Chapter 32 #2
“And I don’t trust a human to watch my back!” She shoots. The arrow pierces the soft flesh of the lindwyrm’s eye. It screeches as lightning blinds it and burns its eye into a smoldering wound. The lindwyrm rolls off the mountainside.
“It’ll crush Desmond!” I shout.
Auri scoffs. “You underestimate him.”
A rumble shakes the pass as the wyrm crashes down the ditch. Debris tumbles. Dust clouds rise. Desmond emerges, running across the creature’s underbelly as he rakes his sword along it. Blood flies in its wake. He runs like it’s a dance that he was born knowing every step.
I can’t help my impressed gasp as he leaps off its body and lands on both feet.
The lindwyrm hisses and writhes. Its belly scales have dulled to a translucent white, splotches of blood and darkened tissue underneath them. What in the gods’ names. . . Is Desmond’s blade poison-coated?
There’s no time to think on it as the beast charges after Desmond. “Cyn!” Min calls out. “Boost me!” She shifts into the same beastly feline as last night, then leaps atop a rock.
“This was not part of my training!” I warn her. I push all my focus into snapping it up. My chest squeezes as Min soars. She lands on the wyrm, and her claws dig into its slippery scales.
The beast unhinges its jaws, the shadows of its maw eclipsing Desmond as he runs. Then Min climbs atop its head. She shifts back, stabbing her dagger into its other eye. It shrieks, and Min slides down its back with a blank expression bordering on ruthless apathy.
The beast recoils enough that Desmond slips free of its snapping jaws.
Finnian, to his credit, picks up a rock and throws it. It only misses by a few feet.
Desmond climbs up the ditch, reaching the path with a final lunge. Min shifts again and races ahead of the beast. She pauses just long enough to get its attention, her tail flicking. It lunges, then hisses as she darts away.
It pauses, seemingly giving up, but then whips its tail into the mountainside, triggering a violent landslide. Min loses her footing.
“Min!” I scream. The panic rolling through me feels just like when the arrow pierced Evie. Just like when Gashil speared his sword through Nikolai. I can’t let the wyrm hurt Min. I can’t stand here and do nothing.
None of us will die today.
I untether three of my knives as the beast closes in on Min, then fling them. My magic guides them, honing in on their target. The first sinks into the wyrm’s flared nostril, blood spurting out. Hit. The second impales its charred eye. Hit. The third misses.
The creature rises up and lets loose an ear-splitting howl, its mouth open wide. I look at Auri, and then I try something I’d never dared to before.
I launch her up by her boots.
She’s too disciplined to panic. At the height of the launch, she shoots. The arrow strikes the lindwyrm’s throat, a perfect shot. Lightning blinds me, and a deafening thunderclap shakes the pass. Beside me, Auri lands perfectly on her feet.
I squint at the wyrm as the white spots in my vision fade.
It lies limp, smoke curling from its mouth.
Auri’s bow is still trained on it, but after seconds pass, she lowers it. “How underwhelming,” she calls out. “Maybe the tomb will give us a real challenge.” As she strides toward me, her grin falls. “You’re shaking, Cyn.”
“I’m what?” I look down at my hands. They’re trembling. Heat builds on my forehead and floods down to my neck. I’m burning up inside. If Evie were here, she could soak me with water from our canteens. I push the homesick longing away. I’m glad she isn’t here. She’s safe in Nettlerock.
Auri tsks, jerking my thoughts away from Evie. “You expended too much magic. If you hadn’t been messing around—”
“Messing around? I’m the reason we killed that thing!” I step toward her, but then my legs tremble and threaten to give out. I’ve never expended so much magic before. Is this what happens? Fever and exhaustion?
“You?” She laughs. “Your temerity never ceases to surprise me. I didn’t need the additional height to strike it. If anything, you risked sabotaging my aim just so you could show off.”
“Stop demeaning me!” My exhaustion ignites my anger like a flaming fuse. “Stop treating me like a liability! Just because you’re stronger than me doesn’t give you the right to—”
“Being stronger than you gives me every right. You’re weak.
” Auri stalks toward me, a fury that rivals mine burning bright in her amber eyes.
She points at the cliffside. “Did you forget I can glamour you? If I told you to jump, you would. If I commanded you to succumb to your fatigue, you would. You need to abandon your delusion that you’ll ever be as strong as us! ”
I resist the urge to clutch the rowan berry necklace underneath my tunic. I’d be a fool to expose my only defense against glamour. It’s just a string of berries that she could crush between her fingers.
Shame roils inside me, pushing me toward a dangerous edge I know I can’t walk back from. I stride toward her, lowering my voice so the others can’t hear. “You’re despicable. A spiteful, petty fae. But why?” She’s loathed me since the moment we met. I don’t understand what I did wrong.
The others shout at us, but we ignore them. Auri’s eyes narrow into unforgiving slits. “He has too much empathy for your kind. You don’t deserve a drop of it.”
Lightning flashes overhead, followed by rumbling thunder. It blasts the path behind me. I risk a glance, seeing the line of charred dirt that warns the others against stepping any closer.
“Who are you talking about?” I take a step back, but when my retreat makes her laugh, I stop. Sweat drips down my forehead as the heat inside me builds.
Auri’s eyes narrow, as if her wrath runs far beyond me. It’s a familiar glare honed sharp from years of suffering. “Your people bound me to a post as bait. Bait for him.”
My heart stops. The horror drumming within me is louder than the thunder. “Desmond?”
“Who else?” She frowns, her dark brows pinched tight. “War had already destroyed him, Cyn. A war that you humans think has long ended. He was lost in the bottom of a bottle for months. But no matter how broken he was, I refused to give up.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I knew she hated humans, but she’s never spoken about her time in the war. All I had was that glimpse of her sorrow in Desmond’s memory.
“He gave himself up when my squadron was captured. They tortured him day and night. There was no end for five days, and I was forced to watch. My prince was beaten like a dog because of me.” Her eyes are wide and haunted.
Oh gods, that’s what the raised scars on his back are from. I’ve heard rumors of whips coated in paint made from milled iron—whips meant to stop fae from healing.
“Then what happened?” I press, my breaths growing shallow as humidity from her storm stifles me, as dread from her story churns in my gut.
Everyone has refused to tell me anything about Desmond’s role in the war, besides how many lives he’s claimed.
I never thought I’d hear the truth from Auri, but I have to know. I want to know.
“Auri!” Desmond yells over the storm, but she throws her hand out in warning, sparks coiling against her palm.
“When they thought they’d broken him and gathered around him in mockery, he slaughtered them all, far quicker than I would’ve liked.
They deserved to suffer. They should’ve had to beg for mercy.
” Her voice cracks, and she yells, “How do you think I felt when I discovered he’d bound himself to you, when your people assaulted him within a breath of his life? ”
Lightning blasts the mountain ridge, rock raining down.
I feel for that bond between Desmond and me, desperately pulling on it. If her storm keeps raging, a landslide will kill us all. Another strike fills the air with static right behind me, and I know I’m alone. It’s just Auri and me. I have to make this right.
I shout over the thunder, “I didn’t know! I want the war to end. I want your people to be freed!”
Auri falters, the anger slipping from her gaze only for a moment. “You lie as easy as you breathe.”
“You may never believe me, and I can’t make you. You don’t deserve what happened to you. But if Desmond blamed you, why would he still trust you?”