So as the vampires fell and the dhemons cheered around her, Ariadne could do nothing but push forward with them with a weak prayer to Keon that whatever was infecting the Valenul soldiers could not take her, too.
Until she looked up at the open gates to the Hub and an idea struck: they wanted inside…and the soldiers wanted to getherinside—to deliver her to Loren. The army was closing in, and they would make it into the Hub, Ariadne had no doubt about that. What she did doubt, however, was getting to the King of Valenul.
Her stomach sank at the thought. Could she face Loren again alone? The last time…
No. No, she promised herselfandAzriel that she would not be so brash ever again. They would find another way past the walls, where they would find Loren. Together.
The next Caersan to pull up before her hesitated once again as he realized who she was, dragging her out of her thoughts before she could talk herself into allowing them to take her. She wouldget to Azriel, and they would face that bastard side-by-side. As such, she swung her sword.
Batting her blade aside with ease, the soldier moved in. Ariadne took a step back, but he gripped her wrist. Too many times in her life, now, someone had grabbed her arm and made her pause. Dhemons. Loren. Ehrun. Every time, something terrible had happened because she let them into her head.
Between the incessant drone of memories and the dampened desire to get into the Hub, she found herself hesitating just as much as the soldier.
So when Ariadne swung the blade, he blocked again and yanked her forward to sneer, “Have I found myQueen?”
That familiar panic rose in her chest. Not again. She shoved it away and slammed her head into his face. The soldier, to his credit, did not release her as he yelled and cursed behind his hand. Another swing of her blade, this time directed at the arm holding her wrist, but a second soldier was there to bat it away, twisting it from her grip. Blood dribbled over the first soldier’s lips as he glared at her, dragging her forward.
Ariadne’s feet slipped and slid through the mud and snow as she fought against him. She twisted her wrist, only for him to catch the other and haul her to his body. Strong though she was, she could not compare to a trained Caersan man, and she had lost all chance at a surprise attack. The second soldier swept back her hair, dodging her snapping teeth, and confirmed that she was who they believed her to be.
“We must get her to His Majesty,” the first soldier said, fighting to keep hold of Ariadne as she writhed in his grip.
They pushed through the Valenul soldiers at the back of their army, each step bringing her closer to the Hub. To Loren. Again.
Fuck. She could not let them take her in. Not after all she endured in Laeton. She could not face him. Not alone. And with every moment longer that she thought about it, more adrenalinedumped into her veins. He had tried to kill her—had tried to do far worse if it were not for Nikolai.
Again, Ariadne reached out to Almandine. She yanked on the thread between them, desperate to speak to her bondheart. Gods, to speak toanyone. A scream tore from her throat, and she writhed just enough for the hands to loosen.
Yes. Yes…she would get away from them. Run. For if she did not, she very well may never make it back out of the Hub.
Ariadne turned, shoving the soldier holding her back, and stumbled towards the battle. Hands sinking into the snow, she cursed and pushed off again. Each sliding step brought her closer to the fray. Closer to freedom.
Then everything went black.
Chapter 37
The moment that horn called the retreat, Azriel’s heart sank. There was no reason for the Valenul soldiers to no longer be in the fight. They were too evenly matched. Even with the addition of the dragons, the sheer numbers on Loren’s side were overwhelming. Pulling them back to the Hub meant only one thing.
Loren wanted them to give chase—and Azriel had no choice but to play his game.
“Stay back for now,” he advised Razer and the other bondhearts as they circled just out of reach of the ballistae.
Across the battlefield, the dragons sent back unanimous agreement. At least Azriel thought it had been unanimous. But as he called for his ranks to move forward, to cut down those retreating Caersans, a lone dragon careened ahead of them in a flash of violet.
Echoes of voices shouted for Fasj to stop—stop and fly back before it was too late. Fasj, who had joined Azriel’s ranks despitethem killing her bondheart, Arthin, mere weeks ago. Fasj, the peace-lover who never wanted to fight, but joined Ehrun when he’d leftAuhlabecause they’d both believed he would bring an end to the war so they could finally rest.
Azriel watched in mute horror as Fasj lit up the battlements of the Hub in the distance. Fire burned through the heavy snow, setting a pair of ballistae aflame as she swept over them once. Twice.
The dragon said nothing as a silver net was shot over her. She scrambled along the wall, crumbling the stone as she shrieked. To anyone unfamiliar with a dragon’s call, they would likely say she screamed in terror, but no such feeling barreled back through the vinculums to choke out the rest of them.
No, Fasj screamed out of fury. A fury for a lost bondheart. A fury for a lost future. A fury for a peace she would never see after dreaming of it for so long.
Pikes and spears were brandished by the small figures lining the wall as they rushed forward to put an end to the dragon. Though Fasj roared and snapped and twisted beneath the net, Azriel could not help but reach through the web of vinculums to reach her and confirm what he had already suspected: she did notwantto get free.
It was a distraction.
A distraction that he would not let go to waste.
Azriel rushed forward, stretching his tired legs as far as they could reach with each stride and bellowing for the army at his back to follow. Wind crashed around them, pushing them forward and angling the snow to batter the Hub as though even the blizzard was one of their men fighting alongside them.
