“Nyleeria,” Endymion called. My head snapped to attention as he cleared the treeline, nothing but pure determination in his features as he sprinted for me.
My relief was palpable, yet swiftly stolen by the undeniable sound of the weapon being released—its death knell flying toward me.
I didn’t remember drawing the blade from Luca’s saddle. Nor releasing it. But I was acutely aware of the sound it made as it slid between the distorted eyes—everything happening too fast to comprehend.
Distantly, I heard Endymion’s shouts—sharp, desperate—but my body didn’t move fast enough. He surged onto Luca, cradling me as his drags of magic desperately tried to throw a shield around us. It was so weak that the bolt sliding through, the hollow shattering sound reminded me of the paper-thin layers of spring ice underfoot; that haunting noise the last thing I understood before?—
Nothing.
No pain. No sound. Just a strange, heavy stillness, like time had halted between heartbeats. I swayed in my saddle, aware ofEndymion’s weight slumped against me, his blood soaking through my linen.
I knew something was wrong—terribly, irrevocably wrong—and as I looked down, I realized his blood wasn’t the only crimson staining our clothes. I stared at the bolt now connecting us, and as we toppled sideways off our mount, the world around dimmed to shadows.
Chapter 9
Bolted Together
My eyes shot open as I gasped for air, my lungs so desperate that my body lurched forward, sending a fresh wave of searing agony through my body that threatened to pull me under again. The metallic tang of blood that burned my nostrils did nothing to soothe me as I fought my vision blurring at the edges.
Jaw clenched, eyes now closed, I reminded myself thatI was alive. Forcing my breaths to slow, I focused on the positives, like how the blunt object embedded in my flesh was a mere candle compared to the inferno of having my powers stripped away. A ghost of a smile tugged up as I heard Tarrin’s voice mocking me for the twisted thought.
With a start, I remembered Endymion wrapping his body over mine to protect me as the arrow careened our way. My eyes flew open. His sculpted face was mere inches away, head back in a lifeless tilt, features hauntingly peaceful.
He didn’t move, and my chest tightened. Swallowing my panic, I glanced down and took in the shaft that now connected us.
“Fuck,” I mumbled, realizing that the arrow had gone straightthrough him and into me. Steeling myself, I swallowed hard and braced myself before pressing two fingers against his throat. It was faint, but there was a pulse. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
“Endymion,” I whispered, not wanting to startle him.
Nothing.
My chest fluttered with a heaviness, like an eagle resurfacing from the water with weighted wings trying to take flight—and something about it made me feel… vulnerable, isolated, scared. The sensation only intensified as I took in his wan features, making me increasingly afraid that his healing abilities were compromised from being tapped.
Gently, I tilted his head toward mine, then held his shoulder with as firm a grip as I could muster.
“Wake up commander,” I demanded and was surprised at how strong and militant my voice sounded.
Slowly, pain crept into his expression before heavy eyelids fluttered, fighting to open. I couldn’t help being overcome with something more than relief as he stirred.
“I’m here,” I breathed, and my grip on him loosened, my thumb now mindlessly caressing his leathers.
He groaned, and I could feel his body starting to coil, fearing it would snap forward like mine had upon waking.
“Don’t move,” I said softly. “You’re injured and shouldn’t move. Not yet.”
In a few breaths, the furrow between his brows cut deep just before his eyes bolted open as if frantically searching for something.
“You’re okay,” I said.
His focus followed my voice, and the instant his panicked eyes found mine, they softened.
“There you are,” I said, echoing the words he’d said to me when I’d come back to him.
The light of memory danced in his eyes, and we held each other’s gaze as if suspended.
Slowly, pain began to creep into his features, and he let out a grunt, then looked down at the weapon tethering us. When his cerulean gaze met mine again, I could tell the hard edges of the Axelian Army’s leader had reasserted itself, the sight of it bolstering me more than I’d ever admit. I removed my hand from his shoulder.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice steady despite the pain etched into his now hardened features.
