He took my hand in his and we raced to the front of the wagon. My other captor was laying on the ground, barely moving, his eyes still open, watching Dario with absolute hatred.
“They’re on their way, you fucking bastard,” the wolf said weakly. “More soturi from the Palace. You took the Emperor’s pet, and he wants her back.” He coughed.
“You look like you’re in pain,” Dario said calmly.
“Fuck you,” said the soturion.
“Dario,” I hissed. “Kill him. He’s seen you and me.”
His nostrils flared, but then he stood over the soturion, reached down for his dagger and handed it to me. “Hold this.”
He brandished his sword, holding it over the man’s stomach. His boot slammed down on the man’s torso, making him wheeze. The movement pushed his armor up, exposing more of his midriff.
“No! No! Please,” begged the soturion.
Dario’s eyes narrowed. “Since you said please.” He lifted his sword, and instead of impaling him, slit his throat.
I gasped and turned away. Dario reached behind my knees, lifting me into his arms and placing me on the back of the ashvan.
A second later, he’d sliced through the straps tying the wagon to the horse, and then he climbed up behind me. “Vra. Volara! ” he yelled. He tugged on the reins, one hand snaking around my waist, forcing my back against his front.
I tensed up, even though it wasn’t our first time touching, nor the first time our bodies had been so close.
“Hold on to me,” Dario said.
I hesitated. I hadn’t touched a man by choice since Seth.
And when Dario and I had escaped the inn. I grabbed hold of his arm, and squeezed my eyes shut as the horse reared back, lifting and kicking its front legs, and then we ran.
Only this ashvan didn’t fly.
“Fuck.Volara!Fly!” he yelled.
“He’s too old,” I said. “That why they had the wagon on him.”
“Shit. Okay. Hold on,” Dario said, turning the ashvan around. We raced through the trees back out through the woodlands that led to the Cretanyan border.
Within a few minutes we had reached the stone road again.
“Stop!” I yelled.
Dario slowed the horse. “Why?”
“Out on the road,” I said. “They’re there. Ka Kormac.”
Dario eased our ashvan forward, just enough to peek out from the woods. Sure enough I was right. There were at least two dozen of the wolves out there drinking, dancing, parading up and down the street.
“It’s Viktor’s Arkasva celebrations,” I said once the horse had stepped back into the shadows. “They’re never going to end.”
Dario sighed. “We can wait for them to pass.”
I shook my head. “They’re going to be out there all night. And if they see us—if they see me,” I swallowed, “you need to kill me first.”
“Jules, that’s not going to happen.”
I craned my neck, finding his eyes in the dark. “I mean it. I’d rather die.”
And as if to prove that the entire universe was against me—our horse decided that that moment was a perfect time to whinny.
