Burning mint and a harsh petrichor filled my nostrils, her usually subtle Omega scent amplified, yet horribly altered. Sparks had marked her face and arms, and I knew far more damage had occurred below her knees.
There was no way she would walk again.
Rage filled me, and I channeled it into action, holding onto the beast’s mane with my left hand. The sharp knife I used for gathering herbs was in my right as the horse leaped through the flames and crashed onto the wooden platform. The horse kicked the burning wood away as if he knew what I needed, a few pieces hitting some of the Alphas who’d come too close.
I slid off his back and was at her side, ignoring the heat and holding my breath against the smoke. Quickly, I smothered the fire closest to her blistered calves and ankles. I couldn’t make out the state of her feet, as they were black with soot, but the bindings around her ankles were mostly burned through, onlyneeding the smallest flick of my knife. Beside me, the horse neighed, still pounding at the burning wood as I pulled her into my arms.
Rada coughed pitifully and then passed out, the sudden movement threatening to send me to my knees. The horse stepped closer, whinnying again in obvious distress.
Shit.I’d been able to jump up on his back alone, but I couldn’t lift her as well. I couldn’t even reach high enough to place her over his back. I was strong, but not tall.
“Goddess?” I cried out, praying for a sign.
A piercing whistle—three short, sharp bursts—came from somewhere in the crowd. Instantly, the horse lowered itself to his front knees. The saddlebags slid off his back as she slid on, and I followed her, pressing myself over her as the beast stood, his sides heaving.
I needed to reach those bags, I knew. Not only because they were hers, but also because the crowd was filled with people. Many of the potions and poisons inside would kill them if they burned and were inhaled by the onlookers.
What should I do? Leave the bags and allow the deaths of all these innocents? Or save my mistress and flee? A baby cried out somewhere, and it felt as if a fist clenched around my heart.
The choice was taken from me. The muscles beneath my singed legs gathered, all the warning I had for what came next as the horse leaped from the pyre and landed on the paving stones next to a giant. The crowd scattered, making a wide circle around the horse and the warrior.
He was at least seven feet tall, with bright blue eyes, long, honey-blond hair in dozens of braids on the sides, and a slightly darker beard. He dismissed me, then scowled at Rada with rage, his expression altering to something akin to panic as he took in her injuries. His whispered words were almost too quiet to hear. “Ma bohinya. You hate me this much?”
I knew who he was instantly, and not just because the massive stallion I rode nuzzled him in welcome. This was the only male I might trust with Rada, though I’d never met him.
“Goran.” I choked out the name, smoke clogging my lungs. “Take her to safety.” I whipped off the cloak and handed it to him, then slid to the ground. Knowing it might be the only chance I had to do so, I leaned down and pressed a kiss to my mistress’s bare outer thigh. “I love you, Mina.”
“Mina?” Goran growled. “Her name’s Ratter.”
“And Mina. She went by Vermina ta Goran,” I whispered. There wasn’t time to explain, to tell him how she’d changed her name a dozen times to stay safe from all her many enemies.
The saddlebags were thick leather, with many of the poisons packaged in glass and metal vials. There still might be time to stop everyone from dying.
“Who the fuck are you?” Goran demanded. I didn’t answer, but felt his sharp eyes slicing into me as I ran back into the crowd.
Hooves rang on the stones, and shouts followed me as I plunged back through the flames.
RADA
“Ma bohinya, open your eyes.”
I smiled, though I didn’t do what the voice asked. I was caught in a dream I loved, where Goran begged me to keep my eyes locked on his while he licked me. He’d sworn, with his head between my thighs, it was the best way to start the day. I’d never told him that it was also my favorite way to wake up, though my cries of ecstasy as he worked my center with his tongue might have given the secret away.
For some reason, though, the dream this time hurt. No, it burned, and not in a pleasant way.
“Bohinya, please. Wake up. I need to know which herbs will help you.”
Hells…Goran?
He shook me gently while I fought to understand where I was. After nearly ten years, it was him, in the flesh. His hand rested on my shoulder, and his breath warmed my face—parts of it, anyway. I couldn’t open my eyes; something wet was holding them shut. A cloth? A blindfold? Leaves? I tried to move and croaked in agony.
“Don’t move. I’ll get you water.”
I fought a wave of panic as the memories came flooding back, as well as the pain. I’d been tied to the stake. My calves felt as if they’d been dragged over coals, though my feet and ankles were terrifyingly pain-free.
Had they been burned away, or damaged until the nerves were dead? A flash of an old memory intruded, of using a bone saw on a young woman in Gael whose mate had locked her in too-tight manacles for weeks until her hands had turned black. I’d never been happier to have the very strongest herbal remedies for pain in existence to give to her. I’d given her waste-of-breath husband the painful death he deserved, too.
If I had to lose my feet…
