“Or we’ll all get killed,” Scratch mumbled.

“And what a lovely bridge that will be to cross when we come to it, hmm, darling?” James’s green eyes darkened with unspoken warning. “Now, I don’t think we’ll reach the princess—or, y’know, whatever—just standing here, will we? I say we get our trot on. What say you, women?”

Brella rolled her eyes and stomped away.

James strolled after her. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he called back to Scratch and Vel, sauntering between the trees like a wisp, humming a wartime jig.

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

They trudged on. Vel and James took the front, chattering like maids at a sewing circle, curse them. Brella, who had lost her lead almost as soon as she claimed it, lagged silently a few feet behind. Scratch, short-legged and overtired, hung back. Her hand hovered over her sheathed knife, eyes on the trees. She told herself she was covering their rear. Really, she was too spent to keep up.

The farther behind Brella she fell, the less friendly the forest seemed. It was as though proximity to the Shaes formed a protective bubble around her. Without Brella nearby, the sounds of the forest grew louder and more ominous—chittering where there had been chirping, scraping in the place of scurrying. Shadows danced in the corners of her vision, twining between the trees. Something that could just as easily have been a rabbit’s paw as the toe of a bandit’s boot flashed by a nearby tree root, subtle as a floater in her eye.

Ah, yes. Tests.

From the moment she had arrived at the Academy, everything had been a test, and not just for her. If she won a fight, she proved a woman from the Tangled Lakes could win a fight. If she survived in battle, it was a Lakes woman surviving. The only upside to a fae challenge was that her background wouldn’t factor into it. The thought of fighting without that weight was nearly appealing. Maybe she’d chase a shadow later on for a change of pace.

At least the weather was pleasant. The sun was fully risen now, its golden light giving a deceptive sense of warmth to the cool, hazy path. It was fresh summer, the early days of heat and sweat. Soon would be high summer, when the king’s council did little but drink and bathe, and guards cooked in their armor like crabs in a stewpot. The heat wouldn’t turn oppressive for a month yet, but hints of weather to come already showed in the heady perfume of summer flowers, the chirp of the bright birds who basked on upper branches, their iridescent feathers alight like gems.

Snippets of James and Vel’s chatter floated back on the breeze.