Tor pulled out his sword and lifted it high as the reiver reached down and slowly pulled out the knife. It was the wrong thing to do. The blade had caught an artery, and as soon as it was out, the blood flowed freely. The reiver gasped out a broken cough and then lay still as Tor slowly lowered his sword, panting hard.
Tor spun toward Keely just as she stumbled a last step toward him. She started to fold and he flung his arms out, catching her as she slid down to her knees, collapsing into the leaves and detritus of the path.
The reiver had cost them vital time. And the battle had cost Keely even more. Her arm was slick with blood, her face almost gray it was so pale. She trembled, leaning heavily against his chest. Gods. Had she been bleeding this whole time?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly against his chest. “I can’t—”
Gods. No. He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. She was so small compared to him. So vulnerable in his arms.
She dropped heavily against him, her head falling back, and he realized she was unconscious.
He tightened his arms, holding her safely gripped against him, and fought to keep from screaming.
What was he going to do? Nothing, not even a thousand demons rising from the Abyss, would induce him to leave Keely. But he couldn’t carry two women. Not if they were going to reach the top in time.
Daena stumbled closer, gave him a long, slow look, and then started to half-jog, half-drag herself, limping up the path.
He rose, cradling Keely in his arms, and followed.
They staggered together, Daena leading upward, as ash began to fall around them. The fire was a living, breathing monster now. Hot enough that Tor could feel sweat running in rivers down the inside of his jerkin.
Daena turned to look past him down the gorge and screamed for him to run, forcing herself into a shambling gallop that must have been pure agony. His eyes and throat burned with the smoke and he coughed relentlessly as he pushed himself forward.
And then another Mabin landed heavily on the path ahead, wings spread wide in the hellish glow.
He almost went to his knees. They were so close. So godsdamn close. He lowered his head, breathing hard, taking in Keely’s face one last time. Saying goodbye.
“Give her to me.”
His head whipped back up. What the hell?
“Tor, for fuck’s sake. Give her to me.”
It was Jos. Gods.
He handed Keely to Jos, lifting his head to see Val grabbing Daena and then launching back into the air.
The Mabin were there to help. There were Hawks and Blues in the woods.
Jos pushed off a second later, carrying Keely. Tor stood, stunned, watching him leave. Almost unable to wrap his mind around what was happening. Until Rafe grabbed his shoulder and shouted in his face. “Fucking run!”
He didn’t need to be told again. He fucking ran.
Chapter Twenty-One
The first thingKeely was aware of was the smell of soap, and then the fresh feel of clean sheets. Thick and rough, not palace sheets, but clean. Then she heard the rain, a steady drumming as it fell heavily outside.
She opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a screened-off area of a bigger room. A fire burned low in the hearth opposite her, and a muted light filtered through the rain-drenched window. The bed was basic, but far more comfortable than the bedroll she’d been sleeping in, and someone had dressed her in Tor’s old shirt from her satchel.
She immediately dropped her hands to her belly. It felt the same.Shefelt the same, mostly. Heavy breasts. Slight morning queasiness. Dry throat. But otherwise, nothing different.
Was the pea okay? She hadn’t felt any movement yet; all she had was a stubborn belief that her baby was growing safely in her womb. And now… how could she tell? Had her baby been hurt by their frantic escape? By the fire?
Bard. Not only hers,theirs.
Where was Tor? The last thing she knew, they were in the woods about to be overtaken by the fire. Was he safe? Was he even alive? If he was hurt…. She swallowed against the ache in her throat. He couldn’t be. They’d come through too much.
She prodded the bandages on her arm, bound tight and tucked in neatly. Bard, she was lucky to still have an arm. Half an inch to the side, and the reiver would have shattered the bone. She snorted; half an inch to the side and he would have shredded the artery, and she wouldn’t have been alive to worry about it.
