The angle was awkward, and my bound hands couldn’t contort enough. I brought the twig to my mouth and clenched it between my teeth. Neck muscles protesting, I wiggled it around until I heard a click.
The first cuff clattered away. I made quick work of removing the second.
Thunder rumbled overhead, masking the sound.
I have to move. Now.
I burst from my hiding spot, continuing onto the boulders. Their looming forms beckoned me, promising haven from my fated mate. Lightning cracked the sky overhead, briefly illuminating more than the fog allowed me to see.
And standing atop them was the Issaraeth, white teeth flashing in a predatory grin.
A scream shredded my throat. I spun, racing back toward the bushes to hide. His footsteps pounded behind me. I threw myself into the brush again, only to meet empty air.
My eyes widened as I remained suspended in midair for the span of a breath. My prior hiding spot had been obscuring a steep drop into a ravine. I tumbled down the embankment, leaves and twigs snapping beneath me. A rock punched the air from my lungs, along with a sharp cry of pain.
But it was nothing compared to the sound that escaped me when my kneeslammedinto the next set of hard stones.
Tears sprung to my eyes, and I finally halted against a row of lumpy river rocks. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cursed, lifting my leg to clutch it to my chest.
But the pain wasexcruciating.I couldn’t bend my knee at all.
This was the type of injury dancers whispered about, terror in their tones.
And I wasn’t planning on performing the Sleeping Maiden.
I was running for my life. For my freedom.
The Issaraeth cannot have me.
In a last, desperate attempt to save myself, I flipped to my belly and yanked my wings into existence. The white feathers burst from my back as I shoved myself away from the ground, using the momentum to propel me forward.
Until the air beneath my wings shuddered.
The very earth sucked in a breath.
And one word rang out amid the storm.
“FREEZE.”
The Issaraeth’s Command halted me in midair.
No no no no no no…
I wanted to sob. Wanted to scream.
But I could donothing.
I knew, then. There was no mercy for the wicked like in our prayers. They didn’t need it when they wielded power that could shatter all resistance.
Who was the Goddess compared to him and his might?
Rocks crunched beneath the Issaraeth’s boots as he approached. Slowly, of course, because this wasn’t torture enough. He had to drag it out.
My knee throbbed, the space between my foot and the ground pulling at the joint when it really needed to be wrapped and stabilized.
Iron-gray hair appeared in my periphery. I was powerless to close my eyes, to shut out the sight of him.
“Sylaira, Sylaira, Sylaira. You should have known better than to bolt.”
