The Forgotten Crown

Chapter Five

She was floating.

A bird's song drifted in and out of her ears, then the soft crunch of the earth. Her body swayed with rhythmic steps.

Morana opened her eyes.

Vast plains stretched before her. Frozen grasses poked out of the sparse sheets of snow that laid over the land. A line of evergreens curled around a valley, mountains long in the distance. She spotted a bluebird perched on a fence post.

Where—where was she?

Her cheek squished against something soft and warm.

A sharp pain shot through her neck and down her spine when she attempted to move.

Her fingers flexed. She tried to bring her arms around her, but some force held them in place. She tried again, and still, they didn't move. Morana blinked, watching the world idle by. She sat upright. And her seat was walking.

Her heart stopped when she felt his breathing. Soft inhales and exhales lifted her like a boat in a wading sea. She strained to look down as far as she could without moving her head. Her legs dangled off of the side of a deep chocolate horse. Footsteps echoed behind her. There was a second horse.

All at once, everything came crashing back to her.

Morana lifted her head and slammed it into Jovah's spine. The fae howled, arching his back. She tilted to one side and let gravity pull her down. The air ripped out of her, ribs cracking against the earth. Mud splashed into her mouth and nose on impact. She gasped for air, yanking on whatever bound her wrists together, her skin burning in response.

The horse whinnied in surprise and brought its hoof down fast. Morana's eyes went wide, and she rolled away just as the stallion stomped its foot into the place where her head had just been. She rolled in the mud until grass licked at her cheek.

"What the hell are you doing?" It was the red-haired fae who yelled at her as he dismounted from his own vanilla mare. He stormed over to her. Alastair—his name was Alastair.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, continuing her pathetic attempt to escape.

Alastair arched a brow, pausing at the edge of the road to watch her.

Jovah groaned in his saddle, rubbing at the base of his neck. "Is your skull made of iron too?"

Morana rolled, forcing herself to keep going despite the throbbing in her ribs and neck. Despite realizing that this was, in fact, the dumbest thing she'd ever done.

"Alastair," Jovah sighed, jerking his chin toward her.

Morana growled and then screamed in rage as Alastair caught up to her in two strides. He bent down and grabbed her by the arms, lifting her up with ease. Her scream caught in her throat as she took in his appearance. He looked like a man, a human man, but her nose caught the slightest scent of pine. He was glamoured. He glared at her with sky-blue eyes and then slung her over his shoulder.

So, that's how they did it, how they crossed the border so easily. Magick that could alter their appearance. She swallowed. How many other fae hid among the humans if they possessed that ability?

"How far did you think you'd get?" Jovah inquired as Alastair plopped her back into the saddle, despite her kicking. Jovah had returned to his human disguise, the contours of his figure hidden beneath a black fur-lined cloak.

She grunted, pushing as far away from him as the saddle allowed. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She'd panicked. Morana never panicked. "Where am I?"

"About a day outside of Molwreeth," Alastair replied over his shoulder as he climbed into the saddle on his mare. "It was rather peaceful while you were unconscious."