He was closing in. I could hear him. Quickly, I looked over my shoulder, seeing the dart of his body through the trees, his eyes pinned on me. He was hunting me down. I shuddered, whipping back around, determined to go faster?—
My shoulder slammed directly into the wide trunk of a tree, toppling my balance, sending me careening into another. My face hit the rough bark. I heard a crunch—the bone of my nose—as pain exploded, the warm trickle of blood running over my lips.
I made a sound, dazed, staring up at the tree that had felled me.
Get up,I thought.
Desperately, I scrambled on the ground, my hands sinking into mud and muck as I tried to rise. I ignored the pain and the blood. I needed to getaway. Could I make it all the way back to Grymia?
I didn’t think so, but I had totry.
I had just gotten off the ground, had just started to run again, when I felt him lunge for me.
I cried out when his body crashed into mine, heavy and unyielding like a boulder.
He sent me flying back to the ground, the force of the impact and his weight sucking the air from my lungs. I hacked and choked, trying to breathe again.
Ryak flipped me around, using his weight to keep me pinned as I desperately struck out, trying to dislodge him. It was strangely quiet in the woods. Just the sound of rustling clothes and flesh on flesh as I tried to get him off.
I felt the squeeze of his hand around my throat.
No.
I gripped at his hands with mine, raking my nails across the flesh, thrashing my legs to try to get him off. I was tall andstrong…but for someone like Ryak, a trained warrior, cutthroat and ruthless, he barely budged.
Pinpricks sparked in my vision. I couldn’t breathe. The pressure on my throat was crushing. I thrashed my fist out since I didn’t have the strength to pry his hands away from my neck. My punch connected, but there was no force behind it. I tasted blood, dripping from my broken nose. My eyes felt tight in my skull, the air depleting, the panic rising.
But his face was lit up from my eyes, bright enough that I could see every pore, every drawn line, every scratch, and the color of his bruises. I hoped they were from Brune.
I thought of my mother, my father. Kiron. I wondered what they would tell them, what lies they would spin. I wondered if Kiron could keep them protected. Because I hadn’t been able to.
My hand grappled along the ground as my vision darkened. My lungs felt so squeezed, like shriveled, deadened things. I hated that the last thing I’d see was Ryak.
Then I felt a familiar touch against me. Warm and seeking.
I thrashed.
Alaryk.
His magic. He was close!
My hand found the curved edge of a stone, jagged on one end and perfect. Another chance. In the sky above me, I saw a flash of red. Red scales.
Samryn.
And if I was going to die, then I would rather Samryn be the last being I saw in this life.
I tried to cry out. He was right there. Alaryk had come. He was looking for me. Or looking for the eggs. But no sound came.
I gripped the rock tight, and with the last of my strength and will, I hefted my deadened and tingling arm up…and I struck Ryak on the side of his temple. As hard as I could.
His hands loosened, a rough curse sounding. I took advantage, dragging in precious, cold air through my bruised, achingthroat, choking on rain drops. It felt like I’d swallowed blades. I was dizzy, the forest swirling, and I tried to crawl away, to put distance between us.
“Youvokkingbitch,” he roared.
My magic was flooding now. I couldn’t cry out for Alaryk, but he would feel my magic. I was certain of it.
Ryak’s hand gripped my ankle, and he tugged hard. My front thumped to the earth, my jaw snapping, and I bit my tongue, a sharp pinch, more blood.
