Chapter 19
AURORA
Sunlight spears through our makeshift shelter, and cold clings to my skin, seeping into my bones, making every muscle ache. The ground beneath me is hard and unforgiving. I barely slept a wink, but none of that matters as I gaze at Thalric.
He still hasn’t awakened.
I rest my hand on his chest once more, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. It calms the worry deep within. He’s told me before that Gargoyles can heal from almost any injury and I hold onto the hope that he will be conscious again soon.
I still as the sound of movement echoes through the trees.
My pulse thunders in my ears as I strain to listen. Whatever it is, it is close. Too close.
Carefully, I reach for a fallen branch. Curling my fingers around the makeshift weapon, I grip it tightly.
Frustration burns beneath my fear, but I push it aside. I will defend Thalric with everything I have.
A woman’s voice, sharp with irritation, drifts on the wind. “Are you absolutely sure we’re going the right way, dear husband?”
There’s something biting about the way she says it, the sarcasm curling around the words making me frown. Husband? I press myself lower behind the cover of our shelter, peering through the gaps between the branches.
A man’s voice follows, smooth, rich, and entirely unbothered. “I am always sure, my dear wife.”
“Is that so?” The woman snorts. “Must I remind you that you got us lost just a few days ago?”
“And yet,” he muses, a distinct air of amusement in his voice, “here we are. Going in the right direction. Again.”
I barely breathe as a large shadow shifts through the trees. My grip tightens around the branch, heart hammering as the figures come into view.
The first thing I see is the beast beneath them.
A Direwolf.
The creature is enormous, twice the size of a horse, with thick, dark brown fur and massive paws. Its amber eyes glow faintly in the dim morning light, scanning the surroundings with a quiet intelligence that sends a shiver up my spine.
A Dark Elf rides atop him. He is broad-shouldered, clad in dark armor with a long black cape. His short black hair is tousled slightly from travel, his sharp elven features striking against the cool gray-blue of his skin. His pointed ears twitch slightly as his glowing blue eyes scan the forest.
Behind him, perched awkwardly in the saddle, is a human woman.
Her expression twisted into a scowl of pure frustration. Rich, deep red hair tumbles in wild waves over her shoulders, and her amber eyes gleam with barely contained irritation. Her dress is splattered with mud, her skirts frayed from travel.
She looks as if she has been dragged through every miserable condition imaginable and blames the man beside her entirely.
The Direwolf comes to an abrupt halt. His eyes meet mine and he lowers his head, his ears flat as he emits a deep growl.
“Steady, Vaelen,” the Elf tells his Wolf as he searches the forest.
“What is it, Auren?” the woman whispers urgently to her husband, fear easily read in her features. “Do you see anything?”
“The scent of iron,” he replies in a low voice. “I smell blood.”
The woman stiffens. “Are we walking into a trap?”
Instead of answering, his gaze shifts toward our shelter, his fingers flexing over the reins. “Stay here, Vivienne,” he says as he swings down from the saddle, drawing his sword from its sheath.
“Auren, don’t you dare!” She lunges for him, catching his arm as he dismounts. “Don’t go! This could be an ambush!”
He turns back and cups her cheek, his thumb brushing absently along her jaw. “I will keep you safe, mellime.”
Her cheeks flare red instantly. “I told you not to call me that!”
“You did,” he agrees, entirely unbothered.
“Stay here.” Her fingers tighten in his cloak. “I mean it. This could be dangerous.”
“I’ll be fine.” He smirks, voice dropping to something low and teasing. “If I didn’t know better, wife, I’d think you actually care about my safety.”
“Of course I do.” She snaps her head away, lifting her chin. “You’re the only one who knows where we are. If something happens to you, how am I supposed to find my way out of these woods?”
His smile lingers, as if he doesn’t quite believe her, but he says nothing as he turns back toward my shelter.
“Whoever is there,” he calls out, “I mean no harm. But I smell blood. Someone is hurt.”
I hesitate, still clutching my pathetic branch, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
His eyes travel over our lean-to and his gaze locks onto mine through a gap in the branches.
“Come out,” he says, voice gentler now. “If you are injured, I can help.”
I swallow hard. I glance at Thalric, still unconscious. He’s injured, and I have no choice but to trust these strangers. Slowly, I crawl out from our shelter and push myself up to standing.
Auren’s gaze sweeps over my torn dress and the dried blood on my hands before his eyes shift toward the shelter again. “Who is injured?”
“My friend.”
His brows lift slightly, but he doesn’t press for details. Instead, he cautiously steps forward. When he sees Thalric’s unconscious form, surprise flickers across his face.
“A gargoyle,” he murmurs, kneeling beside him. “That explains the scent.” His glowing blue gaze sharpens as he takes his wounds and sees the arrow lying nearby. “Silver-tipped. Nasty things.”
I step closer, wringing my hands. “Can you help him?”
He exhales, considering. “I learned battlefield healing. It’s not as strong as a proper healer’s magic, but it will work. He’ll need to rest all day and night before he’s fully healed.”
Tears burn behind my eyes, but I swallow them back. “Please. Do what you can.”
Auren nods. He lifts his hands, and a soft, glowing blue light blooms from his palms. The moment he presses his magic to the wounds, Thalric’s eyes snap open.
I gasp, dropping to my knees, my hands flying to his face. “Thalric!”
His golden gaze finds mine. “Auri?”
I throw my arms around him, burying my face against his neck, pressing frantic kisses to his cheek, his jaw, his brow. “Thank the gods you’re awake.”