” Caelen growls low. “I knew I recognized your name. You are a prince of Winterhold—second in line for the throne. Why would you betray your own brother, Prince Fredrik?”
I inhale sharply.
Malak narrows his eyes. “If you know who I am, then you have undoubtedly heard my story.”
Caelen dips his chin in a subtle nod.
“I swear it on my beloved Luna, that what I speak is truth. I came here to warn you,” he replies solemnly. “And may the gods strike me down if I am lying.”
Caelen relaxes his stance. He studies Malak a moment before he takes my hand and pulls me to his side. “Tell us how to avoid this hunter—Kalov.”
“He is about a half day’s journey behind you,” Malak answers. “When I heard Fredrik give the order to hunt you down, I knew you’d be heading straight for Rivenyl.”
“How did you know where to find us?” I ask.
“I didn’t. I prayed to the old gods. They whispered your location to me through the earth and the trees.”
I have never heard of the old gods speaking to someone this way.
“I do not expect your kind to understand the ways of the old gods,” he says, probably reading the doubt in my expression. “The human race has forgotten many things from its past. Not all of my kin remember them either. I am one of the few who remain.”
“You’d betray Fredrik, your own brother, for us?” I ask.
He stands. “Yes. I have more reason than the blood oath I made to your brother, to help you. Fredrik and my father threatened to kill she whom I adore above all else. And I would see Fredrik and my father’s reign end, not grow stronger by conquering Eryadon.”
“Eryadon is already conquered,” I tell him, the words like bitter acid deep in my gut. “My father is dead and my stepmother now sits on the throne beside your brother.”
He regards me soberly. “You are still alive, Princess. Not all hope is lost.” He pauses. “That is why they hunt you.”
I tip my chin up to meet his eyes evenly. “And how do you plan to help us?”
“Give me an item of your clothing, Princess.” He looks to Caelen. “And trade clothes with me, Prince Caelen. You will not reach Solwyck before tomorrow, and you are vulnerable until then.”
“Why do you want our things?” I ask.
“I will take them in the opposite direction from here. I’ll travel toward the Fae Kingdom of Anara, leading Kalov away from you by laying a false trail with your scent. It is well-known that Anara and Rivenyl are allies, so I believe he will follow it.” His gaze shifts to Caelen. “What say you? Will you trust me?”
Caelen darts a glance at me, and dips his chin in a subtle nod.
Malak’s story sounds convincing, and the fact that Caelen is inclined to trust him is enough for me to agree. Caelen has done nothing but look out for me from the beginning. He would not drop his guard for no reason. “We will.”
“We must hurry,” Malak says, already removing his tunic.
I turn as they both change quickly and I remove my bra. It’s the only item I can spare. I’m too cold to part with anything else. Caelen wrinkles his nose once he’s redressed, and Malak snorts out a laugh. “The feeling is mutual. I dislike the stench of Elf as much as you dislike the smell of Wolf, Prince Caelen.”
Caelen narrows his eyes, but I note his lips quirk up slightly at the edges.
Malak arches a brow as I hand him my bra. His nostrils flare and he gives Caelen a wolfish grin. “I’d heard yours was a marriage of politics only. So why does this item smell so much like High Elf?”
My cheeks heat in embarrassment and Caelen growls low in his throat, leveling a dark glare at him.
“Relax,” Malak says, raising his hands up in mock surrender. “I am only teasing you, Elf. I know what it is to love a human.”
Caelen straightens and extends his arm. Malak takes it, each of them gripping the other’s forearm. “We will not forget this.”
Malak dips his chin in a firm nod and turns his attention back to me. “I’ll need your bedroll as well,” he says, holding out his own. “Here. Take mine.”
As we make the exchange, Caelen blows a sharp huff of air out his nose as if the scent is offensive. I, on the other hand, can smell nothing.
“You should wear this as well.” Malak hands me a cloak.
For all Caelen claims it is the Fae who are dramatic, he wrinkles his nose again in disgust.
Malak continues. “This cloak is enchanted to conceal your form. It will hide your true appearance.”
I extend my hand, and he takes it. “Thank you for your kindness.”
His green eyes pierce mine. “Prince Arthur was a great man and an even greater warrior. I am honored to have known him and I am sorry that he has gone from this world.”
I swallow against the lump in my throat at the memory of my brother.
“What will happen to you if Fredrik finds out that you helped me?”
“That is not for you to worry over, Princess. You are the last of your great and noble line. Your job is to stay alive.”
Caelen dips his chin in parting. “Thank you, Malak.”
With another bow, Malak races off through the woods, leaving us alone again.
Caelen makes sure the cloak is firmly wrapped around me. He removes his belt and cinches it around my waist to hold it in place.
There’s something so caring and intimate about the way he takes extra care to make sure I’m completely covered by the cloak. Caelen leans in, and my skin prickles in awareness as his nose skims across my sensitive flesh as he scents me.
Malak’s words resurface in my mind. He told Caelen that he knew what it was to love a human, and I wonder, for the first time, if perhaps my feelings for Caelen are not completely one-sided, like I’d believed.
When he pulls back, he flashes a charming smile. “All good,” he says. “I can barely detect your scent over the stench of the wolf.”
I rub the back of my neck. “And… that’s good, I hope.”
He nods. “Very.” He reaches out for my hand, and I slide my palm into his. “Let’s go.”
