Fantasyland 03 Fantastical by Kristen Ashley Page B

in love with me because you
have no heart and then you proceeded to kill my love for you and
twist it into something else entirely. And you keep doing it. Every
bloody time I see you. Every time I speak to you. You twist it
until there’s nothing in it to recognize as anything even close to
what it once was.”
    “You loved me?” I whispered, looking into
his harsh, moonlit face.
    “Don’t,” he clipped shortly.
    “Are you saying you loved me?”
    His arm got so tight I couldn’t breathe and
his hand in my hair twisted so it wasn’t gentle anymore. Not even a
little.
    And as he did these things, he barked in my
face, “ Don’t! ”
    “I –”
    “Play your game but don’t you ever, ever, Cora, play with that memory.”
    Oh.
    My.
    God .
    He used to love me! And, obviously, he’d
told me. And, just as obviously, I’d spurned that love.
    Or, more aptly, the other me spurned his
love.
    Oh. My. God!
    His arm gave me a shake. “Am I
understood?””
    “Tor –”
    He lost it and I knew it when his hand
twisted in my hair, I cried out at the pain and he roared, “ Am I
understood?”
    “Yes!” I shouted.
    At the same time I shouted, Salem threw his
mighty head back and whinnied loud.
    Noctorno’s head shot to his horse, his body
went statue-still then he looked over my head to the mouth of the
cave.
    “Gods!” he yelled, let me go but grabbed my
hand and dragged me behind him as he sprinted to the antechamber.
He went so swiftly, I nearly stumbled twice on the way.
    “Noctorno!” I cried and he yanked back the
pelt and hauled me through so roughly and with such force, I went
flying.
    “Hurry, finish dressing,” he ordered.
    “What?” I asked, confused.
    “ Dress! ” he thundered.
    I jumped and ran to my clothes.
    I was bending to snatch up my skirt when he
commanded, “Meet me at Salem.”
    I looked up and saw him dragging a sword off
the wall.
    “Salem,” I agreed, nabbed the skirt, tugged
it on, grabbed the vest, shrugged it on then bent and snatched up
my belt. I wrapped it around my waist on the run and saw that
Noctorno had already disappeared.
    I fled the space and saw him saddling
Salem.
    “In there,” he jerked his head to the space
where the wood was kept. “Arm yourself.”
    Arm myself?
    I skidded to a halt three feet away from
him. “With what?” I asked stupidly.
    “It doesn’t matter,” he answered curtly,
cinching the strap under Salem’s proud chest. “Just as long as it’s
sharp and you can wield it.”
    “Right,” I whispered, ran to that space,
snatched a lethal looking knife off the wall and ran back out.
    When I arrived, Salem was saddled, a sword
in a scabbard at his left side. Noctorno put his hands to my waist,
hefted me up, wasted no time swinging in behind me and this was
good.
    Really good.
    For I learned what all the fuss was
about.
    Vickrants.
    Everywhere.
    Their near transparent wings flapping
hideously, their claws reaching, their scaly skin glistening, they
were filling the cave.
    “Hee-yah!” Noctorno barked as he dug his
heels in, Salem’s mighty flanks bunched and we bolted out the mouth
of the cave, vickrants following in a swarm. “Home, Salem,”
Noctorno yelled over the wind rushing in our ears and the branches
slapping at our bodies, vickrants darting through the trees and
making passes at us, so close, I could feel their vile, cold,
leathery wings and smell their stench.
    Yikes. I forgot their stench.
    Fetid. Hideous.
    “Take the reins,” Noctorno commanded,
extending them to me.
    “What?” I cried.
    “Take the reins,” he repeated.
    “I don’t know how to steer a horse!” I
yelled.
    “Take the bloody reins, Cora!”
    I took the reins.
    He immediately pulled the sword out of the
scabbard and with one arm locked around me holding me tight to the
safety of his body, the other one struck out with powerful swings
and blue sparks and sharp hisses met his blows.
    A smaller vickrant landed on Salem’s neck,
claws digging in, the horse