I can’t stay here.
The thought comes sharp and clear, slicing through the terror. How could I have been so foolish? To hide in a room that has become my tomb. To love a Fae who may well be my end.
I don’t want to die.
I take a cautious step sideways and wince as something sharp presses into my leg. Pain flares. I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood just to keep from screaming.
The paintings of Aluna stare back at me from where they lean against a bookshelf, her dark eyes fixed on mine, a silent warning I refused to heed.
Without realising it, the blood I’ve drawn from my lip drips down.
It hits the cold stone floor. Almost silently.
Almost.
Luceran shifts.
A low growl ripples through the room. The stone trembles beneath my feet as frost crawls outward, the air freezing so suddenly my breath turns to mist. I squeeze my eyes shut, as if this might all dissolve if I refuse to witness it.
Then something whispers. I open my eyes.
High above, near the ceiling, the sprites hover. One of them holds something dark in its tiny hand, a chunk of charcoal from the fire.
They grin at me and without a word, the sprite hurls it.
The charcoal streaks past my head and smashes through the stained-glass window on the far side of the library, shattering it in a cascade of color and sound.
Luceran moves instantly.
His massive body surges toward the noise, bursting through what remains of the glass. Jagged edges scrape along his pale fur, drawing blood, but he doesn’t slow. He vanishes into the night beyond the window, leaving the library behind in shattered silence.
I sag against the shelf, lungs burning, heart hammering so hard it hurts. For a second, all I want is to slide down the stone and sit there, but the sprites won’t allow it. Tiny hands clutch my arms, hauling me upright, tugging me toward the library doors with frantic urgency.
Then another scream tears through the castle.
I twist against the sprites’ grip and look back through the shattered window toward the rose garden. A Fae male lies bleeding in the snow and bounding away from him onto the frozen lake is Luceran.
Where is he going? Why does it matter? All I should be thinking about is getting away from him, putting as much distance between myself and that wolf as possible before I’m next.
But he isn’t alone on the ice.
I squint through the falling snow, dread tightening in my chest as another figure comes into focus, long black hair streaming behind him, a white ruffled shirt stark against the night.
Pax.
Oh gods. No. Luceran is chasing him.
“He’s going to kill him,” I murmur in disbelief. Panic explodes inside me. “No!” I yank my arms, fighting the sprites’ grip. “Let me go!”
They chatter angrily. They do not loosen their grip. The next time, I don’t shout. I beg.
“Please. I have to help my friend.”
They hesitate, glancing at one another, faces scrunched with reluctance. At last they let go.
I run.
Down the aisles, shoulders slamming into shelves, breath tearing in and out of my lungs. I don’t slow. I don’t think. I leap through the shattered window just as Luceran did, glass biting into my cheek as I pass. Pain flares, warm blood streaking the cold air before staining the snow beneath my feet.
