Watchinghis mate cross the battlefield almost broke him.
She looked so small atop Alastor. He held his breath as the human entourage closed around Lia, cutting her off from his view. He stared after her for a long time, not able to take his eyes from the horizon. It was the right decision but ...
“I do not like it,” he finally admitted.
It was supposed to be simple. Show the soldiers she was alive and deal with Randa. He doubted it would stop whatever plot the Asteran monarchs were planning, but it would steal the fervor of their men.
And morale mattered.
“Neither do I,” Olwen growled, his mount shimmying underneath him. The berserker released his reins and stretched his fingers before curling them into trembling fists. “I say we move closer. Something does not feel right.”
Neve’s sentiments exactly.
“That would be seen as an act of aggression,” Flyka warned. “It could jeopardize thereilleve’slife.”
He worried about that too. The Asterans had agreed too easily for this parley. It was just too convenient. What if this was just all a show to get Dahlia within their grasp? Perhaps they would kill her in camp and somehow manage to blame it on Loriia?
“You’re growling again,” Flyka muttered, inspecting the tip of her silver braid.
He swallowed down the sound and waited. It was one thing to be bonded, and another to lose it in front of his warriors. All over a littlesaloes.
Minutes took hours.
The storm worsened.
Then an explosion.
He stared at the plume of smoke and fire, his hearts in his throat.
Dahlia.
“We ride!” Olwen snarled, the warriors rushing forward in a sea of blue.
Neve swung up onto Anwen and urged him forward.
Please let her be okay.
They metno resistance as they stormed the human camp.
It was utter chaos.
Tents burned. Men fled instead of fighting. And it was being pillaged.
Olwen pumped his fist into the air. “Capture them. Herd them toward the center. No one escapes.”
Neve scanned the sea of tents, and he swore his hearts stopped when he spotted the king’s flamboyant, striped tent burning in the distance.
Blood and curses. Please do not let it be so.
Flyka’s pale hand landed on his forearm. He glanced at his Haunt and she shook her head. “Dahlia’s not in there. Serenity is circling the center of the camp. She would never leave her mistress.”
He scanned the sky and spotted theastrylle, barely visible through the smoke and storm. His relief was short-lived. Wasn’t Olwen corralling all the humans in that area? When backed into a corner, people made poor and desperate decisions.
He nudged his heels into his horse and directed him toward Serenity, Flyka at his side. They battled the few bravesaloeswho foolishly thought to take them on, but most fled.
The tents widened out, revealing a muddy common area.
He gaped at the scene.
