Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II) by Amber Scott Read Free Book Online Page A

friend.
    She’d
failed the guard, the queen, and the entire kingdom.
    Returning
in the direction she’d come, Ailyn stalked carefully, looking, praying for a
glimpse of Maera’s raven hair or the man’s broad shoulders. Her bare feet were
almost numb and certainly cut. This was all his fault. If he’d let her be, she
could have brought Maera to the water. Ready for the veil. Aye, that is what
she should have done. His damned obstinate stance. As domineering as any Fae
Northman. He should have left well enough alone.
    No,
the fault was her own. She should have left Maera, then led the guard back to
the glade. If not all of the men, at least Colm. She should have dragged Maera
out from the first or called out for someone, or swam faster. She should have
accepted what Maera had in mind. She should be better at this after so many
months of training.
    A
branch snapped and the sound echoed through the quiet stillness. Ailyn froze.
Chills prickled her skin. How different this wood felt compared to home. She
could not feel this place inside of her. No tingle. No warmth. A low growl
pierced the quiet and brought her up short. The throb in her shoulder stabbed
to her stomach where it beat low, hard. The growl was close and sounded like
none she’d heard afore.
    Ailyn
held her breath. She stood very still, scanning the trees and shadows.
Something moved. The outline of a deep gray wolf emerged no more than a furlong
in front of her.
    A
scream climbed up her throat, only to stick there. She tightened her fist
around the hilt of her dagger. The wolf, as large as any she’d ever seen,
inched closer. Again, it growled, its hackles rising. Fangs baring. Dinna run. Dinna show fear. Ailyn backed
up a step, two, three. Something met her heel. She backed over it daring not to
look at what she hoped amounted as nothing more than a gnarly root.
    The
wolf tipped its puckered snout to the sky. Its fangs were pale silver blades in
the darkness. Blood showed on its mouth. Maera’s torn wings flashed in her
mind’s eye. Her beautiful wings. The beast’s howl ripped through the still air
and sent terror trampling over every thought in Ailyn’s head. She turned. Every
brown-blooded Fae knew outrunning a wild creature was impossible, yet she could
not stop her legs from attempting just that. She fumbled forward, panting. She
tripped over a rocky outcropping, cutting her palms when she hit the ground.
    The
beast’s huffing breaths closed in. She righted herself and plowed onward.
    The
wolf growled at her heels. Ailyn screamed. She could not outrun the wolf. But
she wouldna let it kill her. She halted and tucked low, dagger in hand. She
rolled onto her back, blocking her face with one hand and aimed to plunge into
its ribs, to where its heart would beat its last.
    Her
back hit the ground, but the teeth her arm anticipated did not come. Neither
did the press of flesh under her knife afore it popped through. The wolf’s paws
hit her chest, knocking the air from her. It captured her wrist in its mouth.
But no pain came save from her fall. Ailyn gasped, shocked.
    Steamy
puffs hit her face. Its nostrils flared. Its deep, amber eyes bore into hers,
but it did not bite through her arm. Ailyn’s hand shook, her dagger shaking
with it. She readied to kill it but something stayed her hand. The wolf
growled. Her wits collected enough for her to make a fist, thankful to her
brother for day after day, hour after hour of his tutelage. The beast was no
straw man and her favored hand wasna tied behind her back.
    Her
good hand was free. Ailyn curled a fist and punched the wolf in the face. Her
knuckles crunched with pain. With a grunt, its jaws tightened on her arm. Pain
shot up the length under its bite. Then doubled when its mouth went slack.
    “Oomph.”
The wolf collapsed atop her, crushing her brief moment of wonder over her own
feat.
    Ailyn
wriggled to free herself. When it lurched to one side, she thought it was
awaking. She drew her fist back again.