Chapter 24
A whimper grew from her throat when the glow of camp beamed through the trees. One more hill— just one more hill —and she’d be at the edge of the shield.
She had kicked Arzen along, stumbling and crying, for far too long. Far longer than she thought her body could withstand. Dawn would rise soon. And because his powers were still dominant, Alora couldn’t call to Garrik—she had tried. And tried.
Whereas Garrik’s powers had diminished when he was unconscious, somehow, Arzen’s remained. He had fainted, and she was forced to wait for the male to wake before continuing, stumbling through a forest of ash, and then under the canopy of living trees.
That was hours ago. Hours ago when her body, pale and bruised and weak, pleaded to stop. But if she did, she would never have moved again.
One more hill.
Alora pulled the rope in her hand, jerking her half-conscious prisoner staggering forward. He bled too, though not as badly as her. But she wondered if he’d ever been injured before by the way tears streaked down his face.
He should try being thrown down stairs and feeling every bone shatter.
Then he could cry.
Out of the tree line, their steps slowed. She wanted to scream, call to the sentries she knew were shadowed at the top of the hill. But nothing more than a whisper escaped her dried lips.
Arzen tugged the rope connected to his shackles, pulling her backward, refusing another inch.
If she had the strength, she’d send her fist directly between his eyes.
They had made it far enough. All she needed to do was climb the hill. The Dragons could attend to the rest.
But he slammed himself down to his knees. Twisting a devilish smile around the purple cloth gag that she’d forced on him because of his incessant protests.
Alora’s veins filled with screaming pricks of pain as she balled her fist. Not entirely sure if any blow she could muster would do anything at all other than sting him. But before she reeled her arm back and slammed into his nose?—
Shouts—beautiful, alarming, deadly shouts.
Thank the stars.
Rushing footsteps tore from behind them. From the hill.
Relief bubbled in her chest, overwhelming her enough that she almost lost her breath completely in a choked-off sob. Whorling, the realm continued to spin when she stopped and stumbled forward.
Alora expected to see the sentries rushing to her. Expected to see swords drawn and battle-black armor siege the Raven in silver armor and purple cloak.
What she didn’t expect was the blade at her throat.
Deimon, one of Garrik’s personal guards, kicked the back of her knees and forced her to the ground with a pained grunt. “Identify yourself in the name of the High Prince,” his roughened voice demanded.
Resisting unconsciousness from the sudden change in air pressure, her lungs protested. Still, she choked out, “Alor?—”
“ Ravens !” someone shouted behind her before a hand fisted her blood-soaked hair.
They didn’t recognize her.
Not with all the blood.
Deimon dipped his face inches from her clouded vision and pulled her chin high in an iron grip. His amber eyes lit to crimson. Rage filled his stunning face. “Why are you here? Who sent you?”
Chaos erupted, swirling around her as she fought to remain upright. Footsteps thundered over the hill. Shouting, screaming, carrying torches to light the hill and the valley.
Alora whimpered, trying to focus, to tell them who she was, but her body decided she had traveled far enough—and she had done enough. But of course , now it betrayed her.
What if they secured her somewhere in camp? She hadn’t been privy to any interrogations and had never once seen prisoners there. Didn’t know who conducted such things. The risk of war and Magnelis discovering them was so high. Surely no one would believe her when she told them who she was. She wouldn’t be dismissed so easily.
That sword at her throat pinched harder. She hissed at its bite and the trickle of warmth dripping down her skin. “Speak or I swear, we only need one of you to talk.”
Someone laughed— snickered behind her. Arzen. The prick was still awake.
Deimon’s sword pressed harder.
Above the chaos, she heard flapping wings and blinked away the hallucination that she’d seen pearly-white feathers shoot from the night sky, licked by beaming rays of lightning before the ground shook. And then their owner landed atop the hill.
No one in camp had feathery white wings.
Then a familiar voice roared with brimstoned fury, “Get the prisoners gagged and bound until His Highness returns.”
Her heart leapt and fell all the same.
Garrik wasn’t there.
That familiar voice shouted, “Sentries, to your positions. I want triple the guard around the perimeter. Secure those two inside the shield.”
Thalon. Liquid lined her eyes. Thalon was there. Commanding the soldiers. He was there. All she had to do was call out. She opened her mouth?—
A cloth shoved between her teeth and was tied behind her bloody hair.
No!
Torchlight waved in her face as four sets of footprints crowded around her. The warm grips of her soldiers strangled her upper arms, dragging her forward on stumbling feet.
She understood—carried no resentment for her treatment. They had to be merciless outside the shield. The High King’s armies were all ruthless. And those that were commanded by the Savage Prince could be no different. Anyone could be watching. Beyond the shield, they had to be the killers Elysian knew them to be.
Deimon’s hands gripped the back of her neck and threw her forward onto her palms, digging her weakened knees into the grass. “ Move .” His voice cold, uncaring.
Kneeling, Alora straightened, instantly feeling a sword at her back.
But the world was crashing down, threatening to sweep her away. She felt her limbs emptying, lips and fingertips falling numb as Deimon’s sword withdrew into the air.
The steel reflected a beam of dancing flame from a nearby torch. The pommel aimed at her pleading eyes.
She slammed them shut, anticipating the blow?—
Then darkness rearranged the valley.
Exploding—ripping through the sound barrier with earth-shattering thunder.
Every inch of her skin—her heart—cried out, feeling ice crystals forming in the air.
The wrath of Elysian nightmares detonated, sending everyone to their knees. And a voice like endless death roared, “ Why the fuck is she on her knees ?”