Chapter 44 Vera #2
He lowers his face toward mine, until I feel the roughness of half a day’s whiskers brush the side of my cheek and the light whisper of his breath near my ear, and my body traitorously reacts. “I will do whatever I have to to earn your tru—”
I hear a sickening thud followed by Ikar’s grunt.
My eyes widen in horror at the arrow protruding from his shoulder and the blooming dark red stain spreading around it even as his eyes lock on something over my left shoulder.
He releases my wrists and stands, pulling his sword from its sheath with his good arm and standing in a protective stance before me while I scramble to standing.
I can’t consider that even after the way I’ve treated him, he protects me.
With shame, I grab my knife, the only weapon I brought, from the dirt to face whatever it is that is encroaching around us.
My eyes trail up the tall soldiers… a flashback to our travels in the Lucent Mountains reminds me I’ve seen them before.
Hooded cloaks shadow their faces, and loose robes mask their build, but it doesn’t dampen the danger that tangibly emanates from them.
Gloam masters. Their weapons are larger than Ikar’s, and I know his is a force to be reckoned with; what does that mean for theirs?
Faster than my eyes can track, four surround Ikar, and two come for me, separating us in moments.
I pull lucent, creating a ball in my hand, and immediately send a torrent toward Ikar who’s already immersed in battle. At this point, I don’t care if he can discern the difference between the cool of my magic and an actual originator’s. We could both die here.
“Who are you?” I demand when they stop several feet before me, trying to focus even as I hear the clang of blades on blades behind them, and hope Ikar will be able to fight while injured.
I feel like a trapped rabbit. Why aren’t they attacking me? Are they playing some sort of twisted game? I lift my knife higher, widen my stance, and pull more lucent.
A chilling, deep voice comes from within one of the deep hoods. “Isn’t gloam masters what they call us?” He looks toward his fellow cloaked figure who laughs in a way that has my skin crawling.
“What do you want with us?” My knife trembles in my grip.
“Not us.” The hooded figure stops not three paces away. “You.”
Both their hidden, creepy gazes are focused on me.
I can feel it. Do they not realize they have the high king in their grasp?
They want me? But then Ikar’s words as we sat on the bank of the Lucent River after escaping the gloam masters ring in my ears …
same thing I want. A Black Tulip, I’m sure.
I suppose the high king would be second, to be rid of him.
Oh no.
Ikar’s pained shout rings in my ears, and I whip my head in his direction to see one of the figures yank a sword from his midsection.
Two lie dead around Ikar, and one falls to the ground as I watch.
But dark red blood pours from Ikar’s side, and the arrow is still firmly planted in his shoulder.
He drops to a knee, and I scream as I watch him fall to the ground.
Darvy and Rhosse and their slew of soldiers scramble down the ravine wall to our right, finally having caught up.
I keep up a continual rush of magic for them, hoping it’s enough.
I forget the gloam masters hovering before me and dart around them, running and landing on my knees beside Ikar, attempting to block him from any further injuries with my body.
I ignore the towering, violent figures around us and instead focus on Ikar for our last moments together.
I wait for the piercing blade of a sword through my back.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whisper near his ear. “Please don’t die,” I murmur over and over softly, holding his face while warm tears fill my eyes as I will his eyes to open, to meet mine with their stormy depths, even if they are still filled with accusation.
I press one hand to his neck and find his pulse, slow and weakening.
Rupi lands near his ear and affectionately pecks it, waiting for a response, quilling when he doesn’t move.
While I wait to die, I intend to do everything I can to save him.
I grasp the arrow and pull with so much effort my grunt is almost a war cry.
I toss it into the dirt, even more concerned when he offers no reaction.
I press both my hands to the injuries and recklessly pull magic, hoping I can do enough to save him.
Lucent runs through my veins cool and refreshing, pouring from me and into him.
I wait for the killing blow, prepared to pass to the other side of magic with Ikar, even in the midst of my attempt to save his life.
He still isn’t responding, and I’m panicking.
“Powerful, indeed,” the deep-voiced shadow speaks.
He says something indecipherable, and then a large hand reaches toward me, clamps around my neck from behind, and everything goes black as my cheek lands on Ikar’s warm, almost-still chest.