Finally, he forced himself to slow near a bubbling creek and let her take a few minutes’ rest. “We’re close to the cave.”
With a groan, Ash dropped to the damp bank, scooped up fresh water, and gulped it down.
His brain rattled inside his skull, and his temples throbbed, as if a fog had settled in there. He crouched near her, splashed icy water on his face, then drank some water too, but it did little to calm him.
He slicked back his damp hair and found her watching him. “Ready?”
She nodded.
He grasped her hand, and they pushed on, up the slope. The higher they went, the thinner the air became, and the trees grew denser, their white-veined black trunks slick with moss?—
The sharp clang of metal split the air. The drawing of swords…
The three shifters stood braced for action. At the sight of Ash and Race, they resheathed their weapons.
Race kept his expression even despite the crushing pain building behind his eyes. He’d rather face Tartarus again than show weakness in front of these males. Centuries of torture had burned that lesson deep.
Ash stayed close, her fingers tight around his.
“What happened?” Attor’s gaze flickered skyward, scanning the haze. “Were you attacked?”
“They’ve altered the guard rotation.” Race forced the words past gritted teeth, raking back his hair again so he wouldn’t rub his pounding temples. “We’ll need another way to access the portal.”
“Best to find out the guards’ rotation list,” Koal told him. “You’ll have to head into town for that.”
For once, Skaldr shut his trap.
Good. Because Race couldn’t deal with him right now. Even his enhanced senses were shot—the world dulled to a muffled blur of sound and scent.
Only Ash’s summer-rain scent remained lodged in his senses, as if his mind refused to lose track of her even in this state.
He pulled her along into the cave. The moment he released her, she stumbled to the firepit and collapsed to the ground, where her coat still lay, her head tipping back against the rock as her backrest, her eyes fluttering shut.
Race sank onto the cold stone bench near the pit, the faint embers throwing weak shadows. The chill seeping through his clothes was the only thing keeping him upright.
Gods, he just needed silence. One damn minute to breathe. To stop feeling like his body was nothing but splintered pieces barely held together.
“Race, you aren’t well.”
Her words hit like a blade between his ribs. Memories clawed free?—
“Maybe the prince is sick…” Malcarion’s voice taunted, echoing across centuries, as Race lay paralyzed, a spelled arrow lodged in his spine. “Or inept? Where’s all that powerful blood now?”
Race clenched his fists, forcing the past away, fighting not to drown in it.
“You think I’m weak because I didn’t fight those guards and get you through the damned portal?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she snapped. “I’m worried about you, but you have a darn stick shoved so far up your backside—ugh! Forget I said anything.” Lips thinning, she scrambled to her feet and stomped for the cave’s entrance.
Hell, she was an innocent trapped in this quicksand nightmare dragging him down. “Ash, wait?—”
She didn’t.
Fuck. He rubbed his temples. “We’re leaving in a few minutes?—”
“Oh. Found another hole to shove me into?” She spun around, her expression like stone. “Don’t you dare tell me it’s to keep me safe, because we both know what this is! A few kisses, and you think I’m about to demand more? You know what, Race? You do what you want, I’m too bloody tired. I’m not going anywhere right now—unless you plan to carry me.”
His tightly held control cracked. In a burst of power, he flashed over, blocking her path.
