Four of them.
Two were unfamiliar—one tall and muscular, nearly Fane’s size, the other leaner but no less dangerous, a curved blade strapped across his back.
But two he knew.
Viliam. And her.
The girl fromthe woods. The one who nearly tore Elora’s throat out and had thrown him like he weighed nothing.
Rell’s jaw clenched. His grip on his dagger didn’t loosen.
“Viliam?”
He froze.
That voice—barely audible. He turned.
Elora was still lying down, still in her hollow trance. But her eyes were open now. Looking toward the Al’terans. Toward him.
TowardViliam.
Rell’s stomach knotted.
Of course Viliam would be the one to pull her out of it.
He turned back to the Al’terans as they stepped farther into the room.
He braced himself. Didn’t lower his weapon. He’d fight if he had to.
But they weren’t here for him.
His eyes flicked from the silent, towering one to the girl, then landed on Viliam—whose expression was unreadable. Something between solemn and… possessive?
Rell didn’t like the way he looked at her.
He didn't like any of this.
He shifted slightly, putting himself between them and Elora, even though he knew it wouldn't matter if they wanted to go through him.
“You didn’t knock,” he said, voice low, biting.
The girl—part-shifted again, fangs gleaming—smiled. “We don’t need permission.”
The lean one grunted. The big one just kept staring.
Viliam’s gaze finally broke from Elora to settle on him. “We came for her.”
She was sitting up now—barely—but her face was still blank. Hollow. Like something inside her had cracked and the light couldn’t get in anymore.
Rell stood protectively in front of the bed. His blade stayed drawn. It was laughable, really, like a dagger would mean anything against them. But he wasn’t going to give her up.
He stared Viliam down. “You tried to kill her,” he said, his voice low, sharp. “That girl—” he nodded at the one beside him, her smile feral—“tried to claw her to pieces.”
No response. Just those four pairs of golden eyes watching. Waiting.
Rell’s grip tightened on the hilt. “What do you want with her?”
Viliam stepped forward. Not threatening—just deliberate. His gaze flicked to Elora, then back.
