Page 28 of Lady Knight and the Thief

Torren rolled his eyes. “I swear it.”

Cypress shook her head and drew a blade. “No, I meanswearit. I don’t want to keep questioning your words. Swear a blood oath. No more lies.”

“Only if that binding goes both ways.”

Cypress scoffed. “I haven’t lied to you.”

“Sure ye haven’t, Lass.” Torren drawled, head canted to the side as he turned the spit once more.

“Fine,” Cypress gritted. “You swear it, and I will too.”

Torren reached out for the blade, and Cypress nearly handed it to him. At the last moment, though, she yanked the blade back, away from his reach.

“To be clear, you are swearing that you will not lie to me or distort the truth in any capacity.”

“I know what a lie is, Lass,” Torren said, hand still outstretched, palm open for her blade.

“Then make sure your words are crystal clear, Thief.”

The muscle on Torren’s jaw flexed, but he accepted the knife without further comment.

If there was any place for a blood oath to be enacted, Cypress couldn’t imagine it any better place than inside a Faerie ring, where the forest was apparently listening to their every word.

“I hereby swear that no lies or untruths will leave my lips when spoken to the Lady Cypress,” He said, then sliced along the thickest portion of his thumb. When he was done, he held the blade out to Cypress, motioning her to do the same.

“I hereby swear no lie or untruth shall part my lips when spoken to the Thief Prince, Torren Lefey Blackthorne,” Cypress said, then made an identical slice over the thickest portion of her palm.

Then, she and Torren clasped hands over the flames, their blood mixing as it dripped into the fire.

“By the blood of Faerie, it is done.” Torren finished, and suddenly the ring of trees smelled of clear, icy river water, moss, and pine.

The oath settled over Cypress, the fire blazing between them for all of a few moments before Cypress asked, “What has already awoken?”

Torren sighed and said, “I should have known you wouldn’t let that lie for the evening.”

“So then why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because the forest listens. And saying their name too many times will draw their eye.”

“So… tell me what it is without saying its name.”

He stayed quiet for a few moments, turning the spit, checking the doneness of the meat with his forefinger. “It is… like the scout of the Hunt that has awoken. They are looking for the tomb of the Old One in order to awaken them once more.”

“How come you can say theOld oneseemingly without consequence, but not this other thing that is already awake?”

“The two are very different creatures. The Old One that leads the Wyld Hunt is one of many, while… the other seeks out the soul that will kick off the hunt. Fresh blood from a perfect sacrifice. Those deemed unworthy are killed by them, rather than the Hunting party. They suck you dry, absorbing your life, your spark, until nothing is left other than a dry husk. Their name is like a clarion call echoing through the world. Gaining their attention is unwise and to be avoided at all costs.”

Cypress nodded. “What else has already awoken?”

“The winged hounds have been spotted once more.”

“Where?”

“Near the border to the Wylds,” Torren said while quickly removing the spit from its position over the fire.

“And where are we currently headed?”

Torren raised his gaze, staring at her through his lashes. “We’re going to my people.”