“We. Will. Not. Go. Back. Promise me that, Laïna.” He pulls me in so my eyes lock with his. “No matter what happens to me, you will not go back. Promise me!”
Given his current condition, I’m not sure that’s the right decision, but I don’t argue.
“All right, all right... I promise.” His grip loosens. “Now let’s get you back up.” I reach my hand toward him. There’s no response.
With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I lean in closer again so I can see his face through the mist. He looks to be sound asleep. I place a hand on his chest, making sure he’s breathing.Thank the Father.
I set out to locate his horse, then manage with much effort to haul him across its saddle and fasten him with the rope. It doesn’t look very comfortable, but it’ll have to do. I make sure his makeshift bandages are secure, then pull myself up behind him, with Maeve in tow, to make sure I won’t lose him as we proceed.
“Come on.” I nudge Llyr’s stallion forward. “You know the way out of here, don’t you?” I hold on to the ropes securing Llyr, praying that he does.
The mist creates a timeless realm; its damp chill seeps into my bones, its eerie silence broken only by distant drips. And although I know it can’t be true, the bells we’ve spent in the fog have stretched into what seems like days before it finally parts. I glance around the barren landscape. If Llyr’s previous calculations are anything to go by, one third of our journey should now be behind us.
“Well done, boy.” I give Llyr’s stallion a pat on the neck.
He neighs, affirming his understanding, and turns his head to muzzle Llyr, who’s still slumped across the saddle.
“I will do my best to save him,” I promise.
Clear of the thick mist, I notice the pass has widened significantly. My gaze glides from the bottom of the towering mountain until it disappears into the low-hanging cloud layer that always surrounds Bronich. The stone is so smooth it seems polished. Clearly, there are but two routes from here, and I’ve already promised Llyr I will not go back. I turn toward the thick fog that guards the entrance to Bronich. It turned gradually lighter again the past bell and is now a constantly shifting wall of indistinguishable gray.
Noticing a rocky outcrop, I lead the horses over to what looks to be a good place to get some respite from the wind. I need to tend to Llyr’s wound, and I’d prefer for him to be shielded from the relentless wind as I do so. I secure the horses to one of the short windswept trees that dominate the area—their leafless twisted branches creating an uncanny atmosphere—and pull Llyr down from his horse.
“Why,” I breathe, “must you be... so... heavy?” I drop him with a thump. “Sorry,” I mumble.
With a firm grip, I drag him toward the makeshift bed I made from the thick spare blanket that was rolled up behind his saddle and do my best to be gentle as I lay him down. Kneeling next to him, I pull his clothing aside so I can get a better look at his wound, now that we’re out in the open. Despite the tourniquet, the bandages are soaked with blood, and there’s a trail of crimson leading into the swirling wall of mist. I carefully unwrap the old bandages and examine the wound. The bleeding hasn’t slowed. I bite down on my lip. Should I cauterize the wound while he’s unconscious? I’ve only seen it done once, but with all the bleeding, it may be my only option. Rewrapping the wound with fresh strips of my underskirt, I send a silent prayer he’ll make it out of here. I tuck his cape around him, and set out to gather some of the barren branches for firewood.
I’ve just decided that to seal his wound will be the wisest course of action if I want to bring him out of here alive when a bloodcurdling scream, sharp and piercing, shatters the silence. The sudden fright causes the firewood in my arms to clatter to the ground. I mutter a curse under my breath.What was that?
Another shrill scream ripples through the silence, but my view is blocked by the same outcrop that offers us shelter. Is that Maeve? Hoisting my skirts high, I sprint the last leg. I screech to a halt, and it takes every ounce of self-discipline to hold back a cry.
Wolves.
One by one, they emerge from the mist. Heads lowered, their gazes fixed on Llyr, they approach their unconscious prey with deliberate slowness. If there’s one thing the people of Bronich fear almost as much as magic, it’s wolves. Every so often, whole packs will come into town, ripping throats, leaving dozens of dead in their wake. I’ve even heard they snatch newborn babies at times, if left unattended.
I stagger a couple steps backward.
Maeve snorts and stamps, the whites of her eyes visible as they roll back. She lets out another shrill cry, causing the enormous wolf I decide must be the pack leader to snap toward her. With a forceful shake of her head, her hooves dancing in the air, she snaps their ropes as she pulls herself loose. Llyr’s stallion hardly seems as worked up as Maeve, but Maeve, in her frenzy, pulls him along as she sets off. With outstretched arms, I step out into their path, determined not to let them run away, but when Maeve rears—her hooves coming dangerously close to my face—I have little choice but to fling myself aside as they storm past, the sound of their thundering hooves reverberating through the pass.
A quick glance at their retreating backsides is all I can spare before I bring my focus to the wolves circling Llyr’s unconscious body. I count thirteen of them, their eyes gleaming with a predatory intensity in the dim light, anticipation radiating from them like heat. They all look poised, ready to attack, but it’s also clear they’re holding back. I glancetoward the alpha. Are they awaiting his command before feasting?
I draw in a breath of the cool air and take a step forward. This is undoubtedly the culmination of every poor choice I’ve ever made. Yet I cannot stand idly by. Llyr saved my life. I owe him this, at the very least. I cannot,will not, let these wolves devour him. Mustering every ounce of courage within me, I force myself to project an air of confidence. Standing tall with a wide, steady stance and my chin lifted, I do my best to appear larger, more threatening than I feel.
Clutching the black dagger in my pocket—noting its faint vibration—I swallow hard and step forward. “Stop,” I command, focusing on their alpha, his beautiful coat a combination of various shades of gray, ranging from pale silver to deep charcoal.
“He... He is not yours to take.” My voice echoes back to me in the silence, and thirteen pairs of piercing yellow eyes turn in my direction. Did they not notice me until now? Or could they not be bothered with me when they had easier prey at hand? I lock eyes with the alpha, baring my teeth ever so slightly, praying my knees won’t give in.
The alpha’s unwavering gaze locks with mine, but I don’t yield. I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to. I feel as immobile as a statue.
“I saidno.” My voice remains steady, betraying my nervousness only with the faintest tremor. Holding my gaze, he cocks his head, and I’m taken aback by the unexpected wisdom and intelligence shining through his predatory gaze. “Please,” I beg. “Let him be.”
Whether he understands me or not, I don’t know. He just keeps staring at me with his unblinking gaze. A low growl rumbles from his chest, the sound prompting the rest of the pack to gather behind him.
My gaze jumps from the pack to Llyr and back again. They’re all staring at me.
The alpha walks over to where Llyr lies on the ground. He nudges his limp body.
I frown, trying to make sense of the gesture. The nudge isn’t aggressive—it’s almost... purposeful. He looks back at me, then down at Llyr again, as if trying to tell me something. My mind races. If hewanted to kill Llyr, he would have done it already. Instead, he’s drawing my attention to him, waiting for me to...
