“Is that . . .?” Asha croaked, her hand shooting out to grasp my wrist.
Too stunned to move to comfort her, I simply nodded my head mutely.
“Are they alive?” Asha voiced the question dominating my thoughts.
I moved to check their bodies, to find a pulse, but it was like my feet were encased in concrete.
“I’ll go,” Asha spoke into my mind with a gentle squeeze of my wrist. I silently thanked her as I stood, arms crossed, and watched her pad hesitantly over to Rohak and Faylinn. She knelt down, a cloud of dust spinning around her as she settled against her heels.
Asha tossed her braid behind her shoulder as her slender fingers found Faylinn’s neck. The Rune Master’s body jumped on contact, and Asha let out a startled scream before falling back, her hands and butt coated with dust.
“They’re alive,” Asha proclaimed as she scrambled to her feet and back to my side. I wrapped her in a hug, pushing my gratefulness and love down our Bond.
I quite literally owed my life to Faylinn and felt a debt to her in the deepest parts of my soul. If she were dead, how could I repay her for my life?
Shaking my thoughts away, I turned to my Bonded and laid a kiss against her head.
“Did you see . . .?” Asha whispered against my chest, and I grunted in affirmation.
“I didn’t even think she could do that.Shedidn’t think she could do that,” Asha mused, worrying her lip between her teeth.
“Faylinn is full of surprises,” I rumbled softly.
Asha hummed. “We should move them somewhere more private. Rohak’s rooms, maybe. They’ll need care, like you and I did. We should be the ones to give it to them.”
I nodded my head once—agreeing with my Bonded’s assessment, warm at her desire to care for the Rune Master and General—before shuffling across the floor.
Pausing, I watched as their chests rose and fell rhythmically, breathing nearly in sync.
Faylinn . . . what have you done?
Chapter Four
Lex
Rain pattered relentlessly against the thick canopy of trees as Ilyas and I picked our way through the woods that separated Vespera and Lishahl. The trees were so dense that the deluge from the heavens was reduced to a light drizzle down on the forest floor.
It was a pity, really, considering we still wore the stench of death from the Battle of Vespera. Luckily, after walking for days and marinating in my own stink, I no longer smelled the odors that were probably permanently ingrained in my skin. The soft mist at least helped to wet my blood-matted hair, the evidence of my sins falling in red rivulets down my face and neck, only to be absorbed by the collar of my tunic.
My steps crunched over sticks and just-damp leaves before squishing in the soft mud of the forest’s floor. With a heaving breath, I yanked my foot from where the ground tried to absorb my boot. What should have been a limited effort turned into a tug-of-war with the mud, one that left me short of breath as I sat back against a felled tree, the thick moss softening my fall.
“Fuck,” I lamented, my voice cracking as my eyes fluttered shut.
Just a second. I’ll rest just a second.
The thrum in my chest pulsated angrily, demanding I keep walking.
“Fuck,” Ilyas echoed my sentiment as he fell next to me, the ground shuddering slightly with his considerable weight.
Our chests heaved nearly in tandem as we fought to catch our breath. The air rattled in my lungs as I wheezed. Ilyas grunted and groaned as he massaged the muscles around his ribs, gasping all the while.
For a moment, the only other sounds were the soft pattering of rain against the leaves above our heads, intermixed with the chittering of distant squirrels and chirping birds. It would have been a peaceful place to rest if it weren’t for our mission—the whole reason we were on this godsforsaken path to begin with.
“We’ll rest here a minute longer, then we have to move again,” I panted, sticky tongue darting out to lick my cracked lips. We’d left Vespera directly after the battle, following the pull in my chest and the barely concealed tracks of Torin and the rebels as they carried Ellowyn to some undisclosed location.
Ilyas nodded wordlessly as he leaned his head back against the log. This journey—my choice to follow Ellowyn—had taken a toll on him, especially after the stress of the battle. Ilyas’ dark complexion was slightly pallid and marred by a myriad of just-healing cuts and abrasions, his skin waxy with sweat and exhaustion. Even now, as he rubbed the ache in his side, the muscles in his legs tensed and jumped as they protested the grueling pace and lack of sustenance.
I was worried for Ilyas—he would never tell me to halt our progress and return to Vespera, never indicate if he was reaching his breaking point. Ilyas’ steadfast loyalty only made me feel worse about my decision to leave Vespera, especially because the physical evidence of our trials and tribulations was so apparent. My gaze roamed over his muscular form, checking again for the thousandth time for any further injuries. It was the least I could do, especially when my thoughts were so dark.
