My throat burned with the scream. "Terra!"
She turned, her eyes finding mine across the chaos of the corridor. Behind her, the bastard's strike descended.
Then gray scales and massive wings materialized between them.
He dropped from the shadows above, landing in a crouch that cracked the stone beneath his feet. His wings spread wide, blocking the purple warrior's path to Terra. Steel-gray scales caught the light, each one edged in white like frost on metal. I barely knew him, but I recognized him on sight.
Nyx.
The purple warrior's strike never landed. Nyx caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted, and bone snapped with a sound like breaking branches. The warrior's scream echoed off the carved walls.
My heart kicked against my ribs.
We were fucked. Completely, utterly fucked.
A senior warrior had found us, and there was no way Terra and I could fight past him. Not after everything we'd already survived in this goddamned trial.
I moved before thought caught up, putting myself between Terra and Nyx. I gripped my knife, the weight familiar despite the tremor in my grip. Exhaustion made my bones feel hollow, but I locked my knees and held position.
"Run," I said to Terra. The word scraped out of my throat. "I'll hold him off."
"Lexa, no …"
"Run!" I shoved her toward the archway behind us, the one that led deeper into the temple. "Don't waste this. Go!"
Terra hesitated for half a heartbeat, then she was gone, vanishing into the darkness.
The gray warrior's eyes tracked her movement, then snapped back to me. Pale silver, those eyes. Like winter ice over deep water.
I lunged.
Nyx moved to counter, and we became a tangle of motion. My blade sought the gaps between his scales, the vulnerable places at joints and throat. He deflected each strike with minimal effort, his claws a blur of violence held in check.
God, he was fast. Fresh. I'd been fighting for hours, bleeding myself dry in this trial, and he moved like he'd just woken from a nap.
My blade scraped across his forearm, drawing a thin line of dark blood. He didn't flinch. Just adjusted his stance and came at me again.
I ducked under a swipe that would have opened my throat, rolled, came up with my knife reversed in my grip. The stone floor bit into my knees through my shredded leathers.
His tail whipped around, caught my ankle, yanked.
I went down hard. My knife skittered across the floor, metal ringing against stone. I scrambled after it, fingers closing around the hilt just as his shadow fell over me.
He pinned my wrist to the floor. Not rough. Precise. Just enough pressure to keep the blade trapped.
I looked up at him, ready to spit defiance, ready to fight until he knocked me unconscious or worse.
His scent hit me.
Smoke and heated stone, something sharp underneath like the air before a lightning strike. It crawled into my lungs, settled there, made my pulse stutter and restart at double-time.
What the fuck?
His eyes held mine. Silver and steady and entirely too knowing.
My free hand came up, reaching for his face. I didn't remember deciding to move. My palm found the line of his jaw, scales smooth and warm under my touch.
The corridor tilted. The walls rippled like water.
