Chapter 24 #2
“Going somewhere, Miss Starwind?”
No. No, no, no, no—
Araya’s knees buckled, furious tears flooding her eyes as Garrick Shaw stepped between her and freedom.
She had been so close. But the strange strength that had carried her this far ebbed with every heartbeat, the pain roaring back with all the force of a landslide, threatening to drag her away with it.
But she wouldn’t go. Not without fighting. Not this time.
Araya’s fingers tightened around the hilt of the sword, leather biting into her tender palms. Her shredded back screamed, pain washing over her in sickening waves as she forced the blade up.
“Get out of my way,” she ordered, her voice shaking as badly as the tip of the sword she was pointing at Garrick Shaw.
He laughed.
“That would be more of a threat,” he said mildly, “if the runes carved into your skin wouldn’t drop you to your knees the moment you tried to use that blade against me.”
He stepped forward, his hand closing around her forearm. The vines at Araya’s feet recoiled, snapping back as if they’d brushed hot iron. But Garrick didn’t even glance down at them. He twisted her wrist, prying the sword from her numb fingers and tossing it aside.
“You’re a clever girl, Miss Starwind,” he said. “You’re hurt. Bleeding. How far do you think you would have made it? There’s nothing out there but wild magic and trees. If the forest didn’t kill you, your wounds would have.”
Araya bared her teeth, yanking against his grip. “Better to die free,” she hissed, “than spend the rest of my life getting fucked by the Shaws.”
“Ah, there it is.” Garrick’s lip curled, the careful veneer he affected slipping. “No matter how pretty my son dresses you up, you can’t deny your base nature. You’re barely better than an animal.”
He leaned in, his breath hot on her face.
“You will never be free,” he whispered. “As long as there is a living Shaw in this world, we will own you. Your body. Your magic. Your offspring. And when you’re all used up and begging for death?
” He yanked her forward, ripping a cry from her throat.
“It will be a Shaw who decides whether you deserve it.”
Araya closed her eyes, something twisting in her chest. She had never been free. Not since she was eight years old and traded her name for her mother’s life.
“Is everything alright here, sir?”
Araya’s eyes snapped open.
Kai Sterling stood a few paces away, the sword Garrick had wrenched from her hand hanging awkwardly at his side. His gaze flicked from Garrick’s grip on her arm to the shredded ruin of her back, his tawny skin blanching.
“You shouldn’t be here, Kai,” Garrick said, irritation sharpening his tone. “It’s not safe.”
“Right.” Kai swallowed hard, his eyes darting to where Caylin hung, her limp body still impaled on the root jutting from the ground. Her eyes had gone glassy, no breath rasping past her bloodied lips. “But the men need you, sir. It’s utter chaos—”
“If his men can’t handle this, Rowland doesn’t deserve this command.” Garrick sneered. “Go back to your tent, Kai.”
“I’d love to, sir,” Kai said, an edge of desperation to his voice. He picked his way forward, closing the distance between them. “But shouldn’t I take her with me?”
“No,” Garrick snapped, dragging her back so hard that Araya’s head spun, bile flooding her mouth.
Kai took another step, his hand closing around Araya’s other arm. “She’s no good to anyone dead, sir. She needs a healer—”
“She doesn’t leave my sight,” Garrick said, his voice cold. “Now, run along, Kai. This is no place for you.”
For a heartbeat, Araya thought Kai was going to argue. But instead he swallowed hard, his hand dropping away from Araya’s arm.
“Of course, sir. You’re right,” he said, taking a half step back. “I’m really sorry about this.”
Sorry— Araya blinked. That didn’t make sense. Kai didn’t have anything to be sorry about, not to Garrick, at least. He’d always done everything the Arcanum asked of him—
Kai stepped forward again, driving the sword in his hands deep into Garrick Shaw’s stomach.
All three of them stared at it, watching bright red blood soak his shirt around the blade sticking out of his stomach. Garrick opened his mouth, blood flecking his lips—
Kai yanked the blade free.
Blood soaked Garrick’s shirt, his coat, the dirt at his feet. Whatever he had been about to say dissolved into a wet, choking cough, lost forever. He staggered back a step, swaying dangerously—
But the vines surged in before he could fall.
They struck from every direction. One wrapped around his ankle. Another, his wrist. Still more wound around his chest, his neck, his shoulders—until Garrick Shaw vanished entirely beneath a writhing, pulsing mass of green.
Garrick Shaw was dead.
Araya’s knees buckled, the world tilting dangerously. Garrick Shaw was dead—
“Whoa—” Kai lunged forward, barely catching her before she hit the ground. “No collapsing. We still have to get out of here and, well, fuck.” He let out a thin laugh, staring at the place where Garrick’s body had been. “Please tell me you can keep it from doing that to us.”