“Scarlet,” a voice ground out. “You don’t want to see this.”
My eyes met Arrow Fitzroy’s, and rage surged. I shoved against him, but he tightened his grip. “Let me go!” I screamed.
Overhead, Lakota roared, a blast of fire streaking into the air in warning. Arrow’s gaze snapped skyward, then back to me. He was streaked with ash and blood, grime clinging to his skin. The sword strapped across his back was still slick with Tyrian red.
Lakota trilled again, wings slicing wind, but Arrow didn’t flinch. “Turn around!”
Without wasting a breath, I channeled air and blasted him back. His boots skidded through the dust as his hold broke. Ilaunched onto the swinging bridge and spun around, snarling, “You left me for dead. You don’t get to protect me now.”
I ran across the swinging bridge, channeling my air element to steady each step. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst through my chest.
All I could think of was Rhodes. He had to be safe. He had to be okay.
I couldn’t lose him too.
I rounded the jagged corner of the stone peaks—and froze.
My heart dropped to my stomach. Nausea twisted through my gut. The world went muffled. All I could hear was the deafening beat of my pulse.
Bodies littered the rocky ground as far as I could see. Men and women—Aryan, Tyrian. Lifeless. Dragons of Hollow Summit perched silently on the cliffs, their wings tucked tight, watching over a field that had once been nothing but open stone.
Now, it was ruin.
Smoke curled from scorched patches of rock. Bones gleamed white in the ash. Themarekemtugged at me—pulling my attention to the right. My lungs ached as I slowly lifted my gaze.
Fallon stood on a high ridge, bow still in hand. Even from this distance, I could see the toll on her face. Smoke curled around her as if she commanded shadows. Our eyes locked across the battlefield. Then she turned and disappeared from the peak.
Warriors of the Hollow brushed past, heading back toward the village. I stood frozen, numb, as the surviving crowd thinned around me.
And then—like the force of a wicked storm—I lost mybreath.
“Scarlet?”
I spun at the sound of his voice. Rhodes stood there in war leathers and a scorched chest plate, a bloodied sword hanging loosely in his hand. His black hair clung to his face with sweat, and soot streaked across every inch of him. His gray-blue eyes scanned me desperately, searching for wounds.
I pressed my palms into his chest and shovedhard. His eyes widened.
I shoved him again. “How dare you!” I shouted.
He didn’t yell back. He just let me hit him—again and again.
“Youleftme!” My voice cracked on the words.
Something flickered in his eyes then. He caught my wrists, holding them gently but firmly.
“I woke up, and you weregone, Rhodes.”
His grip tightened, as if he could hold the weight of my grief too. His eyes searched mine, wild and frantic. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His jaw trembled, his lips pressing together like the words were trying to claw their way out.
Finally, he spoke. “I wanted to keep you safe, Scarlet. I didn’t want you caught up in battle.”
I squirmed in his hold. “And what do you think is going to happen at Mageia, Rhodes? I’ve trained for this every damn day!”
His jaw tensed. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
My heart cracked at his apology. I gritted my teeth. “If you’re running into battle, I’m running into battle. Where you go, Igo. What part of ‘if you’re going down, I’m going down with you’ don’t you get?”
His throat worked. His grip loosened around my wrists, but he didn’t let go. Above us, the sound of wings thundered—Noemi circled overhead.
