The warmth of his touch settles low in my belly, and my breath catches before I force myself to focus. I can’t let myself feel this—not here, not now.Not ever.
“It’s time to show me how you fight, Duskae,” Kael says, his lips curling into a smirk that both infuriates and unsettles me.
I scowl at him, brushing my hands over my tunic to distract myself from the way his words settle over me like a challenge. “I thoughtyouwere meant to be protectingme, Shadow Boy,” I bite. “I shouldn’t have to fight at all.” I snap the words like an insult, but we both know there’s not a chance I’d let someone else fight my battles.
His gaze doesn’t waver. It’s sharp, unrelenting, and far too knowing. He unsheathes his twin swords in a smooth, deliberate motion, the steel catching the dim light as he holds them at his sides. “I’ll protect you from what you can’t defeat, Elyssara,” he says, his voice low and steady. “But I know a warrior when I see one. And you’re no helpless damsel. I’ve seen you set fire to things that stand in your way, and I know you won’t sit idly by while others fight for you.”
My flesh turns hot at his approval—something about how he says it makes me feel like he sees me. Truly sees me.
He takes a step closer, and the forest seems to fade into the edges of my awareness. His voice drops lower, softer, but no less commanding, rich with an unshakable confidence that wraps around me like a physical thing.
“I’ll fight at your side and guard your back, Elyssara, like it’s my own life on the line. You’re mine to protect,” his eyes bore into mine, “and I don’t take that lightly.”
His words punch straight through me—but it’s the way he saysminethat leaves me breathless. The possessiveness in his tone is undeniable, and though I should bristle, I don’t. Instead, something in me responds, my breath catching as heat coils low in my belly. I know he’s referring to the deal we made, but there’s something in the way he claims me that feels like...more.
“I... understand,” I manage, my voice strained.
He steps closer, the intensity in his gaze softening slightly, but the tension between us only deepens. “Good,” he says, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. “Because no one touches what’s mine.”
The words linger in the air, heavier than the forest mist clinging to the ground. My throat tightens, but I force myself to look away, turning my focus to the dense shadows of the Frael Forest ahead.
Therion’s voice cuts through the tension. “We’re surrounded. We fight here.Now.”
Kael strengthens his grip on the hilt of his swords, his calm, predatory demeanor returning as if nothing had passed between us. But the weight of his words—and the heat of his touch—stay with me, burning beneath my skin.
“Seren, stay on the horse. Ronyn, nock an arrow and be ready. Therion, ready your axe. Elyssara...” Kael moves around, gaze searching for what he knows is present but cannot see, “your blades won’t cut it—they’re too short. You’ll need more reach.”
As if the weight of the unseen presses down on us, my chest tightens. Kael offers me the sword from his left hand—the one he refused to give away in Duskridge Hollow.
“Use this.”
I notice Therion’s eyes widen in disbelief, and he quickly shakes his head in disgust, his distaste for the gesture glaringly apparent. I don’t know if it’s the sword or the symbolism behind Kael offering it to me, but Therion looks like he’s just watched a line get crossed. But now is not the time to debate the necessity of it.
“Thank you,” I say with genuine sincerity. No warrior shares their weapon, especially not one made from whatever this is—blackened steel that looks like death incarnate.
Therion’s voice cuts through the tension as he scans the shifting shadows. “Duskprowlers. Huge cats with fangs as long as your hand, and venom in their claws. They hunt by entrancing prey with their eyes. Fast, cunning, and relentless—once they’ve marked you, they don’t stop.” His tone is gruff but steady, the words carrying the weight of someone who’s faced them before.
We form a tight circle, our backs to one another, the forest pressing in on us from all sides. The suffocating canopy overhead allows only faint trickles of light to break through, making the glowing amethyst eyes of the duskprowlers all the more menacing.
Seren’s voice shakes as she speaks. “Don’t make eye contact. They will lure you in. But I have an idea.”
She fumbles in the saddlebag, her hands trembling as she pulls out flares. Lighting one, she tosses it to the ground. The suddenburst of light causes the prowlers to recoil, their shimmering coats catching the faint illumination.
“Ronyn!” she calls. “Grab a stick—light it from the flare!”
He does as she says, moving quickly and lighting a makeshift torch. He passes one to Therion, who swings it in a wide arc, forcing the creatures to keep their distance.
“Clever girl,” Therion says approvingly.
“Keep them at bay!” Seren shouts, her voice firm now, as she lights another stick for Kael and one for me.
The fight begins in earnest.
Kael steps forward, sword glinting like a shard of darkness in the faint light. His stance is predatory, each movement deliberate, fluid. At his side, Therion wields his massive axe with a brutal efficiency that sends shards of bark flying as he readies himself for the duskprowlers' advance. They are a stark contrast—Kael’s precision and lethal grace beside Therion’s raw, unrelenting power. Together, they’re a storm waiting to break.
Ronyn stands a little to the side, bow at the ready, his stance deceptively casual. He draws an arrow with practiced ease, his sharp gaze fixed on the shadows. His expression, usually filled with cheek, is now focused, calculating. He looses an arrow, and the whistle of the shaft slicing through the air is the only warning the first duskprowler gets before it collapses, the arrow embedded perfectly between its glowing eyes.
Another prowler leaps from the shadows, and Ronyn fires again without hesitation. This time, the arrow pierces the creature’s open maw, silencing its guttural growl. “That’s two,” he mutters under his breath, his tone almost light, but his eyes remain razor sharp.
