“There’s a secret exit here,” Leywani said, kneeling at a panel and prying loose planks. Apollo slipped through first, scouting ahead.
Alena pulled Leywani into a fierce hug. “I’ll come back with help. I promise.”
When she stepped back, Leywani’s dark eyes glistened with unshed tears, vulnerability flickering in their depths. “We’ll see each other again.”
It was a fragile promise, but Alena wanted to believe it with all her heart.
She pressed a quick kiss to Leywani’s cheek, then crouched low, sliding her sheathed sword through first before slipping after it.
Outside, the pale morning sun cast long shadows over the camp, frost glittering on every surface. Ahead, Apollo ducked through the barricade’s gap, and Alena quickened her pace, fastening her belt and melting into the shadows.
The quarry was unnervingly still, donkey-drawn carts frozen along the road. A squad of soldiers in leather armour thundered towards the nearest barracks, ripping down the thincurtains slaves had hung for warmth. Orders barked. A wave of frightened sobs and angry murmurs rippled through the huddled slaves, shivering under watchful eyes.
Alena reached the barricade, ready to slip away and rejoin Phoebe and Kaixo, when a sudden gust of wind slammed into her.
She hit the ground hard, coughing up dust, her whole body throbbing from the impact.
Behind her, a deep voice rumbled, amused. “Looks like I found a little mouse.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ALENA
Alena caught a glimpse of a broad-shouldered Rasennan soldier with a red-plumed helmet and a thick black beard before another gust of unnatural wind slammed into her, lifting her off her feet.
She landed with a grunt and rolled, skimming across gravel and frozen dirt, the final jolt nearly knocking her unconscious. Pain flared through her shoulder and ribs. Through the bond she felt Apollo’s alarm, but she pushed him back.
No, find Phoebe.
One wolf couldn’t save her from soldiers, not with a Gifted among them, and she wasn’t about to lose anyone else—human or animal.
She lay sprawled in the dirt, breath ragged, each exhale a puff of white mist in the frigid air. Her sleeve was torn, her arm raw and bleeding. Grit clung to her palms as she forced herself to move.
With a groan, she staggered to one knee and groped for her sword. Phoebe’s training surged through her like muscle memory, and in one swift motion, the blade was in her hand.
Around her, the camp seemed to hold its breath. Slaves clustered near the barracks, eyes wide with silent dread. Across the yard, soldiers began to close in, anticipation gleaming in their expressions.
At their centre stood the red-plumed officer, a smirk tugging at his weathered face. He looked older than Phoebe, grey streaking his dark hair, deep lines carved around his nose and mouth. His steel-reinforced breastplate gleamed in the morning light, and the crimson cloak billowing behind him marked him as high-ranking—likely a commander. Perhaps even a legate.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, his overly charming smile at odds with the violence of his attack. “Praefect Gortynius.”
His Koine was flawless, spoken with the polished eloquence Alena had come to associate with the Megarians.
“If you tell me who disrupted our camp and saved the Non-Human boy, I’ll consider giving you a swift death.”
Alena’s heart thundered against her bruised ribs, but she stood firm.
“It was me,” she said without flinching. “No one else helped me.”
Gortynius raised an eyebrow. “You?Youwere the one controlling the wolves?”
Alena looked him right in the eye. “Yes.”
The praefect’s smile vanished. “Liar.”
He struck without warning, a swift gush of wind whipping towards her. Alena dove aside just in time, but the current curved with her, hot and fast, slamming into her back. She flew through the air and hit the ground hard, the impact jarring her teeth. Her sword clattered out of reach.
Wracked with pain, she limped to her sword and seized the hilt, knuckles whitening. She had no choice but to stand her ground and fight. There was no escaping his magic.
