House of Dragons (Royal Houses 1)

He came to his feet. “Well, that’s lucky.”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat. “Lyam here to save us after all.”

“We should probably set out at dawn,” Fordham said. “Together, we can get out of here.”

“All right, princeling,” she said with a half-smile. “But first, we’re going to need some pinecones.”

Fordham didn’t ask, just helped her cover a few pinecones in sap, and then she cracked the two biggest sticks she’d found on a sharp piece of rock, placing the sap-covered pinecones inside and dipping them in the flames.

He looked at her, impressed. “Torches. How did you know how to do that?”

“House of Dragons teaches us more than just etiquette,” she said with a grin. She brushed mud off his brow and laughed. “You look ridiculous.”

“I ate poisonous berries,” he reminded her.

And then they both laughed.

* * *

The weight and fear of the night before had dissipated at dawn. They had gotten through a lot together this last month. This was one more adventure.

Together, they tracked through the forest, heading north through the woods by the dial on Lyam’s compass. Though they saw more eyes peeking out at them and a few howls in the forest, nothing else approached them. And by high noon, they reached the edge of the trees.

Fordham sighed in relief and wiped sweat and mud from his brow. “Thank the gods.”

“Second test complete.”

“Yeah… wonder what the third will be if the forest was…”

But he didn’t finish. If Fordham Ollivier could be shaken by the Noirwood Forest, then it was an atrocious hellhole that she never wished to venture into again.

A snap jolted both of them to rush farther out of the forest. When they turned around to face the beast that surely was going to attack them, Darrid strode out of the tree line toward them. Kerrigan frowned. Darrid had had a grudge against Fordham from the start. He’d tried to attack him in the first task and pushed him off the platform in the second. Him being here in the forest was not a cause for celebration.

Kerrigan instinctively reached down into her well of magic to keep her safe before remembering that it didn’t work. She had no magic to defend herself against Darrid.

“Ollivier,” Darrid said.

“Darrid,” Fordham volleyed back, already stepping closer to Kerrigan.

“Fancy meeting you out here.”

“What do you want?”

“No pleasantries?” Darrid asked. “Right down to it?”

“What do you want?” Fordham repeated.

“I’d like to know what your leatha whore is doing in the woods with you.”

“Don’t call her that,” Fordham snarled.

Darrid laughed. “You know, I thought that it must just be a dalliance. What would a prince of the House of Shadows want with a half-Fae girl when your people have slaughtered them for millennia? But do you actually care for her?”

Kerrigan bristled at his words. She hadn’t realized that Darrid was a bigot. They just hid in plain sight, ready to use that horrid name and reveal themselves at such inopportune moments.

“We don’t need to deal with you,” Fordham said. “Be on your way.”

“See, I would,” Darrid said, revealing a short dagger from his waistband. Kerrigan tensed. “But I don’t like you, and the last thing we need are more bastards like you in the Society.”

Kerrigan sighed. “You’re all so predictable.”

“Shut up, bitch,” Darrid snarled, brandishing the weapon in her direction.

“It’s two on one, Darrid,” Fordham said evenly. “What do you think you’ll accomplish?”

“Oh, is it?” he asked.

And then Kerrigan realized Darrid had been the distraction. Taiga came out of the woods to their left and Chelcie to their right. From high in the tree above Darrid, Posana knocked an arrow and let it loose at their feet, just to let them know that running would be no use.

“There’s nowhere to go,” Darrid jeered.

“Four against two. That’s almost a fair fight,” Fordham said confidently. “Look at you, the little gang leader of the wayward competitors.”

Darrid stiffened at the words. “We’re going to cut you down, Ollivier, and no one will mourn you.”

“Fordham,” Kerrigan whispered, drawing even closer. “The medallion.”

He nodded his head once and then tensed, as if preparing to meet Darrid’s attack. But they had been training so long that they both saw it coming. Darrid hadn’t been training out his mistakes, and he had many.

“Left,” Fordham whispered.

“And turn.”

“One, two, three.”

Darrid ran at them with the knife, but as a seamless unit, Kerrigan and Fordham pivoted left, away from the oncoming assault, just missing the arrow from Posana. Fordham broke open the raven medallion and waited for what he had risked his life for.

Suddenly, the sound of wings filled the air. Even Darrid paused at the unholy noise. Birds rushed out of Noirwood Forest and blanketed the sky black. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of ravens descended on the battling ground just outside of the forest.

Kerrigan ducked her head to try to shield herself from the attack. But the ravens never touched her or Fordham. And a memory hit her, though she knew not from where, of ravens guiding spirits through the unknown. Psychopomps—the word came to her, unbeknownst.