Escape to the Sea (Tangled Hearts #1)

Chapter 10 Enter the Wolf

Ephraim

Arlen told me long ago that training for tournaments is not like fending off someone who is after blood. Tommy told me something similar a few hours ago. But now, I think it’s finally set in.

There’s a hush as Steffon falls, and then someone screams. The pressure of Sinclair’s foot on my back lifts slightly as he turns. This gives me enough clearance to see who is causing all this horror.

On top of the ridge is a tall, lean figure encased in a red haze, her predatory eyes focused on her mark. Sinclair.

She strikes with intent, like a wolf pouncing on its prey. She buries a dagger in Sinclair’s back; he barely has time to understand what’s happening to him. He goes ashen, as something, someone, drains the life force from him. She retracts the dagger and blood swirls in mid-air as it gets sucked into the dagger.

This elf is death incarnate, thirsting for blood in some chaotic frenzy. I don’t know whom she views as friend or foe. Why would she spare any of us?

But then she dashes towards Tommy. I let out a strangled cry of fear as she turns on him. But he… laughs? He’s laughing .

“Oh, well, now it’s a party!” he crows.

“Steffon! Sinclair!” the dwarven woman screams. She starts moving forward, racked with indecision as to who to try and save first.

The she-wolf passes her in an instant, tossing Tommy two metal batons. “I am going to kill you!” she snarls as she runs past to get better access with her bow and arrow, sprinting away in a blur.

He laughs again, full and hearty, dropping the shortsword into the dirt to catch the batons, twirling them in his hands with practiced ease. As the individual batons connect, sharpened spears elongate from each side. Another giddy laugh, and he’s on the move. “I know, and I deserve it. But let’s kill these guys first, yeah?”

“Fuck, it’s Silverleaf!” The other man—Adam—calls, brandishing his sword in front of him as if to keep ghosts away. “McDanna, you’re working with this crazy bitch?”

Silverleaf’s expression is sharp and cold, and I shiver at the bloodthirst in her eyes.

“Now now, Adam, it’s rude to call a lady crazy,” says Tommy. “She’s sane. But she’s gonna slit your throat if I don’t get to you first.”

Adam roars in anger, lunging at Tommy. But Tommy moves faster now with his spear, batting the sword away with ease and then using the other side of the shaft to slam into his side, sending him tripping into the dirt.

Ida, clearly a mess from losing the first two victims of the she-wolf, starts sprinting after her, warhammer at the ready. Tommy gets in her way, blocking his partner’s retreat.

“Fuck you, McDanna!” Her scream has none of the cheerfulness from before.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m taken—no offense,” he says, jumping out of reach of her swings.

Further back, the she-wolf lines up a shot, training her fire on the woman Tommy was tussling with earlier. But the arrow sails wide as the woman darts to the left. The she-wolf’s face scrunches in annoyance, or maybe disgust, as she draws another arrow.

“Quit flirting and kill them already!” She yells.

“Don’t be jealous, babe!” he grins, breaking his spears apart. But instead of them being useless, he now has two workable weapons, and he spins both in a whirl. “We’re just getting started!”

What in Nyman’s name is happening right now? I scramble to my feet, moving towards the cabin as the chaos continues. In all the madness, no one’s eyes are on me. I find my quarterstaff in one of the shrubs outside the cabin and then duck inside, panting for breath.

Outside, I still hear the sounds of combat and screaming. Every once in a while, I hear a bark of laughter as Tomlyn attacks someone else. They are lethal together, and all of the complaining that Tomlyn had been doing seems to have all been empty words.

All along, I thought that he was hiding his intentions from me, and now I know he is. Was his plan always to get me here and kill me with his partner? This she-wolf that simply sucked the soul from a man’s body in front of me?

The world starts to swallow me. My heart races too fast as I fight to catch my breath. At least in here, there’s no death, no desiccation. Even with the battle raging outside, I am still here for a mission. I focus on my breathing, on the beat of my own heart. Deep. Steady. Calm.

When I can open my eyes again, I start to move from one room to another. My satchel has to be around here somewhere.

I find my satchel in one of the sleeping rooms, spotting my clothes instantly. I grab a fresh shirt, trousers, and undergarments, shoving them back into the satchel. Sitting on the end table is my mother’s heirloom.

I rush over to pick it up, inspecting it for any damage. It’s so very elven, comprised of fine thin gold that is so delicate it does not appear that mortal hands could work it. But it’s still sturdy, strengthened with some other metal I can’t place. It’s open in the front, so that the ring of gold settles behind the wearer’s neck. The left side wraps around the collarbone, holding the necklace in place. The right side stretches down to the wearer’s chest, a curling vine of golden grape leaves. It’s simplistic in design, but even holding it in my hands, I can sense the magic coursing through it. Thank the gods these criminals haven’t attempted to use it.

I slip it on, the gold cool against my skin, immediate relief washing over me. Truth be told, I have never worn it before, but it settles against my neck as if it were made for me. I pull my collar closed around it, taking the knapsack and slinging it over my back as I hurry outside.

The worst of the fighting is over. The she-wolf is slowly coming down from the ridge, even as Tommy stares down at Adam, pulling his spear out of his chest with a grunt. To the side, both Ida and Ling are on the ground, an arrow in the chest of one and a bleeding wound in the side of the other.

I look up, sick, as the she-wolf rejoins us, marching straight for Tomlyn.

“Here are your gauntlets. I cannot believe you left these behind. They’re the most useful armor I’ve seen in ages!”

“Yes, I know, believe me. I’m not leaving on a job without these or my jagerstocks ever again,” he replies, waving the silver spear. “Hey, did you happen to—”

“What the fuck?”

All of us turn as Mithrai, still fighting with his ropes, stumbles out of the woods. He takes in the corpses around us, the broken bodies, and then turns to run, darting back the way he came.

The she-wolf spots him first, pulling out her bow and nocking an arrow.

I move without thinking, putting myself between her and him. “You can’t!”

“Get out of the way!” she snarls.

“Don’t shoot him!” Tomlyn says frantically.

“We can’t let Mithrai escape!” she snarls, and then starts to fire. I move at the last moment, forcing her to readjust. The arrow sails wide as Mithrai morphs back into a bird, frantically flapping and disappearing into the sky.

The she-wolf screams in frustration, releasing another arrow and missing. Then he’s gone, a dot on the horizon.

I don’t have a second to breathe in the relief. The she-wolf turns her arrow on me, her new prey marked as her sharp green eyes stare at me in fury.

“You insufferable idiot. You have no idea what you’ve done!”

Even with her lean, lithe build, she towers over me, domineering and insurmountable, like the Great Tree seemed when I was a child. But I will not let this she-wolf do as she pleases; her apparent thirst for the hunt, for blood will have to remain unquenched.

I step towards her, raising my chin and planting my quarterstaff in the ground. “He was running away! You cannot shoot a man whose back is turned!”

She stares at me, her unbridled fury rendering her speechless. But it gives me a chance to look at her, long pointed ears with smooth purple skin like… jacaranda.

In the silence, Tomlyn rushes over, still looking panicked, the jagerstocks joined again and in one hand. “Hey, listen, he doesn’t know. He’s doing what he thinks is right.”

The she-wolf whirls on him, hissing, “And what he thinks is right is wrong . What does this idiot think that one of Benny’s Dozen is going to do?! We’ll be hunted by the rest of them, not to mention Benny himself!”

“Look that’s got nothing to do with him—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! It’s got everything to do with him!”

But the argument falls away as I study her profile, her dark blue hair braided and pinned to her head. Dark blue, like fringes of globe thistle. I look back between the two of them arguing, not really hearing what they’re saying as I listen to her voice, realization dawning on me.

“I can’t believe you. I really can’t believe you. You kidnapped this prince and waltzed into the woods without a clue—”

“A prince?” Tomlyn says, and then wheels on me. “You’re a prince ?”

“Well, at least he’s not an idiot in all things. Here, let me introduce you.” With that, her posture shifts, and her expression becomes demure, like a lady on the Aurelian court. Without the snarl in her tone that’s been here since she tore through the bushes, she gestures towards me, presenting. “Standing before you is Ephraim of the Bronze Order, Prince of Vinitore, Heir of Branch Echtarch, Sheath of Falling Leaves.”

“The heir of Branch Echtarch? The prince of Vinitore?” Tommy repeats. “Periti’s balls, I’m so fucked .”

But I can only stare at her. The woman who has been running through my dreams for days. “Lady Emeria?”

Her face instantly stills, and I immediately recognize the blank expression she gave me that night at the party.

“You... This is your Lady Emeria? Her? You fell for a bit?” Tomlyn starts to laugh, sitting down on the tree stump nearby, unable to keep himself upright. “Let me introduce you! This is Atrea Silverleaf. Queen bitch of Yaventown. A termite like me.”

“This isn’t funny!” I snap back; Tomlyn laughs harder. “Nothing about this is funny!”

“Oh, babe, you should’ve heard him, going on and on about you for hours! Comparing your hair to flowers and your eyes to leaves.”

“Flowers? What are you talking about?” The she-wolf, Silverleaf, turns back to him, ignoring me completely.

“Oh, you should have… ‘Oh, we shared a bond . A connection of intellect, it goes beyond simple lust!’” Tommy says between breaths, laughing himself hoarse.

“Tommy, don’t .” I cry out, the tips of my ears burning.

“Skin of jacaranda, eyes the color of leaves—”

“That’s enough!”

Tommy doubles over again, gasping for breath.

But Atrea has turned back to me, catching my gaze. It’s only for a moment, but suddenly I’m at the gardens, seeing the genuine surprise in her eyes, the pretty flush of her cheeks.

Tommy finally stops laughing. “Wait… Wait. You kissed him?”

Atrea looks away. “We need to get a move on. The rest of Benny’s Dozen are lurking around. And now with Mithrai on the loose, we have no time to waste.”

“I agree.” I say. “The sooner I can get out of here the better.”

But Tommy rises, his mirth falling away, the corners of his mouth flicking downward. “You’re into him,” he says softly.

At first, I expect Atrea, this wolf, this predator in the night, to scoff, and downplay it. But she doesn’t.

I’m so confused. Was that night in the gardens real? Or did I fall for a con artist at work?

“I’m not into him. It was a job. Nothing more.”

Tommy stalks behind her, though, cleaning off his jagerstocks with a flick and holstering them in the sheath his shortsword was in. “But you sat and talked with him. Bioluminescence, right? You asked me about it that night. You got that from him. You don’t bring home conversation points from your marks.”

She stops, her form frozen. But she doesn’t turn to face him.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he mutters.

“McDanna. Once we get somewhere safe we can discuss this further. But not here.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that, I told him my name, and he told me all about you,” Tomlyn’s tone is too bright, too cheerful as he grabs up a sack, plucking out all the weapons and then moving into the house. “I got all the details. Including hearing about the way your tongue was down his throat.”

I want to protest, tell him the moment we shared was much less crude. Atrea can’t seem to find the words either, stalking off to retrieve some of her arrows.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Tommy says as he stalks past me, not bothering to wait for a reply.

I sit in the clearing for a moment, the weight of the day catching up with me, the steady throbbing in my stomach and shoulders worsening now that the chaos has died down.

I slowly roll out one shoulder, clutching it tightly as I try and work the knots out of it. I would love to rest, to simply lie down and let my body fully relax. But I know there’s no time. No time to let my brain catch up with the madness. This Lady Emeria, or Atrea. She’s so familiar with Tomlyn. He seems so hurt that we kissed. What are they to each other?

He stalks out, stuffing a loaf of bread into another sack and tossing it over his shoulder, his eyes stormy as he stares down at the ground. “I’ll follow your lead, Ephraim.”

“You’ll both be following mine,” Atrea says coolly. “We need to move quickly now.”

I start to protest, but then I have a sudden sensation of being watched. Being hunted . An object sails through the air and I drop my quarterstaff as I move on instinct. Atrea whirls around behind her, but my hand is already there, my fingers pressing down on the cold steel of a dagger. I tuck my body downward and curl in as Atrea draws and shoots over my shoulder.

There’s a cry of pain, and time snaps into place as I complete the roll, glancing back up at Atrea. She’s already drawing another arrow as she cries, “It’s Olmeric!”

Tommy generates an inky blackness over a swath of trees, and another person in the bushes lets out a string of swears. There’s another cry of pain as the arrow hits and I’m already drawing myself to my feet, reaching back for my quarterstaff.

Then the clouds seem to darken, and several trees around us crack apart, as if struck by lightning, exploding wood filling the air for far too long. What sort of power is this?

“Gavin too! Time to go!” Tommy cries, running in the direction we were heading.

I follow him, Atrea hot on my heels.

More voices shout out from behind us, and an albatross screeches as it flies above us. Mithrai again. My stomach drops as the bird tucks its wings in, preparing to dive and attack. Perhaps Tommy was right. We need cover, and the sooner the better.

“This way!” I call and make a sharp left.

Thankfully, neither of them protest, leaping and bounding behind me. Some of the trees start to give way to rockier terrain and I lead them down and into a tight crevice. We’re headed closer towards the swamplands, but we should still be far enough out that we won’t be caught in the bog stalkers’ territory.

I stop under a particularly rocky overhang, sliding my quarterstaff back into its holster, and the two elves skid to a stop.

“What are you doing? We have to—” Atrea starts to snap, but then her eyes go wide as I start shifting my shirt, revealing the heirloom around my neck.

I extend a hand to both of them, beckoning them closer. “Hold onto me.”

Tommy clasps my hand immediately. My heart thuds loudly in my chest as I his cool hand, slightly calloused, takes mine.

Atrea frowns, leaning in to get a closer look at my necklace. “What exactly is that?” Before I can reply, the albatross screeches nearby. Atrea stops hesitating, clasping her hand over mine and Tommy’s.

I press my other hand flat over the golden vine and leaves. I feel the thrum of magic and recite the incantation in Elvish.

“Guide the wayfarers, chart our course, into the Sea.”

I step forward, even as a half-orc rushes towards us, bow drawn. It’s too late; the world starts to unravel as we sink into the ground. Gravity shifts an inch at a time as I take another step into nothingness, and then step again into soft dewy grass.

The air becomes sickly sweet, and the temperature drops to a chill.

We’re still in a forest, but we’ve gone from summer to autumn and from one sun in the sky to three, the balls of light hazy through the soft pink clouds.

Atrea takes a step back, her hand tightening around ours, looking up and around, eyes wide in awe and disbelief. “ The Sea of Possibility ,” she breathes in Elvish.

The dangerous plane of the fey, the ancestral home of all elves, The Wyrd Sea.

I’m not one for gambling, but I hope, pray, that this is one gamble that pays off.