62. Chapter 62
Chapter 62
Thomas
L ea hadn't been gone for more than ten minutes before a rumbling in the distance alerted Thomas that something was coming. He’d barely had time to pull Emma away from the portal and into the relative safety of the darkness before royal soldiers descended upon the woods—hundreds of men in blood-red uniforms—maybe more—marching through the wood in the direction Lea had gone.
Gripping his sword, Thomas channeled the power he’d infused inside that would alert those with weapons he'd enchanted back at the castle. He pushed his magic down the thread, hoping the swords in the generals' hands would vibrate and alert them that it was time. That they were needed.
Thomas’s stomach twisted into knots as he waited, sending the warning again and again, praying he’d used enough power. He’d never had the opportunity to test the weapons at this distance before, or anywhere near it. But he had confidence that it would work. It had to. Without the help of their army, they were as good as dead.
As more soldiers stormed the forest, Thomas carried Emma’s still, nearly lifeless body to hide, moving within the shadows until he found a hollowed out fallen tree. Crouching down, he tucked her safely inside, the rough, dark bark shielding her from sight except for a small sliver of her torso. It was the best he could hope to find here in the Wicked Wood, where the trees were narrow and spindly, many too small to hide a full-grown human.
Thankfully, Emma was tiny, just slim enough for him to slide her into place. He tucked foliage over the opening, wet, macerated leaves and branches that covered most of the hold, then gripped his sword in his muddy hand. There was nothing left to do but watch, and wait.
A bright light flashed overhead, fire spreading through the sky and raining down as far as he could see. It illuminated the woods in a way that reminded him of monsters from his childhood nightmares—long, twisted arms reaching out for him from the darkness. Reaching for Emma. He pushed away the thought, focusing on peering over the log to watch the royal army.
In the distance, a group of soldiers branched off from the others, scattering through the trees. The more soldiers that arrived, the more they spread out, inching closer and closer to Emma’s hiding spot.
Thomas’s skin buzzed with worry, his breaths short and sharp, but he stayed put, crouched down with his sword in his hand. He couldn’t move her—not without being seen—and even if he did, there was no guarantee he’d find a better place to hide her. He ducked down lower, every sense on edge as he prayed they would stay away.
The clash of swords rang out, and the sound of battle spread like a disease—cries of pain, clashes of shields, and the pounding of horses’ hooves against the ground echoing throughout the forest.
Thomas let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. It had worked—their soldiers had arrived. He was sure of it as the fighting spread and the roar grew louder. His shoulders sagged in relief.
With the army fighting against Alaric’s and Emma tethered to the other side, they had a chance. Lea had a chance. If their army could keep the royal soldiers from reaching her and Alaric… A breeze kissed his cheek, interrupting his thoughts. He leaned into it, savoring the warmth it carried in the now cool night. The touch slid to his shoulder, and he swore he felt a squeeze.
A twig snapped behind him, cutting through the air at the exact moment he heard a ghost of a voice whisper, “Behind you!”
Thomas spun around, his heart racing as a battalion of soldiers approached—at least fifteen men with swords in hand and a dark, blank look in their eyes. Eyes focused directly on him.