Chapter 44
Zadriel
“Wake up,” Aedlin whispered, shaking Zadriel’s shoulders in a bruising grip. A sharp cry rang out, Darius fussing while Aedlin swore under her breath. “Now, you Fae brute.”
The fear wavering in her voice pierced through the veil of Zadriel’s dream, dragging him back to the waking world. In one breath, obsidian clashed with azure beneath a glowing, gilded aura, and in the next, a ceiling of braided branches shuddered under the barrage of a furious winter breeze.
Outside, a woman laughed. “An Elementalist? How endearing. Do you have any friends waiting for us in the woods?”
That voice...
Zadriel jolted up, blinking as he adjusted to the moonlight.
It trickled through the cracks in their dome of evergreens, burning his tired eyes.
“What’s happening?” he whispered, already rummaging through the bag he’d used as a pillow, digging for the one weapon he had.
A gods damned paring knife. Why hadn’t he searched for a better blade in Galdon’s Crossing?
Mother damn him, he’d grown thoughtless—they’d spent the days since the attack in the square gathering supplies and resting, preparing for the journey to Eden.
If Zadriel were being honest, he was stalling.
Uneager to face Brennan. Still, he should have considered a more suitable weapon; the trees could only do so much to protect them. This wasn’t Arcadia.
Their shelter shook, the winds growing frantic, and a flurry of pine needles rained down upon them. Zadriel brushed them from his hair, while Aedlin gathered Darius into her arms.
“Someone has Aoife, and...” A branch groaned overhead and Aedlin paled. “I think it’s the woman who was searching for me when we met.”
Darius squealed again, his sharp cry bleeding into the billowing torrent—could their attackers hear it?
“How did this happen?” Zadriel asked, tossing a tunic aside and reaching deeper into his knapsack. Where was his damned knife?
“Does it matter? She went to relieve herself and here we are. I assume the winds are her doing.”
Another laugh rang out, curling through the howling breeze, pulled by Aoife’s will.
“I’ll be much kinder if you don’t fight me, little Halfling.”
That melodious voice slid under Zadriel’s skin, his fists curling in response, the paring knife’s worn leather handle digging into his palm.
Elodie had indeed found them.
Endless black eyes flicked to Aedlin, watching her gaze widen. Her every shaky breath danced in the air, a frosty chill clawing at their shelter, eager to devour their bones. To send the babe out into winter’s frigid embrace was not ideal, but if they waited and something happened...
Mother forsake him, he couldn’t allow it.
Zadriel took a breath, willing his racing mind to slow. “Count to fifty, then take Darius and run.”
Confusion and worry warred on Aedlin’s face. “But the vow?”
Sharp canines pinched the inside of his bottom lip, his jaw working while he considered the consequences.
The tether binding him to Darius was barely noticeable, his curse a dormant beast in his chest, but that would change swiftly once they were separated.
His throat felt thick; Zadriel swallowed hard, memories of bitter copper blooming on his tongue.
He’d bleed for this. Drown in his blood while agony clawed its way through him over and over again until he and Darius reunited.
But if Darius died...
Eden was too far. Zadriel shuddered at the thought of the long weeks it would take him to crawl there, searching for salvation he would never find in Brennan if Darius joined Cillian in the next realm.
His face hardened, every muscle in his body tensing, readying for agony. “If it means your own safety, push against it as best you can and escape these woods. Head toward Baith. I’ll find you once I’ve taken care of this.”
The fallen queen opened her mouth to protest, but Silas’s threatening voice cut through the silence, demanding Aoife listen to his lady. “Fine,” Aedlin muttered with a nod, reaching for her cloak. “But you saw what she did to Jonah. Be cautious.”
Pulling his black hood tighter around his face, Zadriel rose, careful to avoid the low ceiling. “I have no intention of dying today,” he whispered, offering what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Ignoring the spindly twigs reaching for him, as if they could somehow hold him in place.
His steps were quiet, packed snow and pine needles cushioning his booted feet.
The howling outside grew louder, Aoife’s tempest buffeting his cloak when he walked through their shelter’s arched entryway, bits of ice plinking against his cheek.
A sting blooming in their wake. The glittering bits fell like sleet, torn from shaking branches, but he pushed through it, grateful when boughs adjusted to block the moonlight and keep him hidden in shadows.
Something flew through the air up ahead, cutting through the windstorm. A cry followed, an endless stream of resonating fright parading through the winds until they abruptly died. Zadriel inched closer, slipping between trees until he found them.
“You put up a good fight,” Elodie declared, traipsing through snowdrifts, a rippling train of torn red silk dragging behind her.
“What do you want with me?” Aoife ground out, her chest heaving as she turned over in the snow, ensnared by Silas’s bolas, her arms tethered around her center.
Blood magic remained on the weapon, nearly imperceptible wisps of wind circling the weighted stones.
Power stolen from another Halfling’s blood and woven into an enchantment that helped the bolas fly true.
“Honestly?” Elodie smiled, her boot landing softly on Aoife’s stomach.
A demand. A threat. A reminder of who had the upper hand.
She fiddled with her dagger, nearly purring when Silas came to stand by her side, his fingers sliding idly through her strawberry blonde hair.
“Nothing. You’re a pleasant surprise. We were looking for a place to make camp, and the Fates decided to give me a new pet, which is so very kind of them.
” Her lips twisted into a grimace. “We made a mess of our last one.”
Silas leaned in and kissed her brow. “It was necessary, sweetling.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m happy about it,” she mumbled, pouting.
“But Lord Falcrest’s sympathy was a liability, and we needed to make sure the others were incentivized to end him.
A few letters from my beloved, followed by a screaming damsel running from a blood-thralled Aegist, went a long way.
” Elodie closed her eyes and rested her head on Silas’s wolf pelt, humming as if she savored the memory.
He adjusted his shoulder, making certain the plethora of bags he carried weren’t in her way.
“Could you imagine if Falcrest were on our Royal Council?” she asked, glancing up at her beast of a man, a tempest churning in her icy blue stare. “Father would have hated that.”
Silas laughed under his breath, his fingers trailing down her cheek in a slow caress. “Lord Falcrest would have resisted our plans. You made the right call, my lady.”
“But you,” Elodie cooed, bending down to better look at Aoife’s face, “your fate needn’t be so morose.
All I need is a little blood and we can be friends.
” She tapped the tip of her blade against her bottom lip, her brow wrinkling.
“Or perhaps I’ll give you to my father to thank him for finally having some faith in me.
We used to keep an air Elementalist at our manor in Moldenna when I was little and I remember him being quite fond of her work. I’m not sure why we got rid of her.”
Sea-green eyes flared like an ocean storm, Aoife’s fair face suddenly ashen. She flexed her fingers, calling to the winds, but all she could muster was a light brush of air against Elodie’s cheeks.
Elodie’s stare narrowed. “Oh, don’t be like that.” She tsked, bringing her dagger to her palm. “You should be honored by my kindness.”
“You are exactly as I imagined, sister,” Aoife spat.
Was it true? Was Elodie’s father the lord who’d sired Aoife and left her mother to rot in Cannamar when evidence of his sin began to show?
“Sister?” A mad grin grew on Elodie’s face, pathetically hopeful. “If you wanted to pretend so badly, you should have said something.”
With a quick swipe of her blade, the skin on her palm split, blood bubbling to the surface. Droplets leaking through her grip to splatter on Aoife’s face. The Elementalist screamed, thrashing in her bindings, but Elodie merely pressed harder with her boot.
Their knapsacks slid off Silas’s thick shoulder, thunking on the ground, one the same rich, royal blue the Althenis bloodline preferred.
He stepped over it carefully, admonishing Aoife with the shake of his head.
“You’ve been caught, little rabbit. You’re only making this more difficult on yourself.
” When she didn’t listen, he grumbled under his breath, “Must I gag you as well?”
Zadriel snarled, a phantom pain lancing up his scarred arms with each spattered drop of crimson.
He knew what came next, the agonizing horror of losing control of your body, locked under an Enchanter’s blood thrall.
And this woman... she hunted her own kind.
To what end? There were few sins as unforgivable; he knew all too well, after betraying his own people.
Before Elodie could lean down to cut into Aoife, Zadriel burst from the trees, lunging for the Enchanter.
Her arms flailed, dagger slicing through the air, but Zadriel couldn’t allow her a drop of his blood.
His free hand snatched her wrist, squeezing so hard her fingers spasmed, the dagger falling from her grip.
Lost to a pile of snow and frost-covered ferns.
A blood-curdling scream wrenched from her throat, the horrified sound growing louder when he slammed her onto the hard earth.