17. Ava
AVA
Jerrid’s cry of pain echoed through the forest, sending several bats shrieking into the darkness.
Ava quickened her pace, searching the shadows for signs of him. He had to be somewhere close by…
There, several dozen yards ahead of her, she saw his lean figure in the center of a small clearing, the back of his golden hair turned silver by the shaft of moonlight shining down on him. She opened her mouth, but he went down on one knee.
“Jerrid!”
He didn’t respond. Instead, his body angled sideways and pitched into a pile of moldering leaves. Ava dashed to his side, skidded to her knees, and tried to roll him over. Flames, he was so heavy!
He flopped lifelessly onto his back, eyes closed, face slack.
“Don’t be dead,” she whispered as she pressed her fingers against his exposed throat.
For a horrifying moment, she felt nothing. No pulse of life. No hint of movement.
Panic rose in the back of her throat, drowning out everything else. If he died, she would be alone in this horrible place, facing a monster she had already failed to defeat. If she tried to run, Talos stood between her and safety…and miles of dangerous woods too.
Then his pulse kicked against her searching fingers. Weak, barely discernible, but it was there.
“Oh, you’re okay,” she rasped, tilting her head back to stare up at the inky-black sky peeking through the treetops.
Whatever was going on inside him, he was still fighting—they were still fighting.
Helplessly, she let her hands fall against his chest, Finnr’s borrowed tunic rough against her fingertips.
What the flames was she supposed to do? She’d already tried to fight this thing inside him and failed miserably.
Prince Haryk would have died had Persis not come when she did.
The only reason her prince lived was because of the Dunewatch healer.
Ava had done nothing.
She was nothing.
Her magic served no purpose, except to light fires and create accidental blood bonds, apparently.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember everything Persis had told her about the thing that now lived inside Jerrid. It was a curse, but something more. Something older and darker. Something that had found its way into Gelaira and exploited its weaknesses.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. So I know what you are. You’re a curse. You’re nightmares and shadow. You work through people’s minds, thriving on their fear to drive them mad. But what is it you really want? What are you trying to accomplish?”
If she could figure that out…maybe she could figure out a way to get rid of it.
Persis had found a way to drive it out of Haryk, but how had she done it? She’d used the night blood to strengthen her powers. But Haryk also had powers of his own—suppressed powers. Ava had seen him unleash them in that forest glen when he battled Talos.
No one had known he possessed such unimaginable strength.
If he hadn’t been able to defeat this thing without help, how were she and Jerrid ever to manage it? They were both broken things already.
Broken and useless and mad.
“Come on, Jerrid. You need to wake up,” she muttered as she gave him a hard shake. “I can’t figure this out without you. I need you.”
He didn’t respond, as good as dead on the forest floor.
Something churned through the leaves behind her, cracking and crunching through the forest debris. Ava twisted, heart thundering as she searched the shadows, expecting a myrk hound to melt out of the darkness, a hound bent on revenge…
But it was Brynja who stepped into the light of the moon.
Her gaze swept over Ava and lingered on Jerrid’s prostrate form. “What happened?”
Ava shook her head. “I don’t know. I think it’s the shadow trying to take control. I can’t wake him up.”
Brynja dropped to her knees beside her, gaze roaming up and down the dragon shifter’s body.
“I need your help.” The confession slipped past Ava’s lips, hardly more than a whisper.
Brynja shot her a hard look.
“This thing inside him? I’ve seen it before. It was living inside the Prince of Gelaira until his bride figured out a way to toss it out of him. But she had magic, sand magic. And he had powerful flame magic unlike anything I have ever seen before.”
“And what do we have?” Brynja asked grimly, lips twisting. “A helpless elf and a mad dragon shifter.”
Ava flinched but nodded. “That’s about the sum of it. Princess Persis fought this thing in nightmares. She went into Haryk’s head and fought the monster inside his mind.”
“Can you do that?” Brynja’s brow arched as she looked Ava over with something akin to intrigue.
Ava flushed and shook her head. “I have no idea how I would attempt it. I don’t have sand magic. And that’s how she did it.”
“So, the only weapon we can use against this thing is something we can never have.” Brynja braced her hands against her thighs, rocking back and forth slightly as she stewed. “That’s dandy.”
Ava ran her fingers over her face, her veins alive with adrenaline. This was a battle they couldn’t possibly win. Nothing she or Brynja could scheme would stand a chance against a creature of magic.
“You and the girls need to get out of the forest,” Ava whispered as her fingers trailed over her collarbone and fell lifelessly into her lap. “You should take them and go. Get as far away from here as you possibly can.”
Brynja’s lips compressed into a white line. “We can’t do that. We have nowhere to go. If we’re caught…they’ll make us go back to our husbands, and that is something we cannot do.”
“Go back to Haldor, then.”
But the human girl shook her head, her expression hardening. “What is there to go back to? Our people would just return us because they won’t risk breaking the treaty. Not for us. We’re on our own.”
Ava flinched, those words ringing in her head. She understood how Brynja felt. She and her brother had been alone for so long… Was he thinking about her right now? Wondering where she was? Had he managed not to get himself killed?
Or was he already gone, and was she truly and utterly alone at last?
“So, we have to fight this thing. You and me.”
Brynja met and held her gaze, her smile hard but a little wry. “Well, this is going to be fun. Fighting a mortal enemy with a mortal enemy. What isn’t fun about that?”
“I’m not your enemy.” Ava’s nostrils flared. “I know you blame my people for your lot in life, but I swear I had nothing to do with that. I didn’t choose this either. I know it isn’t the same thing, but how do you think we feel? The elvish women? Now that brides are coming from Haldor…”
Brynja waited in silence as Ava struggled to finish the thought. She had never spoken these words out loud. They were too personal, too painful.
She inhaled a deep breath and knew she needed to be honest with this human girl if she stood a chance of winning her trust. “Now that brides are being sent from Haldor, nobody wants us. Nobody wants me.”
Brynja remained motionless, as if she hadn’t even heard Ava.
“Nobody wants me. I’ll never have a husband. Never have children.” A sob clogged the back of her throat. “I will always be alone.”
The human girl held her gaze, her expression hard. “I thought you and Jerrid were married.”
Ava stiffened, horrified by what she had just done with her heated, careless words…
Fingers brushed over the back of her hand, over the one she had accidentally pressed against Jerrid’s chest as she made her confession. His callused fingers now rested on top of hers.
He blinked up at her blearily. “Hello, Meat Pasty.”
Ava choked, caught between crying in despair and laughing with relief.
“Ah, someone has finally had his beauty sleep,” Brynja said as she leaned around Ava to get a better look at him. “You’re not dead, so that’s something.”
Jerrid’s mouth pulled down in a frown. “I’m not really alive either.”
“Dragon?” Ava’s chest constricted.
Is that what he meant when he said he wasn’t really alive?
Jerrid’s fingers gently moved over hers. “He’s fine. For the moment. We’re still fighting, but it’s getting harder.”
The tight knot in her chest eased slightly, surprising her. She was afraid of Dragon—didn’t like how he thought of everyone around him as food. Didn’t like his biting sense of humor or rough ways.
But she still liked him, for some reason.
Her gaze shifted to Jerrid’s hand, the strong knuckles arching over her slender fingers. No, truth be told, she liked them.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, her body hot and cold at the same time. It didn’t make much sense. They were both ornery and closed off and stubborn. Too proud for their own good. Too secretive.
And yet, for some stupid reason, she liked them anyway.
Her gaze roamed to Jerrid’s face, his eyes fastened on her, his expression intense. She froze, mouth dry, face warm, wondering if he somehow knew what she was thinking. What she was feeling.
His lips parted, and she tensed as she waited. Did he perhaps feel something for her too?
“You need to go.”
The words washed over her like a flood of icy water. “I’m…I’m sorry?”
“You need to get out of here,” he continued, still holding her gaze. “All of you. We can’t hold this thing off much longer. And it’s best you all be as far away as possible when that happens.”
The pain in her chest shifted to something harder and darker. “That’s ridiculous. We can’t just leave you out here to die.”
“I’m not your responsibility, Ava.” His words held no emotion. “But you are mine. I need you to get yourself to safety. Get back to Eroth by any means you can.”
“Well, I can leave him here to die,” Brynja said, sounding ridiculously chipper about the prospect. “Except we don’t have anywhere to go. We’d rather die ourselves than go back to Eroth.”
Jerrid frowned at her. “You will die if you stay here. Think of the girls, Brynja, and the children. You’re sentencing them to death if you don’t leave.”
“But where are they to go?” Ava asked him. “She’s right that they can’t go back to Eroth. The fates that await them there might well be worse than death. Trapped in loveless marriages. Perhaps to…unkind elves.”