The White Sheep's Disguise ✓

Chapter 43

Through the night, I dream of my parents. My father's stories, and my mother's best input on life's toughest challenges. Their words twist into one, a sharp and endless whisper in my head, and I wake, nearly hitting my face on the stone ceiling of the cave I hide in. Abandoned and shallow, I curled up into a ball underneath the rock and tried to rest my exhausted body.

Dreams ruined that. As did the distant howl of wolves prowling closer and closer.

A beam of sunlight breaks through the canopy of thick trees and shines down onto the floor of the woods. I squint, and my eyes bark at me. Prodding the skin with two fingers, I discover the side of my face is swollen. My reflection in the knife is no better. Black and blue is the best way to describe what remains of Rylan's fist slamming into my cheekbone, closer to my eye than I originally thought. A bruise rim shadows the outside of my left eye and drifts into my hairline, brushing faint specks of red towards my nose.

I couldn't hide that with multiple layers of cosmetics.

I crawl out from underneath the shallow cave and brush my hands on my pants. Birds chirp overhead like they know nothing of the horrors I face, they greet the rising day with a jolly tune, but I don't respond with a smile or a wave. Instead, a scowl creeps over my dirt-stained face. The reminder of Gustus's descent, the palace, healing Cloak for another two intervals—it all comes back to me at once.

If I start on my journey now, they might avoid finding me. The last thing I desire is a search party, so I force myself back to the trail and keep my head down. Some parts are only wide enough for a horse to trot through, and others can hold up to three carriages. I keep close to the side and passing merchants don't pay me any heed.

By midday, once I've cleared the deep woods and passed another village that appears to specialize in blacksmiths and horse breeding, I hear it. The distant beat of dragon wings breaking through the sky. I stop, shielding my eyes from the sun as Gustus soars overhead without knowledge that I'm down below. At the last moment, knowing this ends in me on the back of that dragon, I send a Luminary flare towards him.

The dragon continues on. The crack against the sky disappears into the distance and I trudge on for five steps until that sound I believed to head in the opposite direction becomes increasingly louder. I believe my mind is playing tricks on me until a shadow clouds the trail and one of Theo's largest dragons flaps its wings above the trees, hovering over the deserted area next to the Flower Foothills.

Gustus leaps off the dragon's wing before landing; his knees popping when he makes contact with the ground. "Marie?" he questions, regarding my messy state with one glance over.

Theo doesn't dismount. He watches me carefully, watches as Gustus rushes towards me, then slows his steps once he realizes that not all is what it seems. A cold mask of rage pales the prince's face, but he forces the distance to close between us. Not wanting to create a further ache, he takes me by the shoulders too gently for me to bask in the first shred of warmth I felt all night.

So early into the day, and tears prepare themselves to fall. I can't meet Gustus's eye, nor Theo's as he approaches his husband from behind, but stops himself short once he sees the dark bruise covering the left side of my face.

Neither of them finds the right words to say. I stare at the golden neck chain slung across Gustus's chest, losing myself deep into the twisting fabric of the coat underneath it. The fur-lined trim brushes together in an early morning breeze.

"I'm going to find him," Theo growls, already stomping back towards his dragon.

That wakes something inside me. "No," I croak. He whirls, copper eyes spinning to find me and sticking hard, latching on to stare me down even if I can't meet a similar height of intimidation. "I wish for you to stay out of this. Both of you."