Every moment I spent in Haven’s company kindled emotions I hadn’t allowed myself to feel since my parents’ deaths.
Flynn leaped from his horse, dropping the reins and trusting that the animal would remain with us.
“Where are you going?” Teal yelled at Flynn’s disappearing back.
“These are her footprints. I’m certain.” He didn’t break stride. Instead, he sped up, running through the woods. “Also, the power. Can you feel the power?”
The thrum of the ward that separated Legacia from Rymar beat in time with my pulse.
We dismounted and followed, weaving through the trees.
“There’s a break,” he called.
That was impossible. Legacian magic battled Rymarian, creating an impenetrable barrier between the two countries. Nothing could breach the ward.
“Here!”
We followed his voice.
The ward shimmered. Legacian power. Rymarian power. I saw them both. And I’d been wrong. They didn’t battle. They wove together, closing the border to all. Except Flynn. Flynn extended his arm beyond the ward as if it weren’t there.
“I see her tracks!” He bounded to the Rymarian side.
“Flynn, wait!” Grayson’s order came too late.
Flynn stood in Rymar, grinning at us like a cat who’d caught multiple canaries. “Come on ov—” His back arched as his face contorted in absolute agony.
His body twisted, and he fell to the ground, his back still so arched that only his head and heels touched the snow.
“Flynn!” Teal raced across the border, falling to his knees next to Flynn. He grabbed Flynn’s hand and screamed, a cry seemingly ripped from the depths of his being. Only a man in unspeakable pain could make a sound like that. Worse, the scream didn’t end.
I glanced at Grayson. His face was as white as the snow. He took a step toward them.
“If you cross, the same thing will happen to you,” I warned.
“We can’t leave them like that. We need to pull them back to Legacia.”
They’d each lasted ten seconds before the pain hit them. Ten seconds wasn’t enough time to save them.
Teal’s scream ended. He lay limp on the frozen earth. Flynn lay next to him. Neither moved.
“Teal! Flynn!” Grayson’s voice boomed, loud enough to wake the dead.
“Are they—” I couldn’t finish my sentence. Instead, I stared at their pale, drawn faces and the way their fingers twined together. I had a choice. I could do what I always did, push the sudden wave of anguish deep into my soul, or I could howl my pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, tilted my head toward the heavens, and let grief take over my voice. The sound wasn’t human. It was pain and torment and misery. It was desolation and heartbreak and infinite loss.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
My eyelids flew open. My voice died.
Flynn, still pale as milk, rested on his elbows and gaped at me.
I gaped back. “You’re alive.”
“And you’re emotionally repressed. Why were you howling like a wounded animal?”
“I thought you were dead.”
He grinned. “Ah, I knew you cared.”
