But it was no use.
A sob choked out of me.
I was tired. So fucking tired. Of running. Of never having a place to call home. Of always looking over my shoulder. Of fearing a missed dose of virelthorn. Of the encroaching darkness that came with a vision.
Bitterness bloomed on my tongue. I stuck it in the side of my cheek and tried to ground myself.
Movement out the window caught my eye. A horse galloped toward the house, dirt flying beneath its hooves. Thelake that curved against the road glittered in the midmorning sun, a gilding over the panic in the rider’s expression.
The plate I’d been holding shattered, the crack ripping my gaze away from my best friend’s husband and snapping it back to what my hands were doing. In my bones, I knew there was no time.
“Heraphia!” I yelled, backing away from the window. My fingers flew to the pockets of my skirts, searching for those precious bottles of virelthorn. I yanked one free, finding it half empty.
Fuck. We hadn’t been here long enough for me to harvest more. But I had a few spares in my bag…
Spinning on my heel, I raced into the hall, nearly colliding with my friend.
“What is it?” Hair had come loose from her long, pearlescent braid in the minutes we’d been separated, a testament to the terror she’d masked before.
“They’re coming,” I gasped out, spotting my pack in her grip. I snatched it without apology. We’d done this often enough that niceties were not expected, not when every second mattered in escaping a fate worse than death.
She shouldered past me as I dug into my belongings. My hand closed around the cool glass vials, only offering me a modicum of relief. Without care for propriety, I ripped my skirt off and shoved it inside. The tights beneath were far more conducive to sprinting.
Chaos crescendoed in the halls as Heraphia shouted a warning and pleaded with everyone to hurry. I ducked and dodged members of the Elessarum as I wove toward the front door. Flinging it open, I found Zuriel a breath from busting it down.
“The hunters are coming,” he gasped out, chest heaving. “Where is Heraphia?”
“Here!” she called out, emerging into the sun. She tossed Zuriel’s pack to him. He caught it with a loud smack and slung it over his shoulders in one smooth motion.
“We can’t wait for the others. We have to go. Now.” His normally measured, calm voice was anything but. “Korona Iaoth sent her best forces after us.”
“You don’t mean…” I trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
“That her brother is among them?” Zuriel gritted out, grabbing our arms and tugging us along toward the nearest copse of trees. “The Issaraeth is here, and if he uses his Command power, we’ll all be his hostages before high sun.”
Heraphia gasped, clutching her forehead like she could prevent him from breaking her mind and bending it to his will with a single, forceful word.
The Issaraeth was the most feared of all the Elessarum hunters.Hewas responsible for the death of my parents during the stronghold’s raid. Or so I’d been told. I’d never so much as glimpsed him, which counted me among the lucky ones.
His presence dug a chill into the marrow of my bones.
“We have to warn the others!” I protested, digging my heels in.
Zuriel dragged me a few paces, churning up soft earth, before he halted and gave my arm a vicious jerk. “Do you want to be forced to See until you die, Sylaira? If they capture you and Heraphia, you’ll never escape.”
“But they’ll suffer too!” I ground out, yanking my arm out of his hold. Most of them had irises in weaker shades of blue, and the lone Illusionist couldn’t conceal them on her own.
“They have to take their chances,” he shot back, a muscle jumping in his jaw like it too was impatient to flee. “Both of your visions are too powerful. Too frequent. I won’t let that happen to my wife. Or you.”
Heraphia bolted, her feet a frantic beat against the grass. Her pack bounced against her back, overfull. Just like me, her skirts were gone, aiding her escape. “Come on!”
Guilt gnawed at my gut. Zuriel was right. If I wanted to maintain my freedom—what little I had—we needed to go. Now.
Black horses surged through the thick trunks of the forest. White frothed against their bits, their riders leaning low in the saddles. Bridles gleamed with polished gems and silver adornments.
Tingles spread from my scalp to the tips of my toes.
Zuriel hadn’t been lying. The royal hunters were here.
