None of us could argue that.
Flynn pulled on a boot. “I owe her a life debt. It’s not something I can ignore.” With his second boot finally on, Flynn stood. “If the basajaun had taken one of us, what would you do?”
Grayson flushed. “That’s different.”
“How?” Flynn sounded genuinely curious, but his knowing smirk told a different story. Grayson didn’t want to follow Haven because he wanted her every bit as badly as the rest of us. And he hated it. By taking Haven, the basajaun had removed the problem.
Grayson raked his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated with all of us. “She is a shield.”
To him, maybe. Not to me. I wanted to adore her, guide her, and give her whatever I thought she needed. I’d seen her potential, her strength, but also her exhaustion and wariness. She might not know it yet, but she needed me. “Wrong.”
Grayson pressed his fingertips against his temples. “Let’s say, at great personal risk, we get her back. We’re taking her to Angelfire. She’ll be dead within a few months, anyway.”
“She’s right.” Pierce tightened the girth on his saddle, then slid the bit into his horse’s mouth. “We are the villains. Teal, you want to take down what’s left of that wall?”
I waved my hand, and the vines disappeared.
I picked up Haven’s faded quilt and folded it into a neat square. I wanted to see the guarded look in her eyes soften when I returned it to her. I wanted her to feel cherished.
“What are you doing?” Grayson demanded.
“She cares about this quilt. I’m not leaving it behind.”
“You’ve lost your mind. It takes four days to get to Angelfire from here. We have only hours to spare.” Grayson’s voice cracked slightly. He was caught between the oath that bound him to protect us and the growing certainty that leaving Haven behind would destroy something essential in each of us. Clearly, he’d made his choice.
I tried reasoning with him. “We’re the most powerful quad in the guard. They need us.”
“They won’t care, not if we’re late. Rules exist for a reason.”
I couldn’t stop my bitter grin. “To be broken.”
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
HAVEN
The basajaun smelled of ice and—I wrinkled my nose—rain-soaked fur.
It strode effortlessly through the enormous drifts of snow. The wind erased its footprints almost as soon as it made them. If any of the men bothered to follow, there would be no trail.
I’d thrashed, struggling uselessly against the basajaun’s iron grip, until I’d exhausted what little energy I had left. Screaming had filled my lungs with air so cold it burned. Crying had been a mistake—my tears froze instantly, leaving icy tracks that stung my wind-raw cheeks.
Now, with no other option, I’d settled into grim acceptance. Frankly, I was too fatigued to do anything else. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept for more than an hour or two, and the only decent meal I’d had in days was at the inn. My empty stomach grumbled, and I willed it to be quiet.
Reminding a beast that might eat me of hunger seemed a bad idea.
Fortunately, the basajaun didn’t seem to notice the sounds coming from my midsection. It soldiered on, carrying me—in a fucking bridal hold—as if I weighed nothing, climbing ever higher.
We were lost—well, I was lost. The beast seemed to know exactly where it was going. In a forest swathed in white, every tree looked the same, and I had no idea which way was north. If I managed to escape (highly unlikely), I’d freeze to death before I found safety.
The beast paused, settled onto its back haunches, and then leaped into the air.
A terrified squeal escaped my lips.
The basajaun’s features were hidden behind a curtain of white hair, but I was reasonably certain it chuckled. The thing had a sense of humor?
The landing sent shock waves through my already aching body, jarring my neck and back. My fingers had gone numb despite being tucked inside my cloak, and I could no longer feel my toes. If it did set me down, I was too cold to run.
