“Likewise,” she shoots back. She dips her head back into the stream and I’m thankful she continues speaking before I can begin imagining the way her fingers work through that thick mass of curls. “Who’s in charge of that army?”
The sudden flash of the Praeceptor’s face is more effective at sobering me than if I’d dunked my head in the cold water of the stream. Even years later, the mere sound of his name is enough to send a slimy shiver down my spine. The Praeceptor, or Cullen, as those unfortunate enough to be in his intimate circle call him, is not a man to be forgotten.
“A warlord.”
The girl pauses her washing, mulling the information over. I don’t need to wonder if she’ll press more. She’s proven herself insatiably curious, even if no one but me would notice it. It’s refreshing that she’s abandoned the act of pretending to be uninterested in the world around her, when I’ve watched the way her eyes spark, drinking in everything about Ferusa. “Is a warlord like the Covinus?”
“You mean like your government? No. There is no government here anymore. No law except for one’s own conscience. Which, in the case of the warlords, is nonexistent. They control territories, usually with militias, violence, and other unsavory means. They are rich and ruthless and always fighting with each other for more power.”
The sudden sound of water rushing over skin as she submerges herself draws me once more from thoughts of warlords. Now, they’re consumed by images of droplets clinging to generous curves.
I dig my fingernails roughly into the palm of my hand, the steady pressure calming me slightly. Gods, what’s the matter with me? I’ve bedded plenty of women and have never once had my thoughts spiral beyond my control.
“Except murder.”
“What?” I reply, distracted.
“You said there are no laws. But even the warlords can’t commit murder.”
My throat grows tight at all she doesn’t know. There are so many things that grow in this twisted Darkness, things that plague dreams and live behind your eyes every time you close them. Things that even in my most ruthless goals, I hope to keep far, far away from her. Vindication burns deep in the chasm within me, brighter than my shame and disgust. I did the right thing keeping her from Cullen’s army. I may not have done it the right way—is pressing on a pressure point until someone collapses in your arms ever the right way—but it was the right thing.
Because the thought of her innocent wonder being twisted and bent to satisfy the Praeceptor’s thirst to wring pain, is nearly unbearable an entire day later. If she had ended up in his hands, there’s no telling what I would have done. Probably something extremely stupid.
A shriek echoes through the forest and my skin goes cold.
I whirl around, facing Mirren. She yelps indignantly, her hands clambering to cover her bare body, but my eyes skip over her. Instead, they rest on the creature that now stalks the shore behind her.
Twice as tall as I am, the yamardu’s eyes glow red even in the bright light of day. I keep my movements achingly slow as I creep toward Mirren. The creature must have scented her blood, but it’s blind in sunlight and relies on its other senses to find prey. The water is the only thing keeping her invisible to it. Vicious and strong, the yamardu bleeds its victims out slowly until there isn’t a drop left. Its shriek can cause permanent hearing loss. Another creature bred inside the Nemoran woods.
“Mirren, don’t move.”
She blinks at me, but something in my tone must alarm her, because she goes completely still. I pull a dagger from my bandolier in slow motion, not taking my eyes from the creature. It will take a hell of a lot more than one dagger to bring the beast down. Its skeletal wings are black and muscled, topped with a deadly talon used for shredding its prey.
I could really use Cal’s skill with a bow about now, but my daggers will have to suffice until I can get Mirren to safety.
“Walk as slowly as you can toward me. Try to make no noise.”
I might as well be asking her to breathe underwater for as loudly as she normally moves, but she nods in understanding and creeps forward.
The yamardu lets out another ear-piercing shriek and it takes everything in me not to drop my dagger and cover my ears. My ear drums ring, but I force myself to look at Mirren. Her eyes are wide and for the first time since I met her, her fear is palpable. I feel it as if it’s my own, slick and viscid.
I reach my hand out to her. “Just move slowly and it won’t be able to see you,” my voice is calm and reassuring, the way I speak to the horses in Nadjaa. “It’s attracted to blood. It smells yours in the water. But your foot isn’t bleeding anymore, is it?”
She bites her lip and shakes her head. Her body trembles as she takes another agonizingly slow step.
“Good,” I tell her, “Good. Keep going. The yamardu is blind. It won’t see you if you keep moving slowly.”
The yamardu shrieks again, plunging its taloned feet into the stream. Its beak sniffs the air, hunting for its next meal. Mirren gasps, but she doesn’t rush her movements. My heart pounds in my throat as I wait for the killing calm of my chasm to overtake me, but for some reason, it is stubbornly silent. There is only adrenaline and Mirren’s fear coating the inside of my throat.
Finally, her hand touches mine. I pull her against me, relief settling like a thick blanket. Water slides down her shivering body in thick rivulets as I wrap her in my cloak. I tug her along, moving as fast as I dare away from the shrieking beast. The stream will only confuse it for so long.
Mirren is silent beside me as we disappear into the trees. Her bare feet must be getting shredded, but there was no time to pull her boots on and she doesn’t complain. My cloak parts to reveal her bare legs, the fabric swinging wider just as I look away. I dig my fingers into my palm.
The creature screams, the gut-wrenching sound closer now. Mirren stumbles, her terror fully realized as she claws at my skin to keep herself up right. But she doesn’t cry out. My forearm stings where her nails sunk in, but I pull her against me and we keep moving, ever so slowly.
When we are far away from the cursed stream, I finally release a breath. But I don’t allow myself a moment to consider the plans that had unfurled in my head in the brief moments Mirren’s life was threatened. Or why I had been ready to sacrifice everything to keep her alive.
ChapterEleven
