“No! He’s a friend,” I say, squeezing his arm.
Correk’s big frame heaves with exhaustion as he approaches, blood smearing his cheek, and gore spattered across his shield.
And that’s when I see it?—
His shield bears the inverted triangle of the Zerynthian rebellion.
“You must be The Shield’s Apprentice,” Kael says with measured calm as he approaches, as if all of this makes sense.
“King Kael,” Correk hails, dropping to one knee and bowing his head in reverence. “The rebels have made great progress here.”
Correk works with the rebellion? With Kael?
“Good,” Kael affirms, impressed. “Time to go,” he commands the group, his eyes lingering on me.
I have so many questions, but right now, I don’t fucking care.
Because all I can think is: my best friend is dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ELYSSARA
The world spits me out.
Light fractures. Cold bites. My knees hit dirt.
For a heartbeat, I think I’m still in Kryntar—because the air tastes the same: blood, smoke, death.
Then the wind shifts and I realize I’m somewhere else. Tucked between sheer rock faces.
Cold coastal air knifes across my skin.
I’m safe.
Safe.
The word doesn’t land.
It slides off me, slippery, meaningless.
A lie.
My chest convulses, breath shuddering.
My ribs seize as if my lungs have forgotten how to open.
I can’t draw air deep enough. My body’s still waiting for pain. For the next strike. The next violation. The next loss.
Everything in me vibrates—like my nerves are trying to crawl out of my skin. Like my body is uninhabitable.Broken.
Kael’s voice cuts through the static. “El?—”
I flinch so hard my vision whites out.
He stops. I can feel him watching me, but I can’t bear it. If I look, I’ll come apart.
“Go away!” I hiss.
