Tortured: An Epic Dragons and Immortals Romantic Fantasy (Fallen Emrys Chronicles Book 3)

Chapter 2

After a week of dodging Caedryn’s men and traversing the unwelcome land of Rolant, I cross the mountains in the south. The old peak is rounded, with wrinkly folds where crisp streams spurt from the ground. Snow carpets the landscape, but my passage is easy.

My senses stay on high alert, even as I lie down for the night over bundled pine limbs used as a barrier from the snow.

My thoughts drift to Niawen. Before I tore myself from her outside Caedryn’s citadel, we shared one lone kiss. I had pulled her desperately to me. “Stars, Niawen, I love you. I will love you forever. Oh, damn it all!” My mouth fell on hers in an urgent kiss that was meant to fix everything that had ever been wrong between us.

But her shivering body in my arms bore testimony to our harsh reality.

Her light is gone.

She is cold because of her lack, whereas I will never be cold again.

The late winter weather is fierce, and though ice crystals form from my breath, I don’t feel the cold.

How can I when her light is inside me, keeping me warm? If I lie still long enough, the snow melts around me.

Her light is also a beacon for Lord Caedryn. The reason his assassins find me with ease.

I’ll do anything to give her light back. Anything.

Creator above, show me a way.

Blood whooshes in my ears and throbs in my neck. The night is eerily quiet, and my body won’t relax.

Just as well, I detect a group of men, the same ones who’ve been trailing me for two days, stalking closer. I hear every step as the hunters creep, every grate of their swords sliding from their sheaths, and every deep, steady coarseness of their breaths as they study me, their prey, pretending to lie here helpless.

Over and over again this is how my nights play out. I wonder when Caedryn will run out of men. Can’t he tell Niawen isn’t with me? Or maybe not. I never leave any survivors to run home to their lord and give report.

Most likely, all bets are on revenge. Caedryn will have wanted to make me suffer because I stole what was most precious to him—his wife and unborn child.

Just as the first assassin approaches, I twist away from my pallet and slash my blade across his neck. I whirl around before he drops to the ground, and drive the metal tip into another’s stomach. After a swift draw, I turn and meet an assassin approaching on my left. He lifts his sword and strikes, but I parry his attack. I hear a twangand roll to my right, bringing my sword across the ankle of an attacker.

Nice try, Caedryn.

I feel nearly invincible.

I calm my senses from overload, slowing my breath, reveling in yet another victory.

Too late, my ears pick up a final twang.

A premonition did not alert me.

An arrow lodges next to my heart and pierces my lung. I stumble to my knees. My vision swims, but my ears prickle as I narrow in on the enemy.

He secluded himself behind a tree. As he draws his arrow back for the kill shot, I react. Something deep inside my physical makeup contracts as it calls on Niawen’s light, and a swell of energy rises in me.

My muscles move on their own, faster than I can blink. I sprint—more like blur—across the gap between the man and me. After ripping the arrow from my chest, I shove it into his, and he crumples to the ground, all before he can release his arrow.

With blood pouring from my wound, I collapse, believing I’ve become inhuman.