Free Sin Eater's Daughter 2 - The Sleeping Prince by Melinda Salisbury

moving slowly, my ears alert for any sound. At the sight of a squirrel dashing into the branches of a pine I startle, then, without thinking, throw my knife at it. I’m too slow; I miss the squirrel and it disappears, but the crash of the knife handle against the bark is loud in the deserted woodland and I stop dead, listening intently, terrified I’ll hear shouts and footsteps running towards me because of my haste. I wait long moments before I feel safe enough to go and collect the knife, grateful for my luck as I sheathe it. Still, the missed opportunity grates; I wish my father had taught me how to hunt. I really would kill for some meat to make a stew with.
    Then I remember that I’ll need to be sparing with the fire so I don’t attract too much attention, and I hope I have the same luck evading the soldiers and Unwin as the squirrel had avoiding me.
    There is no sign of anyone as I gather the last of the poppy heads, and I’m making my way towards a patch of nightshade when I hear a low, rustling sound. It takes me a moment to place it, and when I move I realize what it is – a cloak dragging through leaves. Instantly I drop into a crouch, lifting the hem of my cloak and moving as silently as I can to duck behind a holly bush, clutching my knife, my heart speeding inside my chest.
    If it wasn’t for the fact I’ve spent the last three moons learning how he moves, I might not have recognized Silas as he strides through the forest. His long legs are full of purpose as he crosses the path before me. Some twenty-five or thirty feet ahead of me he stops, tilting his head back to scan his surroundings without removing his hood. My mouth falls open, and I wonder if I’ve gone mad, because it’s as if I’m rewatching the first time we met, here in these woods.
    When another cloaked figure emerges I nearly cry out, but the sound never reaches my lips, dying as soon as Silas spins and, spotting the newcomer, breaks into a wide, joyous grin. I almost cry out again when Silas, who I’ve always thought hated to be touched, throws his arms around the hooded figure as though they’re long-lost kin. They embrace for a long while, slapping each other lightly on the shoulder, before pulling back and looking at each other, still clasping each other’s forearms as they speak softly. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can see that they are happy to be in each other’s company, and again the bitter tang of jealousy rises up in the back of my throat. He’s never seemed so pleased to see me.
    They turn to leave together, heading towards Almwyk, and I don’t hesitate to follow, forsaking my own tasks in order to trail them. Who is this person, that Silas would risk being seen – being killed? Is this part of why he’s here? As they walk I see the stranger is shorter than Silas; he has to move a little faster to keep up with the length of Silas’s stride, and my stomach twists as Silas flings an arm around the stranger’s shoulders, leaving it there casually as they continue on. They stop and start, pausing to talk earnestly before moving on, and I have to keep ducking behind bushes and hiding behind trees to keep from sight. I lose them in my care to not let them know I’m following, and panic when at last I reach the spot I saw them, to find no sign of them.
    I’m scanning the ground, looking for disturbed leaves, or even boot prints, when there is a strange swooping sound and a thunk behind me. Gooseflesh flares across my skin and my pulse begins to race, but it takes my brain a second longer to understand what the sound is. The sight of a second arrow burying itself in the tree trunk by my head confirms my fear.
    Soldiers.
    I forget Silas and his friend, drop my basket, and start to run.
    I move between the trees, zigzagging at random to make it harder for the soldiers I can hear crashing towards me, whooping and screaming, their bloodlust high as they give chase. I didn’t think they’d be so close to the