Chapter 50
Fifty
Samaria
“Get off of her!” My throat stings as I scream, the wound from the guard, festering. I kick my legs, biting any hand that dares come close to my face, but the guards don’t stop until they’ve drug both Elora and I to our feet.
Her cheeks are fiery, hair plastered to her face, and her wrists… My stomach knots as metal grates in my ears.
“Put your hands out.” A guard steps forward, so I spit in his face. He turns but it’s too late. He wipes his face before his fist connects with my jaw and I’m seeing stars.
“Sam!” Elora growls, kicking her feet out.
The wolves howl next to us, and I manage to crack my eyes open just enough to see that they’ve been tied down.
Elwyn and Celia are at my sides, their hands clean and hair neatly combed despite how hard they fought only moments ago.
Who knew being a Spiritwalker meant also channeling the dead. My magick has depleted since using it. But I wouldn’t change it. They saved our arses more times than I can count.
A tear runs down my cheek, stinging the bruised areas.
“Hey,” I say over my shoulder to Elora, just as darkness begins to encompass my vision.
Thick clouds blanket the sky, dark and ominous. Thunder cracks in the distance, a low rumbling of promise that the worst has yet to come. Elora looks up, her golden eyes wide, feral.
“At least we’re together.” My voice cracks on the last word and her face falls.
The final clasp of iron around my wrist is like a death sentence. Inevitable yet terrifying all the same. We’re dragged forward and just when my vision wanes, I hear it.
My knees buckle as the sound of horns come from the harbor. The guard holding me doesn’t catch my fall, and my knees smack to the ground.
“What was that?” he asks his companion. They both shrug just as the horn sounds again, this time much closer. My head is spinning and I know Elora can’t be in better shape, but there must be something we can do with the guards distracted. Must be some way…
Another blast of the horn, and the guard drops my arms completely to cover his ears. I’m a bit envious I can’t do the same as the horn blares over and over again, but I use the noise to my advantage. Rising to my feet, I keep light on my toes, raising my arms over the guards head and then quickly slamming them down so his throat is pressed against my locked wrists.
Then, I squeeze.
The guard holding Elora drops her, coming to his friend’s aid, but he doesn’t make it far before Elora attacks, her teeth digging into the flesh of his calf. From the amount of blood pooling on the ground, I suspect she’s more wolf than she thinks.
When my guard has stopped squirming, I release him and he drops to the ground.
“You’ll pay—” The guard holding Elora stops, his body crumpling forward onto the stone ground, an arrow protruding from his back.
Elora and I glance to the castle, to the many windows lining the front, but it’s too far to make anyone out.
Elora sways as I pull her to her feet.
“Are you all right?”
She nods, but doesn’t speak, her chin still stained red. When I’m sure she won’t fall, I leave her side and swipe the keys from the guard’s belt. When we’re both unchained, I grab her and hold her as close to me as possible. I lost her once already, but twice would have been the end of who I am as a person. There would be no coming back from that. No?—
“Samaria!”
Elora and I break apart, her eyes lighting up.
“Jarek!” I shout, running toward him and the wolves. He must have freed Alaric and Ruse on his way to us, but they follow at a safe distance, keeping the puppies in a tight herd between themselves and Jarek.
“We must hurry.” Jarek’s eyes go wide as he grabs my hand and trudges forward. We move past the bodies of the guards, past the wreckage from Elora’s magick and from mine.
I flick my wrists up, opening the communication between this realm and the next. Pain lances through my palms, but when I see the spirits are still there, it eases. All the women who fought beside me, some young, some ancient crowd around me. The magick in their souls swims with mine, lighting a path of gold light before me.
“You saved us ,” I tell them.
Too many voices sound at once. I can’t understand what they say until Celia steps forward. Her eyes, the same dark brown as Sorin’s, her face much too young.
“You saved yourself, Sam.” She reaches to brush the curls from my face but her hand drifts through me, my energy much too low to keep the bridge between us strong. “ Go.”
She gestures for me to follow Jarek and Elora and as I do, the other spirits form a line on either side of me. Whispering words of encouragement, of praise, of love. Not just for their families that remain on the other side, but for me .
Another horn sounds, this time much closer and Jarek doesn’t slow, his feet carry him swiftly through the woods just outside the castle grounds. He glances at me over his shoulder, and while I expect sadness or fury, instead he grins. I tilt my head, still stumbling behind him, when Elora catches my hand.
“Okay?”
I nod. “Okay.”
Elora tugs my hand, forcing me to stop. “I need to go find Sorin.” She glances back at the castle and as much as my heart hates it, I let her hand go. “I’ll see you?—”
“When I see you.”
Smiling, she turns and sprints just as Jarek grabs my arm. We weave our way out of the last of the brambles and that’s when I realize we’re heading for the cliffs on the east side of the castle.
“Jarek!”
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, until we’ve reached the cliff edge where the harbor waits below.
Bending, I brace myself on my knees, my chest heaving and lungs burning. But before I can scold Jarek for this waste of time, a final horn sounds. This time loud enough that I jump back and cover my ears.
Jarek cheers, screaming something in Scandavi I don’t understand. He waves his arms through the air and I follow his stare.
Down to the harbor to where a fleet of ships waits.
All bearing the white and yellow Scandavi flag.
We rush forward, glancing over the edge of the wall that separates the castle from the cliffside. The horns from earlier blasts again and climbing up the wall are dozens and dozens of men and women. They’re dressed in leathers and furs, their hair all braided, or shaved on the sides. Ink marks any exposed skin, and when they reach the ledge and topple over, their weapons shine as they begin to slice through the few remaining guards.
My breaths hitch.
They look exactly like Jarek.
A woman with blonde hair woven in several different braids climbs over the ledge several feet down from us, her hands bloody, but her face is bright.
Jarek sprints in her direction, and when the woman sees him, she drops her weapon and meets him halfway. My throat tightens as they embrace each other, her fingers clawing at his arms, as if she can’t possibly get him close enough.
My stomach knots as I walk toward them, fingers lacing together in front of me.
“Sam,” Jarek says through a laugh, “this is Cora. My younger sister.”
My stomach flips, my expression clearly confused because Cora and Jarek both laugh. “Oh. I’m so happy to meet?—”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says. The dark paint under her eyes only enhances their blue color, the color of seaglass, just like Jarek. Her Teravian isn’t terrible, but I strain my ear to make sure I’m hearing her correctly. “I’m just glad we made it in time to help your sorry arse.” She punches Jarek in the arm, and he grabs her to ruffle her hair. “The guards on the coast were not happy with our arrival, but we took care of them.” She smooths her braids, casting Jarek and I a wink.
“How is that you’re here?” The question is out before I mean to ask it.
“Ah,” Cora says, slipping free from Jarek’s grip. “We got word a few weeks ago that Jarek was still alive, so we sailed the next morning. Would have come a hell of a lot sooner if it hadn’t been for the Mother-damned sea. It’s been raging for years, we’ve barely made it off the island before now and even so, we hardly made it this time.”
“But it was calm?” I ask, hope lining my voice. “The sea, I mean. It was calm?”
She tilts her head, the long, loose braids she wears slipping over her shoulder.
If the sea has calmed, I could join Jarek so much sooner… Or he could visit me and?—
“Not really.” She shrugs, dousing my hope. “Lost an entire ship, but still calmer than it’s been since I watched this big lug sail away without me four years ago.” She pinches his arm. “Figured it was worth the risk to see if the word was true.”
Jarek smiles before grabbing his sister again.
“I could kill you for disobeying me and leaving,” he says, playfulness lining his voice. “But damn if I’m not happy to see you.”
Cora smirks, squaring her shoulders.
“Who sent you word?” I bite my tongue, promising myself it’s my last question.
Cora fixes her gaze on Jarek, then on me. Maybe he thinks I miss the shake of his head, but I don’t and now even more questions begin to arise. Cora picks at her nails.“Calix something. I can’t remember.”
Calix Winterborne, Lord of the Onyx.
I recall him and Jarek meeting for the first time. Their odd interaction, the way Calix had clasped his hands together as if in prayer.
“Enough chatter,” Cora says. “Nasty wound you got there.” She points to my neck. “Let’s get you cleaned up along with the rest of this shitehole.”