Then, nothing.

Chapter 2

Cécile

A grey-furred foreleg was all I could see when I opened my eyes, my body bouncing up and down with the trotting motion of a horse. The pommel of a saddle dug painfully into my stomach and my head felt like a hundred angry giants were trying to hammer their way out. Where was I?

I squirmed, but I couldn’t move far. My hands and feet were bound to the horse, my mouth gagged.

Luc.

Terror surged through me like water through a broken dam, and I thrashed and jerked about, trying my hardest to get free. The stallion shied sideways and I caught sight of thick forest.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Luc’s voice was companionable, as though we were out for a ride in the park. “He has the unfortunate habit of going over backwards when he spooks, and that wouldn’t go well for you.”

I froze.

“You’re probably wondering where I’m taking you. I’d love to say, but unfortunately my associates have placed a number of restrictions on me.”

Tears of frustration ran down my forehead as I painfully craned my neck to look up at him. He smirked and patted me on the bottom. “You didn’t really want to go to Trianon anyway, did you? The stage girls are all just highly priced harlots, and you never struck me as that sort of girl. Better suited to the Hollow than the big city.”

My head dropped, and I rested my cheek against the horse’s shoulder. Bile rose in my throat and I struggled to keep my stomach contents down. If I threw up while gagged, I’d choke on my own vomit. Think, Cécile! Think!

“Here we are.”

He dismounted, and I stared at his hands as he untied the knot binding me to the horse. When the tension on my legs gave, I kicked out hard, catching him in the face.

“Damn you!” he howled.

I slid to the ground, landing with a thud. Seconds later, a boot caught me in the ribs, flipping me over. I yelped against the gag, my gaze fixed on Luc’s bloody face. My wrists and ankles were still bound – the best I could do was roll into a seated position.

“You can make this easy, or you can make it hard,” he hissed, wiping his nose with a filthy handkerchief. “Either way, you’re coming with me.”

“Where?” I managed to make the word audible around my gag.

He jerked a blood-smeared chin forwards and I looked over my shoulder. Forsaken Mountain loomed menacingly above us. Its glittering southern slope was sheer as a knife slice through butter, the broken half a crumbled slide of rock stretching down to the ocean. I felt my eyes widen. Old men always talked about treasure troves of gold lying beneath the fallen rock, but they also said the mountain was cursed. Treasure hunters had a way of disappearing when they went poking in amongst the rocks and, for every story concerning a man gone missing, ten more speculated on those who’d taken him.