Malin grins. “That was just for Seph. He takes himself too seriously.”
“You’re friends?”
He nods. “Since we were recruits.”
It reminds me of Jax’s camaraderie with them, the way Iwasjealous. Sitting here with Malin, though, I’m realizing I wasn’t jealous in a romantic way.
I was jealous of the easy rapport. The budding friendship.
My heart gives a kick, and I have to adjust my cards before anything can show on my face. The rain pours down outside. Thunder cracks hard, rattling the windows, and I sigh. We’re at least two hours from my nearest safe house, so we’re going to have to find an inn. I can already tell.
The door to the tavern bursts open, and a woman shouts through the doorway. “Help! Oh, help!” She’s short and stocky and soaked from the rain, her gray hair hanging in drenched clumps along her back. Blood streaks the front of her dress, and she chokes on a sob. “Someone, please help me. The monster—the monster has returned! My husband—oh, please—I can’t drag him any farther.”
I’m already on my feet, and so is Malin. Another pair of men who were by the bar have approached, too.
“Where?” I say.
She’s breathless and sobbing. “He was working in the fields. There’s so much blood. Please—”
“Where?” I demand.
She points. “Down the hill. I couldn’t—I couldn’t drag him any—”
“Help her,” I say to the men. I look at Malin. “We need our bows.”
We fetch our gear from under the overhang, then stride into the downpour. Rain soaks through my armor almost instantly, chilling my skin. It’s unnaturally cold, so I blink water out of my eyes and nock an arrow, flicking my gaze between the road and the sky. There are too many trees, too many places for something to hide.
At my side, Malin does the same, sweeping his aim in opposing directions so we cover the most angles. “Do you think it’s true?” he says. “Do you think the monster has returned to Emberfall?”
“No.” I remember the monster from when I was a boy—the monster that I later learned was the cursed form Prince Rhen was forced to become every season, until Princess Harper helped him break the enchantment.Thatmonster is long gone. I consider the streaks of blood across the woman’s dress and the freezing rain, despite the fact that it’s nearly summer. “I think it’s a scraver.”
Just as I say the words, an inhuman screech cuts through the rain, sharp enough to make me flinch. A gray shape soars out of a tree. I don’tthink, I shoot. One, two, three arrows fly off my bow. Malin is doing the same.
The scraver dodges, knocking each arrow out of the air, then dives right for us.
Silver hell.I shove Malin out of the way, taking the impact fully. Scravers don’t weigh as much as a human, but they make up for it in strength and claws. I’m ready for it this time, so when it tackles me to the ground, we roll. The scraver ends up on top of me, and I’m glad for the armor, because claws are already scrabbling for any bit of vulnerable skin it can find, shrieking right in my face. I cringe away, trying to dodge, but the rain has made everything slick. I can’t get to my blades in time. Those fangs are going to tear out my throat before I can get a hand on the hilt of my dagger.
Malin shoots it in the head.
Then in the side of its chest.
The scraver collapses on top of me, blocking my vision. I can feel its chest heaving against me, but those were killing shots, and it won’t last long. Malin kicks the scraver off me, and the creature flops to the ground, wings twitching in the rain. An arrow protrudes from its temple, the other deeply embedded in its chest.
Then it stops moving altogether.
My heart is still pounding, my breath wild in my ears. Rain finds the claw marks in my skin, and it stings. I long to call for magic to close the wounds, but Malin is right there, and Rhen was very strict.
Malin isn’t breathing hard, but he stares down at me for a moment, then puts out a hand. I take it, pulling myself to my feet, and we look down at the creature. Sometimes they’re clothed, but this one isn’t, and he’s clearly male. His skin is light gray, but there are streaks of blue along his jaw and arms, matching the blue feathers that line the underside of his wings. If he hadn’t just been trying to kill me, I might thinkhe was kind of striking. He’s not wearing any weapons either, but they rarely carry any. With those claws and teeth, they hardly need them. I wonder if this is one of the scravers that helped us during the battle against the Truthbringers a week ago—but I don’t think so. He’s sure not going to tell me.
I cast a glance up at the sky, looking to see if more are going to attack, but the rain is warmer now, more seasonal. There’s no magic in the air.
“Should we see if we can find her husband?” says Malin, and his voice is a little hollow.
I nod.
We keep arrows nocked, but no other scravers appear. It doesn’t take us long to find a body at the bottom of the hill. Sparks and stars flare in my blood, because I won’t avoid magic if I can save his life, but the man is already dead—and probablywasdead before she started dragging him in her grief and terror. Claws tore him apart from neck to thigh. His skin is ashen, viscera spilling from the deepest wounds in his abdomen. Blood forms a long, terrible streak in the mud, dissolving into the earth from the rain.
I shove wet hair back from my face. We’re going to have to tell her.
