BOUND IN FLAMES

004

Every step toward the line of trees was too swift, too light, too soon carrying you closer to a fate you had tried to avoid. A fate you promised to avoid at all costs unless you had no other choice and now Feyre was involved. you didn't dare look back at the cottage. To look back at the family that had become the closest thing you had to a family.

Feyre and you entered the line of trees. Darkness beckoned beyond.

But a white mare was patiently waiting—unbound—beside a tree, her coat like fresh snow in the moonlight. She only lowered her head—as if in respect, of all things—as the beast lumbered up to her.

He motioned with a giant paw for us to mount. Still the horse remained calm, even as he passed close enough to gut her in one swipe.

It had been years since either of you had ridden, and Feyre had only ridden a pony at that, but you had ridden mares and stallions. Having always gotten along with animals better than people. Knowing the trek would be long, if the beast brought a mare, you motioned to your sister to mount. To which she responded with a look, as if to say—you mount—but you knew she had to be half frozen by now.

Grabbing her arm, pulling her towards the mare, "Don't argue, Fey. Just get on the horse. I'll be fine."

Begrudgingly she climbed into the saddled. Shutting her as eyes for a moment as she savored the mares warmth against her.

The beast let out a low growl, which made Feyre's eyes snap open, darting between the beast and you sizing each other up. "Get on the horse." He ordered.

"No."

"Get. On. Now."

"I'll be fine." You challenged, holding his stare as he continued to size you up, noticing the way his nostrils flared once. Then twice. Narrowing his eyes before turning around and settling into a walk.

Without light to guide you, you walked between the beast and the mare. If he changed his mind you'd try to buy Feyre sometime to run. They were nearly the same size. Neither of you were surprised when he headed northward toward faerie territory—though your jaw was clenched so tightly it ached and Feyre was stiff behind you.

Live with him. Feyre could live out the rest of her mortal life on his lands, but you. You were immortal like him. How long would you have to live with him.

Perhaps this was merciful—but then, he hadn't specified in what manner, exactly, you would live.

The Treaty forbade faeries from taking you as slaves, but perhaps that excluded humans who'd murdered faeries.

You'd likely go to whatever rift in the wall he'd used to get here, to find you. And once you went through the invisible wall, once you were in Prythian, there was no way for your family to ever find you. Feyre would be little more than a lamb in a kingdom of wolves. Wolves—wolf. But you were a wolf in sheep's clothing. They just didn't know it yet.

Murdered a faerie. That was what you'd done.

Your throat went dry. you'd killed a faerie. And now you might've sealed your family's fate.

They might suffer the consequences because you went into the woods, trying to keep them from starving.

You'd never seen the forest so still. Whatever was out there had to be tame compared to the beast in front you, despite the horse's ease around him. Hopefully he would keep other faeries away after you entered his realm.

Prythian. The word was a death knell that echoed through you again and again. You wouldn't have cared if it was just you but Feyre was here.

Lands—he'd said he had lands, but what kind of dwelling? Feyre's horse was beautiful and its saddle was crafted of rich leather, which meant he had some sort of standing. You'd never heard the specifics of what the lives of faeries or High Fae were like—never heard much about anything other than their deadly abilities, appetites and secrets you swore to keep.