Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Loren cut across camp, passing the cook fire where Brynn sat with Caela and Naeva, practicing making small balls of fire in her hands before tossing them into the fire.
Beside her, Caela worked her way through a pile of fat partridges, passing the plucked carcasses to Naeva to dress and thread onto the sharpened spit.
Serafina had claimed the main house, directing the group into transforming it into a makeshift infirmary and central meeting space.
Still, Loren was surprised at the progress she’d made.
The destroyed roof had been covered with young branches, woven tightly together and packed with moss and mud.
The canvas she’d hung across the space where the door used to be was pulled back, revealing the original stone floor, now clear of debris and swept clean.
Finn sat at a heavy wooden table that had somehow survived the elements, watching Serafina fuss over the fire blazing in the hearth.
“There you are.” Serafina straightened, a weary smile on her face. “I was just brewing your new batch of tea.”
“Is it not ready yet?” Loren asked, half-hoping it wasn’t. Not feeling her suffer didn’t mean it wasn’t happening.
“Oh—” Serafina turned away from the hearth. “No, that’s not what I meant. We still have the rest of the old batch in the flask.” She limped over to her bag, rummaging through it for the battered metal flask. “Sorry, I know you hate it.”
Loren tipped the flask back, grimacing at the bitter dregs. “It’s just until we get her back,” he said.
“Exactly.” Serafina flashed a weary smile, leaning on Finn. “And now that we’re here we can make a plan on how to do that, right?”
“I need to talk to Loren about something.” Finn said, an expression Loren couldn’t read flashing across his face. “You should sit, Sera. You’re dead on your feet.”
“I’m fine,” Serafina insisted. But she didn’t argue as he ushered her into his seat, her face pinched with pain as she straightened her bad leg.
Loren expected Finn to take him over to the cook fire. The others had gathered there, Caela’s bright laugh rising up over the crackle of the flames. But instead Finn cut across camp, carefully navigating through the gap in the perimeter runes.
Loren fell into step beside him, their boots crunching over old leaves as they moved away from the cluster of houses.
They walked until the sounds of camp faded away, replaced by quiet birdsong.
There had been no signs of the vines that had attacked them since their first day under the trees, but Loren couldn’t help but scan the underbrush for any sign of movement.
The shadows coiled around his ankles, reflecting his own unease back on him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“She can’t do this,” Finn said. “Losing the horse changed everything. I’m sorry, we should have brought Thorne instead.”
“In what world would she have agreed to that?” Loren raised his eyebrows.
“Araya is her best friend—that’s why she insisted on coming.
She’s going to need a healer when we get her out.
” Just saying it aloud made Loren’s stomach twist. “You can’t send her back by herself anyway, Finn.
If she’s struggling here, imagine what it would be like on the road alone. ”
“She wouldn’t be alone.” Finn dragged a hand through his hair, not quite meeting Loren’s eyes. “You saw what Elvanfal looks like now. We can’t do this with only six of us.”
“You want us all to go back,” Loren said slowly. The shadows thickened around his feet, but didn’t offer any comment for once. “Did you forget that they’re torturing her?”
“I’m not saying it isn’t an awful choice,” Finn said. “I just don’t see how the fae we have here will be enough—”
“I was ready to do this alone.” The shadows snapped at Loren’s feet, hissing their agreement. “I didn’t ask any of you to sacrifice yourselves for this. If you think it’s better to go back, then you can go back. But I’m not leaving her here.”
“Loren—” Finn tried again. “Sacrificing yourself won’t save her. You’re the king—”
“And she’s my queen!” The words tore out of him, louder than he intended.
The birds all fell silent, his shadows shuddering at his feet.
“I never wanted to be king. Not after everything that happened. I’m only here because of her—something everyone seems to conveniently forget when they’re arguing that I should leave her to the Arcanum’s mercy. ”
Finn closed his eyes. “Loren—”
Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the shrill whistle of the perimeter rune. Loren’s head whipped around, every sense suddenly on high alert. Someone at camp could have triggered it accidentally. Or it could be an Arcanum scouting party. Or even the forest itself, lashing out against them.
“Fuck,” Finn hissed, clearly coming to the same conclusion.
They ran.
Branches whipped past Loren’s shoulders, the shadows streaming behind him in a black torrent. A shout echoed through the trees, and Loren pushed himself harder. These people had all followed him here, they didn’t deserve to die because of him—
They burst into the clearing.
For a heartbeat, Loren didn’t understand what he was seeing.
Kai Sterling stood at the edge of the camp, swaying on his feet. Goddess, there was so much blood—but he wasn’t the one bleeding. It was the person he cradled in his arms, her back a ruin of mangled flesh and her dress hanging in shreds from her limp body.
Loren closed the distance between them in three long strides, the shadows’ voices a frenzied chorus in the back of his mind as he took Araya from Kai’s arms.
“Ael’sura,” he whispered. He brushed the matted hair out of her face, his fingers coming away bloody. The metallic tang of it filled his nose, overwhelming everything else. Why was there so much blood—
“Loren?” Her lashes fluttered, but her silver eyes were glassy as she stared up at him, struggling to focus. “You—” her voice caught, her brow pinching. “You’re not...here.”
“I’m here.” He fell to his knees, the shadows gathering tight around them both. “You’re safe—”
“No—” she shook her head, struggling weakly against his grip. “It’s a trick. I can’t—can’t feel—” her voice trailed off, her eyes fluttering closed again.
She couldn’t feel him. Loren closed his eyes, holding her tight to his chest. He would never take another sip of that cursed tea.
“I’m so sorry, ael’sura,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “I’m so sorry—”
“Loren—” Serafina knelt beside him, a gentle hand touching his shoulder. “She’s bleeding badly. I need you to get her into the main house. Lay her on the table. Facedown.”
He could do that.
Loren clambered to his feet, the shadows still churning around his legs. They hissed at him, a hundred voices flinging furious recriminations at him. But he barely heard them. He barely heard Serafina barking orders at the others as he shouldered his way into the main house.
It still smelled faintly of mildew and rot, but the fae-crafted table was sturdy, built and enchanted to last generations. Araya whimpered as he lay her down, carefully turning her so she lay facedown on the surface, exposing her back—
Goddess save him. Her back.
Someone had flayed the flesh from her back in long, vicious strokes. Loren could see the white flash of bone amidst the ruined flesh, blood still seeping sluggishly from the wounds. Her ruined dress hung from her shoulders, shredded to ribbons and stained a dark, terrible red.
They had whipped her.
Because you didn’t get her out, the shadows snarled. You waited, and waited, and waited—
“Loren!” Serafina’s voice cut through the dark haze surrounding him like a knife. “If you’re going to stay, you have to keep them under control. I need space to work if I’m going to save her life. Kai—” she turned to the human man, her voice hard as steel. “What happened?”
“Caylin whipped her.”
Kai stood in the doorway, his normally tan complexion sallow. Blood—Araya’s blood—soaked his shirt, sticking the fabric to his skin.
“Was there iron braided into the whip?”
Serafina bent over Araya’s ruined back, carefully plucking away the shredded fabric. The shadows all tensed around Loren as she moaned, her brow furrowing.
Kai swallowed. “I didn’t see it happen. But… probably.” His eyes flicked to Loren. “I swear, I wasn’t there. If I had been, I would’ve stopped it—”
“You got her out.” Loren’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
But he did. The shadows reminded him of that as he sank to his knees beside the table, cradling her limp hand in his as Serafina worked. He had done so many things wrong, he’d spend the rest of his life apologizing to her.
If she lives, the shadows snapped.