The hard snow cracked beneath the beast with each movement, as though the earth might collapse under its strength. Shouts arose from the other men as they sent a barrage of spears and arrows flying at the beast. Even with their mighty Silverean stature and strength, they looked like frail adolescents compared to the colossal monster. Their weapons struck the wolf, but the creature hardly seemed weakened.
It charged at them, blood dripping from its mouth and eyes glowing ghostly white. With ease, it grasped the nearest man in its jaws and flung away a handful of others with one swipe of its claws. The remaining three tried to flee, but the wolf was already upon them, a hellish blur of black and white. It slammed the first man into the ground, jaws closing with a wet snap and tearing away in a spray of blood. The second couldn’t even choke out a scream before claws tore him open from shoulder to hip and tossed him aside like a skinned deer. The last managed to run a few steps before the wolf dragged him down, fangs raking deep as it shook him until the snow beneath was steaming scarlet.
The creature released a guttural roar and Caramyn scrambled across the snow to hide in a dip at the snowbank’s edge. But the wolf took notice. It stopped to smell the air in a moment that felt like time had stopped. It turned its blood-soaked nose in her direction, as if some familiar scent had pulled it there, and those grim moonbeam eyes caught her in their hold. Eyes that she was certain hid a prince behind them. Eyes that she had to aim for if there was any hope of making it out of there alive.
The wolf catapulted towards her. Her hands shook as she readied an arrow, drawing her bow back as tightly as her shoulders could manage. But her trembling fingers faltered, and she released the arrow too early. It struck the wolf’s shoulder and did no more damage than the many arrows and spears already jutting from his body.
She drew another arrow as she leapt to her feet, sprinting across the snow, glancing back as the wolf shortened the distance between them with ease. It pounced, and she ducked so that it leapt over her. The earth rattled when it landed in front of her, and she skidded to a stop so quickly she nearly tumbled over. Now she faced the beast, its hungry eyes locked on her like a target.
In an instant, black feathers broke the trance. Nocthar soared between them, his wings cutting through the air like knives. And the wolf stilled, as if captivated or exhausted, or perhaps both.
She inched towards the beast with caution, ready to turn and run if it so much as flinched, and fearful of even taking a breath too quickly. Even in the cold night air, she was dewy with sweat from fear.
While she studied the wolf beast’s face, a strange comfort washed over her, as though she’d just settled into some place familiar in her mind. A place that felt like home.
Then the beast blinked, slowly, strangely, and when it opened its eyes, they were no longer that unnerving glowing emptywhite, but instead a calm, steely, starlit grey. Nocthar screeched from above and landed gently on the beast’s heaving back. A sign that she was safe.
She trusted Nocthar, no matter how absurd it seemed, and some part of her recklessly, stupidly, yearned to find the man buried within this beast. Knees threatening to buckle, she stepped forward and knelt beside the wolf, laying her bow on the ground. If she was going to die here anyway, it might as well be on her own terms. Better this way than being chased like a frightened rabbit across this never-ending stretch of snow.
“Asterious?” She whispered.
A low growl made her shudder as his eyes focused on her once again.
He exhaled, and black mist appeared, creeping over his body. The fur and armor-like hide faded, as if dissolving into the mist, leaving behind human skin and muscle. She touched his arm through the black fog, as the mist transformed the furry, sinewy limb into smooth flesh. Claws became fingers. The bloody snout became a face—the familiar, beautiful, and weary face of the Lightborn Prince of Blackwynd.
He lay before her, unclothed. He blinked with tears in his eyes, but he couldn’t seem to speak. Caramyn, still reeling from what she’d just seen, glanced at the spears and arrows in his back, and her own arrow embedded in his left shoulder, where crackling veins of black scars covered that half of his body, as if crawling up and around his waist and ribcage. As if reaching toward his heart.And between them were dozens, if not hundreds, of flesh scars, from deep wounds that had long healed.
“Cara…Cara…” He tried to stammer out something but couldn’t get any farther. He had so much to explain, and some part of her still hated him, but she pushed that aside. His wounds were already taking their toll in his human form, and ifthe blood loss didn’t kill him, the cold would. Questions could wait. For now, she had to keep him alive.
Putting aside her shock, she tried desperately to move Asterious, but she lacked the strength. He groaned like a man drunk on wine, and she stayed with him, removing her fur coat and cloak to give to him. As she moved to cover his naked body, she couldn’t stop herself from staring. Her wandering gaze took in every tensed muscle, every well-formed ridge and bulging vein decorating his powerful build. She didn’t mean to draw in a breath so loudly at the sight of him, but she did, and she was sure he’d heard it, much to her embarrassment.
Why was he here?
The questions burned through Caramyn as she struggled to drag him as far as she could, past the scattered, mangled bodies in the snow. But before long, she could pull him along no farther. She collapsed beside him, gasping from the effort and the frigid air burning her lungs.
“I can’t believe you came for me.” She couldn’t manage to hold back. It burst forth from her lips like rushing water from a dam.
The prince gazed up at her, weak, battered, exhausted, but still managed to string together his hoarse reply. “I can’t believe I let you go.”
45
No More Secrets
Asterious
With sore muscles that flinched with each breath, the prince lay shivering beneath the cloak that Caramyn had laid over him. Normally his Lightborn magic kept him from feeling the wounds until much later, but his body was already worn down from his relentless trek across the Silver Spines. But though the injuries were significant, nothing had pierced his heart. He wouldn’t die from any of it. He could ignore the pain of open flesh on his back, but he couldn’t ignore the way he wanted to wither away into darkness, far from where Caramyn could see him like this. This was not the way he’d hoped to find her.
“Did…did I hurt you?” he asked desperately.
“No.” She placed a gentle hand on his chest, calming his breathing at her touch. As she leaned over him, the stars framing her face in the night sky behind her, he longed to reach up and touch her. To hold the face of the woman who had not left his thoughts since she vanished and lose himself in those enchanting eyes of amethyst galaxies.
But those eyes had grown cold, and he turned away. How could she be gentle to him? After everything he’d done. After seeing him rip those men apart. After seeing him for the beast he was.
The arrow wound from Caramyn in his shoulder stung particularly, the bloodied tender flesh around it throbbing. The iron tipped spears in his back ached too, but the skin of his wolf form was thick enough to have kept them from penetrating too deep into the muscle.
“Will you take them out?” He uttered between labored gasps.
Caramyn’s eyes widened. “You’ll bleed out right here. We can’t just—”
