William shuddered again and a knot of ice formed in his stomach. Cold fear and dread such as he had never felt spread through him.
No, he thought. Not ordinary ghosts at all.
"He will want to thank you," the ghost rasped. "It would not do at all if you were to force him to kill you instead."
Frozen with a terror inflicted upon him by some curse or ancient bit of magick, William could only stare into the deep shadows of the forest, and pray.
Princess Godda's ladies-in-waiting flitted through the trees, flashes of gold and green and scarlet in the darkness of the wood. There was a whisper as they passed and beneath it an undercurrent of something else, an oddly musical hum, the sound of Faerie magick touching the human world. They seemed not to run so much as to dance, but with such speed and caprice that it was hard for the eye to know where,
