The Forsaken King

But how would I manage that?

“Fuck…I’m a sitting duck in here.” I unlocked the door and cracked it open.

No sign of the psychopath.

I left my bag behind because I couldn’t manage the weight right now and slowly crept out, careful not to make a sound that would draw his attention from the front of the carriage. My boots reached the ground, and I left the door ajar behind me.

I got on my knees and crawled underneath the carriage. When he realized the door was open, he would assume I’d made a run for it and he’d missed it. With his back turned, I’d cut one of the horses free and make my escape.

Flat on my stomach, I swept my eyes across the limited view I had. The hooves of the horses shifted left and right as they tried to remain comfortable standing upright, and the one on the left released a pile of droppings.

I was too worked up to cringe.

Mastodon’s boot came into view when he dropped down to the ground. Slowly, he came around, heading to the door that I’d left open. He took his sweet-ass time, every step loud and purposeful.

The closer he came, the more I shifted to the other side, careful not to let my breathing go haywire and get loud. When he stopped at the open door, I got to my feet on the other side, careful to keep my head down below the window.

So close.

I pulled out my dagger and went for it, slashing the ropes that secured the horse to the carriage.

He must have realized what was happening because now his footsteps were loud.

“Come on!” I got the last rope free and climbed onto the bare horse and kicked. There was nothing to grab because it wasn’t saddled. There weren’t even reins. Just the dark hair on the nape of his neck.

The horse took off—just in the nick of time.

Without direction, we just ran, ran hard.

I looked over my shoulder to peek, expecting Mastodon to do the same to the other horse.

But he just stood there and looked at me in a way he never had before.

Like he didn’t hate me.

The adrenaline was still heavy in my veins, so I didn’t want to stop.

But I had no choice.

Without sunlight, I’d crash straight into a tree and kill us both.

When I was on my feet, that was when the soreness kicked in. My inner thighs hurt without the padding of the saddle. The constant friction had chafed my skin through the breeches. My back hurt too, along with my arms, and don’t get me started on my ass.

That probably hurt most of all.

If I’d had any idea where I was going, I might have made it back to Delacroix, but I didn’t have a clue where I was. No idea which way was north and which was south. When I didn’t arrive at the Capital by nightfall, they would know I’d been compromised on my journey. Men would be sent out with horses and hounds.

All I had to do was survive until that happened.

I had only my sword, arrows, and bow. No food or water. No supplies. My stomach growled because I was hungry—I was always hungry. My horse started to munch on the grass beneath his feet, and I was a bit jealous. “Wish I could eat grass.” I stopped in a thick gathering of trees because I assumed it would be more challenging to see me, but I also didn’t have the luxury of selecting the right place to crash for the night.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers, right?

I took a seat on the ground and leaned back against a tree. The sounds of the forest grew louder the darker it became. Now there was no illumination at all, except for the stars between the tops of the trees.

It was summertime, but it was still a bit chilly out there.

I tried to keep an eye on my horse, but if he chose to wander away, there was nothing I could do about it. Without a rope, I couldn’t keep him in place, and I wasn’t going to stand there and hold on to him either.

As long as a poisonous snake or spider didn’t get me, I’d be safe there until morning. If I couldn’t see, Mastodon couldn’t see either. I assumed he was camped for the night, but with supplies, and he’d be on the hunt at first light.

The creaking sounds of the forest were too terrifying for me to fall asleep, but I dozed off a couple times, resting intermittently. There were times when I slept long enough to have dreams, dreams of lit torches moving through the forest in my direction.

Wait, that wasn’t a dream.

“Shit.” I stumbled to my feet and reached for my bow.

There were five torches, all spread out in a line, coming right toward me.