63. Chapter 63
Chapter 63
Gray
G ray’s heart pounded, its rhythm growing faster with every passing minute. Obsidian navigated through the dark as though he’d been born to run at night, effortlessly dodging trees and racing through the forest, not even hesitating as they reached the border of the Wicked Wood. He charged forward as if his own life depended on it.
“Keep going, boy,” Gray urged, feeling Obsidian’s muscles strain beneath his thighs as he moved at a speed Gray had never seen before.
"An hour south," the soldier had said. But Gray didn’t have an hour. He had no idea how long time had been frozen for him, how far of a head start Lea had gotten before Henry’s magic had worn off.
His storm clouds followed close behind them, rain splattering the ground and lightning flashing overhead, striking the long, spiny branches of the dead trees in the Wicked Wood. Small fires caught, then quickly extinguished, lighting his way. With as much strength as he could find, he urged his storm forward, mixing it with the rain already falling, hoping it would slow Lea’s progress. If he could just reach her before she got to Alaric, everything would be okay. It had to be. They were stronger together .
Rage bubbled within Gray’s chest, but he forced it down, unwilling to get lost in hurt and anger. His focus was singular: find Lea as quickly as possible. Everything else could wait.
In the distance, the sound of fighting reached him. Obsidian’s ears perked up, and his gallop somehow quickened. Gray’s heart sank, adrenaline making him feel as if his skin was buzzing. Was he too late? Had Lea already reached Alaric?
Up ahead, three royal soldiers darted in front of him, cutting through the trees and racing south.
“Stop!” Gray commanded, throwing a long trail of shadow out like a lasso. It caught the soldier at the end around the throat, ripping him from his horse.
The soldier screamed, “Help me! No!” But Gray would show no mercy. He bolted toward the man, sword raised, desperate for information, ready to take an arm or a leg if that’s what it took to get him to talk. But before he could reach him, a terracotta mare burst through the trees, and in the blink of an eye, the soldier's head was severed from his body.
“Erik?” Gray asked, his shadows retreating in surprise as Obsidian jumped over the decapitated body.
“Why aren’t you with Lea?” Erik asked, continuing forward. Gray followed him, the two other soldiers on horseback barely visible in the distance.
“What are you doing here?” Gray asked, ignoring his question. “You were supposed to be in Alnwick. What changed?” he pulled Obsidian up next to Cinnamon, his mind racing as fast as the black stallion. How was it possible they were here? Had they known of Lea’s plan? The thought made his stomach twist, but he pushed it away. They couldn’t have known. Not Erik, at least.
“Janelle sensed trouble,” Erik said, as if that was enough of an explanation.
As they dodged a copse of trees, the sounds of fighting grew sharper, more distinct. Gray peered through the branches, where royal guards and his own army were locked in a fierce struggle to the death. It was a battle unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Bodies lined the woods, slumped on the ground in piles—more than he could count. He searched them for familiar faces.
“How are they here?” Gray asked Erik as they raced toward their soldiers. “How is the fucking army here?”
“What?” Erik narrowed his eyes, his chest heaving and his face going pale. “This wasn’t on your orders?”
Gray shook his head, his lungs constricting. Who had brought them here? How had they known where Alaric would be before he did? Gray’s shadows struggled to stay contained as his rage grew. What was he missing?
“Is this what you were sensing?” Erik asked Janelle, who gripped the saddle so hard her knuckles had turned white. She shook her head. “No. I mean, part of it—but something worse is waiting for us. Further that way.” She closed her eyes and pointed south.
“Lea,” Gray said, her name a prayer. “She left me behind, used Henry to freeze time. We have to find her.”
Erik gripped his sword tighter and nodded, his face grim. He stopped Cinnamon, just long enough to help Janelle clamber behind him. “Hold on tight,” he told her. “And use your dagger.” Janelle pulled her weapon from the sheath on her thigh.
With a war cry that made his throat feel raw, Gray roared at the sky, his sword raised as he charged into battle, cutting down soldier after soldier as he fought to reach his wife—his mate—even if the gods no longer considered her as such. His eyes scanned the woods as he tried to piece together a plan. The path of least resistance. The battle stretched as far as he could see, thousands of soldiers blocking his way.
He tried to push forward, but the fighting was so tightly packed that Obsidian couldn’t maneuver through. Not quickly enough. Gray jumped off his back, and Erik and Janelle did the same.
“Go around, wait for me on the other side,” he told his horse, and Obsidian didn’t hesitate, kicking up mud behind him as he galloped out of the madness.
Gray stalked forward, gripping his sword in his fist. His shadows were weapons in their own right, snapping necks and breaking limbs.
“You!” Erik shouted from his left.
“What do you want from me?” the man cried out. “I’m sorry, okay! Janelle! Tell him—”
“No,” she said, stalking forward. “You’re not. You never were.” Janelle lunged, swiping the man’s face with her dagger as Erik darted forward, slamming his sword through his hand and pinning him to the ground.
Janelle’s jaw clenched as she pressed the tip of her dagger to his chest. Gray spun in a circle, chopping off a soldier’s hand as he fought his way south, his eyes flicking back to Janelle every few seconds. She leaned down, saying something into the man’s ear, then pushed her dagger into his chest, a sharp shove that cracked his ribs. The light left his eyes and Janelle stood, her own eyes full of tears as Erik embraced her, just for a moment, before stalking toward another man attempting to flee.
Gray continued onward, and a cry for help sounded to his left—a voice he knew. Mark, one of his generals, was begging for his life. Out of the corner of his eye, Gray saw a sword descending toward Mark’s neck. Gray sent out a trail of darkness, seizing the sword from the soldier and turning it back on him, running it through his gut and twisting until he dropped to the ground, lifeless.
The general scrambled to his feet, his face bloodied, eyes wide with shock. “Thank you,” he said, grabbing his sword from the forest floor.
“Have you seen Lea?” Gray asked, flipping a soldier onto his back with a swift kick to his knees and plunging his sword through the man's eye socket.
He shook his head, jumping back into the fighting. “No. Thomas told us to come, and when we got here, there were soldiers everywhere. No sign of Lea, Alaric, or the witch.”
“Thomas?” Gray asked, the revelation making him stumble in his block, and a sword sliced across his forearm. Gray’s shadows snapped the attacker’s neck before he could strike again. Blood roared in Gray’s ears. Had Thomas been in on the plan all along, then? The pieces weren’t adding up. Gray sidestepped a disemboweled body as he pressed forward. “ Thomas told you to come here? Tonight?”
“Yes—” Mark ducked, narrowly avoiding a blow to the head as he rammed his sword through the attacking soldier’s belly.
“Where is he?” Gray snapped, unable to process what Mark was saying. None of this had been part of his plan. None of these things had been discussed or approved by him or Erik. How far had Lea’s betrayal gone? How many secrets had she kept?
“I don’t know,” Mark replied, wiping the blood off his face.
“Find her,” Gray ordered. “Tell the others. We have to find her.”
Gray’s ears rang with the clash of swords, his boots slick with mud and blood. Soldier after soldier, he slaughtered them, swiftly and violently, fighting his way further and further south. He couldn’t stay to protect his army, couldn’t remain behind to keep his soldiers safe.
Not with Lea out there somewhere, alone with Alaric and Eudora. The guilt threatened to crush him, each step forward feeling like a stone cast against his soul. But if he didn’t find Lea, they would all die. Every last one of them.
Erik and Janelle continued to fight near him, staying close and guarding him from behind. They moved as one—forward, forward, forward—until the fighting became more sparse and the sounds of battle faded to a dull roar behind them. Gray broke into a sprint, able to reach full speed now that he wasn’t dodging attacks and corpses.
But he didn’t make it more than thirty feet before he was thrown to his back in a violent crash. Two massive paws landed on his chest, pinning him down, and his heart nearly stopped as the gaping maw of a fenrir inched closer to his throat, its teeth already dripping with blood.