But the pull to get to Auren tugs harder.
go go go go
With one last nod to Ryatt, I nudge Argo with my heel, and he lifts us into the night sky. The other timberwings on the ground screech at our departure, envious that we’re on the move.
My pulse jumps—leaps—becausefinally, I’m on my way. Finally, I’m heading toward her. And although pain throbs in my chest and I can feel my veins pulsing with poison, I ignore it. Because I’m going to her, and nothing, not even this rotting fucking heart in my chest, is going to stop me.
CHAPTER 2
SLADE
Argo goes upward to gainaltitude, the dark of the night enveloping us like a shroud. Below, my brother lifts his hand in a shadowed send-off.
I face forward again when we pass over the moat, leaving my castle behind as we fly toward the city. The capital is dotted with streetlamps and lanterns that hang inside the bobbing boats where they drift up and down the rivers. Every flickering flame reminds me of just how many people live in Brackhill alone. People that I’m responsible for.
Let it topple. That’s what I told Ryatt about Orea, and I meant every word. But that was before an outside threat broke in.
I could see it in Ryatt’s eyes. The accusation. Buried deep, but there. The army invading Orea ismyspecies. My people. He didn’t say it aloud, but I could hear it all the same. To some degree, it’s my responsibility to protect Orea against my own.
Give Orea a chance.
Get to the bridge.
Two birds, one stone. I can pass by Ranhold, and then head straight for Seventh. It will only add a handful of hours tomy travel, half a day at most as I dump power there to deter the fae. Then I can get to the bridge.
I hiss through my teeth as another twinge of pain surges in my chest. It arcs down my veins, shooting through the roots of rot in my arms. I flex and fist my right hand, trying to shake the sensation off.
It doesn’t go away.
But I grew up enduring pain, so my tolerance is high. My father didn’t allow anything less. If I can put up with what he meted out, I can push through for Auren.
As if in challenge, the rotting organ in my chest throbs harder, but I grit my teeth.
Push the fuck through.
I re-grip the reins as we pick up speed, and soon, Brackhill City and the castle disappear behind us. Argo must sense my urgency, because he’s flying like he’s racing the night.
And winning.
We’re eating up the distance, and at this rate, I know we’ll make it to Ranhold in record time. Thank fuck.
Through the night, we fly over Fourth Kingdom. My eyes stay peeled, my teeth gritted. All I can do is count the seconds between the throbs of pain. It drums in time with the incessant push to hurry.
go go go go
I can’t open a rip, no matter how hard I try, but I can get to that fucking bridge.
I have to.
Right before dawn, Argo spots a flock of birds mid-flight. He drops out of the cover of the clouds, attention locked on his prey. They don’t even see him coming until he’s swooping down, scooping two of the winged creatures up into his wide maw. The sound of their shrieks is cut off by snapping bones and a litter of feathers.
I lock in my knees, bracing as he swoops for a third. “Argo—”
Intense pain slams into me so abruptly that I jerk in the saddle. The sensation pitches brutally into my chest, stealing my words. Stealing my vision.
It clutches me as sharply as Argo’s teeth snap through those bones. Except it’s happening with my fuckingheart. Lancing it through, bleeding me out.
I lurch on the saddle, body falling forward. It feels like I’m being sliced open in the middle of a sea, and a whirlpool of poisoned water is pumping into me. I jerk my gaze down to where the pain radiates, and my eyes widen.
