Arrows rained down from the eastern ridge, clattering against the stones around them. Calix swore, shifting forward as if to shield him with his own body.
But Aldric ignored the deadly sleet.
They burst into a clearing and his heart stopped.
The pass widened here, a natural arena of grass and stone. And it was full.
A dozen warriors poured down the far slope—wild northmen clad in furs. Leading them was a monster of a man wearing a leather varhound mask, a massive axe in his grip.
But Aldric didn’t look at them.
His gaze locked on the figure in the center of the clearing, framed by a wall of witchfire blazing behind her, cutting off the exit to the pass. At the massive black warhorse she rode—his warhorse, Mourn. And riding him…
Seraphina. His Seraphina.
The rising sun glinted off of her plate armor. Her chestnut hair streamed loose behind her like a banner of war. She looked magnificent, sitting there atop his destrier, a sword pressed against the throat of the witch who had taken him captive.
Like a warrior queen forged from steel and fury.
“Sera!” The name tore from his throat.
She turned her head at his voice. For a heartbeat, their eyes met across the chaos. He saw the shock register on her face, followed by a radiant, heartbreaking joy. In that moment, the warmth in his chest flared hotter.
But his own joy turned to ash when, from his current vantage, he saw what his kirei could not. Behind her, emerging from the smoke belched by the wall of flame, was a second figure. Another woman in red.
A second witch.
The woman didn’t hold a weapon. She merely inhaled.
The air around her warped, sucked into her lungs with a terrifying hiss. Her eyes glowed with a sickly, molten gold. Aldric felt thedanger before he saw the flame. It was a pressure in the air, a scream of warning in his blood. The witch was aiming at Sera’s exposed back.
Panic, cold and absolute, seized him.
Aldric didn’t think. He didn’t plan. He didn’t pray.
“Jump!” he roared.
He threw his elbow back, striking Calix hard enough to dislodge him. As the weight lifted from the saddle, Aldric slammed his heels into the destrier’s flanks.
The witch’s chest expanded to its limit. She opened her mouth.
Aldric rode harder, driving his horse into the gap between his wife and the monster, arms spread wide.
Just as the world turned red.
Just as a column of roaring, liquid fire erupted toward him.
Chapter seventy
Seraphina
Her Crow was going to die.
The realization hit Seraphina faster than the wall of fire erupting from the second witch’s throat as he rode his horse straight into the inferno’s path, arms spread wide. A human shield of flesh and bone meant to catch the death intended for her.
“No!” The cry ripped from her throat, raw. Broken. He couldn’t die now. Not after everything. The heavy sword she had held with such trembling defiance slipped from her numb fingers, clattering uselessly against the stone.
She didn’t weigh the cost. There was no time.
