Summerkin by Sarah Prineas Page A

thorny bushes. He flinched as another arrow sizzled past; he felt its fletchings brush his ear.
    The nathe-wardens. They’d warned him before. If they caught him now, they’d kill him for sure.
    From behind, he heard bushes thrashing and more shouts as the wardens followed him into the trees. He tripped on a root and went sprawling, and heard an arrow zip past, right where his head would have been. Curse it, they were good shots. He crawled into a bush, then flicked his shifter-tooth into his mouth. Four paws were faster than two feet.
    More shouts, this time from behind and away to his left. They were trying to cut him off. Panting, he raced on, splashing through streams, squeezing past trees as the forest grew thicker, taking a route that would send him in a wide loop and then back toward the nathe-palace.
    Finally he slowed, spat out the dog-tooth, and as he shifted, swung himself up into the boughs of a tree. Crouching there, he muffled his panting breath in his sleeve and listened for the sound of pursuit.
    A rustling in the bushes right below him, and a nathe-warden paused, his head cocked, listening. His long knife glinted in the starlight.
    Rook froze. If the warden looked up . . .
    The warden listened for another moment; at a distant shout, he raced away through the trees. The shouts of the other wardens faded.
    Rook let out his breath. Now what?
    The gray of dawn tinted half the sky. He could make his way back to the vine-wall, go through the Way, and tell his brother-pucks that he’d ruined their plan, almost getting caught.
    Or he could go back to the nathe and trust that Fer would protect him from the nathe-wardens if they came after him there.
    It’d be a risk. But it was worth it.

Thirteen

    â€œI said he was not to be trusted, Lady,” Fray said from her post by the door.
    â€œI know you did,” Fer answered, turning at the wall and pacing back across the room. Her bee zipped around her head, as if it could feel her nervousness. She wore her nightgown and robe, but she hadn’t been able to sleep. Rook wasn’t back yet, and it had to be almost dawn.
    Twig appeared at her bedroom door, rubbing her eyes. “What’s the matter?”
    â€œThe puck’s still gone. He’s betrayed us,” Fray said, her voice a low growl.
    Had he? Had he really ? Fer shook her head. “We don’t know that he’s done anything wrong.”
    â€œIt’s most likely,” Fray said. “You don’t know how pucks truly are, Lady. That puck has tricked you. He can’t be your friend; it’s not in his nature.”
    A knocking, and they all turned toward the door. It swung open, and the stick-people came in with their loaded trays. “Breakfast,” said the nathe-warden, a different one this time, a man who had wide brown eyes like a deer but who wore the same uniform as the other wardens she’d seen.
    Fer stepped up to the door. “My friend has gone out,” she said, thinking quickly. “He’s under my protection. If he comes back, be sure to let him in, all right?”
    The warden blinked his big eyes, then bowed. “As you command.”
    The stick-people set down their trays and left again, and the door closed behind them. Fray and Twig started to eat, and Fer sat on a cushion at the low table and poured tea and tried to eat something, but worry gnawed at her stomach. What would the nathe-wardens do to Rook if they caught him? What would they do to her ?
    The next part of the competition was this morning. It would be shooting with bow and arrow, the bear-man had told them yesterday, and after losing so badly in the race, she had to win. She knew how to shoot. The Mór had taught her, and she had practiced until she was good at it. But if Rook was out there causing some kind of trouble, the High Ones might not let her compete at all.
    She was tearing pieces off a sweet roll when the door burst open. “Your friend