The Source (Creasan #1)

Chapter 6

Thea, Merek, and Carac ran faster than they'd ever done before, shoving wayward branches out of their way as they barreled through the forest. Leaves stung Thea's cheeks and mud squelched beneath her shoes, but she kept on. Just now, she could hear the heavy steps of the ogres, which meant the king was just about to realize she was gone. Thea gritted her teeth—they had to go faster.

Doing her best not to trip, Thea unbuckled the armor she still wore, tossing each piece in different directions as they went and praying it wouldn't create a trail when The Guard came searching.

They ran until they simply couldn't any longer, collapsing against the trunks of trees as the gasped wildly for breath. Thea's heart was pounding so loud that it drowned out the sound of anything else. Her feet throbbed with each beat. She cradled her hand against her chest as a searing heat sparked upwards from it.

Merek looked about to collapse as he leaned all his weight against a tree. Sweat poured down his face and he clutched at his side. "We need to rest," he said.

Thea shook her head, swallowing hard. "No. We have to get back before the king—"

"If we keep on, we'll both pass out. And it's getting dark. We will stay here for the night, and in the morning we'll head home."

Thea opened her mouth to argue, but Carac stepped forward and said, "Please, Thea."

She'd never had a little brother, but if she had, she imagined he'd be like Carac. He looked frightened and exhausted, and she was the reason for both. So Thea sighed and said, "Fine. But we hide in the trees. If we got recaptured because you wanted to sleep, bugger the king. I'll kill you myself."

Merek breathed out a laugh.

***

Fendrel lay in his bed, eyes unfocused as the healer fussed over him. He'd admit his back was a touch sore but not enough to render him incapable of moving from his bed. As for his other injures, his nose pulsed painfully, but not threateningly. She'd made sure not to hurt him.

She'd made sure not to kill him.

Fendrel was certain she could have. He had no doubt about his own abilities with a sword, but she...she had been like no foe he'd faced before. She was agile and swift, yet at the same time strong and overpowering. While she fought, Fendrel could see her mind working, like it was a game of chess and she'd always been a step ahead of him.

Yet she'd only left him with a scratch, a mildly throbbing reminder of her presence.

The healer pressed another warm cloth to Fendrel's forehead, but the prince ripped it away quickly. "I do not have a fever," he said angrily.

Queen Ana sat beside his bed. While they'd never been especially close, Ana always knew how to look the part. This way, the servants would spread the word of how the queen tended to the prince in his hour of need.

"I'd like to see my brother," Fendrel demanded of her.

She shook her head. "I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"It was I who was nearly killed today. The least he can do is give me five bloody minutes."

The healer tried to place another cloth on Fendrel, and he jerked away from him. Fendrel threw the covers off, letting out a sharp breath as a needle of pain sawed through him, and forced himself to his feet.

Ana had risen as well, and she placed a firm hand against his chest. "He is in a rather cross mood at the moment—"

"I don't care."