Renwell heaved himself upright and poised his sword over my chest. “This was always your end, Falcryn. It just took a little longer than I planned.”
I stared into his dark, venomous eyes. I had nothing left.
Someone shouted, drawing Renwell’s attention. Hoofbeats neared. My fingers swept the dirt around me.
He hissed under his breath and pointed his sword at my heart. But his distraction had cost him.
I shoved a piece of my sword into his wrist. He howled, dropping his sword. I kicked him off me and glanced over my shoulder to see a party of Berengar warriors riding up to us. During our fight, we must’ve drifted closer to the village.
I turned back around to see Renwell, with his sword in his other hand, racing for his ship and remaining Wolves.
I couldn’t let him get away. He didn’t deserve to live after everything he’d done. I could end Rellmira’s suffering with one death. Just one more.
“Bow!” I shouted at the oncoming Berengars.
Their leader halted next to me and handed me her bow and an arrow without question.
I nocked the arrow and aimed at Renwell’s fleeing back. But I wanted to see his face. As he’d looked into my mother’s. And shot her anyway.
“RENWELL!” I roared.
He whipped around. I fired.
I didn’t hear its whistle. I barely saw its streaking shadow. But I would always remember the way it struck his body. The bloodthirsty triumph that filled my heart. And the cold disappointment that followed when I realized I hadn’t struck his heart. Merely his shoulder.
Renwell would survive. At least it would be with a scar to match the one Nikella bore from him.
He staggered into the swarm of his Wolves, and they retreated onto their ship.
“Bow,” the Berengar leader ordered in a clipped voice.
I handed it to her. She led her warriors to join the others as they tried to pick off any enemies they could. But the impenetrable ship pulled up anchor and started sailing back toward the Niviath Sea.
There were no victory shouts. The beach was silent apart from the crackling fires left by the oil barrels and the soft moans of the injured.
We had lost, and I didn’t even know how badly yet.
“Brother!” Maz burst out of the knot of Dag warriors still left and wrapped me in a bone-cracking hug. “I lost track of you. Those mongrels were coming from every bloody direction. What happened?”
“Renwell,” I gritted out.
Maz’s pale eyes widened. “Here?” His gaze darted around as if searching for him. “You’d better have killed that piece of dog shit?—”
Regret was like an arrow to my stomach. “I did my best, but he escaped.”
Maz sheathed his stained axe and clutched my shoulder. “You’ll get him next time.” As if Renwell were a deer or a rabbit who’d evaded the hunt.
But he wasn’t. He was smarter than Weylin. He had more power and more plans. My gut told me I’d never get so close to Renwell again. Not without starting a war first.
I clenched my weaponless hands into fists.Then a war is what it’ll be. Even if I have to fight it alone.
Sigrid appeared at Maz’s side, her eye patch askew and her right arm dripping with blood from a deep gash. She clasped forearms with Maz. “Davka? Yarina?”
“Haven’t seen them yet,” Maz said tersely.
My stomach twisted. And so began the grisly search for friends and family in answer to the worst question.Alive or dead?
“The last I know is that Kiera was taking Yarina up the ridge,” I said. “Nikella went back to the village to save the wounded. I haven’t seen Davka since the battle in the village square.”
