Or see that damn dimple.
Thaddeus laughed, and visceral hate like I’d never experienced before, marked my soul.
Someone snapped their fingers, and the sound boots jogged toward us.
I braced myself, knowing pain was all that awaited me on the other side of my protector’s body.
Two sets of arms wrapped around Artton to pull him off me.
“No!” I screamed, holding onto his limp body with everything I had.
It took six of them, but they finally pried us apart.
My fragile heart pulverized when his head lulled back as they carried his lifeless form away. The tossed him next to Sidrick and the others, chaining him again. It was then with his back facing the ceiling that I finally realized where that putrid scent had come from.
Their attacks had burned away his leathers. Then hisflesh.
Bile burned the back of my throat, and had I not been in shock, it wouldn’t stopped there.
Numb, I sat up, and pulled my knees to my chest as I pressing my back against the shield we’d mistaken for a window. Without Artton, I was exposed. Alone. Worst of all, I couldn’t stop staring at the carnage of his back.
Sounds of shuffling feet and shifting weapons came from beyond my transfixed gaze, and I was vaguely aware of the long, purposeful strides that seemed to echo in the vast hall from the same direction.
“Healer Aiden,” the familiar voice barked in pure command.
My eyes darted up, and I had to swallow the sob of relief as Endymion strode toward Artton. He spared the briefest of glances in my direction, his expression unreadable.
“Here, Lord Endymion,” the male I could only assume was Aiden said with a strange accent as his smaller frame struggled past the last few soldiers in the archway closest to me.
“Where have you been, Commander?” Wymond challenged.
“Pardon, High Lord,” Endymion said with a dip of a chin, forced to forget Artton and face Wymond. Aiden stood at Endymion’s side, head bowed in deference to his High Lord as he waited for orders. “I would’ve been here sooner, but I had to wait for your summoning spell to dissipate before I could return.”
Wait? Did he just admit that he was with us?
Wymond bristled. “Explain yourself.”
“I’d gone to ensure the transport of the spark was seamless. I regret to inform you that I found Lothar and Njal in the tunnels escorting the prisoners to the ward boundary.” The lie slid so seamlessly off his tongue that I was equal measures impressed and unnerved.
Had he used that talent on me? And if so, for what?
An undeniable pulse of anger pulsed from the High Lord like a strong gust of wind. Endymion merely blinked as his raven hair was pushed back before falling into its natural state, and it was clear he’d witnessed this loss of control before. Possibly often. Though, I wasn’tthe only one to throw an ineffective arm up against it. My hair flung back, dancing against the shield for a few seconds before cascading back down. I looked behind me to see countless leaves fall to the ground in its wake, the rain no more than a dribble.
Shifting my weight, I faced forward and knelt resting back on my heels, holding my breath in anticipation.
Sidrick’s gaze caught mine, then glanced down at Artton, then back, the message clear; he needs help—now.
My feet were moving before I could think better of it as I dashed toward Artton’s prone form. They could finish their fucken meeting another time. Besides,Iwas the only one in this room they couldn’t kill—at least until I no longer possessed the spark.
All eyes turned to me, but I ignored them as I crossed the room. I went to go down to my knees to tend to Artton’s exposed back, but rough hands gripped my arms, wrenching me back up. I screamed from the punishing grip that dug into my flesh.
The unmistakable sound of a sword being unsheathed filled my ears, and it took me a moment to find my bearings.
“Call him off,” Endymion ordered.
The grip around me tightened, and my back was pressed harder against the chest of whomever held me. Endymion stared in my direction from the middle of the room, and my eyes trailed the commander’s steady, two-handed grip on his golden sword, to the tip, which was now resting against Thaddeus’ throat.
I wasn’t being held by a fae.
