Working in a dead-end, post office job in the heart of a primarily-Human city, Arya Salcrest cannot let her secret out else she loses her rights and her safety. Norren Sterling, a member of the Council whom she met after a failed museum trip, is det...
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Eliott should have never listened when they said he should go out of the palace today. He should have taken one look at the darkening sky and called it off, even if he had to pull the authority card.
But, as usual, he had ducked his head amidst his trainer's rants and resolved to just get it over with. The town did need assurance Rosewall was still listening.
Besides, what's the use of sending an underling such as Eliott when it should be the King who should show his face? Eliott chuckled to himself at that thought. It's almost a blessing his horse got spooked off by a rushing merchant cart and ran off into the nearest woods leagues away from town. He wouldn't want to be at the blunt end of the people's anger.
Eliott pursed his lips and tried standing up. Pain shot from his leg and pulsed against his temple. He winced and dropped back to the slab of stone he had propped himself on earlier. Of course, with a spooked horse, it was never going to end well for its rider, especially if it was someone as inexperienced as Eliott. What was Clem thinking of sending a child by himself with a flighty steed?
A sigh pushed off his lips. His hands running up and down his thighs in an attempt to dry his sweaty palms against his breeches. He glanced to his left, noting the messy array of thick, gnarly trunks and lush green canopies. The undergrowth showed no signs of clearing out, even when he squinted at it.
All around him, various animal calls formed some sort of symphony. Squirrels and other critters dashed from branch to branch, bearing their daily quota of nuts and other items to store in preparation for winter. Distant hoots of birds of prey rang from inside the embrace of the higher canopies. The melodious melodies from the songbirds thankfully drowned them out.
Were there lions here? Or wolves? Or anything that could chomp its teeth down his arm and lop it off?
Eliott shook his head, clearing his head of the gruesome images of animals attacking him. If he stayed here and waited for someone to get him, maybe no harm would come on his way. That, or vultures would find him and circle overhead until they could feast on him.
Holy Palendral. He should stop thinking about his own demise. Perhaps the people in Rosewall were already looking to find his location. It had been several hours since he was supposed to show up in Wendsholme, the nearest town.
His horse, the frantic mare he had been paired with, had long been gone. No traces of its dark coat could be found within Eliott's line of sight. If it hadn't thrown him off to the first bush it found, he would have gotten up and searched for it. But as it was, the mare was left on its own. Let him hope it knew how to go home. Or maybe it wasn't planning on going home at all. Either way, the horse's freedom was a matter out of his hands.
He sighed again and forced his gaze to land on the main source of pain on his leg. With painstaking effort, he turned his leg. The side of his pants was split wide open after being dragged through something he could only refer to as a thornbush. Angry gashes burned down the length of his calf, tearing through flesh in a series of serrated spikes. Thankfully, the blood had stopped flowing so he didn't need to worry about binding it.
