Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
M y eyes open. Talan is tending a crackling fire. Firelight caresses his body, the dark shirt that fits tightly around his broad shoulders, his muscled arms.
Warmth washes over me. Dreamily, I pull the blanket tighter around me. I fell asleep on the hardwood floor by the hearth, and Talan must have slid a pillow under my head at some point. My clothing is cold and wet, and I almost wish Talan had undressed me—for temperature reasons, of course.
Inhaling deeply, I stare at the fire and the golden glow of the mahogany hearth. After the frozen chill of the forest, this little cottage feels like a dream.
Slowly, I sit up, clutching the blanket, and look around. The Tudor-style home has white walls and dark beams. There’s not much furniture—a rough-hewn table, a wooden chest, and a few chairs. Beneath me, the thick rug smells faintly of pine and cedar smoke. Everything about this place feels cozy and safe, a refuge tucked in a corner of the wild forest.
“What’s happening?” My voice is hoarse from exhaustion.
He glances back at me. For a flicker of a second, the merest heartbeat, relief crosses his features. It’s gone in an instant, replaced again with a knowing smile. “Not really the woodsy type, are you? More of a farmer than a hunter.”
“You could say that. Where are we?”
“In one of my hunting lodges.”
I take a deep breath, my lungs clearer now. I find myself inching closer to Talan until the heat of the fire radiates over every inch of me. My clothes steam, and tiny tendrils of vapor rise into the air. I stretch my fingers closer to the fire, and our shoulders brush. His masculine scent wraps around me, warm and entrancing like the firelight.
“What happened to the basilisk?” I ask.
“The arrows slowed him, even if they didn’t kill him. But we may not have long until he returns. It’s probably best if you let me handle him on my own, Nia. I’m afraid you’re a slight liability.”
“Liability?”
He turns and looks deeply into my eyes. He’s studying me like I’m an ancient text he’s trying to translate. Firelight dances over his perfect features, painting him in a shifting light and shadow.
“Your lungs make a noise when you breathe,” he says. “You have some kind of sickness.”
I swallow hard. Usually in Brocéliande, my asthma doesn’t bother me this much, but the combination of running and freezing air set it off.
“Sometimes, it’s hard for me to breathe. Not everyone is born perfect, Talan.” I frown, wrapping my arms around my knees. “So, is this your idea of a honeymoon?”
Heat flickers in the depths of eyes. “Nia, if this were my idea of a honeymoon, you’d be too busy screaming my name to ask me that question.”
“Very confident of you.”
The corners of his lips twitch. “I don’t need to see into your dreams to know what you want.”
You, dead? “Really, Talan? What do I want?” Under his smoldering gaze, my body grows warmer. My damp clothes cling to me, and the fabric feels suddenly oppressive around my skin.
He leans closer. “You want to be taken care of.”
Before I can reply, a terrible roar rattles the cottage windows, cutting our conversation short. My heart stutters, and I tense. The basilisk is closing in.
Talan rises and peers out the window, his demeanor shifting in an instant. “Time for you to go, Nia.”
“Can it get inside?” I ask.
Talan crosses the room to the large wooden chest and flings it open. “It can tear this place to pieces, but I’m not inclined to cower here and wait for that to happen.” He hefts a broadsword from the chest. “And I do love a challenge.” Drawing the blade from the sheath, he inspects it. Steel catches in the firelight.
“You can’t possibly kill that thing.” Panic rises in my chest, and once more, I’m left wondering why I’m trying to protect my enemy. “Its scales are impenetrable.”
“I just need to buy you some time.” He quirks his eyebrow at me. “Wait two minutes, then slip out the window in the back and run as fast as you can. Try not to fall into a river or trip over your own feet. I’d rather not have to save you repeatedly.”
I stare at him. “You want me to leave you alone with the basilisk?”
Amusement dances in his eyes. “You see? I haven’t even touched you yet, and already, you know you’ll miss me.”
Before I can reply, he walks over to the fireplace, one hand holding the sword. With his free hand, he grabs a large, thick stick protruding from the flames. He raises it and inspects the burning end—a makeshift torch. “Go on, Nia. I’ve killed larger creatures.”
He crosses to the door, kicks it open, and steps out into the frozen night.
I rush to the window, peering into the stillness beyond.
The sky is a bruised purple, yielding to the honeyed glow of dawn. In the snow outside, the basilisk stands tall, a silhouette in the faint morning light. The creature’s dark, scaled tail lashes the snow, and the basilisk spreads its wings and rears back its head.
As Talan takes a step closer to the basilisk, a sharp tendril of fear curls through my chest. The wind toys with his hair and the dancing flame of his torch. Standing before the creature, he swings the torch back and forth. Slowly, Talan takes a step closer, keeping his head down to avoid its gaze. The monster’s head follows the flames, its dark scales glinting in the torchlight.
The serpent lets out a thundering roar, sending the snow dusting off the tree branches. Talan doesn’t react. He stands with the predatory stillness of a tiger, and then he lunges.
From the iron gray clouds, lightning flashes. Thunder rumbles over the wintry horizon, and a charge skims over my skin, raising the hair on the back of my arms.
Talan thrusts the flame at the basilisk, and the monster swipes at the torch with its brutally sharp claws. It misses, and Talan darts forward, driving his blade into the serpent’s throat. The basilisk screeches, a furious, otherworldly howl that vibrates through the air. It swipes again, the edge of its claw missing Talan by a hairsbreadth.
I flatten my palms against the cold glass.
He told me to run, and yet, here I am. What the fuck am I doing? What’s it to me if he dies? Nothing, but he would have easily escaped the basilisk if it weren’t for me. Anyway, his death is supposed to be timed with Auberon’s.
I can’t look away. I’m pressed against the glass, watching him square off against a monster. One little misstep will mean death for the prince, and I’m afraid he won’t last much longer. The basilisk is faster than it first appeared. More careful, now.
Slowly, its attention shifts from the flame to Talan himself. This creature has been an expert in the game of killing even longer than Talan has, a monster who hunted before the prince drew his first breath. If I hadn’t slowed him, Talan would have fled this basilisk long ago. But now, he’s stuck facing him down.
The serpent swings clumsily again, but it’s a feint. Talan dodges as the creature’s other claw arcs toward him in a calculated strike. The blow takes Talan by surprise, and his shirt rips to shreds, blood streaking his arms.
I need to flee out the rear window like he told me to. He’s sacrificing himself to buy me precious time.
But something tugs at me, a sensation that coils around my ribs, something familiar and dangerous, some sort of magical energy surrounding the basilisk. It hums and buzzes with electricity in a way that feels achingly familiar—like the Veil.
My breath fogs the window glass as I summon my Sentinel powers and see it—a barrier of energy wrapped around the monster. It glimmers faintly, a shimmer in the rising dawn.
Talan won’t be able to hurt this thing as long as it’s shielded by magic, but he doesn’t know it.
I rush across the room to the wooden chest and peer inside. It’s full of weapons—two axes, a few hunting knives, a short sword, and a bow, alongside a quiver. I snatch the bow, sling the quiver over my shoulder, and run to the door, stepping out into the snow.
The basilisk’s eyes snap to me instantly, but I refuse to let myself look at them. Staring into its eyes is madness, death.
Talan lunges forward, driving his sword toward the serpent’s throat. The blade hits the magical barrier and bounces off, sending a shower of sparks into the air. The basilisk roars again, but now there is frustration beneath the fury, the flicker of annoyance at the shield’s failure to grant it complete invincibility.
Talan glances back to me, his brow furrowed. “I thought I told you to run.”
Instead, I nock an arrow, drawing the bowstring tight. I force myself to clear my mind. My breath slows, the world narrowing to the curve of my bow, the feel of my fingers on the string. All that exists is the basilisk and the arrow. Summoning my Sentinel powers, I let the energy flow through me, sharp and cold.
Furious, the basilisk hurtles toward me, shockingly fast.
I unleash my powers—blood-red tendrils—and loose the arrow. My magic slams into the magical shield, knocking the creature back. Instantly, the barrier flickers and sputters like a dying candle. My arrow juts from its chin.
Enraged, it rises onto its hind legs and roars. The wild, guttural sound shakes the snow from the trees and rumbles right through the soil.
I’m already nocking another arrow. As I unleash it, the basilisk lunges for me. The arrow sails past. The creature is charging at me in a tidal wave of claws and teeth, and I don’t have the chance to shoot again.
Talan leaps in front of me, shielding me with his body. Sending out my powers into the air, I strike at the barrier, my crimson magic slamming into it. The shield flickers one last time before shattering, and Talan drives his sword deep into the basilisk’s body. The creature stumbles back two giant steps, then crashes to the ground. The shimmering green scales fade to gray, and the monster’s muscles go slack, the serpentine tail lashing back and forth.
Golden light illuminates the clearing, the rising sun breaking through the trees behind us. The basilisk shimmers, and its hulking form starts to shrivel.
Cracks form in the dry husk. The basilisk is no longer a fearsome monster but rather a wingless serpent in the blood-streaked snow. It writhes in pain, convulsing in its death throes.
Talan lowers his sword, and the serpent crumbles to dust.
I stare at the remnants on the ground, something twisting painfully in my chest.
When I look up again, Talan is staring at me, his expression intent. “You didn’t leave.”
Don’t fucking ask me why. I don’t know, either.