Chapter 38
Thirty-Eight
E verinne hesitated.
“ Now, Ever! ”
Atlas’s voice crashed through the bond, loud and demanding and full of urgency.
She knew he was strong, knew he was more than capable of handling himself, but he was without a dagger or sword.
He was armed with only an iron poker for the hearth, and though she was certain he could hold them off and stand his ground, he was simply far too outnumbered.
She stole one final look at him, watching as he swung the iron rod through the darkness like a blade of reckoning, piercing and gutting the baukvist with cutthroat accuracy, like he’d been born with a weapon in his hand.
His movements were effortless and precise.
Every jab, every slash met its mark. He was beautiful to behold, a warrior prince of Prava.
Only when something warm and thick splattered across her cheek and the bitter stench of rancid blood overwhelmed her did Everinne run.
She bolted for the door, crying out in anguish as the bond tugged fiercely on her heart, demanding she return to her mate’s side.
Each step away from the hut was a strain on her soul, the ache so keen and deep, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to catch her breath again.
She stumbled down the dilapidated stoop, tripping over the uneven stairs as she grappled with the air to remain upright.
Frozen air burned her lungs as she rushed blindly into the forest, branches snared her hair, tangling in the loose tresses like the angry nails of a hag.
Spindly tree limbs smacked at her face and clawed at her coat while gnarled, overgrown roots rose from the dead winter ground, determined to twist her ankles and slow her down.
The forest did not want her to leave.
Everinne dared a glance over her shoulder.
The hut was overrun with the baukvist. There were so many, she could no longer see the swooping thatched roof or the chimney. They crawled all over it, covering every inch with their spoiled flesh, elongated jaws, and beastly claws.
Fear lodged itself in the back of her throat and she screamed one name.
His name.
“ATLAS!”
But there was no response, only a horrid slurping noise, like a tongue sucking teeth, and a menacing growl.
Everinne didn’t need to wait around to know that those fleshflayers would soon find her.
They would follow her scent and her scream, track her down like predator to prey.
Again she started running, harder this time.
Faster. Her legs pumped, spurring her through the forest as she fled, swatting at branches and avoiding the crooked roots that seemed determined to capture her.
An overgrowth of bramble with thorny leaves clung to her fur coat, ripping and tearing it to shreds, biting through to her skin, until she was forced to abandon it completely.
Her lungs burned, frozen from the wind and aching from each ragged breath.
A stabbing pain pierced her ribcage and her muscles strained, throbbing with exhaustion.
Streaks of saltwater stained her cheeks.
She didn’t know if it was sweat or tears.
She didn’t care.
The toe of her boot struck a rock, and she catapulted forward. There was a twinge and then a definite crack as pain exploded through her ankle, rocketing up her leg.
A choking cry escaped her as her knees slammed into the solid earth and she attempted to break her fall.
Her hands hit the cold dirt and she gasped, sucking in a breath as shooting spasms of agony pulsed from her ankle to her thigh.
Her injured arm collapsed beneath her. Muck and filth soiled her clothing as she crawled, her nails digging into the ground for purchase, desperate to escape the clamor of gnashing teeth and raspy growls surrounding her.
At some point, she’d been so consumed by running, by fleeing, that she’d lost her way.
The path leading out of the Deszvila Forest had vanished, none of the trees looked familiar, and instead of being dumped out closer to the palace, she was now dragging herself uphill, clawing over uneven terrain.
Her fingers were raw, bloodied, and bitten from the cold.
A splitting ache was carving its way down her spine, her muscles felt like they might snap at any moment, and her bones were so weary, she thought they would turn to sand.
But all the while, Everinne’s mind was focused on Atlas.
She repeated his name in her mind, whispered it like a prayer to the Mother Goddess as she fought for every inch of ground, as the murky haze of dawn infiltrated the snow-laden clouds.
Atlas.
Atlas.
Atlas.
Grasping a knobby bough from a nearby tree with both hands, Everinne heaved herself into a standing position.
A peal of agony tore from her as nauseating pain splintered up her leg.
Her vision swam with unshed tears, but she hastily blinked them away and swallowed down the rise of scalding bile in the back of her throat.
She had to find her way back to Atlas. She had to get out of the forest. A broken ankle was nothing compared to having her flesh scraped from her bones.
Her gaze scanned her surroundings.
There was nothing but bleak forest for what seemed like an eternity.
Then she saw it. Through the dense branches weighed down by snow and the thick brush of evergreen leaves, there was a faint glow of foggy light.
A clearing.
Everinne winced and gritted her teeth as she hobbled and limped along the widening base of the hill.
She must have been near the foothills of the mountains.
Their jagged peaks were dusted with snow most of the year, and the whipping gales that cut between the faces and cliffs caused her teeth to rattle.
Shivers wrecked her body as the forest thinned, the gusts of wind stung her cheeks and her eyes watered.
She sniffed and ducked her head, wrapping her arms around her tightly and curling her frozen fingers into her threadbare sweater in a poor attempt to keep herself warm.
Her breath came in icy, shallow pants and her heart sank, tumbling into the pit of her stomach as the forest spat her out into the clearing.
Except it wasn’t a clearing at all.
It was a treacherous cliff, with sparse tufts of nearly dead grass sprouting up between smooth slabs of stone.
She thought she’d be safe here. She thought she could rest, maybe gather her thoughts and figure out a way to get back to Atlas.
But stranded on the cliffside, she was vulnerable to the elements and exposed to danger.
Perhaps she wasn’t too high up, with any luck, she could climb down.
Or at the very least, fall down, considering her ankle was utterly useless.
Inching forward, she gingerly crept toward the ledge of the mighty cliff and peered over.
Her stomach dropped.
And so did her nerve.
Everinne teetered on the edge of oblivion.
Far below her, spanning a width as great as Starysa’s city center, was a fathomless lake.
If she were to jump, it would take an eternity before she plunged into its inky depths.
The banks encircling it glistened like snowy diamonds, a few trees outlined its dark edges, the bare limbs draped with icicles and sprigs of frosty berries.
Its surface was as smooth as glass, there were no ripples or waves, yet there was no reflection.
Not the lurking forest or the majestic mountains.
It was like gazing into a slab of obsidian and seeing nothing in return, just a great and vast emptiness.
A blast of wintry wind swept through the rising mountains, and she steeled her spine against the assault.
The cold was violent and unforgiving, smacking her cheeks and tugging her hair.
Her jaw ached from clenching it to keep her teeth from chattering, and her joints were stiff and sore from seizing against the brutal chill.
But not even the slivers of early morning sunlight slanting through the mountain peaks would be enough to warm her, for already another ominous fringe of gray clouds hovered on the horizon, promising more snowfall.
She was lost. And alone.
Her heart strained for the one who spoke to her soul.
Atlas.
Warm, dank air pressed against the back of her neck, fluttering her hair, causing the skin to pebble.
Everinne froze, terror licking along her spine.
Something hot and sticky flicked the tip of her ear, then slid down her cheek to the curve of her throat, where it pulsed and fluttered…
like it was tasting her. The barest of breaths slipped between her chapped lips and she suppressed a shudder, glancing down to catch the glimpse of a forked scarlet tongue as it laved across her flesh.
The stench of rot and fetid blood slammed into her.
Everinne shrieked.
She spun, all of her weight crushing her broken ankle, as she swung at the fleshflayer licking her. Another peal of agony wrenched from inside her.
The fleshflayer angled its head, its jaw falling open to reveal rows of tiny sharp teeth. A gurgling, gagging noise erupted from it, and Everinne reared back as its talon-like nails reached for her.
But when she stepped back, there was no more stone or ground to steady her, and her foot caught only air.
The baukvist lunged and she fell toward the bottomless lake, the freezing air rushing past her ears, her scream echoing through the mountains so they rumbled and quaked in fear for her.
She collided mid-air with something hard and warm, her body collapsing against the solid mass as she was cocooned in layers of fresh cedar, juicy neroli, and tempting spice. The bond flared, spearing her with comforting heat as it soothed the torturous ache buried deep within her heart.
“Atlas,” Everinne choked out his name.
“Hold tight, Ever.” He swept her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. “I’ve got you.”